I Am Cheating On The Wind In Your Vagina
Greetings loyal DadCentric heads! I have an account. I have a password. I can say whatever the fuck I want. I tried to get Jason to give me some direction about what to write, but he kept saying "Whatever".
So DadCentric. If I wasn't so lazy, I would've read a bunch of the back posts to get a handle on things. But I am lazy. And I hate cutting the grass. So what the hell do we do here? I've already received 2 nasty emails from Whit and some other dude (dubya maybe? Who the fuck knows?), so I'm assuming that we're a bunch of Dads who bang on each other like we're in college. That's cool. I'm not afraid of these hacks. What else? We write a bunch of posts about beer and strippers? I can handle this.
And if this is where we bitch about our wives, count me in. So let's get this figured out. Do women read this blog? If yes, leave a comment and maybe a provocative pic. More importantly, do any women who know my wife read this blog?
I'm envisioning a kind of Dad 12 Step meeting where we share in a brotherhood of self-pity. Because let's face it: there's a big chunk of being a husband and dad that suckkkkks. Don't get me wrong. The nature of language only permits me to speak from either a positive or negative perspective. If you want all my happy horseshit, click my name off to the right and go read that drivel.
But as I begin to forge my DadCentric identity, I'm leaning toward expressing the Shadow of fatherhood. There's a Black Hockey Jesus inside me who hates his own children. There. I said it. Not ashamed of it either. Because part of you hates your kids too, even if you've locked that part of you in the basement of your mind.
I'm Black Hockey Jesus. Nice to meet you. Now go to the fridge and get me a beer.