Podcast Episode: Father’s Day

Podcast Episode: Father’s Day

I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but this Sunday is Father’s Day. Yeah, dads get a day too, I’m as weirded out as you are.

But we are parents too, after all, some might even say equal partners in this whole debacle. Not me though. You can stuff your parenting equality in a sack! I want no part of it. I am plenty satisfied with my low bar, thank you very much.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I don’t really care about Father’s Day. But I may be alone on this one. Read more about Podcast Episode: Father’s Day

Father’s Day Giveaway: myCharge Prize Pack

Father’s Day Giveaway: myCharge Prize Pack

Mom and Buried thinks I use my iPhone too much. She’s probably right.

But when you’re managing a social media empire, you need to keep your constituents happy! Where else can my Twitter and Facebook (and Instagram!) followers turn when they want to read about someone who hates their kid?

I promise to stick around as long as you’ll have me. Especially now that I got a new portable phone charger! Do you want one?

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Bad Teacher

Bad Teacher

Usually the father I talk about on my blog is Yours Truly because, let’s face it, that guy is fascinating. But seeing as today is Father’s Day, and I’ve only been a dad for three and a half hellish and interminable years, we’re going to talk about someone far more boring: my dad.

My father is a veteran of the daddy wars, having raised three kids (if you can say that any guy whose wife gave birth to children in the ’60s and ’70s actually “raised” anyone, which we know you can’t since we’ve all seen Mad Men and good dads are an entirely 21st century construct. I’m just glad he quit smoking cigarettes before I was born).

Like most fathers, he was determined to mold me and my brothers into well-rounded, compassionate, successful, miniature versions of himself. (Because what is having children if not the ultimate example of narcissism?) And that required some teaching.

In honor of Father’s Day, I’m going to talk about some of the lessons my father brought to bear during his ongoing tenure as my dad. Lessons that, unfortunately, I failed to absorb even a little bit.

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Panic Room

Panic Room

I went to Home Depot yesterday, and after an hour of wandering around aimlessly like Jack Torrance at the end of The Shining, I eventually made my purchase and got out of there with my life. But also with the wrong bolts.

So it looks like I’ll be going back to Home Depot today… and probably tomorrow too, after I inevitably blow it again.

I’m no good at DIY. Thankfully, I’m getting a little help from American Express and the AmexEveryDay credit card. God knows I need it.

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Fathers and Gums

Fathers and Gums

If you’ve read my blog before, you might not expect me to write a post about my favorite moments as a father. (Even though I already have.)

After all, most of my posts are about the stuff that sucks about being a dad. But that’s all strategy. Like the Cassius Clay of the dad bloggersphere, I lull readers to sleep with angry complaints about my son and parenting and toddlers, only to suddenly sting like a sentimental bee!

Admit it: the optimistic, sappy stuff carries a lot more weight when it comes from a pessimistic, cynical jerk like me. So I parcel it out at key moments, to ambush you and your tear ducts. Usually I reserve the sap for my son’s birthday, like this embarrassment from a few years back. But as Father’s Day approaches, my friends at Oral-B and Life of Dad asked me to write something about the #PowerofDad, so I thought I’d grit my teeth (get it? Teeth? ORAL-B!) and get ‘er done.

So here comes a bunch of crap I like about being a dad. None of which includes brushing my son’s teeth because holy Jesus that’s a nightmare.

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