DadCentric

Auld Lang Syne

I sure know how to live it up.  Last year, I live-blogged for four hours leading up to midnight.  Tonight?  Mrs. Big Dubya and I watched two Harry Potter movies and I scarfed down some Ben & Jerry's.  I'm about to pop open a Victory Horizontal Barleywine-style Ale and possibly have a cigar to mark the New Year.  I'm not big on resolutions, but I resolve to spend more time here than I have as of late - I have neglected my posting duties here and I need to get back on track.

Anyway, Happy New Year to one and all.

Happy New Year!

Man, it has been a bit slow around here.  That week between Christmas and New Year is a hard one.  There are new gifts to play with, decorations to take down, bowl games and playoffs, resolutions to keep, not to mention work and otherwise normal obligations.  It's a tough week.

It's a funky one too.  My head still swirls with the surreal memories of our holiday vacation and suddenly it's time to party and not only do we not have a sitter but we never even considered getting one.  My desire to start the new year with a hangover has wanned (waxed?) over the years.  I'd just assume stay home with the family, let the kids stay up late, have a couple of beers and beg the wife for sex.  I'd hate to go a whole calendar year without it.

2007 was a decent year around these parts.  A few of us added to our respective families, some of us had our favorite sports team win their respective championship and I got an iPhone.  I've seen worse years.

2008 promises to be a good one.  Not only will DadCentric: The Book be available, but for a limited time you will be able to have your copy signed by all contributing authors for a small large fee plus shipping.  If that is all that happens in 2008 it's already a keeper.

Here's hoping your 2007 was a good one and that your 2008 is even better.  Have a happy and safe holiday.

Happy New Year!

Ho Ho Ho

Merry Christmas from all of us at DadCentric, and our spiritual advisor, the Right Reverend Mojo Nixon.

Glad Tidings of the Season

Well, it looks like we're heading into crunch time if you are planning on celebrating anything festive next week.  That said, I thought I would provide some suggestions should you need to sit and relax- more than you do already.

By suggestions I mean beer.

Seasonal beers are a big hit with me, and if they aren't already a big part of your holiday season please note- they need to be.

Here are a few that will make everyone merrier (and possibly better looking):

Anchor Steam Christmas Ale is perhaps the greatest thing to ever come out of San Francisco, or California for that matter.  It is Christmas in a bottle (or glass).  If this is the only seasonal beer you ever drink you will be a better person for it.  I love it so much I want to take it behind the middle school and get it pregnant.  Fortunately, (for my wife) the mouth of the bottle is too small, otherwise that beer would be glowing like a Spears girl at her junior prom.

Pyramid Snow Cap packs a bit of a punch at 7% alcohol content.  It's a great way to accidentally get drunk at a Sonics game.  It too combines the wonders of the season and is worth stuffing in a stocking or two.

Samuel Smith's Winter Welcome used to disappoint me every year.  It wasn't because the beer was bad, far from it, but because the beer went bad.  It used to be shipped in clear glass bottles which, aside from Newcastle, seems to be a killer of good beer.  Light and beer are not friends.  If light tells you otherwise it is lying.  Last year Mr. Smith got smart and started bottling it in a darker bottle and I've had nothing but good taste since.  Really.  Besides, any beer that quotes Shakespeare (not his sister) on the label has got to be top notch.

Truth be told, there are more and more seasonal beers every year, and the three I mentioned are just 3 of the more popular options.  I would guess that I've had over 20 different types of winter brews over the years, and these are the few that I MUST have every December.

If you would like to check out a few more look no further than our own Mr. Big Dubya.  He also likes beer.

Now here's something that should have been done long ago:

What To Buy Dad For Christmas

Brass tacks, moms, partners, and kids (wait - you let your kids look at this site? What the hell's wrong with you?): there's 8 shopping days left until Christmas and you need some ideas. Here you go:

DVD's: Really, only two merit consideration this holiday season. The Ultimate Blade Runner (with 5, yes 5 versions of the film) and Superbad: Special Edition.

Books: Three dad books of note. Dadditude, by Philip Lerman, humorously chronicles the joys and heartaches of 50-year-old Lerman's experience as a new dad. Punk Rock Dad, by Pennywise frontman Jim Lindberg, humorously chronicles the joys and heartaches of Lindberg's experience as a new dad. Against The Day, by Thomas Pynchon, humorously chronicles the joys and heartaches of Pynchon's experience as a new dad.

Video game: Nintendo Wii. If you can find one.

Music: Led Zeppelin, Mothership. Actually, buy two copies, one for dad, one for dad to use to chuck, ninja throwing star-style, at the head of anyone who insists on playing the latest release from Iron and Wine.

Of course, if TV teaches us anything, it's that the best gift of all is found in the driveway, with a big red bow on the hood.  Something sensible, of course.

So those are some ideas. I'll open the floor for discussion - dads, what do you want for Christmas? Moms/partners, what are you planning on getting the dads in your lives?

The First Annual DadCentric Greatest Kid-On-Santa's-Lap Picture Ever Contest

I win.

(Pic from 2005. Hopefully this year's will be better. It cannot conceivably be any worse.)

"As God as my witness, I thought turkeys could fly."

Why Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.

It's The Most Logical Time of The Year

"Daddy." From the back seat, not a question, but a statement/request, usually an indicator that some kind of demand is about to be foisted upon me.

"Yeah. What's up."

"Um, I think I need to go to Target to get a Bumblebee Transformer."

"Need?"

"Yes. Because I have Optimus but I need Bumblebee for him."

"Ah. Well, you know, Christmas is coming..."

"But I think I need Bumblee now, not at Christmas."

"Yes, well, we can't start buying toys now, because if we do, then Santa won't have anything to bring you."

Pause.

"Daddy, I don't like Santa. He's a bad guy."

"Really."

"I don't like Christmas and I don't like Santa. So I don't want toys from him."

"So that means what, exactly."

"So because I don't like Santa I don't want him to bring me anything and so I have to go to Target to get my Bumblebee Transformer now."

(Next week: Lucas uses DeMorgan's Theorems to explain why he shouldn't have to eat his broccoli.)

Ding, Dong the Witch is Dead, or Thank God That's Over

Christ.  Is October the longest month on record, or what?  Last month, especially the last four days, was like watching paint dry on some snails that were racing through slow growing grass planted in quicksand.  I had to use toothpicks to prop my eyes open.

At first I thought that it was due to Halloween falling on a Wednesday.  That meant that most of the parties and craziness that are normally associated with the holiday were but a distant memory come Halloween morning.  The day wasn't filled with anticipation of tricks or treats, but rather digging through closets, cars and laundry piles, trying to find pieces of costumes that were peeled off of sleeping children just days before.

In hindsight, I think it was more than that.  To put it in rather coarse sexual terms for no apparent reason, I didn't pace myself.  I peaked too early.  When other parents were just tickling the fancy of Halloween I was knocking its pumpkin head against the, well, headboard.  When other parents were eying candy and costumes I was on my back, smoking a cigarette and hoping someone had a key to the handcuffs. 

It was October, I should have at least been thinking about baseball.  Damn Red Sox.  Basically, I treated Halloween like something slutty and cheap.  It wanted to be wooed and I showed it the wow.

What?  It could have been the wow.

So that meant that Wednesday morning, when everyone else was preparing for the night ahead, I was nursing a figurative hangover and hoping that pumpkins can't get pregnant.  They can't, right?

If I have to blame someone for the rush of emotion that was our Halloween-mania it has to be my oldest boy.  This year he has taken Halloween to previously unknown heights. He enjoyed Halloween last year, we went to Disneyland and apparently set the bar too high.  I thought we were just having fun.  I didn't realize that I was planting the seed of high expectations.  This year it was on.

Candy was an afterthought, icing on the proverbial cake.  He was all about ghosts and jack-o-lanterns.  He was about monsters and boogers (I don't know).  The entire month was a build-up of the spooky and the ooky.  Every conversation centered on skeletons and monsters.  In fact, it still does.  Here  we are one day removed and aside from the occasional M&M the day has been just like any other.  Our song remains the same.

This is where the vicious circle thing comes into play.  So done am I with the ghost of Halloween that I'm already pushing the next big thing- Thanksgiving.  For every mention today of specters or goblins I've introduced the topic of turkey.  Let's talk turkey, I'll say, and the blank response speaks volumes. 

We are not prepared to give thanks just yet, unless it's for skeletons and boogers. Besides, I'm damn sure not screwing a turkey.  We gotta eat that thing.

Everybody Loves A Clown

Those of you who are laboring under the assumption that The Holiday Season begins with Thanksgiving, let me put you straight. We've been in full-on Halloween Madness Mode since...well, November 1, 2006. Lucas is champing at the bit, and if we hadn't fitted him with a Dog-O-Zap Electric Restraining Collar he'd be wandering out of the house every evening with a Trader Joe's bag under each arm, demanding that everyone he meets give him some candy. (We didn't actually fit him with a Dog-O-Zap Electric Restraining Collar. Please don't write letters.) Every day he asks us when we're going to the pumpkin patch. Every night he tells us what he's "gonna be for Hallah-ween".

And every night, it's a different costume.

Over the span of three weeks, the boy has let us know that he wants to be the following: Batman. Robin. Superman. The Flash. (Wally West, not Barry Allen, because Wally West, as we all know, is clearly the best Flash. No, I didn't get laid a lot in college. Why do you ask?) Green Lantern. Green Arrow. A pirate. A knight. A prince. A dragon. A lion. Buzz Lightyear. Woody. Mowgli. Mr. Incredible. Dash. A skeleton. Darth Vader. Boba Fett. Jango Fett. (Who would totally kick Boba Fett's ass in a fight. At least Jango got whacked by a Jedi. Boba was swallowed by the Sarlaac; he went out like a punk. No, our house doesn't have a basement. Why do you ask? Also, those of you who are now Googling "sarlaac", make sure you read the Urban Dictionary's definition of "Sarlaac Pit". You're welcome.) Back to Batman. Then Robin again. 

Needless to say, Beth and I are concerned. Do we just buy him a costume and tell him to deal with it? Do we hold off until the last possible moment and go with whatever his choice happens to that day? Or do we continue the dialogue and help him make up his own mind? That seemed like the best option, until earlier this evening. As we sat eating our dinner, a tasty Ralph's Select Pepperoni Pizza With Self-Rising Crust (in case you're wondering, there's a six month wait for reservations at Chez Avant, and that's for a singles table adjacent to the server's station), Lucas made yet another announcement re: his costume plans. "I want to be a clown!", he proclaimed. One could actually hear our eyes rolling. "Nope," said Beth. "Clowns are scary." "No, they're not! Clowns are funny!", came Lucas' retort. "You could," I offered, "go as the John Wayne Gacy Clown." Beth shot me a look. Lucas grinned. "Yeah! I can go as John Way Gay-bee Clown!". Clearly he was excited. I asked Lucas if he knew who John Wayne Gacy was; I assumed that as he's three, he's not well-versed in serial killer lore. "Um", said Lucas. "Is he...the Joker?" Mental note: search Amazon for a decent Robin costume and also, take a long, hard look at my parenting skills.