Humor

Drugs Are Bad

We have gotten addicted to the Live-PD TV show. If you haven’t seen it, it is a mix between Orwell’s 1984 and Ray Bradbury’s idea of the future from Fahrenheit 451. There are live camera crews assigned to five or six police departments across the nation and they jump around between traffic stops and other police calls. Some things are mundane and sometimes things are crazy. Anything goes.

Tonight, I witnessed something that I felt needed to be shared. It is proof positive that drugs are hazardous.

The officers stopped a car that was reported to have a wanted man. He was arrested. There was a passenger in the vehicle and things around the whole situation were sketchy so they searched the vehicle. In the ashtray they found…

LivePD_Teeth

A human tooth. Where could that have come from? The trunk maybe?

LivePD_Trunk

Hmmm. What is that?

Nope. Nothing in here but a prosthetic leg and a football. A a Mag-Lite. That combo is suspicious but it still doesn’t explain the tooth. Maybe the passenger knows some information that may be helpful…

LivePD_Man

Say stranger, we have reports of a feral tooth. Have you seen anything?

Mystery solved.

If you find yourself in the passenger seat of a sedan, placing your teeth in an ashtray (or any container) and you are over the age of twelve, take a pause and examine your life situation. If your driver is wearing a hemp pullover and carrying crack in the front pocket, take a pause and examine your life situation. Show your children this side of drugs. Pop culture shows plenty of the other side.

If you find yourself watching live action police work, this post is for you. You’re welcome. Also, I didn’t explain the cover photo. Prima drew that pretty picture while waiting on pancakes at Cracker Barrel. Don’t ask because I have no idea. Apparently Baby Brenda will eat your soul but also likes warm hugs.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.

Here We Go

That didn’t take long. For all the optimism about the new year, things are starting out rough.

For starters, our Christmas tree is still up. We are next level lazy because we are still plugging it in at night. Full on denial. Today isn’t looking much better than the rest as far as inspiration is concerned.

Second point of 2018 suck is the cold snap that has settled over the eastern half of the US. Freezing pipes and sheets hanging over misaligned doors is bad but the worst part is my newsfeed being consumed with amateur meteorologists giving me the play-by-play on what the exact temperature is at the moment. I have three ranges of cold; 40-60 = chilly, 25-40 = cold, 25 and below = f*%king freezing (FF). It has been FF for two days and will continue to be FF for about four more. As much as it bites for us normal folks who have to endure a car heating up and windows defrosting, I can’t help but think about a guy I met a few weeks ago on some railroad tracks in the woods. I’ll get back to the list of complaints in a moment but let’s have a side story.


While inspecting an old railroad crossing a man came walking up the tracks. We had an interesting conversation. He was dressed in multilayered Carhart jackets, worn work boots, and carrying a large pick axe. Our talk went like this:

StartIt_Rufus

Man: I don’t want no trouble.

UD: That makes two of us. How are you today?

Man: I’m good. People say I ain’t got no home but I got a good home. Right over there. Been there about five years.

UD: Sounds good to me.

Man: You guys saved my life.

UD: … your welcome?

Man: And Jesus. Jesus saved my life too. You might remember me. I got hit by a car two years ago over on Airways Blvd.

UD: Seems like I remember that. Uh… how, how are you?

Man: I got better.

UD: Good. Good.

Man: My name’s Rufus. I watch the front here. Ol’ Caveman he watches the back.

UD: Good to meet you Rufus. I’ll be sure to say hi to Caveman as well. I notice you have a large pick axe…

Rufus: Oh this. There was some city types coming into my tent and stealing food. Ain’t nothing worse than a damn thief. We are good people over here. No stealing. There is a woman living out here.

UD: Sounds like a good community.

Rufus: She got two kids too.

UD: It sounds like a rough life for children.

Rufus: We are just houseless. That over there is our home.

UD: No argument from me.

Rufus: Lots of snakes though. I bet I killed sixty cottonmouths.

UD: This is their habitat. I’d say you have seen a few.

Rufus: Let me ask you something…

UD: Okay

Rufus: You believe in Jesus?

UD: Doesn’t everyone?

Rufus: Not everyone. (Twirls his weapon)

UD: He’s kind of everywhere, I don’t see how you get past that.

Rufus: EXACTLY. Let me ask you something else.

UD: Sure.

Rufus: What do you think about the Old Testament?

UD: Several books. Lots of weird names. God creates the world and incites a lot of war. What do you think of the Old Testament?

Rufus: My deacon says we can’t listen to it anymore. He says it ain’t no good. Can you believe that?

UD: I can’t.

Rufus: I mean the Old Testament is half of the Bible! How can you ignore it.

UD: I feel exactly the same. We are on the same page. By the way. You can set that pick axe down if it is getting heavy. I don’t mind.

Rufus: Nah, I gotta get going. Hey, thanks for being so nice. People aren’t usually nice.

UD: I guarantee Rufus, if I see you out here I’m going to say hi.

Rufus: Be sure you do!

And with that he walked down the tracks and back into the forest. Now I think about the homeless people living in the outskirts of town. I hope they are warm and the children fed.


The third part of the New Year suck was coming home at ten minutes until midnight on New Years Eve to the distinct smell of soured milk. Most would say it is a sweet vomitty odor. It had been eluding us for a day. Supermom said she smelled something the day before but I couldn’t quite make it out. Now I smelled it for sure. We searched all around the chest of drawers. Nothing made sense and the smell was everywhere. Then I spotted an overturned travel shampoo bottle with oozing liquid seeping from the top. There was a brown and white chunky liquid inside the bottle. After further investigation we solved the mystery.

Our Elf-On-The-Shelf, Elsie, fell from her perch on the ceiling fan one night a few weeks ago. She needed to rest in a make-shift bed on our chest of drawers.

StartIt_Elsie

Jane decided that fluids would help her heal faster so she made a magic concoction of milk chocolate and water. She sealed it in a travel shampoo bottle and left it hidden for two weeks. The perfect recipe for a room to smell like vomit. So at midnight, in the first few moments of the new year, I had a hand full of Clorox wipes trying to knock back the smell enough that we could sleep. Pro tip: Using a diffuser to try and overpower the smell with Eucalyptus oil does not work. It just opens your sinuses to the vomit smell.

So here we are. Day two and hoping for a turnaround.

If you like finding rotten objects or random encounters with homeless people, this post is for you. You’re welcome.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.

Teethpaste

Today’s confession will be a short one.

Lady Bug was going to bed the other night and I asked her, “Have you brushed your teeth?”

She made a sour faced expression and said, “No!”.

“Why not?”

“I don’t like the new toothpaste. It is yucky.”

I silently muse to myself, I don’t think I have purchased new toothpaste recently…

“Show me which one you don’t like.”

She stomped her way to the bathroom and pulled out the top drawer where the toothpaste is usually stored. I immediately saw her problem.

Teethpaste

I didn’t even ask which one she used. I located the actual toothpaste and removed the miscellaneous creams.

Fun fact: Toothpaste was invented in Alabama. In any other state it would have been Teethpaste.

If you are laughing and not judging, this post is for you. Also, the headless Santa is a decoration in my parent’s garage. I don’t know what happened to his head. Halloween at Christmas. You’re welcome.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.

Disturbia

My children do things that disturb me.  I have worked hard to have them embrace their weirdness. To bolster their self-image and give them a sense that they are free to be who they want to be. I dare say the scheme has worked. They could give two shits what anyone thinks. They laugh at things they find funny and they use the word “fart” freely in public. I’ve instructed them in the fine art of shutdown of a bully through a sharp wit. I’ve heard them tell a boy that they didn’t care what he thought and they are way weirder than he could imagine so back it off. When we get a notice from school that the kids can ignore uniform rules on a Friday, Jane will pack a Lord of the Rings style cloak into her backpack and wear it all day. I caught her wearing a fox tail into school one morning and she was too far away for me to stop her. They have personal confidence. I can probably put this ship on autopilot for a while. I might even need to shame them a little for balance.

Over the Thanksgiving holiday, Supermom found her old Barbie’s in boxes in the attic. We brought a couple of the boxes home and the girls have been playing with them non-stop. The only problem is how they are playing with the Barbie’s. They think old style Barbie with non-existent underwear is the funniest thing ever. I have found half-naked Barbie in terrible poses all around the house. The kids hide her and then wait for me to find her topless torso in the kitchen utensil drawer while they look on from the other room. I act surprised and they die laughing only to run off and hide another Barbie somewhere else in the house.

Last night the game escalated.

Supermom called out from the bathroom, “You have to come see this.”

I walked into the bathroom and found this on the sink.

Disturb_3

I assume that Barbie crossed Skipper one too many times. Maybe the right-sized Barbie got jealous of the long legs and skinny arms from vintage Barbie. Either way, the kids thought this was really funny too.

What other disturbing things have they been up to? Hmmm. Oh wait I know. They insist on sleeping together every single night. All four of them in a make-shift king bed (two twins pushed together). I laugh a little at the thought of some people who probably had to share a bed thinking about how nice it would be to have their own space while my wolf cubs insist on sleeping like sardines. That isn’t the weird part. In fact, I find their strong urge to co-sleep kind of endearing; as long as they stay out of my bed.

The weird part was two nights ago.

I heard a strange series of thumps and, being a competent parent, I went to investigate. I found Donna Threeto curl up inside a large plastic container that she had placed in her quadrant of the community king bed. I dumped her out of the box and took it away. She was angry. She insisted that she wanted to sleep in a box. Twice she snuck out of the room to get the box and put it back in her bed. I locked it away in the closet. What in the world? Who tries to sleep in a box? The other girls acted like it was the most normal thing ever. This is coming from the same kid who has pondered the tooth fairy and instead of questioning her existence decide to call our bluff by cutting her hair and placing it in a ziplock bag under her pillow. I asked her, “Why did you do this to your hair?”. She replied, “I’m getting a dollar from the hair fairy.” She then stared at me to gauge my response to the idea of a fictional character. Well played Donna.

I didn’t dare leave a dollar for hair. We would all wake up bald when she realized what a goldmine was all around her. Not my head so-much but her sisters.

Also worthy of note. Supermom has embraced the small dog and bought him a sweater. Meet GQ Jasper.

Disturb_4

And Jane is working on a Science Fair project that is centered around swabbing animal spit and watching the bacteria grow. We want to see which animal has the most aggressive mix. Our test subjects are Cat, Dog, Squirrel, Rabbit, Gecko, Horse, Goat, Chicken, Human, and a blank Control sample. Leave a comment to guess which animal was the worst. I’ll share the answer in my next post. The horse is shown as the cover photo to give an idea of what it looks like when animal spit is cultured in a dish.

Disturb_1

This should be one of my kids. I would be so proud. 

Life rolls on here at the Underdaddy house. If you enjoy quirky everyday stories, this post was for you. You’re welcome.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.

Halloween and A Cat

As Halloween’s are recorded into the record book of time, ours in 2017 won’t be one that breaks many records. Supermom and I decided early on that our energies would be focused on Disney and the rest of the month may be a wash. We set the bar low for Halloween and achieved everything we set out to do. In some ways it was a good holiday and in some ways we could have been better. But hey, that’s parenting right?

Let’s start with costumes. I dare say some bank robbers work harder on their outfits. Lady Bug was the most dressed up in her Vampirina outfit. For all of you who are out of the loop, Vampirina (if that is how you spell it?) is a cartoon about a small cutesy vampire girl who moves into a strange neighborhood and works to gain acceptance from her neighbors. Obviously a product of the liberal agenda and brainwashing children that blood sucking undead demons are harmless and should be welcomed with open arms because they struggle with the same emotional issues and desire for community acceptance. While not as obvious as the glittery emo vampires of Twilight, I still dispute the historical accuracy. But Lady Bug looked really cute in her outfit so she became Vampirina. Prima decided to be a unicorn so we phoned it in with a three piece kit and an all-white sweat suit. Put on some gloves for hooves and BAM… unicorned. Donna Threeto insisted on becoming a fox because her native American spirit guide is a fox. She displays many fox mannerisms and loves wearing a tail. Luckily, a fox is a generic enough outfit that the costume store also had a bag of fox-parts that we could combine with a sweat suit.

Three down. One to go.

Jane was a little more difficult. She wouldn’t decide on what to be and two days before the event decided that she wanted to go as a goat. She wants to be a veterinarian. She loves farm animals and goats especially. I can understand this outfit from start to finish but the problem is that being a goat is a really unique idea. There aren’t standard costumes. Probably because anyone described synonymously with a goat is either an old-goat or a horny-goat or both. Regardless, I value my children’s dreams and aspirations. A goat you shall be!

We went to the store a day before Halloween and found the scattered remains of various costumes. Walmart had grossly miscalculated the number of children who wanted to be ninja turtles. Anything resembling a goat was gone. I begged and reasoned with Jane to just choose something generic. The whole point is to get candy. It is like a bank robbery. The teller at the window doesn’t care if your plastic mask is President Nixon or President Reagan, they just want you to stop pointing your gun at them so they give you the money and you leave. The whole point is that you are hiding your identity and threatening the homeowner with mischief if they don’t pay you off with candy. Who cares.

She deflected my words with indifference. We walked Walmart twice while she pondered different combinations of things that might make her appear goat-like. She salvaged some red devil horns and a plain white shirt. She told herself that her outfit was Aires, the ram. I give her credit for knowing that Aires is a ram and for knowing some astrology. We bought the few items and returned home.

On Halloween night everyone was dressed and ready to go and Jane was deliberating over her costume. Something was off. Something needed to be added. The outfit looked like a backup dancer in a ballet put on a set of red horns. It didn’t scream “Aires the ram is here for your candy!” so she decided to face-paint the symbol for Aires on her forehead. So we did.

HalloLineup

The real tragedy of Jane’s outfit is that no one is familiar enough with astrological signs or subtlety to glean the fact she was a goat. Instead, their minds probably drifted towards member-of-a-satanic-cult. Not exactly what she was going for and that fault rests squarely on my shoulders. I should have provided for a better goat. We can’t be too disappointed because we did get lots of candy and that is what really matters.

This Halloween was the first one where all of the kids could run together from house to house without an adult walking along beside them and picking up shoes or dropped buckets. It was another quiet milestone that passed on the wind. They all waited for each other to gather on the doorsteps before ringing the doorbell, they watched out for one another, and they always said thank you to the people who handed out candy. I’m pretty proud of them and the people they are becoming.

I am also proud of my wife. One day while at work I got this text.

HalloCatText

Then a few days later I came home to this gem.

HalloCat

I have a real appreciation for the unusual things and I think I have rubbed off on her. This Kleenex butthole cat is everything I thought it could be.  His posture. His look of fearful concern, like you have cornered him and are stealing the tissue against his will. He is a perfect new member of the family.

HalloCatUnder

Looking at a small sticker on the bottom that boasts “Made In China”, I couldn’t help but wonder. What does the factory worker who casts these things all day think of Americans and the kinky shit we buy?

HalloCatButt

This was one too many on the cat pictures. I apologize. It is just hilarious to me. 

What does that production meeting sound like? “Okay folks, we got another order for 10,000 plaster cats with the tissue-port assholes. I need everyone to stay late tonight to make sure this order gets out the door. Frank… make sure you paint the eyes on straight this time. I bought 500 cross-eyed tabbies back from North Dakota last week. We don’t have the budget for your bullshit. Eric… don’t send any out with broken tails. I know you have been boxing them up like that. People notice and it has your sticker on the bottom.” (For the record, I don’t think that Frank and Eric are traditional Chinese names but anything else would have sounded offensive.)

Also, a quick safety warning about Ring-Pops. If they melt inside the package and re-harden in the corner then it becomes a Ring-Stab.

HalloCandy

If you enjoy our normal weirdness then this post is for you. You’re welcome.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.