Chicago "Dibs"

My wife refuses to let me participate in the coveted, Chicago tradition called “Dibs.”

Here’s the picture definition:

We currently have over two feet of snow on the ground here in Chicago.

And, let me tell you that’s no easy chore to dig out, especially when the plows throw another two feet right on top of your curb.

After a couple hours of digging through snow and ice to create a perfect little space for your car to fit, and for everyone to enjoy a snow-free entrance into the kid-caravan, you feel like you’ve climbed Mount Everest.

And there’s nothing worse than coming home to find some two-faced prick parked directly in your spot.

So, Chicagoans started putting lawn chairs in the street to call “dibs” on their spot

Stuffed animals

And even robbing innocent old-folks of their walkers to use to claim “dibs” on their spot.

Genius!! I know!!!

So after Snowmageddon  2011, I dug a nice snow-free home for our car and then started lugging a couple lawn chairs to the curb to use whenever one of us took the car.

My wife quickly popped her head out of the door and screamed, “what the hell are you doing with those?”

In a manly man caveman style I said, “Me protect spot. Me work hard. Me dig in snow, get sweaty. If car go vroom me put chair in spot so no one take. Me get angry if spot gone. You go make dinner….protect kids! You make self pretty for manly man husband!”

She wasn’t a huge fan of that.

In fact, I was told, “putting lawn chairs in the road doesn’t promote neighborly relations!”

I immediately reminded her that the people on this block who are actual human beings already know us and would never park in front of our house. The rest…well...the can burn!

I lost the fight

And as a result, we have access to my neatly shoveled spot 80% of the time.

The other 20% of the time I’m out late at night shoveling as much snow as I can on their car.

One day I’ll have balls enough to stand up to the wife and tell her that she can….

Hold on, I’ll finish that sentence in a second…the wife’s looking.



Chilean Hamster Ductwork Rescue 2011

Yesterday morning I went down to the wife’s at-home office in the basement to throw some “we should totally hook-up when both kids are at school today” vibes around. That’s when I heard it.

THUMP!

Me: “What the hell was that?”

Wife: “I don’t know. The furnace has been doing that all morning.”

Me: “Ummm…you know that’s not normal right.”

Wife: “Maybe an animal’s stuck in there, I don’t know.”

I went back up to my at-home office, put the headphones on and kept cranking on work. The thought did cross my mind that maybe the hamster go out….again.

For those who don’t know, the wife has managed to bring into the house a hamster, a fish, a cat, and a dog. Although I blame her publicly, I know deep down that the zoo environment I live in is a direct result of me not being man-enough to just say “no!!!!”

An hour after hitting on the wife I take my headphones off for a call. The call ends and that’s when I hear it.

THUMP! SCRATCH…..SCRATCH, SCRATCH, SCRATCH

I stand, grab my cell phone, make the slow walk up to the boy’s room and find this:

Immediately I pic text this picture to the wife in the basement. A minute later we’re holding flash lights and listening to our damn ductwork trying to figure out exactly where the little furry bastard is.

That’s when we found him…in the basement, at the rock-bottom part of the ductwork right next to the filter where it connects to the furnace that has been running all day cause it was -5 outside.

And the wanna-be-rat-bastard was alive!! I mean…here’s the trip this furry guy made from the second story of our house.

He was up on a shelf, fell to a dresser, then to the floor.

Then he crawled his ass into this vent on the second floor of our house.

And fell his way through multiple ductwork chambers to the first floor, then to the basement here.

And there…he was stuck, surrounded by metal, receiving the blunt of air from the furnace, trying like hell to find freedom.

So…the wife and I embarked on an epic journey to save the little bastard despite the fact we’d both be “happier” with one less animal.

PLAN A

I thought I’d get all MacGyver on his ass and use the kids’ DS charger cord wrapped around a measuring cup to scoop his ass up.

FAIL: The measuring cup was too large to fit in the hole. (That’s what she said.)

PLAN B

Drop a large rope into the hole in the hopes the furry bastard would climb to his freedom.

FAIL: He just chewed on the end of it like a douche to try and find materials to make a nest for his new Chilean Hamster Deathtrap Home.

Right about here is where I was being all supportive and stuff to the wifey’s effort and got… “The Look.” Ok…I got half, “The Look”…but it still hurt.

Saving The Chilean Hamster & "The Look" from WhyIsDaddyCrying on Vimeo.

PLAN C

Holy shit…we still have fake Christmas garland sitting right here!! Let’s drop it in as a “Ladder of Hope” for the little bastard to climb!!!

FAIL: I have no idea what in the hell he was doing to it, but there was tons of noise and the garland may now be pregnant.

PLAN D

Drop a small cup filled with peanut butter and carrots into the Chilean Hamster Deathtrap until he climbs in then hoist him up.

SUCCESS!!!!

Here, take a look!

Chilean Hamster Rescue Mission 2011 from WhyIsDaddyCrying on Vimeo.

Teddy was saved. Although from the repeated falls that little dude made, I’m not quite sure how long he has to live in this world. We’ll be keeping an eye on him.

The wife? She was just glad the entire episode happened while the kids were at school.

Me? Well…how would you feel after spending a long-shot-possible-afternoon-sex-time fishing a damn hamster-out-of-ductwork day?

I'm Applying To Be On The Bachelor! A Guest Blog Post

The other day my good friend Stacey (@IEatMyKidzSnack on Twitter and the author of THIS funny-as-hell blog) and I got into one of our fantasy wars.

If you haven’t seen them before they kinda go a little bit like this.

Well this recent battle was about how awful we thought the other person would be as a contestant on The Bachelor.

That led to an email from Stacey to me which said, “I’m filling out the official Bachelor submission questionnaire for your right now.”

I responded, “If you do, I’ll post it as my first guest blog ever.”

And well…here it is.

I hope you laugh as much as my gap-toothed dumb-ass did.

_________________________________________________________

A Guest Blog Post By Stacey "Lady of the House"

www.IEatMyKidzSnacks.com

After a recent “I fantasize” tweet battle with my good friend, WhyIsDaddyCrying I decided to see what would happen if he wasn’t a happily married father of two and actually applied to be the next Bachelor.

THE BACHELOR QUESTIONNAIRE

Name: Don’t you know who I am? I’m @whyisdaddycryin on Twitter.

How did you hear about our search? Are you kidding? Ever since I was a boy I’ve dreamed of being surrounded by hot chicks with daddy issues desperate to hang out in a hot tub with me and compete for a crack at ALL this:

Occupation:  I’m a vegetarian and a blogger. Plus I started a movement called “Pants Optional Friday” where I advocate no one wears pants on Fridays. Frankly, this would work to my advantage at those Rose Ceremonies. Maybe change my line to, “Ladies, will you accept my balls?”

Annual salary: Let’s just say, I like a nice Sizzler salad bar once a quarter and even though I’m a vegetarian, I roll my own sushi.

What is your highest level of education?  Yes.

Are you a legal resident of the United States? Yup, unless there’s a place where hookers & weed are legal. What? Where? I’d like to change my answer.

Where did you grow up? I grew up in North (hick) North Carol (hick) North Carolina. Sorry, I have a case of the hickups.

*No offense to anyone from North Carolina. I just like to get daddy’s goat.  Since he probably fucked it while growing up in North Carolina.

Have you ever been arrested, charged or convicted of a crime of any type? Does an inmate shit in his cell? There may have been one time. What? I read dolphins love human contact.

Have you ever had a temporary restraining order issued against you? Please give details and dates: Yes, but it was terminated when Mr. Coleman passed away.

Have you ever been a performer, participant or contestant on television, radio or in film? Does really amateur porn count?

Do you drink alcoholic beverages? Yes, yes I do. Let me take you through what a “one on one date” would look like. First I’d have a cocktail while putting on my makeup getting ready to go out.

Next I’d do 5 or 6 shots of Jaeger in the limo all the while trying to fit my massive head out the top so I could yell “I’m The Motha Fuckin’ Bachelor bitches.” I’d spend the next several hours alternating between wine and Maker’s Mark and Sprite.

While eating annoying things like hummus and sprouts I’d talk incessantly about the weather and high cost of oil. I’d end the night by stroking my date’s hair, fumbling with her bra and vomiting into the hot tub. The same applies for a “group date” with the addition of trying to milk each girl like she was a dairy cow.

** This was the part of the application where they asked for age, height, weight, etc. I felt those questions were inconsequential compared to what I feel ladies need to know if they choose to use the overnight date card with WhyIsDaddyCrying.

Degree of halitosis: Somewhere between baby diaper and rotting corpse.

Diameter of space between teeth:

Degree of erectile dysfunction:  Moderate unless I’m watching “Meerkat Manor” then I’m fine.

How many days in between your period: N/A. But every 28 days I cry into a Snuggie because I feel unappreciated & bloated.

Brain Size: A full 4 ¼ inches. Yeah baby.

Thickness of back hair: Let’s just say there better be at least 3 pool skimmers.

Please describe your ideal mate in terms of physical attraction & in terms of personality attraction.  She’s got to have boobs, a butt and a face. Oh and hands and a vagina. She has to laugh at all my jokes and be smart and stuff. This is hard. No seriously it is. I’m like a pre-pubescent boy when I talk about boobs. Did I mention boobs?

How many serious relationships have you been in? 6

What happened to end those relationships? Came out as a lesbian, moved to Dikshit, India, attempted murder (her on me), rehab, eaten by a dingo and again, lesbianism.

What are your hobbies? I drink a shit-ton of beer, I love music, and I pleasure myself to pictures of Bea Arthur run. I also take zumba.

What is the unique talent of which you are most proud? I can fart the alphabet. I mean shart. I can shart the alphabet.

List the 3 adjectives that best describe you: Smoove, Phat and Foine.

Do you have any tattoos? If yes, what are they? And where are they located on your body? Yes.

Have you ever been married? Look a helicopter!

If yes, how many times? No, seriously isn’t it a prerequisite to arrive in a helicopter at least 3 times on “The Bachelor?” I assume you provide Depends Undergarments for men who have problems with high altitude and vibration?

Have you ever been divorced? Not yet but please, please don’t show this application to anyone who claims to be “married to me.”

Do you have any children? How is this relevant to me getting drunk and cliff diving with scantily clad women?

What accomplishment are you most proud of?  Ugh. Shit. FINE! MY FAMILY. I am most proud of my beautiful wife and children.

Why would you be a great husband? Because, well…………read my blog.

Why are you America’s Most Eligible Bachelor? I’m not.

*In the end WhyIsDaddyCrying would realize no amount of free tail is worth giving up the amazing family he allows all of us to see glimpses of on his blog.

**Also you have to submit a picture and video. We all know after seeing that “gap toothed bastard” all we’d hear is women openly weeping and limo tires screeching.