Two Short Years

I feel like I’m entering a U.S. president’s second term with all these gray hairs popping up. Fortunately, I’m not the president, and you can be assured I’ll never run for office. I won’t even run to the bathroom, I’ll pee my pants instead. I tore my ACL in my left knee when I was 13 during a Babe Ruth All Star Game. That’s why I don’t run. It’s never been repaired. The doctors said I’ll eventually need a whole knee replacement so I...

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Am I Being Too Picky?
Jan08

Am I Being Too Picky?

I’m normally a relationship guy. My two prior relationships lasted a combined total of 36 months, minus the 3-month break in one of them. The funny thing about breaking up is time, and how much of it becomes available instantly. It feels like I’m skinny dipping, swimming faster than Michael Phelps even with my gargantuan amounts of body hair. My typical reaction would be to change my relationship status, reach out to the friends I...

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X Reasons To Date a Single Dad with a Daughter
Dec15

X Reasons To Date a Single Dad with a Daughter

Let me start by saying I’m not a big fan of those blog titles with a predetermined number of ways or whys. It’s every other post I see in my News Feed, and now I’m contributing to the madness. I’m sorry but it has to happen. Actually, what happened was HuffPost asked me to come up with a couple of reasons why you should date a single dad. As I started writing some ideas down, I noticed that I have no clue what...

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Feed the Children!
Oct16

Feed the Children!

I write words. No one pays me and I don’t blame them. The most meaningful things I’ve written, or what I’ve created, have no meaning to you. They’re so important that I put them next to salami sandwiches, bags of chips, and Handi-Snacks. These priceless collections of messages and images are sent secure and private. Even if you were to breach security, you’d have no use. The NSA spy program has nothing on...

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Stepping Up to the Plate
May24

Stepping Up to the Plate

I was about nine years old when my parents would come home from work, shut their bedroom door behind them, and start arguing.  There wasn’t a pillow large enough that could hide me from the sound.  Parents try preparing their children for everything, but not this.  I’d leave the house to the nearby junior high where boys my same age practiced baseball.  You’d hear things like, “Two down,” from the chubby one with gear on behind home...

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