Still a coach. Still a daddy. Just not Coach Daddy anymore.
Tessa at Nothing Was Said, a new blog to me, nominated me for the Leibster award.
You guys know the drill.
I’m going to give quick-hit answers to the questions, but not nominate anyone for it. Taxes and all. It’s nice to be nominated for stuff like this, though.
And after you check out what the girls have asked for this week, you should check out her blog, Nothing Was Said. It’s new and smart and intriguing.
Continue reading “Go Ask Daddy About Rec Specs, Jet Noise and the Bottomless Pit”
Sometimes a dude talks to a woman just to talk to a woman.
Honest. I watched the kids on the playground with a mom years ago. Idle talk. How old’s yours? That’s a fun age. Yeah. Mine’s older. That’s her. Yeah, the one hanging by her toes and singing P!nk songs. Sure, I’m proud – and surprised.
It was an AC/DC day this morning.
My toe hanger manager to sneak off the bars and ambled to my elbow. She stood breathless, hands on hips, like an Olympian waiting for the judges’ reaction to that. She sized up the young mom at my side.
Continue reading “#BOAW: How a Boy Sees the Beauty of a Woman”
You know I love me some underdogs.
It’s not just being the anti-favorite in a game or in life – it’s a lifestyle. It’s humility and hope, it’s dreams and down-to-earth. It has one common ingredient, one building block that makes everything else possible. And without it, it’s tough to accomplish anything.
It’s belief.
To believe it’s possible marks the first step. Not to sound all Dali Lama on you, but it’s true. I believe in a universe of beliefs. Weeks ago, I started a list, both serious and funny. It came together, 42 beliefs.
It’s time for a changing of the guard.
The crown of Music Queen at Coach Daddy needs a new noggin on which to rest. In the Music Queen Rule Book, Section XIX, paragraph 32, sentence 4, it clearly states: Status as Coach Daddy’s Music Queen shall be relinquished in the event of:
Now, to those questions …
See rules above.
Ke$ha, the edgy, pushy and a tad trashy pop star who claimed the crown because she’s academically brilliant, yet chooses to be edgy, pushy and a tad trashy, reportedly violated the rule on her reality show. It was the last straw.
Ke$ha is like gas-station nachos – you know you shouldn’t, but you do. It’s marvelous, in a not-so-good-for-you way. The girl scored nearly perfect on the SAT and has an IQ of 140. With that logic, edgy, pushy and a tad trashy is commendable, because it’s a choice.
It seemed like sound logic back then. Maybe because I scored considerably lower on the SAT (990), and have never had an IQ test. Or maybe I just don’t remember.
A stress test measures how a system functions when it’s subjected to certain amounts of hardships and pressures.
It could be used to gauge a business’ ability to weather economic downturns, a person’s cardiovascular health when they’re placed on a treadmill, or how gross a pop princess can be before a blogging dad takes back the crown.
I know, I know. This too shall pass.
I realize questions 3 through 5 have much to do with the environment in which you live.
Because we constantly see people parked in the fire lane at Food Lion, don’t we? I know it’s hot. I know it’s, like, a couple of dozen steps from an air-conditioned car to the air-conditioned store.
But I think some people mispronounce “Fire Lane” as “Hey, just park here – everyone else uses the parking lot, but you, you’re special.
A fire truck probably isn’t going to need to visit this store anyway, right? In North Carolina, even if you’re in the car unless you’re unloading or loading. You could have your car towed. The day we see that happen is the day I buy you a pony.
If by “automatically” you mean “leaving 40 volume peroxide in their hair for 45 minutes under a shower cap and the hot, hot sun,” then yes.
I can make fun of people who have dark skin and light hair because I was once one. As an incentive for a team I coached that scored ONE goal the season before I took over, I told the girls that if any of them scored three goals in a game, I’d bleach my hair.
I kept to my word, too. Just in the way I described above.
I didn’t have fun as a blond. I nearly didn’t get a job I applied for (yes, this coincided with a career change, too.) And no one thought I was cute – unless you count the handful of men who noticed when it grew out almost completely, and looked like I had frosted tips.
Apparently, dad was pretty.
But no … what you see in the neighborhood? That’s not automatic.
Has it gotten that bad at the neighborhood pool already?
This is a good question for Myth Busters, but I’ll take a crack at it. A gunshot is a controlled explosion, and your garden-variety explosion has three essentials:
To fire a gun, you need fuel (gunpowder), an ignition source (firing pin) and oxygen (in the gunpowder.) If the gunpowder stays dry, you can fire a gun underwater, or even on the moon, because the oxygen is in the gunpowder.
The bullet won’t go far, so it’s not a viable alternative to a fishing pole.
You could even, presumably, shoot bass underwater on Mercury. If you get real close.
Just a dad ... 