That’s not a statement about my orientation. It’s reality, as a dad. It’s been my fate, and I’ve loved it. I don’t think any man is ready to become a girl dad. It just happens. You hang on, and you grow into the job.
At her place, Brittnei tells tales of being a mom, wife and homemaker. She’s stepmom to three and mom to one, and writes with a sincere, sweet style we love, about pregnancy, healthy living and homemaking.
So, this whole Ke$ha scandal has really rocked me.
Should it matter what a musician drinks, even if it’s filtered through her own kidneys? Maybe I’ve overreacted. Maybe it’s like I’m tossing out the butter-heavy southern celebrity cook with the racially insensitive comments from yesteryear.
Anyway, the readers have spoken, and they’ve crowned Norah Jones as my new Music Muse.
With thoughtful, soulful lyrics, an angelic voice, and music chock full of poignancy and positivity, isn’t Norah Jones the perfect anecdote for the Ke$ha mess?
But as Grace and I ran errands today, “Crazy People” came on the radio.
“Hello … wherever you are … are you dancing on the dance floor or drinking by the bar?”
“Daddy,” she said with a smirk. “It’s your girl, Ke$ha. Aren’t you going to turn it up?”
“The crazy kids, them crazy, them crazy kids …”
I did. I turned it up. And smirked, too.
“It’s Ke$ha in the casa, baby … Let’s-let’s get-get loco!”
On with the questions:
1. Has that cheerleader’s hair grown back?
Megan M.’s chromedome days are over.
Presumably. Megan, the Indianapolis Colts cheerleader who made good on a promise to shave her head if the team’s mascot could raise $10,000 for cancer research, is seven months from a tight buzz cut, administered at the Colts’ stadium.
But, there’s no word online about how her locks are recovering.
Man, I’m just two questions in, and I’m beat – these are tough ones this time!
By FIFA rules, it’s a red card, and expulsion from the match, for being guilty of violent conduct. This goes for opponents, officials, team moms, etc. A goalkeeper in a Ukrainian league got sent off after he nailed his teammate with a left hook.
Their opponents had to bust up the scuffle. Apparently a knuckle sandwich is a delicacy worth sharing in Ukraine.
3. Why did you say “thank you” to that lady in the deli after she was so mean?
Did it look like I was trying to be nice?
I wasn’t. When that lady scowled at us for asking for cookies after she’d started cleaning up, but before the deli closed, it ticked me off. When grown-ups get ticked at things like that, we counter with what we call “passive aggressive” behavior.
We sound like we’re neutral or nice, but have a sting of mean behind it.
She’s working. We’re customers. She should be nice. If she has no cookies for good little girls, fine. Don’t scowl at customers. Her boss would’ve been mad. She didn’t know if we weren’t picking out lunch meat for a platter for a loved one’s wake.
Or that I’d be deployed tomorrow, and this was our last day together.
However … I didn’t consider that she might have just lost a loved one. To death or military service. Or both. So when I snapped back with the sarcastic “thank you” to her perceived bitterness, I was stitching a seam in my own issues, it seems.
If I had it to do again, I might act with compassion, not callousness.
Given her the benefit of the doubt. Thank you for reminding me.
4. Is your brain solid, liquid or gas?
It depends on which blog I’ve just written.
Lately, my vote would be for gas. Solids have shape and don’t flow. Liquid flows without shape. Gas has no shape, but flows. A human brain, mostly water (I’ve seen soccer fans that might prove it something of a higher proof), would be solid.
Mine often feels as if it’s in that expanse between Alfredo sauce and puddin’.
Is Eminem white?
No, I know better (a colleague in the sports-writing world once referred to the Caucasian rapper as “M&M” in a basketball story, proving once and for all that pop-culture references have no place in the guild of day-to-day sports reporting).
Eminem, also known as Marshall Bruce Matthers III, is white.
He’s often angrier than a deli/bakery associate just before closing time, though. Will listening to too many of his lyrics put your brain in the “gas” category quicker than you can knock out a teammate? It depends on the song.
I’ve heard this once or twice. It can mean, “I got a pizza-sauce stain on my sister’s school shirt!” It could mean, “I’ve toppled a beer display at Food Lion, and the manager hasn’t seen it.”
It also could mean something mischievous is about to happen to a relative.
Camdyn needed my expertise in sorting out hair accessories. Me? Really? It’s like asking Ndamukong Suh for directions to the kindness march. Camdyn wanted me to help her sort out girl hair accessories into four categories:
Oh, and contribute to a pile of “yard sale/trash” offerings. (“Anything too stretched out goes there, dad,” she explained. “Or if it has Tinkerbell or princesses on it.)
(“But don’t write a story that says I don’t like Tinkerbell. Or princesses.”)
Sure, Camdyn. You’re asking the man who has two categories of hair accessories on his radar – those that hurt when I step on them, and those that don’t.
So, I’d better ask some questions.
Me: Why do you girls love your sidebangs so much?
Camdyn: They make us look pretty in church.
(This makes little sense to a man who hasn’t used a comb since 1987, nor had a haircut since, well, I’m not sure, but I’m pretty sure it was in 2012).
Me: Why do we have to do this?
Camdyn: Because Madison just throws them on the floor.
Good point. So the sorting went on, and so did the learning. Out went the Tinkerbell pieces (Shh!), along with those too worn out to hold together the daily paper for a Tuesday.
Clips congregated in the safety of their numbers, out of harm’s (and my feet’s) way.
The kid can accessorize.
She’s the child who helped me organize my own stuff, with such helpful hints as rolling up my belts, stacking up my soccer shirts, and splitting up my underwear into “favorites” and “not so favorites.”
For the record: None of those had Tinkerbell on them.