13 Things on Thursday to be Thankful For

1. My Wife (yes, you should be thankful too)


2. My Son, Sasquatch.


3. My daughter, Rah.


4. My mom.


5. My sister.


6. Dave Haynes


7. Chef Efrain Cuevas


8. Chef Lauren Parton


9. My new skill: making pork rinds from scratch


10. Tits (why lie?)


11. Vincent Price


12. The internet


13. My gay dog Ty.

Monday is Manday: Hot Shave and a Haircut

For weeks I've been impersonating a homeless Ben Franklin, letting my hair grow long and tattered and kicking myself in the arse for not getting  haircut. This weekend, as my hair started to gain classification as its own ecosystem, one of my oldest and dearest friends came to Chicago so I elected to get shorn. I went to my buddy, MJ, who owns Fades R Us by MJ, and he attacked my shaggy dome.

Three minutes into it MJ started grumbling and threw his clippers into the wall. He grabbed a chainsaw and chewed through my eyebrows (which, prior, could only be described as Gandalphian) because they were so big they were trapping my cut hair, making me look like I had a forehead wig.

Then MJ draped my face with a hot towel for my shave and I fell asleep. Look, the review is on Yelp. He's worth every penny. Two weeks from now, I'm going in a for a facial.

Talking to your kids about sex.

All parents dread this moment. You notice the hairy legs (I'm talking about the boy). You hear the voice crack. You race out to buy deodorant. By the gallon. All of a sudden you realize: it's deep in the sticky wicket of puberty. So you, out of duty, out of a misguided sense of tradition, because you think you care, decide to have a talk. The talk.

Let me offer you a word of advice for parents of the Post Google (P.G.) pubescent:

Don't. Talk.  About. Sex.

They know more than you do. They're like obsessed ob/gyn scientists. My 13 year old son's probably seen more pictures of the va jay jay than I have in my entire life. If, like me, you are a highly liberal parent and don't squelch the internet, then  the first time you talk to your kid about sex, you are doomed to feel like a shy Amish farm boy dropped into a pool full of Vaseline and naked Brazilian trannys. To whit:

Dad: Son, I think I need to talk to you about sex.

Son: Cool dad. What do you want to know?

Dad: No, I mean, I'm here to answer any questions you might have.

Son: Oh good, because I was curious about a few things (pulls a ream of paper from his desk drawer). Do you and mom ever [AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!]

Dad: Dear god.

Son: So that's a no. Is it because you're afraid your [AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!] will [AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!] or that your [AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!] isn't [AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!] enough?

Dad: Mother of Christ.

Son: Also, when girls say they're willing to [AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!] do they really mean they'll [AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!] or that they just want to cuddle?

Dad: Didn't I give you a pocket knife when you were ten?

Son: Why?

Dad: I need to cut my throat.

Son: Don't be such a prude. Now, here's a picture of two people [AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!] in a room full of [AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!] in Turkey and what I'm wondering is, in other cultures, is it normal for a spectator at such an event to [AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!] with his [AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!] in a tea pot?

Dad: I'm gonna throw up.

Son: Also, sometimes when I [AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!] I think about [AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!]. Is that normal?

Dad: NO! Oh my GOD! NO! Stop!

Son: Finally, have you ever [HOLY JESUS MOTHER OF ALL THINGS HOLY THAT IS NOT AN ACCEPTABLE THING TO HEAR, EVER, NOT EVEN IN A MERCHANT MARINE SHIP'S BRIG AFTER A FIGHT. MY GOD; FURTHER: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!] and did you get a rash?

Dad: Please stop talking. Please—

Son: Is this normal? (Shows photograph of AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!]

Dad: I'll do anything. Anything.

Son: Can I get a new game dedicated desktop with nine terabytes of ram and an oil cooled hard drive?

Dad: Here's my credit card.

As I leave the room, he calls his friend and I hear:

Son: Misson accomplished.

Monday is Manday: Smoke 'em if you Got 'em.

Saturday. A sacred day for men. We cut the grass. We work on our car. We drink beer.

We also smoke cigars. I spent Saturday sunk into my favorite fleet of leather armchairs with my knuckles wrapped around an Uzi.

In this specific incident, that Uzi is a cigar named after the Public Enemy song, is the private blend of Drew Estate owner and cigar hero, Jonathan Drew.



If you smoke, you know Drew Estate. They're bringing swagger back to cigars the Goorin (more on them later) is bringing some panache back to fedoras. Here's how the Stogie Guys describe the guts of an Uzi:

Uzi (or MUWAT, as Jonathan Drew of Drew Estate calls it) is made at the Joya de Nicaragua factory with leaf mostly from Drew Estate, including a San Andreas maduro capa wrapper, Connecticut capote binder, and Brazillian mata fina filler. Also used as filler is Nicaraguan leaf from Joya de Nicaragua’s tobacco stocks.

I know this: the guys around me were sort of jealous and all walked into the humidor and bought their own.

 

Go the F*ck to this page and read my article on Go the F*ck to Sleep!

As I ramp up to dominating the North California parent blog landscape, I've been summoned to review Adam Mansbach's seminal title, Go the F*uck to Sleep.

 

Please visit the link to read my review and please comment. Thanks.

13 Things about Sasquatch I Wish Were Myths

 

1. Aspires to be as swift as a three-toed tree sloth

2. Poops footballs

3. Openly asscrackian

4. Constantly under attack from his own hair

5. Parks his shoes in the foyer instead of the garage where they would fit

6. Watches Intervention and Hoarders like he's taking notes

7. Say what?—chicken butt! joke is turning me psychotic

8. Thinks vegetarianism is all grilled cheese sandwiches and pizza-not actual vegetables

9. Believes the internet is an encyclopedia

10. Thinks he's irish

11. Accomplished Loomer

12. The farting. Must. Stop.

13. Keeps patting me on the head, saying: "you're adorable"