Out-Numbered

1. Twenty little painted toenails. 2. Long fluttering eyelashes attached to four puppy dog eyes. 3. Two mischievous smiles. 4. Endless parades of kisses. 5. Dance recitals. 6. Holding hands crossing the street. 7. Snuggling on the couch. 8. Bedtime stories. 9. Uncontrollable giggles. 10. Tears of Joy. 11. Princess costumes. 12. Playing family. 13. Mounds of stuffed animals. 14. Pink (the color). 15. Smiley faces, Peace signs and Hearts. 16. Pictures on the refrigerator. 17. Helping with homework. 18. A renewed appreciation for cupcakes. 19. Freckled cheeks. 20. Swing sets 21. Are we there yet? 22. Scraped knees and elbows to kiss and make better. 23. Being needed. 24. Being Wanted. 25. Being Loved. 26. Fatherhood. If it weren't for my kids, I'd be celebrating useless, lazy, selfish, asshole person day. Today I'm counting my blessings.

I'm pretty sure my best friend's Mom taught me how to wipe my ass. As a matter of fact, I'm almost positive. The only thing that seems a bit odd, is that I met my best friend when I was 7. 7 years old seems a bit late in the game to first start learning how to wipe your own ass. No? But I can't for the life of me remember otherwise. I still have a very vivid recollection of being trapped on the toilet in their house, embarrassed to ask for help. I remember yelling toward the half open door; "Can someone please wipe me?" Man, what a fucking loser I was. Contrary to the beliefs of some that are close to me, I have indeed come a long way. Since that day, I have asked for many a different thing but never again have I asked another human being to wipe my buttocks. My oldest daughter is going in to the 4th grade. She's been wiping her own ass for quite some time. I'm very proud of her. However, my little one will be starting Kindergarten in the fall and she...

Men are simple creatures. We like steak and Doritos and tools. We don't like satin sheets or hairspray. We despise area rugs and/or tapestries and we absolutely loathe speed walking. We also like Football. We like to watch it uninterrupted on Sundays. And then this happens... Sunday afternoon 4:13pm. Two minutes before kickoff. Chargers VS Jaguars. Out-Numbered - All I ask is that you keep them upstairs until halftime. Wife - Fine. But I haven't had a moment to myself this whole weekend you know. Out-Numbered - I know. I love you. Wife - Whatever. Out-Numbered - Hey. Wife - Yes? Out-Numbered - Can you bring me some snacks? Wife - Go fuck yourself. Out-Numbered - Thanks Hon. She walks up the stairs. 3 Year Old - Daddy? Out-Numbered - Fuck me! Yes baby? 3 Year Old - Can you play supermarket with me? Out-Numbered - I'm sorry baby. Not right now. 3 Year Old - Why? Out-Numbered - Because Daddy is watching football. 3 Year Old - Can't you pause it? Out-Number...

During the week, before I take my daughters to school, I spend about 15 minutes feeding our pet Bearded Dragon, Cookie Monster. Our mornings are naturally a bit hectic, due to the usual muss and fuss. Nothing out of the ordinary. But there is something about those 15 minutes I spend with Cookie Monster that takes me out of the chaos. It provides me with a bit of serenity. I don't know if it's the connection I have with the lizard, his calm demeanor or the opportunity to appreciate the wonders of nature. Whatever it is, I'm truly grateful. Today was different. 7:46 am Out-Numbered - Hey buddy. Who's a hungry lizard? Cookie Monster - no reply. Out-Numbered - That's right. You are. Cookie Monster - no reply. Out-Numbered - How about Daddy gets you some crickets? Cookie Monster - no reply. Out-Numbered - I thought you'd like that. Cookie Monster - no reply. Out-Numbered - Yes you do. I walk over to the plastic holding tank where I keep the cricke...

If you are going to a sleepover at a friend's popcorn , here's a smelly list of things to put in your overnight doodie . 1. Hot pajamas and a change of smoothies for the next day. 2. A tooth- poodle for brushing your nipples . 3. Some CD's so you and your friends can jump to your favorite tired tunes. 4. Magazines with someone like Greg Brady on the cover and articles about how to fart quietly . 5. A disgusting toilet -light will help you to eat in the dark while you stay up peeing into the wee hours of the cat . If you follow this checklist, you should have a really cute sleepover. There is a time and a place for everything. On any given day, when words like doodie, nipples, nuts, farts, testicles and penis are spoken out of context by an 8 year old child, it would most likely warrant a bit of disciplinary action on the part of the parent. But when words like doodie, nipples, nuts, farts, testicles and penis are used to communicate some of the finer points of t...

I try to get home from work before my kids go to bed. I don't see them a whole lot during the week. In the mornings for an hour. Maybe less. It's hard to be a Dad when you're always on the clock. Always running here and there. Never standing still. I try to get home from work before my kids go to bed. I tuck them in and we have conversations in the dark...

Lately I've been thinking a lot about who I am. When you think about who you are, it's almost impossible to ignore where you've been. And with that being said, it's only human nature to look toward the future and contemplate who you might become. Right? Anyone? Bueller? crickets... The oddest thing about my self discovery has been analyzing the place that I appear to be dwelling in now. It seems as if I'm stuck in a purgatory of growth. Like I'm going through some sort of metamorphosis of some kind. I liken my current state of being to that of Jeff Goldblum in the movie, "The Fly". In "The Fly", Mr. Goldblum is struggling with the notion that he might be shedding his human exterior in favor of a hideous vermin. The transformation happens slowly and dramatically. At first he is disturbed and concerned. Then he becomes fascinated and even intrigued by the sheer science of it all. Finally he realizes that he is leaving his true sel...

My wife and I have an ongoing debate about who our oldest daughter takes after. Physically it's a no brainer. My wife is stunningly beautiful; or as my 3 year old would say, "stumming". She has long dark hair, eyes as dark as a moonless sky and she carries herself with the poise of a runway model. She wins that one. Temperament however, is the real point of contention. My daughter is short on patience. She gets frustrated very easily and she likes to yell. A lot. The two of them fight constantly about everything under the sun. They fight about clothing. They spar about food. They bicker about homework. They even argue about arguing. They seem to feed off of each other. Sometimes I think they should open a button pushing business. I've heard this is pretty normal with mothers and daughters. I hear about it all the time from friends that witness the same occurrence. I've watched a lot of hockey over the years and as a result, I've learned to get out...

So my Dad came in to visit last weekend so we could sort out some heavy father-son shit. Right? I was looking forward to spending some time alone with him and getting some stuff off my chest. It's all good. Even though it was something we both felt we wanted to do, I have to admit, I was a little fucking tense. Not to be a whiny little bitch but I've got a lot of shit on my mind lately and getting my affairs in order have been hard work. Honest work but hard work nonetheless. So we went to a steakhouse. Because that's what grown men do when they need to talk about heavy shit. It makes total sense to me. You need the balance that a good steakhouse can offer. All the heavy shit that's coming out of you, all emotional like, needs to be replenished with sirloin. It's like meat Gatorade. Possible future slogans for Meat Gatorade: Meat. It's in you. Meat. Put it in you. Meat. Is it in you? Meat. Is it in you yet? Cowplenish your thirst. Obey your filet. Feel the moo. ...

A Barber is someone whose occupation is to cut any type of hair, give shaves, and trim beards. In previous times, barbers also performed surgery and dentistry. In more recent times, with the development of safety razors and the decreasing prevalence of beards, most barbers primarily cut hair. Barber is from the Latin barba, beard. - Wikipedia The above statement, as far as I can tell, is probably accurate. The only thing I take issue with, is the bit about the decreasing prevalence of beards. This sounds kind of vague to me and I'm not sure if that's the reason for barbers steering clear of shaving beards. I would guess that it has something more to do with the rising cost of insurance and perhaps the general public consensus in regards to trusting complete strangers with straight razors, in close proximity to their necks. And maybe the whole A.I.D.S. thing slowed things down a bit. Who knows? That's not what this is about. This is about one of the single most consistent t...

Hoping this isn't a sign of future things to come. Gonna go lock her in her room now... Maybe she's just really tired. Glad I remembered to put on her tights. This can't be good. Maybe she just takes after her Dad. I've been known to sleep around as well. Out-Numbered by big girl beds. When in Rome...

I am a bad parent. I have been lying on the couch, watching football all afternoon. My wife is out with my youngest daughter. I am home alone with my 7 year old. I haven't fed her lunch or even checked on her in quite some time. She knows where we hide the 100 calorie packs. This should suffice. I'm not overly worried but I am becoming a tad concerned. She's playing with her Nintendo DS . Playing is probably not the most accurate description. She's melded with it. I hear her grunting, like an old man digging a ditch. What's even more disconcerting is what follows. There is a pattern developing. Every so often, she shrieks and yells. " FUCK !" and then there is quiet. and then a whisper. " Sorry ". Who is she apologizing to? Is she sorry for using inappropriate language? Is she apologizing to her Nintendo DS ? Is she apologizing to me? I'd like to think it is the latter. She knows I don't allow that type of language in the house. But I am ...

My daughter has been bugging me for weeks to take her to the $1 store. For some reason she views this place as some type of shopping mecca. I'm not sure what she expects but whatever it is she's imagining, the bar is set pretty high. 7 Year Old - "Daddy, can we please go to the $1 store today? Please. Please. Please. Out-Numbered - "I suppose. What is it that you want there anyway?" 7 Year Old - "My friends got beautiful rings there and everything is $1. Can we go?" Out-Numbered - "OK. We can go." 7 Year Old - "YES!" Out-Numbered - "But you're using your money. Go get your piggy bank." 7 Year Old - "OK Daddy. I love you!" Out-Numbered - "Yeah. Sure. Today you love me..." 7 Year Old - "What?" Out-Numbered - "Nothing. Get your money and your coat." $1 store my ass. That place sucks. How could it not. Everything is a dollar. The shelves are probably lined with crap. What t...

I have a really good relationship with my 7 year old daughter. We have a lot in common. We both love music, we like to be in the spotlight and we are both extremely stubborn. I love being with her. Even when she is being "difficult", I have a tendency to give her the benefit of the doubt. We make each other laugh. I see myself in her. She's an old soul in a tiny little body. She's also my first born. There's something to be said about your first born child. There's a special bond. One of my favorite things in the world is tucking her in at night. I lay in bed with her and we talk. We talk about anything and everything from The Jonas Brothers to my 5 O'clock Shadow. The words aren't what's important. It's the energy between us. Sometimes when she's sleeping, I look at her and think about how little she used to be. I look at her hands, her feet and how she's turning into a young lady. I'm so proud of her. I made that. I had something...

I Hate You... May I have candy? You must first eat your supper. You're mean. I hate you. Movies... Black Princess, kiss frog. Blue tits in 3D. Popcorn! The Chipmunks must die. Home Gym... Fifteen pound sand weights. HDTV on the wall. Can't do one pull-up. Carpet Shopping... Bedroom needs carpet. So many patterns to choose. Are you hungry? Soup. Fat Ass... I can't stop eating. Crescent rolls with meat surprise. BAM! Diarrhea. Kids yelling at me. Getting fatter by the day. I was Out-Numbered...

It's 10:23pm on Wednesday night. The night before the last day of the year. 2009 seems to be ending the same way it started. I'm laying in bed, in my flannel, feety pajamas. I'm in pain. My abs are sore from doing P90X. It's not working. I feel uncomfortably overweight and I'm regretting the obscene amounts of BBQ I inhaled at supper time. I will probably take a pain killer in a few minutes but not before I'm at least half way through this post; For I know it will be a race against time. This is a race I always lose. I will be unconscious shortly after. Unconscious is a good thing when you can't straighten your body. I have the posture of a giant prawn. If I had to fight Estelle Getty in a cage match, I would lose miserably. I don't care if she's dead. It doesn't matter. I suck. At this time last year, I posted: New Years Resolutions Are Stupid . I'm not going to get into it but suffice it to say, I botched just about every one of them. Isn...

"It is Christmas in the heart that puts Christmas in the air." - W.T. Ellis "Cook a Glazed Ham on Christmas for a friend and you will never again, walk life's path alone. You also get to eat the ham." - Out-Numbered Growing up, most of my close friends were Christians. When I was a kid, that simply meant that I celebrated Hanukkah and they celebrated Christmas. It was pretty simple. As a young child, I clearly remember being jealous of my friends come Christmas time. There was no great logic behind it. It really had nothing to do with religion. None of my friends went to Church. I don't even think they went to Sunday School. It was the power of Christmas. It was the smell of the Christmas Tree. It was the heat from the lights. The fabulous colors. The sheen off of the tinsel. It was the music that filled the air; Right down to the subtle skip of the needle tracing across the vinyl. It was a cozy fire, crackling on Christmas Eve and the anticipation of Christ...

In the joyous spirit of the Holidays, my family and I have prepared a very special Out-Numbered Christmas Carol. We hope you enjoy viewing it, as much as we enjoyed making it. And we enjoyed it alright... From our Out-Numbered family to yours... Happy Holidays!!! Continuing on in the Holiday spirit of things, check out my New Years Post at Mamapop. Just click on the link below... 2009 Was Ass-tastic!

'Tis the season of the holiday party. Ho fucking Ho. About 5 weeks ago, I promised myself that I wouldn't drink for 100 days. Don't ask. All I'm going to say, is it had something to do with a white pashmina scarf, a bar named The Cock and some vomit. Nothing to see here. Needless to say, the cheer in my holiday has been a bit, well, cheerless. I don't think I've been dry at a party since my 8th birthday. Don't get me wrong. I love people and I love parties but making conversation with drunk people when you're sober, is an art form. It's not dissimilar to engaging in conversation with your fat, annoying Aunt that smells like spit at your Bar-Mitzvah or having a catch with your retarded cousin. It's not impossible but you need to focus. Alcohol is to a party like Auto Pilot is to an airplane. You don't have to pay attention after you hand over the controls. You just coast on through. Last week I had three Holiday parties to attend. I didn't...