“I have nipples Greg – can you milk me? (Words Caillou’s dad can never mutter)

caillou dad

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A Letter to Our High Maintenance Roommate

Dear 2-year old roommate,

Let me start by saying it’s not you, it’s us. I mean, we are just different people, us roommates.

We like to wear pants in the house for example. You parade around more naked than Justin Bieber on a vacation balcony.

Well when you put it that way - sure I will go outside

Well when you put it that way – sure I will go outside

We like to sleep in, make it a nice easy-going Saturday and sort of ease into our weekend. You like to wake up before 6am and repeatedly bang matchbox cars on the hardwood floor. Afterwards you tug on our arms while screaming “Outside!” atop your lungs. Sure, the first time is cute. But by the time the fourth one comes bellowing out of your mouth we’re almost certain you’re possessed by the four horseman of the apocalypse and a pack of revenge-seeking apparitions who likely fell down a well during their time on earth, and still haven’t quite resolved that minor issue posthumously.

Here are a few other things us roommates have observed.

Look, you stink. And you lie about it.

Wait, so you haven't been living in our spare room? Then what is possibly causing that smell? Wait a second...

Wait, so you haven’t been living in our spare room? Then what is possibly causing that smell? Wait a second…

No, honestly. You smell wretched at times. And when we ask you where the stench is coming from, you always have no clue. We’ll literally see you straining, and then two minutes later an odoriferous atrocity that only a herd of zombie cattle who took up residence in our den for weeks could’ve produced wafts through the living room.

Your cars are giving me flesh wounds

During the day your cars are neatly organized. Miraculously, when I’m hung over and attempting to reach the bathroom in the middle of the night one always seems to be parked strategically in my path. Typically it’s one with multiple sharp edges that fit perfectly between the soft part of my foot and pinky toe. Apparently you own a whole fleet of porcupine convertibles that only come out after nightfall.

So if all the cars are lined up at bedtime, how do the sharpest ones end up outside the bathroom door?

So if all the cars are lined up at bedtime, how do the sharpest ones end up outside the bathroom door?

Your tantrums are for the birds

I want to sit and watch the same four videos of trucks all day in my pajamas sitting in poop too but I don’t. Why? Because I do it like every other respectable man in four, 40 minute sessions throughout the day in the bathroom. Well, I guess I don’t blame you for that tantrum – I’d be pretty upset too.

You vomit more than a person going through an exorcism

A previous roommate was notorious for vomiting but he was a DJ who had dad issues and commonly drank a bottle of vodka in one session. What’s your excuse?

You make a scene when you see a breast – honestly it’s embarrassing

Oh thank god its just you to clean up after. For a second I was worried it was our roommate vomiting again

Oh thank god its just you to clean up after. For a second I was worried it was our roommate vomiting again

Yes, we realize this phase has passed for you, but the roommates still have PTSD from when you were a baby.

You keep demanding to sleep in the beds of other roommates

If one of my guy friends told me seven years ago that someday I’d have a roommate who would climb into bed with me every night I would’ve been thrilled. (Let’s assume a beautiful woman for this reflection). Getting jolted out of bed by the cacophonous sound of a wounded zebra only to rush into your room and notice you are perfectly fine is not exactly what I’d call thrilling. You then demand to be taken to the roommate’s bed where you proceed to methodically push me off the side, and kick me at random times in the junk until morning.

You’re going to make me eat that now aren’t you?

You slobber on your food, then demand I eat it

If I really I wanted to eat a piece of bread dipped in human saliva I well… Ok, I’d never want that under any circumstance.

You act like a lunatic in public

I know what restaurant patrons are thinking when they see us out: that individual is making a racket and throwing enough food on the ground to feed a small village. I feel sorry for the wait staff. Those folks should be ashamed of themselves that they take him out and bother everyone.

What they don’t realize is that it’s much easier paying someone a $5 tip on a $2 bowl of Mac n’ Cheese than to scrape hardened cheese off our carpet, couch and cat for the next three weeks.

You’re addicted to truck videos

It may not happen today or tomorrow but at some point Blippi Liam Neeson will find you and he will kill you.

It may not happen today. It may not happen tomorrow. But at some point Blippi, Liam Neeson will find you, and he will kill you. (The character not the guy – everyone calm down – the guy is an amazing actor let’s face it)

I guess it’s not really the trucks that are the issue. It’s that son of a bitch Blippi.

You never want to go into the bath, but then once in you don’t want to get out

We’re all adults here. Well ok, you’re not. We know that you need a bath (see comment above about unpleasant smelling posthumous bovine). We also know that if you don’t get out of the bath, you’ll turn into an old wooden shoe. (ok we made that up). Please stop with the mind games – we’re spending money exponentially on beer as a result.

You’re an exhibitionist

I’d have to go back and read the original Craig’s List ad we posted for your room two years ago, but I’m certain it mentioned we typically wear pants in the house. Perhaps a clothing-optional exhibitionist colony might be more your thing, considering you love running around naked?

You take forever to go to sleep

First you want a book. Then you tell us you need to go the bathroom and sit on the potty when in reality you are just messing with us. Then another book. And another. Then you need to be rocked. Then you need to be placed in your bed while holding a lovie with your face at an angle six degrees northwest and left pinky toe seven centimeters out of the blanket. And it’s got to be a Tuesday. From there you need one hand on your upper back, another on your hand, a foot on your lower back, and a third hand on your face. It’s like playing a game of Jenga Twister and you can only win if you’re a nimble-fingered octopus. It’s not exhausting at all.

Who are you guys really? You are super humans

Who are you guys really? You are super humans

You’re a carrier of more minor illnesses than white settlers on the Oregon Trail

Miraculously you seem to contract, then shed illnesses with ease only to then pass them directly to the rest of the roommates (probably a result of the slobber bread we’re forced to eat). We then suffer with these rare communicable diseases for weeks. I’m not sure what crew you’re running with at day care but they’re likely experimenting with a blitzkrieg of genetically modified strains of the black plague. Your immune system may be turning into an impenetrable force-field but the roommates are left to fend for themselves. If I come down with Cholera I’m heading straight for that dirt-ridden kid Tommie.

In conclusion, it actually isn’t us – it’s clearly you. But… (Sigh) the roommates sort of love having you around, despite it all actually. We wouldn’t want it any other way in fact. That and you signed an 18-year lease, so we’re sort of stuck…

I knew it...

I knew it…




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Introducing a new column: “Get Styled with Beer Styles” Issue #I: Blonde Ales get to have all the fun

Introduction: Welcome to a new subset of the blog – a regular column, which teaches you about different beer styles. This concept was created by a newly hired team of well-oiled creative monkeys working ‘round the clock with one goal in mind – craft the greatest topic in Pampers N’ Pints history. Since the regular writer’s brain makeup has been compared to that of a monkey, very few will realize new writers have actually been added to the staff.

Wait, so that's not who's been writing these things the whole time?

Wait, so that’s not who’s been writing these things the whole time?

The craft beer scene has exploded, and with it, so too has innovation. Breweries around the country are on hot pursuit to take alcoholic capitalism by storm by doing something unique. As a result new and reemerging beer styles, sometimes dating back centuries, have hit the shelves. But the questions are now firing like Donald Trump on The Apprentice – what the heck is a Gose? A Rye beer? How does one discern between a Belgian Tripel and a Belgian Dubbel? How about a German Helles Lager and Dunkel Lager? A California Common and a Steam Beer? Ok, so those are the same thing…

C’mon, it’s confusing enough! What is this the Punk’d of beer blogs? Is Ashton Kutcher going to jump out from behind my growler?

Amazingly, no. Finally, you might actually learn something from this worthless blog.

This first publishing will compare the difference of a lager and a blonde ale

To a novice, both styles tastes relatively similar. And when you ask an uneducated bartender how to describe a blonde, they’ll usually say ditzy, lots of makeup, and firm thighs, but eventually explain “they’re like a lager.”

He’s halfway correct. Blondes may look like a lager, but the reality is, they are completely opposite in how they’re brewed and how they’ll impress one’s parents.

Let’s start with the basics. There are two types of beers. All the rest you see are subtypes of these two categories – lagers, and ales.

She's full-bodied, that's for sure.

She’s full-bodied, that’s for sure.

An ale is a type of beer brewed from malted barley fermented at higher temperatures than lagers. The yeast used, which is a strain of brewer’s yeast, ferments quicker than lagers and generally produces sweeter, and more robust tastes. Many ales contain hops which balance the sweetness of the malt.

In contrast, the crisper lager, boasting drinkability and propensity to dominate the beer scene on a hot beach day, is fermented at cooler temperatures. Instead of the varied grains of ales, a lager is produced often on a massive scale using cheaper options such as rice and corn (known as American adjunct lagers). Lagers generally fall flat in the taste department but are more drinkable due to less bittering hops, and their light bodies – at least for the ones doing jazzercise twice a week. Lastly, and most important in differentiation is the yeast. Lager yeast produces less fruity esters than yeast used in ales. Examples of lagers are of course Budweiser, Coors, Miller, Heineken, Yuengling, Pabst, Stella Artois, Hinano, etc. etc. Every country has one you’ve heard of. It’s science.

Do those suds go all the way up? What's that? They do? Oh. I see.

Do those suds go all the way up? What’s that? They do? Oh. I see.

So why do blonde ales get to have so much more fun than lagers? Well, contrary to what most match.com users think, blondes have a more complex profile. Underneath that layer of foam, a fizzy complexion, and hour-glass, glass lies a silhouette bursting with full-bodied flavors. But don’t be fooled by a blonde ale that isn’t truly one – there are lagers out there doing their best to trick you into thinking they’re something they’re not. Just ask Hank Baskett. Trust me, you’ll thank me the next morning.

Here are some examples of Blonde Ales you may have tried:

Big Wave Golden Ale by Kona Brewing Co.

Hoptober Golden Ale by New Belgium Brewing

Twilight Summer Ale by Deschutes Brewery

Summer Love by Victory Brewing Company

Third Cast Beer by Bell’s Brewery

Redhook Blonde by Redhook Ale Brewery

Barrio Tucson Blonde by Barrio Brewing Company

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Smarter Than Your Average Bear – Retro Edition

What do you do when you don’t have time to post new content on your blog? Naturally you re-post a previous post! This one got more views than other other posts on the blog and is great for anyone going through a pregnancy… who also loves beer of course. Don’t want to read about babies turning into picnic snacks? Scroll to the bottom and read about a review of the greatest beer on the planet – Pliny The Elder!



Tales from the 1st Trimester – Originally posted July 2013

With first trimester comes an emotional roller coaster of mood swings, nausea, and bizarre food cravings. And then of course there was how my wife was feeling.


Alright Rex, on three we start… one…two…three… how come you’re not doing anything? What’s that? You are? Oh boy…

I was about prepared for a pregnancy as a Tyrannosaurus was for a face-slapping competition with Gumby.

So, like Stevie Wonder at an orgy I was left to feel my way around the first trimester.

How did this actually happen, I kept asking myself, and I mean that in a good way. I can’t even navigate my way home from work sometimes and I’ve done it a hundred times. How on earth did my sperm find its way? It must’ve been pure coincidence. Like for example, the sperm accidentally backed over an object while driving in the fallopian tubes and it just happened to be the egg?

car(Amazingly this comic was not drawn by a newborn…that’s 33 years of doodling expertise right there. You’re welcome.)

There are plenty of books, articles and movies for women in the first trimester and rightfully so, but not as many for dad. The ones that are available however are pretty good. It’s just that I didn’t read them.

How hard can this roller coaster be I thought as I handed my nifty pregnancy ticket to the pregnancy park usher.  Well, it’s the type of roller coaster that takes you up 300 feet, drops you, takes you up 300 feet, drops you, takes you 300 feet, up, down, up, down, up, down,  so by the time the second trimester comes around you’re no more than a useless piece of mental jelly.

The allen wrench is the only tool invention which results in the same outcome as using one's own teeth to assemble furniture

The allen wrench is the only tool invention that results in the same outcome as using one’s own teeth to assemble furniture

If the first trimester was a piece of furniture it would be one of those Ikea dressers that come with four less holes than screws just to make you think you’re an idiot and did something wrong. Month three hits, and you’re left standing in your kitchen watching your wife devour a carton of Rocky Road ice cream and all you have to show for yourself is a worn down allen wrench.

One day you’re absolutely ecstatic and the next day you’re frantically scanning the bus schedule for direct routes to Portugal.

How am I going to afford this thing?

What if he or she hates me?

What if he comes out as the devil reincarnated like in that movie The Omen and begins plotting my demise? Say I come home on a random Tuesday and find him in my den with horns and pointing a fiery pitchfork?


Yeah remember that time I told you to clean up your room? I was totally kidding! Ha!

These were the things keeping me up nights.

My wife downloaded another app which gave her dynamic news for every week of the pregnancy.

Her favorite part was telling me what the baby’s size was each week.

“This week our baby is the size of a pea,” she’d tell me.

Another week it was the size of a plum.

Another? A yam.

Jesus, did my wife get knocked up by the cast of Farmville? Or did Yogi the bear surreptitiously make his way into our apartment with his basket while I was at work, put the moves on my wife, and now she’s filled with picnic snacks?

Thanks to you my wife is set to deliver a ham sandwich

Thanks to you Yogi my wife is set to give birth to a ham sandwich

How does the app determine what your baby’s the size of anyway? Is it fruits and vegetables for every city or just the ones with the propensity to for healthy eating?

Meanwhile at the baby app headquarters…

“We’ve got another subscriber here boss- this one from San Francisco.”

“Dynamite work Jimmy, let’s turn their baby into a fruit salad, followed by a hummus dip, and then hit them with honeydew for the third trimester. That will shut them up.


“Jimmy just do it – trust me on this one.”

What about in other parts of the country?

“Another one boss – looks like a Houston baby this time.”

“Great job Jimmy, ok let’s see, make it a doughnut, then a beef brisket, and at 22 weeks, make their baby the size of the largest Big Mac the world has ever seen.

This app is the only one created that was successful in making me actually want to ingest my baby. By the 26th week, I was a full-fledged vegetarian.

wait a second, that's not an eggplant parmesan! I've been bamboozled

Wait a second… that’s not an eggplant parmesan! I’ve been bamboozled

The first trimester is also when medical professionals ensure you don’t sleep at night. At the end of an appointment you receive a document informing you of the exact chance your child will have some horrific disorder, as such, one previously found only in manatees.

“So there’s a 1 in 321,000 chance your child will have a condition that will actually swap their left foot and their genitalia,” the Doctor tells you after careful examination.

“Doc I don’t think that’s possible – so let me get this straight, my kid could possibly come out with a penis for a foot? Is that even legal?”

“Yes, and after examining with close precision looking on this monitor here, we’ve also determined with nine percent accuracy that your child will have a higher incidence of Indian burns when he or she is older.”

“Like the ones you get when someone turns both hands on your wrist in an irritating manner?”

“That’s right.”

People asked me.

What if your child comes out ugly?

Doesn’t like sports?

Is a communist?

Doesn’t love Justin Bieber?

Looks like Yogi bear?

Well after the Doctor’s assessments I would’ve been happy with a cross-dressing, hippy, peg-legged transvestite for a child, as long as he was healthy…wait a second did you just say Yogi Bear?

That son of a…

And now to the bear I mean beer (darn that Yogi!) portion of the blog…

What beer is in Steve’s fridge?

plinyPliny The Elder

Brewed by: Russian River Brewery   Santa Rosa, Ca

Style: American double IPA

ABV: 8.0%

If I could live out the rest of my days swimming in a pool of this stuff I would, but no one will give me the construction loan I need to make it happen. Perhaps it’s because I always ask while under the influence of this delight.

This beer is so good it literally is no longer in my fridge because I’ve drunken it since I started writing this sentence.

This beer is so good brewers melt into gold when brewing it.

If this beer was an orgy it would consist of Megan Fox, Kim Kardashian and Jessica Alba.

Have I mentioned this beer is amazing?

The taste of this beer is the epitome of perfect balance – hoppy, but not too hoppy. Malty but not too malty. Fruity but not too fruity. Sweet but not too sweet.  I mean who are these guys? They are the perfect ying and yang of beer making. No ingredient is too much or too little!

These guys could seriously throw any ingredient in and it would come out perfect.

“Bill what if we threw in this old moldy sock?”

“Mmmm… not bad… a little moldy, but not too moldy, perfect…”

This is a heavy IPA yet goes down as smooth as blackberry lemonade at a hot day which makes things a little dangerous with its high alcohol content.

Unfortunately this beer is almost impossible to find. You have to go directly to the brewery or be lucky enough to find it at a bar, but unlike Lewis & Clark’s discovery of North Dakota, it is worth the effort.

Like this?

Try on some other posts for size:

photo (24)


There’s an App For That 





   Two Pink Lines




 My Husband Thinks I’m Fat 

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Why I Started A Blog

Recently, a craft home brewing website called Noble Brewer asked me to write a post on why I started a beer blog. They take high-quality home brews, brew them at a commercial brewery, pretty them up and then ship them off direct to your home so you can have exclusive beers no one else has. Pretty cool.

Since I haven’t written on here for a while I figured I’d double-dip a little bit, and post the blog on here as well. Although this blog title should probably read Why I started a beer blog yet don’t ever write on it making me one pathetic loser, but you be the judge.

Here it goes…

Today anyone with a halfway decent internet connection and a hint of something interesting to say can start a blog. For me it was no different when I started mine about fatherhood and beer (naturally two things most fathers know go hand in hand).

So why did I start it? Was it because I’m insecure, crave instant gratification and am under the false impression that others actually have an interest in what I have to say?

Pretty much, but if that was solely the case, I could’ve started a blog about just about anything. After all writing a beer blog is a fairly difficult task, and it’s not because you need a degree from an esteemed university, must possess infinite creative wit or have the aroma-sniffing nose of a grizzly bear in heat. Sure, those help, but the real issue is documenting every fleeting thought at a time when you could be at the very least, slightly intoxicated.

So why did I think I was up for the task?

When a hospital handed my wife and me a beautiful baby boy in June 2013 without instructions or a gift receipt of any kind, we found ourselves lost, confused, and somehow responsible for another life.

This is it? I thought to myself as the release form was signed and dated. You’re just going to hand him over and then what do we do?

The iTunes disclosures when downloading Angry Birds are more legally binding than the paperwork you sign to receive a human.

Shouldn’t we receive a six-week training course, a 200 page manual and some sort of buyer’s remorse guarantee if we decide that dirty diapers, zero sleep, and having one’s life controlled by nine pounds of screaming monster simply isn’t worth giving up game night and Pub Crawl Thursdays?

The lack of required preparation and basic knowledge of something so important made me realize I had no idea what I was doing. As a result of the stress and confusion, some pretty hilarious blunders began to take place and I felt that they needed to be shared. That way other fathers could either relate to them, or more likely, be relieved that they weren’t the least capable dad on the block.

Before I launched I decided to sit down with a favorite beer and do some research to see what was currently on the web. What I found was that there were several dad blogs that provided parenting tips at different stages of fatherhood journey. But what dad wants to read solely about caring for a child? As far as I was concerned, I had planned to learn that part as I went and deal with it the same way one deals with a monster under the bed – curl up in the fetal position and hide under the covers until morning. I knew that in order to capture the attention of other dads my blog would have to be entertaining and funny but it couldn’t just stop there. There would have to be another draw.

I took a swig of my golden Belgian ale, holding it in my mouth a second longer than normal to let the yeasty notes and fruity sweetness embrace in a tornado of passion like two horny teenagers at their first keg party.

I swallowed and as the lingering floral aroma danced up and out of my nostrils, I felt the new parenting stress departing my body.

I took another swig and it hit me.

Now that I was a new father, I needed this beer for a temporary escape. I didn’t just need it – I relied on it. I knew I couldn’t be the only one. Every new dad, or every dad for that matter could use a beer once in a while right? Does that make us bad fathers? Quite the contrary actually. And just how would other dads know which beer to drink? And most importantly wouldn’t they want to be entertained when reading about which beer to drink?

And from that, my blog was born.

So what’s so different about it compared to other beer blogs? There’s certainly content out there notifying readers what they’ll taste, just like there are plenty of riveting Facebook posts notifying followers when someone sneezes or heats up a bowl of leftover macaroni.

My goal is not to tell people what the beer is like – I want to show them how it makes me feel. That’s the story that I try to put on paper. Sometimes that story also includes random ruminations you won’t find elsewhere such as what the surfboard-toting shark on the label of Lost Coast’s Great White does to pass his Sundays. (Clearly important).

Beer is fun to drink, and rightfully so, a beer blog should be fun to read.

A good beer gets the job done. But a great beer transports you to better times when life made sense and all was right with the world. Because that’s what a great beer does- not only do you get the satisfaction that comes with drinking it, but it can conjure up pleasant impactful memories of times past. For example, like the time your father showed up during your shift at Arby’s and let you know he finally accepted you weren’t going to be an astrophysicist like him, and then you shared a German Doppelbock next to the roast beef slicer. These are things that deserve to be put on paper and quite frankly if I don’t – who will?

At the end of the day I started the blog to have a creative outlet, but also because I want others to get enjoyment out of it. And in some rare cases, just maybe learn a thing or two.

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Pigeon Play

homing pigeonYears ago messenger pigeons dominated the sky – visionaries in communication technology, delivering messages to dignitaries throughout the land. Today, with the rise of cell phone communication most of them are shells of their former selves, forced to live out the rest of their days as mere common birds.

The unlucky ones found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time, such as in the back alley of a French restaurant, but others decided to call Golden Gate Park in San Francisco, California home. With only dreams of memory’s past to occupy an anxious brain, pigeons often find comfort in teasing young children into thinking they can be captured, only to disappoint  the youngster as they dance just out of reach of the tyke’s reach. This bird of un-prey was no exception…


I see you pigeon. And now I shall capture you.


I’m closing the gap on you pigeon or the photographer has zoomed out, not sure which.


I’m one step away from raising my shovel down upon thee pigeon


gosh dangit’ pigeon, stop moving! Just when I get close enough…


This is getting ridiculous !


Argh! Stop moving… Don’t you dare go through that fence pigeon. I swear…


Don’t do it pigeon.

He did it. Darn you pigeon. Darn you.

He did it. Darn you pigeon. Darn you.




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10 Signs Your Cat is Pissed About Your New Baby & Definitely Wants You Dead

It was at that point Henrietta realized that Fluffy never had any intention of abiding by the "no eye gauging" rule

It was at that point Henrietta realized that Fluffy never had any intention of abiding by the “no eye gauging” rule

The first few days after a new baby’s arrival, your cat’s strange behavior typically goes unnoticed. Any unusual occurrences indicating your cat is pissed about the arrival and probably wants you dead are easy to chalk up as another catnip overdose or miss completely. Inauspiciously for you however, your clandestine feline’s plot won’t remain underground for long. Somewhere in the darkness, your cat lurks, prepping for a secretive attack leading to your ultimate demise.

What are the signs exactly? How does one know if their cat really wants to roll them into a ball of tuna and feed them to local alley cats, or if it’s just a phase, like when she used to post pictures of you wearing your wife’s undergarments (photo-shopped of course) until you changed her litter box.

No two cats are the same, but here are some fairly universal signs to look out for.


I won’t forget this

Your cat is coughing up hairballs  Every cat expert knows that each hairball contains a high level of morality. This means that when the last one finds its way up the pathway of your cat’s esophagus and out into the world, your cat will be pure evil – all the way from the tips of her whiskers to the last hair on her tail.

Strange cats keep showing up at your door Your cat has made some new friends, and none of them are that cute kitten that gets tickled and then sticks all four paws out in delight.  Your cat is fraternizing with suspicious hobo cats – in particular the ones trained in paw to paw combat.


Once I’ve reached absolute zen, I will attack you like a flurry of rabid spider monkeys

Your cat hides in tight places without moving for long periods Unless you have a cat who is also working towards a career as a pantomime this tactic is for determining best time and angle for an attack. Remaining still in tight places allows her to focus and master the art of patience.

Your cat sits and gazes out the front window Zoning out and appearing to fantasize about catching birds darting to and fro in your garden was cute months ago, but now your cat is using this for strategic reflection time. She is carefully brainstorming every step of her sinister plan while charting out hideout spots for when the deed is done at the same time.

Your cat bites your feet when you’re sleeping At one point your cat may have bit your toes as a sign of affection, but now she is using them as a testing ground so she knows how many pounds per square inch of pressure is required to break flesh when D-day arrives.

I'm not touching you

I’m not touching you

Your cat pretends to enjoy childless, senseless games Your cat knows that patience is a virtue because when the built-up anger releases it will unleash in a tornado of feline ferocity somewhere near your occipital bone.

Your cat responds to its name but doesn’t come when you call Again, this is another example of your cat testing your mental strength and patience. This is a standoff with an aim to gauge weakness.  If you stop then appear disinterested, then she comes over when she wants, that is a sign that she’s won the mental battle. This gives her the confidence she needs to know she can mentally destroy you if the physical attack doesn’t work out.

Sharpening claws on scratcher or couches Your cat is preparing for battle – with you.

Just poking my head out here to say thanks Fuzzy

Fuzzy? Is that you? Fuzzy?

Dead animals are frequently showing up on your porch Haven’t quite figured out what this means, but anything dead brought to you does not equate to anything positive. Danger lurks. You’re near the end.

You receive word from your neighbors that your cat has been hanging out at their house with their cat This doesn’t mean your cat is running with the bad crowd; it means she is the bad crowd. Your cat is assembling a cat militia and she’s leading the charge.

militiaYour oregano was replaced with catnip and you didn’t realize until you started rolling around on the ground rubbing your head on the carpet after eating spaghetti sauce You eat catnip? You have more problems than a cat plotting your gruesome demise.

You wake up and your cat has a butcher knife raised in your direction The end has arrived.


And so it begins…

But, before you meet your untimely finale, you might as well go out with a bang and enjoy a nice, refreshing brewski. To be more specific, grab yourself a Mendocino Brewing Eye of the Hawk.

eye of hawkEye of the Hawk Imperial Ale

Brewed By: Mendocino Brewing Company

Style: American Strong Ale

ABV: 8.0%

In most cultures, ingesting the eye of a large bird of prey would get you a quick invitation to the local insane asylum. This beer may not physically put you in a padded room, but it will make you feel like you belong in one. It claims to be an 8% ABV but it feels more like a 28. A few of these hearty ales, and its highly likely an enraged, eyeless, flesh-eating carnivore will appear at your door looking to have a word.

The most salient aspects of this brew are its caramel, malty, and bread-like characteristics which do a nice job hiding the high alcohol content, however a hint does sneak up on you as you would expect from an 8% beer. But, if you were like me as a teenager and miss lubing your acned face with Clearasil while also eating malted caramels and bread then this beer will bring you back to the good ole’ days when life was your oyster and your dad still told you he loved you.

Its Northern California roots make this beer a magically mental voyage with each sip. A close of the eyes will transport you to the rolling golden hills off the California coast – the wind whipping through the trees and tall radiant grass blowing maniacally in every direction. A bird overhead drifts peacefully through the autumn sky unaffected by the gusts. The sun is setting and the horizon is littered with beautiful shades of pink, orange and yellow.

Please unsubscribe me from this ridiculous blog post

Please unsubscribe me from this ridiculous blog post

In the sky above, the bird squawks, likely eying a rodent bounding for safety on the ground below. To your left you hear the crashing sound of the treacherous surf relentlessly pounding the jagged, sea-ravaged hillside, retreating for just a brief moment to refuel for another savage pummeling. Somewhere in the distance a dog barks…

Wait no, that’s the bird again – now seemingly much louder than before. It is now making the sound not as much like a bird, or a dog, but more human-like. Demonic even. Like something you’d only hear in a movie about exorcisms, rings, or 104 years after a girl falls down a well on the anniversary of the occurance. You look up and let out a death curdling scream. There, torpedoing through the dusk sky is an eyeless hawk aimed straight for you. You take one last swig of your beer before it strikes…

Nine hours and twelve alarm clock snoozes later you awake curled up in a fetal ball between your bed and nightstand amidst a small village of Eye of the Hawk beer bottles. Now that’s some good beer.


143 583

Bonus sign your cat definitely wants you dead

He takes up speed skating – wait what?


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A Father’s Letter to Baby Clothes Makers

February 3rd, 2015
| Arthritic, Carpal Tunneled 30-Something Dad | 911 Failing Father Rd.|  Island of Misfit Dad Toys, Ca |

Dear Clothes Makers,

I’m writing to extend an enormous THANK YOU for your baby clothing products. They’re easy-to-use, practical, and flexible to fit any baby changing need.

Had world-renown flutist Albert Wilbur Hansford IV was in the board room that day fathers everywhere may still be able to use their pinky fingers

Had world-renown sprite-like flutist Albert Wilbur Hansford IV not been in the board room that day fathers everywhere may still be able to use their pinky fingers

I especially love how in order to successfully operate the buttons one needs to possess the dexterity of a brain surgeon and the fingers of an ant. Trying to button these things is like trying to play the board game operation during an earthquake. One can only assume that at some point during production, someone on your team (probably the one person in operations without the finger size of a flute-playing sprite) spoke up and suggested using larger size buttons. This goes against our button quality and lifelong mission of ensuring no dad will be able to use their index fingers again you probably retorted. Did human evolution ever come up in conversation or were you all too busy doing your best Simpson’s Mr. Burns impression with your pencil fingers to care? Had this been 1400 BC, when humans averaged four-foot six and had the finger circumference of a toothpick, your customer satisfaction ratings would’ve been extraordinary. It may have worked for the Persian Empire, but this is 2015.

Button size aside, I also appreciate the challenge of trying to match up one button to another. Standard logic would have buttons meeting across from one another – button one on the left, matches up with button two directly on the other side. This is how every article of clothing is made. But you took a different approach. Why should we stand by and let the normalcy of the world dictate how we make our product you said, dancing the fine line between brilliance and craziness, but mostly craziness. You decided to match up the lower right butt button to the upper button by the baby’s chest thus creating the only article of clothing requiring a GPS to see it to completion.

Myself holding a teenage character from the 1970's show The Jeffersons just before bedtime

Myself holding what Boy George probably looked like as a teenager just before bedtime

You’ve also managed to exponentially regress the ferocity of the animal kingdom. Outfits from yester year featured cuddly sheep, cats, and bunnies. Now you’ve made sure every animal that could sting, maim, or kill you is depicted in a cuddly light for children thus ensuring that the first time my son sees an alligator he’s going to go up to it, pet it, then proceed to give it a bear hug. In some small town somewhere, Jacques Cousteau’s grandson can’t wait to get into the water where he will proceed to voluntarily enter the mouth of a Tiger shark at first sight.

Jacques III on his first free dive after assuring his buddies he'd be fine because of his onesies

Jacques III on his very first free dive off coast of South Africa

Your sizes are also extremely informative and not at all vexing. I specifically enjoy the 6-12 month size which makes it really easy to figure out whether or not the item will fit. Any sort of clue you could give us here? Are we talking closer to 6 or closer to 12? That range is the difference between your child looking like a 1920’s baseball player or Lance Bass at an ecstasy foam party. I’d like to know whether or not I’m about to hogtie my child or see him disappear altogether in a plume of excess onesie. I get it. The chicks always go for the mysterious type. You want to keep your elusive appeal. But going forward, any chance you could throw us some sort of surreptitious bone here? Perhaps a code of some sort? Pretty sure you could stitch a man-eating falcon, poisonous scorpion, or saber-toothed t-Rex with one eyebrow pointing to the west to indicate one direction or another, no?

Lastly, I did want to thank you for helping my child gain flexibility. We deny the laws of physics nightly attempting to get his leg into the foot hole of his onesie. You’ve conveniently put two centimeters of fabric on one leg which a blind man with hoofs for hands could maneuver into, yet on the other side you’ve opted to put 70 centimeters fabric. This requires cunning strategy and your child’s ability to bend his leg mid-tibia in order to successfully enter the foot hole. Great for orthopedic surgeons putting a family of 14 through graduate school…bad for dads. Luckily due to my shortcomings, my son can now easily stretch his hamstring to his scapula which will help him earn the role of Gumby should a remake come to fruition at some point in his lifetime. So… thanks.

Overall, you’ve opened up a whole new world of carefree deadly animals, bones I previously thought weren’t bendable, and how to get down to the epidermis in my index fingers using only buttons. And for this I thank you.


Pampers n’ Pints

Ps – As usual with most complaint letters it is customary to include a beer review so I’ve done so below. I trust you’ll enjoy.

You don't need to save any drama for this mama

You don’t need to save any drama for this mama

Mama Little Yella Pils

Brewed by  Oskar Blues Brewery Lyons, Colorado USA

Style Czech Pilsener

ABV 5.30%

I’m not sure who Mama is or if she even approves of drinking, but she is representing a pretty solid pilsener. The brewery that brought us one of the first great canned beers – Dales Pale Ale has added to their aluminum repertoire and can easily be found outside of its home state of Colorado. This golden thirst-quencher is a perfect daytime session beer and guaranteed to put a smile on your town’s can lady. Drink responsibly but with great vigor.

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Beer Brackets – Final 4

Wow, that was a long Elite 8. The brackets were actually being constructed out of tiny toothpicks, able to be assembled only by the tiniest of gnomes located in only one town in Northern Alaska- ok so the blog writer is at fault here… With that said… here are the continued brackets.

We’re down to the final four.



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1st Birthday Gift Ideas

A lone candle sans flame for safety reasons plunged deep into the mushy body of a birthday cake appears to be just another skinny cylinder of lackluster wax. It could’ve been so much more – the rim of FDR’s glasses at a nearby wax museum, the tip of a vibrant new crayon color, or the catalyst in an Olympic snowboarding gold, just to name a few. Instead it has found itself seconds away from certain pulverization once its cake foundation is obliterated by two small hands.

But what one doesn’t realize is that this candle stands for so much more.

Sure, this will be hard, but it can’t be that hard.

I have nieces and nephews and this will be the same.

We’re having a baby?

Did I leave the iron on at home?

These were all thoughts as my son popped out one year agoassuming success would easily prevail.

Looking back, similar to the hopes of the candle before the cake cataclysm, mere survival would’ve been a more realistic goal.

But with every baked goods natural disaster, comes a new day.


Rebirth. (Not literally another birth)

The 1st birthday party.

“What does he want for his birthday,” family and friends have asked. “Toy cars? Bath toys? Trains? Balls?”

Instead of answering each request individually, I decided to write this blog to let everyone know what he already has. That way you can be sure not to double up on anything as well as get some insight into his likes and dislikes.

But my best word of advice is if you’re in the toy or baby clothes aisle, you’re in the wrong spot. Any Lowe’s, hardware Store, or electronic distributor should do just the trick.

Here are his favorite toys at the moment. Hopefully this will help give you some gift ideas.

1. Laptop Computer


Really, any tablet, phone, PC, Mac, Android, even Commodore 64 would do

2. Straw


Straws of any kind are welcome, although none made from actual straw. See what I just did there?

3. Heater

I guess really anything with knobs would work, however before you go out and buy an air traffic controller's dashboard, might want to see if they give gift receipts

I guess really anything with knobs would work, however before you go out and buy an air traffic controller’s dashboard, might want to see if they give gift receipts

4. Mirror

May want to check on shipping fees for any mirrors larger than a breadbox.

Mirror, mirror on the wall who is the drooliest of them all?

5. A mouth

Sure mouths are tough to come by these days with the ... well economy and all, but if you can find a few, Logan would love them.

Sure mouths are tough to come by these days with the … well economy and all, but if you can find a few, Logan would love to have them.

6. TV

He is really stubborn about his TV's. He only buys the ones that you can only see from under 1 centimeter away so make sure you read the packaging first.

He is really stubborn about his TV’s. He only buys the ones that you can only see from under 1 centimeter away so make sure you read the packaging first.

7. Light bulb

A replica ET fingertip would also work, but he prefers only 60Watt bulbs and above. He's sort of elite like that.

A replica ET fingertip would also work, but he prefers only 60Watt bulbs and above. He’s sort of elite like that.

8. Feet

Can't get your hands on any feet (for anyone scoring at home, that's two double entendres so far) I suppose just a toe would probably work too.

Can’t get your hands on any feet? (For anyone scoring at home, that’s two double entendres so far) I suppose just a toe would probably work too.

9. Cords

Any cord essentially will do. Anything that has the potential to electrocute would do the trick.

Any cord essentially will do. Anything that has the potential to electrocute would do the trick.

10. Beer Tap


Too many ideas and so few characters for a caption… ah screw it, I think this one speaks for itself…

11. a box

Pretty much most boxes are acceptable, however anything bigger than a breadbox is too much. Wow this is getting to be too much wit.

Pretty much most boxes are acceptable, however anything bigger than a breadbox is too much. Wow this is getting to be too much wit.

12. Sunglasses

Any brand that lacks slobber-free protectant will do.

Any brand that lacks slobber-free protectant will do.

13. Blow-dryer

This may be because of the cord attached so don't go buying up every wireless blow dryer shop you come across.

This may be because of the cord attached so don’t go buying up every wireless blow dryer shop you come across.

14. That’s What She Said button

Not sure how this helps but this button sure is cool.

Not sure how this helps but this button sure is cool.

15. Remote Control

Anything moveable object with buttons is acceptable.

Buttons. Fits in the hand. Drool depository. It’s the perfect toy really.

16. Box of Condoms

Oh boy.

Family Planning critics agreed this was the most confusing ad campaign ever produced.

So… that should give you all plenty of ideas. Happy Shopping!




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