Month: November 2015

Pet Poems

We sat down together a couple nights ago and tried to write funny poems about our pets. Well we didn’t try, we did. Just a few quick background notes before you dig in; Toby is our wallaby and he pesters everyone. The cat has to jump over the gate to the kitchen several times a day and she is getting fatter. Biscuit snores like a lumberjack’s saw.



Toby likes to hop

He hates brooms

And maybe mops

Lets send him to the moon.


I Heart Toby

How much do I love Toby?

My heart holds a special place.

Sometimes I want to hug him,

With a chair, in the face.


Fat Cat Splat

Majestic Cat, You’re oh-so-fat,

Remember to watch your weight,

Because dear cat, it’s hard to eat,

If you can’t jump over the gate.


Biscuit Snores

Man oh man does biscuit snore

It gets really bad at night,

Sometimes it seems her cheeks and teeth,

Are getting in a fight.


-Underdaddy to the rescue

Caught Bear Assed

A good tool for developing creativity is Improv. (Which spell check tells me isn’t real but it is totally real.) Improv is perfect for kids because of their flexible reality. Adults really get the most benefit out of it. We play lots of games where we make up stories or pictures as we go and it is lots of fun. Sometimes it gets me into trouble.

One game we play is with a dry-erase board. I will start sketching shapes and making up a story along with the picture. Adding to the picture or the story as needed to make them both fit together. Usually the story ends in a fart noise and scribbles and everyone is laughing on the floor. This is probably why my children tell other people jokes that involve “Cat Poop” as the punchline.

One day I drew a blob that vaguely looked like a bear so I made the good decision to tell them the story of the Bear and the Rabbit in the woods. It goes as follows:

A rabbit is walking through the woods and happens upon a bear who is pooping. The bear looks at the rabbit and asks, “Hey Rabbit, Do you have trouble with poop sticking to your fur?” The rabbit considered the question thoughtfully and replied, “Why no I don’t guess I do.” So the bear grabbed the rabbit and wiped his butt.

For my kids that was the funniest story ever told. They insisted I finish the sketch of the Bear and the Rabbit. So I did.


If you have ever drawn an inappropriate picture for a two year old, this post is for you. Don’t judge me. After all, everybody poops. You’re welcome.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.

Goodwill Boomerang

Have you ever cleaned your house and thought, “How are we alive?” I found bacteria on the underside of the dish drying rack and when I sprayed it with bleach I think it sneezed and ran under the cabinet. I have pulled a hair plug out of the shower drain. I’ve cleaned the screen on the dishwasher. I’ve seen things man…

But mostly I get discouraged by all the stuff. My garage has been on a five year downward spiral that accelerated when the automatic door motor shorted out the electrical system. We had been hoarding random things into the garage for years but with the door stuck in “manual” mode it became harder to pay attention.

Right now, at this very moment, there are about eighteen Tupperware containers of clothes that are sorted by size and awaiting a mythical yard sale. There is a full sized pool table somewhere under an assortment of discarded cardboard, mattresses, disassembled baby furniture and a fine layer of dead bugs that swarm the fluorescent light until they die of exhaustion. There are two shelves of amateur pottery from our three year stint in a pottery class. Bags of stuffed animals. A quick-up, ten man tent. An inflatable princess castle. Three battery powered plastic vehicles. A china cabinet from somewhere. Old wine making supplies. A wayward two by four. An antique sewing machine. A broken stove-oven unit. A pottery wheel. A weight bench and a bunch of cracked plastic weights. Parts to a homemade ice cream maker. Half a package of shingles that don’t match our current shingles for some reason. And when we run out of room for some random shit in the house we still think, “Hmm Let’s put this in the garage.”

You may find yourself asking at this point in the story, “Why don’t you just give this stuff to Goodwill?” Allow me to enlighten you.

The short answer is that fate doesn’t want me to be clutter free. Fate wants to trap me. To suffocate me under an ironic pile of excess.

There was a day that I put my foot down. There was cleaning. There was a mass bagging of things that we needed to part with and I took them off to Goodwill. Two van loads of stuff. Most of the items were kid related toys. (I know what you are thinking, why would you donate adult related toys? Get out of the gutter. I’m telling a story here.)


I issued a decree: NO MORE TOYS. My mother listens as well as her oldest son and immediately violated the rule. Each time the kids went anywhere near a retail location with Mamaw they would goad her into some small memento of the shopping trip. Most of the toys were redirected to Mamaw’s house but as the months went by my decree faded into a distant memory and all the grandparents were back to their toy buying tricks. I found myself again wondering where everything had come from.

I struggled to keep my head above water until one day I was finally defeated. Mamaw stopped by Goodwill on the way home and told the children they could each pick one small toy for being well behaved. They proudly showed me the things they bought and when Threeto revealed her selection I burst into laughter.


She had picked out the same small plastic phone that we donated several months before. I had given Goodwill the product that my mother re-bought as a reward. She basically paid Goodwill for a few months of storage for something we already owned. I wonder if I donate it again, can I claim it three times on taxes? Donation + Purchase + Donation? Maybe this is a loophole that the IRS should look into.

I no longer worry about getting rid of things. Other things will just fill the space. Those other things may be something I donated before and I can’t afford that kind of money pit so we will just live with the heaving pile of toys that migrates through the house.

If you have ever purchased something that you previously gave away, this post is for you. I think Dave Ramsey would call that an idiot tax. You’re welcome.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.

Birthday Swag

Just a quick update for the faithful followers. My birthday was acknowledged and I got everything I wanted. I have pictures. Not of the “backrub” but of some pretty cool Tshirts. A thank you to Mr Wu. Oh and I did get a steak, I bought it and it was delicious. Then I bought a stack of books that I tell myself that I will read someday. Frank Herbert wont be denied. Anyway…. on to the photos.


I can spell gud, I prawmise.

I can spell gud, I prawmise.

Then the good catch from the wife.

The girls love this one.

The girls love this one.Then, of course, the one that I demanded.

Because SIMILIES are like Metaphors.



CHILL – My younger sister bolstered my confidence with the knowledge that weight gain doesnt have to be wardrobe limiting. Check out this holiday classic Tshirt that I am certain will be getting some airplay in the coming weeks.

Seriously bro Just Chill.

Seriously bro Just Chill.

A Day Away – Then we got to travel to East Tennessee for a couple of days. Toby tagged along and made me want to kill him for the first hour of the journey. Legit. Wanted to Murder Him.

This is the rear view of my minivan.

This is the rear view of my minivan.

Needless to say, things didnt go exactly as planned but when do they ever? Everyone survived and we are prepping to turn around and do it again in two days. WOOOHOOO!

If you love the stress of the holidays and birthday swag then this post is for you. You’re welcome.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.


The young man in front of me looked to be around eighteen or nineteen years old. He had several snacks and drinks in his shopping cart and the way he was unloading things onto the belt made me think he hadn’t shopped much on his own. Cans were rolling away from him and items fell over each time the belt lurched forward.

There is a private college nearby and I assumed he was a freshman student learning to live independently. As the cashier was bagging the goods another man walked up to her with a worried expression. “Do you cash checks?”, he asked in a panic. “I’ve come a long way and I really need to cash this check.”

“I’ll check with the manager”, she said and punched in some numbers to page the supervisor on duty. She continued with the college student transaction and placed the last item in the bag. “That will be $65.47 please.” The freshman pulled out his wallet and paid with $80 in twenty dollar bills. The cashier made change and as she handed it to the freshman he dropped all of his coins across the floor. I helped him gather the coins and he shoved a few in his pocket while leaving the rest in a hurry to get out of the embarrassing situation.

The desperate man was pacing in a light jacket that probably was too thin for the thirty degree weather outside. He had big glasses and a big lower jaw with teeth that looked smaller than they should. An adjustable net hat advertising a check cashing company was hanging on his forehead, mocking his desperation. The phone rang and the cashier nodded as she talked with the voice on the other side. “I’m sorry sir. We aren’t allowed to cash those checks. I’m really sorry.” Her face said she was telling the truth.

I picked up a few of the coins that the freshman had left in his mad rush and I placed them on the counter. Seven cents in all. The cashier smiled. We exchanged pleasantries; “Hi how are you?, I’m fine how are you?. Doing good..” So on and so forth. I asked her how much the check had been, he looked desperate and I can’t stand to see someone suffer even if they are responsible. She had the same thought, “Fifty dollars. It was breaking my heart but I can do it.”

“I don’t blame you. These days who can you trust?”

With my transaction finished, I moved to the parking lot. The freshman had parked directly behind me and was loading his dorm room grocery supplies into his very modest Mercedes two-seater convertible. He seemed nice and even offered to return my shopping cart for me which I allowed him to do. Fair trade for picking up coins.

I sat in my car and thought for a second about the two men and the cards they had been dealt. What would a bad day look like for each? What would a good day look like for each? What could I do to give more people good days? I had a passion to help but I had a reservation. I worried about why he needed money, would he try to rob me for more money, or did I even have spare money to give. All important questions.

Then it hit me. The irony of it all. A young college student with cash for dorm food, nice clothes and a groomed look, driving a new sports car and he had little idea of the order of things and the reality of life. He could barely manage his shopping cart. The desperate man was living on handouts and scraps, his car was likely junk if he had one, and he knew enough about life to know that things were stacked against him. Still he was polite and moved along with a continued hope that somewhere, someone would cash his check.

I wondered what he wanted to buy so badly at 11:00pm. Who knows. Not my business.

Life ain’t fair. Then again maybe it is because it picks people at random for tragedy and hard times. Regardless of money or “who my daddy is”. For once today I found myself to be happy to be average. I have less than I want but more than I need.

If you have opportunities because others helped support your dreams, this post is for you. You’re welcome. It doesn’t cheapen our success but we need to remember that some people don’t get that hand-up. That doesnt make them unimportant, lazy, or stupid. It just makes them unlucky.

-Underdaddy to the rescue