The One Where the New Guy Wasn't Funny or Even Very Interesting
DadCentric. Dad by gum Centric.
Dad mudda fuggin Centric?
How did I get in here? More to the point: How did I get in here?
Well, I'll tell you. It started in a bar. (I've read through almost every post on this site, and 67 percent of them start or end in a bar. Perfect.)
This particular bar was at a particular hotel in Houston in late January. Happy hour at the Dad 2.0 Summit: where dreams come true.
In the half-light of this Houston hotel bar, over the rim of my glass of JD on the rocks, I saw Jason Avant, the Snake Plissken of dad bloggers. I walked right up to him like I was somebody, holding out my hand for him to shake. Or bite. Whatever. It was my first blogger conference. I was up for anything.
"Jason? Good to finally meet you in person," I said. "I love your blog."
"Who the hell are you?" he said.
It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Now ... what? I'm here, and I'm pretty happy about that. This is, after all (as you can read right there on Beta Dad's home page), the "coolest frat at Daddyblogger State." It's also the first place I gravitated toward when I started my parenting blog, DadScribe, in February of 2012. This was the place where the writers were. And are.
I've been waiting, watching, hoping someone (Whit? Ron? Kevin? Jason S? Anyone?) would post something more substantial than this ... whatever it is ... in the wake of TwoBusy's brilliant essay/poem/work of art about the aftermath of the Boston Marathon bombings. Really? My first appearance here is to follow that act?
It dawned on me (slowly, as most things do) that no matter when I posted my intro piece, it would be following some poignant prose poem, or funny screed on food, or cool photo essay about a trip to D.C., or a thought piece about loss or grief or the plight of humanity.
I couldn't win, so here we are: Hi, DadCentric. I'm Carter. I'm a former sportswriter. I'm not Canadian, contrary to popular belief. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I'm married with two sons, and I hold down a full-time job with an Internet marketing agency in Tampa. I didn't actually have anything to do with the Cubs failing to get into the 2003 World Series, but I was in the Wrigley Field press box at the time. I also didn't actually open a roadside tombstone business in Key West after I was downsized out of newspapers in 2008 -- but I should have. My family actually does live in Florida, but not in the swamps outside of Micanopy. I've been part of this big, beautiful blogging community for a little more than a year, and I've enjoyed it so far. A lot.
So, thanks, Dad ever lovin Centric. Thanks for having me. I'll try not to wreck the place too much.