What It’s Like to Adopt Kids

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A Message to H.S. and College Graduates

What you do today determines your level of happiness tomorrow. I sure wish this was my graduation speech. View the full transcript below.

I’m going to tell you young men and women today that life sucks.

You may think it sucks now, but it gets worse. You are probably going to be unhappy in your life.

Here’s the thing. We’re all kind of bred into this society where we’re taught that if you work hard enough and believe enough, that you’ll become everything you want to be. That’s not true.

Something that all young people need to learn is that nobody cares about you. Your mom may, your dad might, maybe your brothers and sisters, but outside of that, no one cares for you. If my best friend were faced with the choice of his family getting blown up in a bomb, or me getting shot in the head, he’s going to choose me getting shot in the head. Because nobody cares about you. When you get a job, your boss is not going to give a crap about you.

Oh, and by the way, you’re going to be about 30 times smarter than your boss and much more educated. They’re going to make the dumbest decisions, and you’re going to scream and yell and say, “You know what? I can do a better job!” But nobody cares. Nobody cares! The only thing that’s important is that that comfy chair in the corner office is filled. Oh, and by the way, there’s a line of people waiting to be next, waiting to be next.

I hope you don’t end up like me, where you get into a company after company after company. You work hard and you set high expectations for yourself, and you run into the glass ceiling every time. Every time. Every time.

You know where I’m heading now? I’ve got this suit and this tie. I’m looking real nice and fancy. Well, I’m heading to a Sam’s Club to sell therapeutic back massagers. Yup, I’m that guy that’s gonna pull you aside and try to get you to buy something that you don’t want. Do you think I like that? Do you think I go to bed every night looking forward to another day of making hardly any sales?

You know what sucks most about life? We all have one chance. It’s crazy when you think about that. It’s like, you’ve got one chance to pick one career out of the millions that are out there. You have one chance to pick a place where you love to live. Pick a passion. One chance to set up a life for yourself that you love to live.

I wish… I don’t know. I wish I could do it over again. And maybe…. maybe you can. Don’t, don’t find yourself in this position where you’re sitting in a Sam’s Club waiting to go inside to be rejected time and time again because nobody wants to buy the product that you’re selling. Don’t. Don’t do that.

I guarantee you that you’re going to look back one day and you’re doing to wish beyond anything else that you can redo it. Consider this your redo.

Let’s just say you’ve already lived my life. Let’s just say you’ve already been on the streets. Let’s just say you’ve already struggled. You’ve already lived an unhappy life. Pretend that you’re already living your second chance!

Pretend that you are your future. That you don’t like what you do, that your job makes you miserable, that the glass ceiling has beat you black and blue! Pretend that you’ve been through it all. Pretend that you’ve been through the thick and the worst of it. And decide today at the start of summer vacation, that you are going to fix it!

You’re going to make a good life for yourself. You’re going to set up a life that you love! No matter how much hard work it takes. Start today. You’re going to have the rest of your life to do anything you want. But you’re not going to if you’re stuck at a 9-5 where you’re working for five different managers who don’t give a rip about you.

Guys, figure out what you want to do. And figure it out now. Now is your time to invest in what you love. Forget the sports cars, forget the money, forget the girls, for now. Take all the money you have and put it in what you love. What do you love to do? Get good at what you love! Don’t put yourself in a position where you’re working for five different bosses. Because you’re not going to get their seat. You’re not going to get their offices. It’s not going to happen.

No matter how good your intentions, no matter how honorable your ideas are, you’re always going to be told no. Well, this is the biggest yes you’re going to get in your life. Go for it. Go for whatever it is you want to do. Make it your life. Make it your passion, and do it. It’s going to take a lot of work, but I really think it’ll be worth it.

Now you probably need a laugh:

How to Make an Instructional Video

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There are loads of instructional videos out there, but someone had to teach everyone how to make them, right??

Join Keith Farthington as he invites you along for a tutorial that just might open your eyes to a whole new way of doing things.

Click here for a fun time!

Why the Unicorn Frappuccino is Voldemort’s Doing

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So I tried the unicorn frappuccino drink from Starbucks today. Below is the link that’ll show you the video review with my daughter laughing at me in the background.

What’s not in the video is that by the time I got to the bottom, it tasted like curdled milk. Seriously. Which makes me think that Lord Voldemort is behind this little craze. The baristas will tell you that the top is sprinkled with unicorn dust, whatever that is.

But in order to get unicorn dust, you must capture a unicorn. And to capture a unicorn, you’ll inevitably draw blood. (The credit for this idea goes to my wife, by the way.) So according to Harry Potter lore, something pure and defenseless has been slain to make your unicorn frappuccino.

Which also means that you will have a half-life, or a cursed life, from the moment that blood touches your lips.

What’s not in the video below is this horrible realization. What IS in the video is the beginning of my cursed life. And shockingly, my daughter knew enough not to drink any even when I offered it to her. She’s too innocent, too pure. She chose wisely.

CLICK HERE TO WATCH THE VIDEO

When It’s Stupid to Play with Your Kids

Life is like a casino. You gamblers know what I mean. You win some, you lose some. But you lose A LOT! And you win just enough to keep going.

Life’s pattern:

Good day. Okay day. Bad day. Bad day. Good day. Bad day. Bad daybaddaybaddaybadday. Bad day.

At this point you want to take yourself out, but before you do make that jump…

MY GOD I FOUND A QUARTER! GOOD DAY!!! 

And then your cat dies. So, bad day again. Then you find out your upstairs neighbor is running a brothel. Another bad day. You’re wondering if it’s possible to knock yourself out with a bat. But wait…

TACO BELL’S COMING OUT WITH A NEW WAY TO EAT A TACO! So you decide to keep going until you try that taco.

All the while the goons upstairs are laughing at us like, “He bought it! He thought his life was actually going to turn around!”

We’re like those horses following carrots on a stick. We keep walking for just one more tiny little nip…

I took a walk with my family yesterday. My 3 year old daughter and I found a tree and we climbed it. (She climbed it, I hauled myself up then got stuck.) Well, it turns out climbing a tree was the dumbest thing I could have done. Midnight rolls around and I have to pee. I go to climb out of bed and I cursed loud enough for my wife to shoot up. She thought it was finally TIME. You know, THE heart attack or THE stroke we’re all just waiting for.

She wasn’t so fortunate.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“Mie buck huts.”

“What?”

“My bake horts.” (I can’t very well point to my back because, you know, your back gives and takes away movement.)

“What?” she asks again.

“Well now my freaking throat hurts because I’ve been straining to tell you that my back hurts!!!!”

I almost beg her to just stick a tube up my ding-a-ling so I don’t have to move. We have one of those Nosefrida’s for the baby, and I was wondering how to make that work…

Anyway. I settle for just the heating pad because when I go number one at home, I sit down so I don’t run the risk of making a mess. I never got the hang of Say It, Don’t Spray It.

ANYway. My wife gets the heating pad. She’s tying all these pulleys to me and hoisting me up and maneuvering me and rolls me on top of the heating pad. As soon as she gets back in bed I grab that controller and crank it all the way up like I’m Trump set loose in the room with the Red Button.

I woke up this morning feeling a thousand times worse. I almost called in sick for the year. Like, I felt like Han Solo frozen in carbonite. I couldn’t move a muscle.

So we get an IcyHot patch. My wife lifts my shirt to stick it on, and when she does, she screams.

Which, of course, makes me scream, because immediately I’m thinking I’ve been gashed or something and she’s staring at my intestines.

So we’re both screaming. And that makes the kids scream.

“What’s wrong! What’s wrong!” I scream.

“Your back! It has… It has… lines!”

An image of me turning into a zebra crosses my mind. Like, Pinocchio smoked and turned into a jack-ass. I thought I might turn into a zebra because I snuck a milkshake without sharing with anyone two nights ago (this falls under No. 3 in the 7 Deadliest Father Sins).

She grabs my phone and takes a picture. (How cool is it that our phones can work as mirrors?)

And she shows me this:

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Yes. Those are 2nd degree burn marks from the heating pad I had cranked up all night. (I knew I was dreaming about barbecue!

So what does this have to do with casinos and life and good days/bad days?

You can avoid a bad day if you don’t gamble on your body doing more than you’re capable. Let your kid climb the damn tree, don’t try it yourself.

 

 

 

Wanna Know What an Ear Infection Feels Like?

When I was young and healthy I sometimes thought, Gee, I’d love to be sick for a day so I can just lie down and watch movies all day.

And then I had kids.

Let me qualify this entire post by stating that my wife – and I would surmise most wives – get it the hardest when the plague hits home. Mothers get the bug and have to take care of the sick kids, the whiny husband (that’s me), do the laundry, the dishes, and no one’s there to tuck them in because they’ve already tucked everyone else in and kissed their foreheads (including the husband – again, me).

Our house has been a house of horrors the last couple of weeks.

The kids had midnight fevers so high that one started hallucinating, which I could only imagine was  a slithering pile of snakes, worms, and silverfish crawling toward him, because that’s how he was acting, and the other kid had seizures.

My wife got it bad – headaches, coughing, you name it. But she was up and out of bed each time she heard anyone wake up. She deserves a medal of honor.

And I barely escaped the flu but got an ear infection instead. And let me tell you, I think I’d rather have the flu than an ear infection. (Imagine someone taking fruit knives and slicing the inside of your ear canal. Then imagine them pouring salt in those slices. Then imagine they keep rubbing sandpaper all around your salted cuts. Then throw in a migraine.)

I thought ear infections were for kids. Apparently not. After two trips to the doctor, increased medication, it still hurts like a very bad mother.

So that’s why I’ve been absent from this blog.

BUT if you’re looking for some awesome things to read, I’d highly encourage you to start checking out this guy right here: EndeverPublishing.

Now, excuse me while I go die.

(On another note, I finally watched Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and Rogue One. Both excellent films in every way for people who like steady, solid story lines.)

(Also, I was going to post a picture of the inside of my ear with yellow and green snotty wax dripping out of it, but I decided I didn’t want to lose any followers. So I’ll post this instead, because this is what I feel like:)

crying baby ears

Get well cards and flowers can be sent to my home in Kentucky. Also, I like sour worms, the candy. I always have to emphasize that I mean candy. Real worms terrify me.

My Adventures at Starbucks

I need to be grounded from Starbucks.

For the last decade and a half I’ve only ordered frappuccinos, which are basically just really fancy milkshakes. Be it summer or winter, I’d get a frappuccino because I really really hate hot beverages.

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A couple of weeks ago Starbucks ran this deal where if you buy one macchiato, you get a second one free. (If you don’t know, macchiatos are those fancy iced-coffee drinks that look like someone went way overboard with the cream.

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I always thought they looked kind of good. But when I learned that that’s not cream at the bottom, but VANILLA, I told Sarabeth we HAVE to try them!

We bought one and got one for free, and now, a couple of weeks later, I’ve had about 9 of them. I’m friggin’ addicted to this crap now, even at $5 a pop! And now Sarabeth feels like she can go to Starbucks with me because suddenly I’m a grown-up drinking grown-up drinks instead of milkshake-wannabe’s. Except that when I order my macchiato I ask them to “double the vanilla,” because there’s no such thing as enough vanilla.

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Well, in the past couple of weeks, I’ve ticked off quite a few Starbucks employees. (Be warned: after my confession you’re going to see me as a total jackass, but promise me you won’t say you wouldn’t do the same thing if you were cursed with my ineptitude for remembering key details.)

You see, when I was hooked of frappuccinos, I only had to decide on a flavor. Like, double-chocolate chip (which drove Sarabeth nuts because I chewed each individual chocolate chip with my front teeth like a crazed chipmunk), vanilla (cream-based, of course), mocha (which is basically a coffee-flavored milkshake), or any flavor of the season.

But with macchiatos I have to choose a flavor, remember to ask for extra vanilla, AND choose hot or cold, and apparently the default is hot. There’s no such thing as a hot frappuccino, otherwise it would just be a …ccino, and that just sounds racist for some reason.

Almost every time I’ve ordered a macchiato I’ve forgotten to ask for an ICED macciato. When they hand me the hot beverage with the cardboard coaster snug up around it, I know they see the look in my eyes and they’re already taking it back before I say, “I’m sorry, I meant to ask for an ICED macciato.”

They’re forced to fake a smile and say, “Certainly,” because those awesome Starbucks employees are trained that customers should always get what they want even if they’re complete jackasses like me. And then I sit in the car awkwardly while the line of cars grows behind me and I pretend to be texting someone on my phone even though under my breath I’m cursing myself for being such a jackass.

Why not just take the hot macchiato? Well, that would be like eating cow turd when you really wanted chocolate syrup. Big difference.

So my immediate life goal is to always remember to ask for ICED macchiatos so I don’t continue being that guy I never want to come across. That, or I should just start ordering macciatos with no coffee. Because let’s face it, vanilla is good cold or hot.