Did I Just Say That Out Loud?

I'm not sure how to even put this stuff into words but I'm gonna give it "the old college try". Although, admittedly I didn't really try very hard in college. Except for when we played Intramural Hockey. That was fun and super competitive. So "the old college try" is actually pretty bogus in this case. Either way, here goes.

Have you ever thought about stuff that is so far out of bounds that you wonder if you are normal? I'm not talking about stupid shit like, "Am I the only one that wants to make out with Maria from Sesame Street?" I'm talking about really vivid thoughts that play out as an intricate scenario in your head. Well I do. I'm hoping that a few of you out there have had similar types of experiences. I'm also hoping that some of you share them in this forum. If you don't then I'm gonna look like a big, sociopath, dick weed.

I'm not saying that I walk around all day having crazy person thoughts while I'm talking to people. ("Hello Mr. Taco Bell man. I want to eat your mustache and beat you with my Chalupa.") My daydreams usually occur at the same time every morning. In the shower. Sorry about the visual. To make it easier, I always shower in my long johns, water goggles and shower cap.

Let me give you an example of some of the stuff that's been going on in my head lately. The other day I was in the shower and somewhere between washing my arm and my ass, I started daydreaming about a potential nuclear holocaust. I pictured hearing the reports on TV and running to tell my wife to grab the kids and get downstairs into the basement. Then I started to visualize all the food we would have to eat and how long it might last. I actually got a little bit giddy thinking about eating hundreds of cans of cold Chef Boyardee Raviolios. How fucking great were those things? Oh and if you've ever wondered why everyone says that it's essential to have duct tape in an emergency disaster situation... It's to tape your kids mouths shut. Totally makes sense now. Then I start to freak out about not having enough alcohol in the basement. I really get worried that we're gonna run out. So I start to ration out the Vodka, Wine, Prosecco, Rumplemintz, Goldschlager, Martini & Rossi Asti Spumante, whatever I can find. This seems so real to me that I start getting all emotional. I start to worry about how long my kids will be able to hold out down there and if we'll ever see the light of day again. I picture myself getting über thin and feeling really weak. It's super depressing stuff. I've actually snapped out of the daydream at times only to find myself tearing up in mid lather.

That's not even the weirdest thing. Dude, let me tell you something. That friggin shower has crazy powers or something. I've had this one recurring shower daydream about an intruder breaking into my house and I'm in the shower, which is weird because I'm in the shower. Basically I hear someone break in to my house but he doesn't know I'm in the shower, so I quietly sneak out and grab my aluminum bat that I keep by my bed. Then I hide behind my bedroom door and wait for him to come and check on the running shower. At just the right moment, I jump on him and put him in a sleeper hold but then I realize that I'm totally naked and soaking wet. This feels totally awkward to me and completely unheroic. Even still, I make sure he passes out before I let go and then before I call 911, I put on some underwear and my favorite pair of Diesel jeans and this awesome Iron Maiden Concert Tee that I love. I stay barefoot because I think it would be totally narcissistic of me to get fully dressed in light of the urgent circumstances. I don't want the cops to get all suspicious about the story, especially because I've heard that people have gotten sued by intruders that break into their homes because they were injured while burglarizing the property. That's just ridiculous. Anyway...

How about this one. In the shower, washing my whatever... Yada yada yada. FIRE. My damn house is on fire. All the exits are scalding hot and blocked by smoke. So I have to tie pillow cases and sheets together and make a giant rope in order to lower my wife and kids down from the second floor window. My six year old has to hold onto my two year old so she doesn't fall. It's crazy. The one thing that I always wrestle with in this daydream is what the hell do I have to grab before I can leave the house for good? My wife is always screaming at me to get out of the blazing inferno but I insist on gathering some of my essential things. What could be so valuable? I'll tell you what. My Mark Messier rookie card, my electric blue, B.C. Rich Bitch guitar, my super balls, my laptop, the book "Still life with Woodpecker" by Tom Robbins, my comic book collection, my Kiss Vans Hi-Tops, my camouflage Chargers hat, all naked pictures that my wife and I have of each other from when we were first dating, my Dome Hockey table, my wife's old Motorola phone from 1991 (Because it's hilarious and the size of a brick and I definitely need to activate it one day so I can answer calls on it on the train and in meetings.), my glow in the dark Spiderman pocket watch, those Diesel Jeans I was talking about in my other daydream, my Uggs (So friggin comfortable. I have two pairs, brown and black and I wear them from Fall until Summer.) and my ipod. Oh and I definitely grab a few random wife things so she doesn't accuse me of being selfish. I'm so smart. Even in my daydreams.

OK, so that was awkward but I feel better now. Not sure if it was the Sake or the Tylenol PM talking but it feels good to get it out there.

Oh one more thing... I wanted to send a big shout out to my good friends at Honestbaby.com for winning The 2009 Glam Network Awards for Best Family Site. Those guys turned me on to this blogging thing and I'll be forever grateful for that. Check out their site.

Remember, what happens in the shower, stays in the shower... Until now. In my daydreams I'm never Out-Numbered...

"Do The Dew!" Douche Bag...

There are three things in the world today that scare the living shit out of me. They are as follows, in no particular order:
1) Terrorists



This includes the actual terrorists themselves as well as their weapons of mass destruction. Mainly I'm terrified of Anthrax, Smallpox, Ricin, A.S.F.V. (African Swine Fever Virus) and basically anything that can melt my friggin' face off.

2) Dick Clark (Post Stroke)



I know this sounds terrible and believe me I have nothing but the utmost respect for Dick and the great legacy he will leave behind in the Music and Television industry. No one looked forward to watching Dick and his HUGE Ball drop on New Year's Eve more than I. But... the combination of Zombie Dick and the maniacal, Ryan Seacrest yucking it up with their uncomfortable banter is just plain creepy. It makes me think about my own mortality. Please leave me alone.

3) The Book: A Jigsaw Jones Mystery - The Case Of The Snowboarding Superstar



Tonight my impressionable six year old daughter asked if she could read to me. I said, "Of Course". When we were finished, I walked away feeling confused, scared and extremely worried about the future my children might eventually leave behind. I didn't understand a word of this book and the worst part of it all... Neither did she.

The following is an excerpt from, "A Jigsaw Jones Mystery - The Case Of The Snowboarding Superstar". I offer no contextual set up. It doesn't matter either way. Please pray for the children...

Page 7

"Snowboarding," I corrected her.

"It sounds hard," Mila said. "I hear that beginners fall down a lot."

"Maybe," I said. "But I think it will be sick."

"Sick?" Mila asked. "Who's sick?"

"Not who," I said. "It. Snowboarding will be sick."

Mila frowned. "I don't get it."

"It's the opposite of wack," I explained.

"Okaaay," Mila murmured.

"Do you smell me?" I asked.

Mila sniffed. "Well, now that you mention it, you do smell a little ripe."

End of excerpt

Somewhere out there, a 41 year old Dan Cortese, (former host of MTV Sports) sprinkles Metamucil into his Mountain Dew, looks into the eyes of his wife Dee Dee and remorsefully asks, "What have I done?"

Thanks douche bag. Soon enough, we'll all be Out-Numbered...

Where Are My Balls?

I love Superballs.

This might be the greatest understatement of all time. I think it's fair to say that I have an obsession with them. I cannot pass buy a vending machine that carries them without donating a quarter. I buy them at the supermarket. I sneak them into my pockets on the way out of the Diner. I hoard them at rest stops. My wife thinks it's childish and my friends think I'm weird. But I can't help it. I don't know what it is that makes me go nuts for them. Maybe it's the bright, rainbow like assortment of colors to choose from. Maybe it's the unpredictability of the ricochet across the room when you throw one. Or maybe there is more psychological substance behind my passion. Is it possible that there is some deep seeded motivation behind my rubbery fixation? To be honest, I think there is.

Before I get into it, let me be clear. I have a lot of Superballs. As a matter of fact, it would be fair to say that I have a plethora of Superballs. I would consider myself a collector of sorts. I can't even put a number on the amount. It's certainly in the hundreds. I know that doesn't sound like a tremendous amount but we're not talking Baseball cards or pennies here. We're talking about fucking Superballs. Bought one at a time. All different shapes and sizes. A huge array of colors and patterns. It's uncanny but it's a very pertinent part of my existence. If you have been to my home you would know that Superballs are usually found laying around in every room of the house. Yes I have the bulk of my collection on display in clear glass vases but for the most part, if you were to walk through my home, you would eventually trip on one. I'm constantly finding them in jacket pockets, underneath the bed and buried between the couch cushions. I have friends that literally bring me Superballs when they visit. My wife never comes home empty handed. When I run on the treadmill and I have to keep my kids occupied, they play with what else? Superballs. I keep my collection upstairs in a room that isn't frequently trafficked. At least once a day, my little one pleads, "Daddy, can we go upstairs and play with the Ballies?"

I was talking with my wife today and I asked her if I was collecting Superballs when we met. I honestly couldn't remember. She said that I started collecting them after we had gotten engaged. Hmmmm. I didn't remember that. Then I asked her if it ever seemed like it was an obsession or if I just grabbed one when I happened to see it. She said she never remembered my fascination to be anything thing more than a passive hobby at first but that it seemed to get more intense after the birth of our first daughter. Okay. Seems like there might be an escalating pattern developing.

Now I'm no Dr. Freud and I'm certainly not a psychologist by any means but perhaps my affinity with Superballs and the coinciding occupation of my home with members of the opposite sex are not incidentally intertwined. I've always been a reluctant believer in the slow and involuntary emasculation that occurs to a male after he gets married. You can slice it any way you like but in the end a man tends to lose his um... shall we say, "Balls" after years of cohabitation with his female companion. This isn't necessarily a bad thing and certainly not anything to be ashamed of. It's more of a rite of passage per say. A woman possesses a certain power over a male that resonates from her um... "Vajay-Jay". It is the first thing that draws a man towards a woman and the main thing that keeps him there. It's kind of an extraterrestrial vaginal tractor beam of sorts. There's nothing a man can do to prevent it from taking it's eventual hold on him. There is something that he can do to compensate for his figurative ballectomy though. Something to fill the void that otherwise can't be filled. He can replace his manhood piece by piece. Ball by ball. Until he feels like he is whole again. Even if it takes a life time. Even if the balls are prosthetic. A man needs to feel like a man, when he is surrounded by women day in and day out.

In 1965 a California chemist named Norman Stingley invented the Superball by compressing a synthetic rubber material under 3,500 pounds of pressure per square inch. Maybe there was a profound motivation that inspired the creation of his pop culture phenomenon? Perhaps he too was married with daughters of his own? I can only speculate and perhaps it doesn't really matter. For I have a wife and two daughters now and almost a thousand rubbery balls that lay scattered across the estrogenal landscape that was once inhabited by my manhood. Ball by ball I try and make myself whole again. Although I fear that I may forever be... Out-Numbered.

A Guy's Turn: What Bugs You About Your Spouse?

Out-Numbered readers do me a favor. This post appeared first on the website Momversation.
I wanted you all to be able to comment on the post as usual but do me a solid and check out their site as well because they have been great to me. Show them some love and comment, look around etc because they are cool. All of you Momversation readers that are here for the first time... Welcome and have a look around. Sorry if you think the site sucks ass. I try my best to not suck. I promise.

Here you go...

As defined in the Merriam-Webster’s Online Dictionary, the word “Idiot” (n) means: A foolish or stupid person.

I am an Idiot. This much is true. I know this because of the following two reasons:

1) My wife tells me regularly.

2) I am writing a blog post entitled, “What Bugs You About Your Spouse?”

As soon as I agreed to write this post for Momversation I was pretty much screwing myself, literally and figuratively. There is no way in hell that I can offer any of the Moms and Dads out there any insightful advice or even banter about my wife’s faux pas, without suffering very dire consequences.

So I have decided to do what any smart ass, idiot husband would do…

Tell the truth but speak in false negatives and double entendres so my wife gets so annoyed that she stops reading.

I will however take the high road. I have no interest in sharing with the world any private information that might lead to embarrassment for my lovely wife. So I will avoid talking about how she leaves so much hair on the floor of our bathroom and throughout the house that you would assume we live with The Sasquatch himself. I inadvertently eat more hair than I do chocolate. My daughters think Hair is part of the basic 5 food groups: dairy group, meat group, grain group, fruits and vegetables group and hair group.

I also refuse to talk even candidly about how she insists on waiting until we are both snuggled in bed after a long day before she asks me, “Was the stove off?” and then as I do every night, I reply, “Yes it’s off.” Finally as if she’s asking me as a favor for the first time, she pleads, “Can you just check please?” So, like a trained monkey I meander begrudgingly into the kitchen only to hear her shout out, “Honey can you just check on the kids while you’re up?” Muthafucker! That doesn’t bug me at all.

I most certainly will not even begin to touch on the subject of her being a slob. That wouldn’t be prudent at all and it’s totally not true. I have never found her bras hanging on various doorknobs throughout the house. I’ve never picked up food from the floor so old that the Sasquatch living in our home won’t even eat it. Not once have I tripped on multiple laundry baskets in the middle of the night like I’m walking in a friggin’ minefield.

Last but not least and perhaps the most important thing that doesn’t bug me at all… Listen up all you ladies out there. It’s totally sexy and a complete turn on for a wife to fart, crap and pee in front of her husband. No joke. Guys just love that. It gets us in the mood. There’s nothing hotter than your wife letting one rip in bed and pulling the Dutch Oven on you. Then she’ll turn to you a few minutes later and ask, “Do you want to fool around?” Uh, no thanks. I just got finished pushing that little baby throw up back down the hatch. Maybe tomorrow. It’s also totally cool to walk around completely naked from 8pm – until you get into bed. No worries. It doesn’t bug me at all to get a glimpse of every single nook and cranny of your ass, vagina or boobs from every angle possible while I’m watching TV or surfing the net or whatever. Totally romantic. How come when we first met it took me six months to see the slightest glimpse of nipple? Even guys wear underwear around the house out of respect for the innocent.

What I can say without candor is that my wife is the most amazingly beautiful, funny, kind hearted, loving, sexy, smart, selfless, patient, understanding and generous woman on the planet. That really bugs the shit out of me because next to her it’s impossible for me to not look like an idiot.

Decision '09...

I've never won a thing. Nada, zilch, nil, zippo. I've probably never really deserved to win anything. I am going to try a little bit just this once, right here. I will need your help though. But only if you think I am worthy. Here are my Top 10 Reasons why I deserve to be "The 2009 Blogger's Choice Awards - Hottest Daddy Blogger":

1) I Am Very Sensitive...
and sensitive is sexy. I well up with tears every time I watch the movie Rudy. While most men try to hide these types of emotions, I put them out there for all to see. I want my girls to know that it's OK for a man to cry. As a matter of fact, I even cried today when I was running on the treadmill. I don't remember why I started crying on the treadmill. I think I also threw up.

2) The Language Of Love...
is Yiddish and I speak some Yiddish. I can say words like "bubbe", "bupkes", "mishpocheh", "shlemiel" and "tuches". Women go crazy for this sort of thing. My wife can't get enough of my Yiddish pillow talk...

3) Thongs...
are usually thought of as women's under garments but this is not necessarily true. I have long been an advocate of the male thong and I wear them often. They are comfortable and a perfect way to surprise your partner when you want to let her know you're feeling a little naughty. Meow!

4) Nipples...
are one of the most overlooked male attributes when it comes to hotness. This is why I never hesitate to wear clothing that accents my nipples. Satin shirts, white tees in cold weather, tube tops. Whatever it takes.

5) Brazilian...
is beautiful. Most women are afraid to tell their man to take care of business down there in the nether region. My woman doesn't have to. I don't wait until bathing suit season to hit the Salon. I go every three days. What can I say? I'm follicley challenged. I get it from my Maternal Grandfather.

6) Tattoos...
are bad ass and to be Hot, you need to be a little bit bad ass. So I got a bad ass tattoo on the small of my back. The words "Bad Ass" that is. In Celtic lettering style of course.

7) PLAYGIRL Magazine...
contacted me back in early 2002. They tried to coerce me into doing a full nude spread for their August issue but I respectfully declined. You see, my first born daughter was due that summer and I would let nothing distract me from what really mattered most. Even if it meant passing up the opportunity of a lifetime.

8) Richard Gere...
is one of my favorite actors. I basically try to emulate his performance from "Internal Affairs" on a daily basis. I have been a student of Gereology for quite some time and I find that by mimicking Richard Gere's facial expressions and walk cycles it is nearly impossible to botch any attempt at hotness.

9) Tanning Booths...
are pretty bad for you but they are absolutely essential when it comes to being Hot. I personally have very fair skin and therefore prone to various types of Melanoma. In order to be safe, I apply number 60 level sunscreen before each session as well as enter the tanning bed donning a full wet suit and swim cap. What have you got if you haven't got your health? Really.

10) Free Mustache Rides...
for anyone that feels Out-Numbered.

Click the badge below to vote if you haven't thrown up in your mouth... I won't let you down.

Who The Hell Am I?

When she met me I had a Mohawk.

Now...

I have hair on my shoulders.

When she met me I was playing hockey.

Now...

I am speed walking on the treadmill.

When she met me I was listening to Heavy Metal on my turntable.

Now...

I'm listening to Hannah Montana in my Mini Van.

When she met me I was taking Hallucinogenic mushrooms.

Now...

I'm taking Prilosec.

When she met me I was sexy.

Now...

I'm sexless.

When she met me I owned a black light.

Now...

I own a night light.

When she met me I drank beer from a funnel.

Now...

I add Metamucil to my orange juice.

When she met me I watched Monster movies.

Now...

I watch Monsters Inc.

When she met me I didn't lift the seat when I peed.

Now...

I just sit down.

When she met me I was getting into fights.

Now...

I can't get out of them.

When she met me I knew nothing about the opposite sex.

Now...

I know way too much.

When she met me I thought I was going to change the world.

Now...

I'm changing diapers.

When she met me I had dreams of traveling.

Now...

I want to stay home.

When she met me she couldn't keep her hands off of me.

Now...

It's simply, "Get off of me!"

When she met me I was a hopeless romantic.

Now...

I'm plain hopeless.

Who the fuck am I? Have you ever asked yourself that question amidst all the madness unfolding around you? Have I changed that much or has the scenery around me just changed? When you peel away the layers of the onion is it really that same person on the inside? No it's not. But don't be fooled. Just because you ride a tandem bicycle with a purple bell and a kid seat, doesn't mean you're not cool. Just because you get up in the middle of the night 3 times to pee** and you wear those Mike Brady pajamas doesn't make you any less of a tiger in the sack. Just because you tuck your shirt into your corduroys and wear British Knights doesn't mean that you're not sexy. All you have to do is look into the eyes of your kid and you know that being a good man is what really counts. All you have to do is hear the words "I love you" from the one that it matters most and you feel sexy again. In the end the only one that you need to impress is the person you see when you look into the mirror every morning. Being a husband and a Dad is sometimes a pain in the ass and it's not always glamorous but it's more rewarding that any words in any blog can ever describe.

I love and adore being Out-Numbered...

** If you are getting up in the middle of the night 3 or more times to pee then you should probably go see some sort of pee Doctor or something. I'm just sayin'. Or it might be too much caffeine during the day. Good luck with that.

You're God Damn Right, You Should Be Stressed...

So this Chick website called Momversation contacted me the other day in the hope that I'd be interested in sharing this video with my readers. Her email read something like this:

Hi Jason! I'm Christine, the Web Producer of Momversation. We produce videos of top mom bloggers, such as Heather Armstrong of Dooce, discussing mom-related issues. I thought your readers might like our latest video, "Do You Like When Dad Watches the Kids?" I'd love to stay in touch with you and occasionally let you know when we've got special episodes or new features that you might like (and please let me know if you'd rather I not contact you in the future - no hard feelings!). All the best, Christine Momversation Web Producer

The truth is that I'm pretty protective of Out-Numbered and what goes up here. I get lots of these requests / inquiries and I toss most of them aside. Most of them are weird sales things that make no sense at all. This one seemed partially relevant.

After a few Vodka / Coke's I took a look...

So here's what I found. 99.9% of the Mom panelists on this website are H.O.T.T. Hot! That's right. They are total babes. There is nothing sexier than a Mom talking about being a Mom, into a webcam, alone in the house. I think... I'm pretty sure the video is about Dads and Kids and a whole bunch of stuff related to parenting but for the most part I couldn't keep my eyes off of that chick with the blonde hair. Call me crazy, call me nuts but I'm totally addicted to this Mom site thing.

After I got past the whole Hot Mom thing, I actually tried to focus on the topic at hand. Apparently Moms are eager to jabber about whether or not they are "Stressed When Dad Is Watching The Kids". Hello? What kind of a topic is this? Do you really need to make a web video on a Mom site to discuss this? Doesn't it go without saying? Of course Moms are stressed when we're watching the kids. Duh!

You see. Here's the deal. I posted a whole piece on this very subject. In case you didn't read it, here it is: Just Shoot Me...

There's no secret here. Moms ARE stressed. They are stressed not because us Dads can't take care of our measly little kids but because they are so friggin' crazy that no matter what we do, there's gonna be something wrong in the end. Us Dads are a capable bunch for the most part. We go to work. We interact with people. We assemble furniture and swing sets and surround sound for our entertainment centers. All in all, we're not completely useless. Of course we have our moments that are less than stellar. For instance, we don't have any idea how to follow directions. We haven't got a clue as to what you want us to pick up from the supermarket and we certainly don't know how to fold laundry or bathe our kids. That's just being ridiculous. But in the end, we are totally capable of watching our kids for a short period of time. Yes my buddy pulled his daughter's arm out of her socket the first time he watched her on his own and Yes my two year old colored all over my living room with a red sharpie because I was too busy playing Guitar Hero and who cares that my six year old was surfing the web and wound up on a gay porn site during my weekend alone with the kids? No one got hurt. Nobody lost any limbs. If anything, what doesn't kill them, makes them stronger, right?

Anyway, the bottom line to me is that I'm cool with watching the kids if I absolutely need to but I really don't want to. Not because I can't but because it's mostly a pain in the ass. They don't stop talking... EVER. All they want to do is run around and play outside. They don't like watching sports. I can't get drunk when they're with me unless my Mom is around to watch me, watch them and they are constantly shitting their pants. Why would I want to hang out with someone that shits their pants? You tell me.

So keep stressing out Moms. Stress away until the cows come home. You see that's the key. We don't want you to feel comfortable enough with us to leave the kids in our care. We are absolutely, unequivocally, 100% fine being untrusted with our offspring. Hire a sitter, beg your parents to stay over or drop them off at Doggie Day Care. Whatever. It's cool. I'm ok with your crazy routines and your nap Nazi ways. I'll keep my mouth shut. Just please don't leave me alone with our little monsters. Baseball season is starting and if I run around too much I might have a heart attack. You wouldn't want that on your conscience would you?

MOMS ROCK! Let's keep it that way.

Take a look at that video for yourself and let me know what you think. But don't spend too much time on that site or you'll wind up feeling Out-Numbered...

Things That DON'T Suck About Having Kids... Part Two

Warning: Please do NOT read this post if you think your kids suck. Do NOT read on if you are a rotten parent that can't stand reading about other parents who are obviously far more skilled, loving and awesome than you are at being parents. Continue reading only if you can see the sheer perfection of your children literally dripping off of their angelic little bodies without being aided by anti depressants or other mood altering narcotics.

I still love being a dad. I am also a fairly awesome dad. One of my awesome dad qualities is that I wear cool Rock Tees. Another awesome dad quality that I possess is that I am good at video games. Perhaps the most important and honorable, awesome dad quality that I exemplify is that I am fair. I am now about to drop a completely random act of fairness onto the page in front of you. I give to you the other side of "Things That Suck About Having Kids... Part One".

So to be fair, I took to the virtual streets once again and asked YOU the readers to let me know what it was you thought about parenting and kids that doesn't suck. Here's what you said:

It's nice when they help you bring in the bulk goods from warehouse club shopping. but what i like is when the boys are playing independently and enjoying each other's company. when the little one asks a question of his big brother and the older takes the time to teach and explain. that's a big brother / little brother bond they'll hopefully have for the next 80 or so years... - Todd, Facebook

They're cute when they sleep. - Aubrey_G, Twitter

Today my 4 year-old daughter came up to me and said that she has a secret in her head, it starts with a "k", then before I could guess she kissed me on the nose. - Caryn, Facebook

I'm hoping they will change my diaper in a few years... Turn around is fair play. - AzScubaShari, Twitter

I love the way my daughters look at me with so much love and admiration in their eyes. Makes me feel like I can do anything. - Jon, Facebook

They get you out of work sometimes! Also, how about when they fall asleep in your arms with their head on your shoulder... - TheRockstarMama, Twitter

How bout taking him to his first AC/DC concert! - Steven, Facebook

Loyalty. Unconditional love. Those 1st words. Those 1st steps. And u get to be a kid again vicariously. - indigoeyes, Twitter

I love that I'm the first person they want to see every morning and the last person they see every night. I love that my day always starts and ends with a kiss from each one... - Tracey, Facebook

I agree with ALL of the above.. but have to add - The tax deduction / tax credits? - Joey, Facebook

Well there you have it. Your very emotional, candid and heartwarming sentimental thoughts about why having kids doesn't suck. I have to admit I am truly touched in the most inappropriate of places by all your words of inspiration. So much so, that I was moved to compile a list of my own. Please take a minute to refill your mug with some more Sleepytime herbal tea, reach for another Stella D'Oro cookie and read on.

1. Back Rubs











Who doesn't love a good back rub? Before getting married, loving couples throw these around like Frisbees, mostly to get into each other's pants. After a few years of wedded bliss the back rub becomes as scarce as a straight, male model at an Indigo Girls concert. This is where kids can come in handy. At about the age of 4 1/2, a child's hand muscles become strong enough to simulate a back rub at about 68% adult capacity. Not bad. A little bit of coaxing and some practical training and your little rugrats will have those knots kneaded out of your back in no time.

2. Servants












Who needs the Clapper when you can have a kid bring you all sorts of shit at your beck and call. Want the remote control? Just tell them you'll give them a cookie. Need the phone? Just offer a ring pop in exchange for their kindness. Too lazy to run outside in the pouring rain to bring in the Sunday Paper? No worries. Tell little Johnny you'll time him to see how fast he can run. You work hard. You deserve a break today... Even if the kids are too young to drive to McDonald's. Give it time.

3. Self Esteem










Nothing sucks more than getting your ass handed to you by your boss or having some dick head flip you off on the road in response to your crappy driving. When you're a kid, adults blow smoke up your ass all the time, boosting your self esteem constantly. Now it's not always all rainbows and jellybeans. People are harsh and it's not that often we get our egos stroked. But even if you're a parent of limited skills, your kids are probably still blinded by their inherent love for you. You can be fat, ugly, smelly or even wear an eye patch. Chances are your kids look up to you. Try not to disappoint them too much, too early or they'll start to see you for who you really are... Just another jerk off.

4. Toys









If you're like me, then your mother threw out every cool toy, comic book and trading card you've ever owned. Well now it's payback! Having kids give you the green light to rebuild your fun collection from scratch. Of course your kids say they want that Hannah Montana doll but what they really want is that Arcade Style, Dome Hockey Table with the "Boo" button. You know, the one with USA vs Russia. Does your kid really need to read that boring book, "Brown Bear, Brown Bear"? Puh-leeze! Be a progressive thinking parent and drop the $32,000 on Spiderman #1. What? Your little angel isn't worth it? Heck, I even threw in Candy Land for the Mrs...

5. The Awful Truth













Have you ever wanted to say something but didn't have the balls to say it out loud? Maybe your girlfriend shouldn't be wearing that tube-top? Your brother-in-law is partaking in one too many donuts? Just can't listen to your aunt sing another Barbara Streisand song at Thanksgiving dinner? Have no fear, your kid is here! These little pitselehs will say anything to anyone, anywhere at anytime. Cashier at the supermarket has a big hairy mole on her face? No problem. Police officer has a fat ass? Look out! Your boss has a piece on spinach caught in his teeth on "bring your daughter to work day"? Your kid will handle that with stealth like precision. You'll never have to say it yourself. Just try not to laugh...

6. Sugar Cereals













When we were kids, my brother and I used to sit in front of the TV and watch Three's Company, Happy Days and Different Strokes reruns after school. My mom was always looking out for us, trying to keep us healthy and strong. What better way to make sure your kid is getting his or her proper nourishment, than to hand them a Gigantic Over sized Tupperware bowl of Quisp cereal? It worked for us back then. But you know what? In today's health conscious society it's not totally "hip" to kill your kids slowly with junk food. Besides that, they don't make Quisp anymore. So I've decided to put my celebrity endorsement behind "Fruity Cheerios". It's got the brand name that will make other parents think your kids are eating healthy and just as much sugar as Quisp had. The best part... I can eat it too. Right out of my Gigantic Over sized Tupperware bowl.

7. Hot Moms at Birthday Parties













Ok so they don't have to be at birthday parties. Hot Moms are everywhere! I know this because I happen to be married to one myself and I see those lame-ass dads checking her out at Synagogue or in Target. Just when you thought you were trapped looking at the same old friends your wife has hung out with since college, BAM! You have kids and now there's "A Whole New World" out there. It's like a soft porn Aladdin. Jeez, it's not even fair. Hot moms bending all over the place, picking up bottles, breast feeding, boobies hanging out, looking all fit with their Jazzercize workout regimens. Hell I'm considering staying at home with the kids just so I can join one of those Mommy & Me classes.

Oh shit. My wife just woke up. Gotta go. Gonna be Out-Numbered in a second...