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Kevin (Always Home and Uncool)
Semi-pro writer and imbiber.
Recent Activity
I'm a Warren Zevon fan but, like your cardiologist, glad you didn't go with the French Inhaler
Bracing for the big thaw
This is my first post since Halloween, and a lot's happened since: my parents celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary; our Movember team raised another $15K; the Christmas season came and went, and I barely noticed it (more about that later); I appeared on Michigan Public Radio to talk about ...
Yeah, but Honea has not a follicle of your legendary hair.
Happy to let you see it happen via the magic of the Microsoft Surface 2, the tablet that's not a 10 ... it's a 10.6 inch.
Sorry, I was still in "paying for my Dad 2.0 ticket by schilling product" mode.
So... that was nice
Last week in New Orleans, a large group of really smart and talented people got together for the Dad 2.0 Summit — and from what I've gathered, a good time was had by all. While I was unable to take part in the festivities, Doug French - gentleman, scholar, PawSox fan and Grand Poobah of all thin...
Well-deserved, roomie.
I'm especially proud since the stuffed blue lobster I gave you appears as your photo in every single write-up you received.
Love,
The Guy Under You at No. 40
(Note to self: Blog much less in 2013. Seems to be a key to higher ranking this year.)
Proving yet again that I'm not nearly cool enough to act too cool to care
In what can only be described as an egregious error in judgment, the good people at Babble have once again - inexplicably - decided to include me among far more deserving writers in their annual "Top 50 Dad Blogs" thing. They also named my comrades-in-DadCentric as the #1 group dad blog, and #4 ...
When she 'twas about 7, my daughter begged for one of these cheesy magic sets that let you turn a piece of paper into money. The disappointment descended upon her in a rapid and ugly fashion.
The Saddest Thing You May Ever Read About Growing Up
This post is the saddest thing you may ever read about growing up. I'm not even kidding. There's no tragedy. Nobody dies. Nobody breaks anything. It's almost casual, this saddest thing. On the surface it's even cute, but the depth of pathos underneath could well swallow you whole. My neighbor h...
I got a rock.
The Cookies Were Delicious
President Obama sent me a box of homemade cookies for my vote. My neighbor got a jetski, and his neighbor got a Fisher-Price playtime kitchen, which was weird because he lives alone, but he seemed happy with it and that's what matters. The cookies were chewy and still warm, and the President's h...
Glad you made it through Sandy somewhat unscathed and good luck with today's storm. Meanwhile, I'm glad to come down and bail or prevent beer spoilage, whatever it takes.
It's All Fun and Games Until Someone Fashions a Metal Hockey Mask and Calls Himself The Humungus
There are no trees in our house. This may seem a mild, self-evident statement, like saying there is no life on Mars, but it isn’t. Monday night a hundred-year-old sycamore uprooted itself and crushed the roof of a house four doors down from ours, letting Hurricane Sandy inside for as long as it ...
Let's not forget about those who don't believe there should be FEMA. No votes for you!
Please Punch Any Climate Change Deniers in the Mouth Today
Better yet, vote them out of office Tuesday. Thank you.
And you are. I'll keep the beer cold for you.
Women, stop bullying yourselves.
I've gained about 10lbs since July from a combination of all sorts of things, but mostly because of a life and priority shift from skinny jeans and marathon training, to work, kids, and eating. Also beer. or really, BEER!!! {Due to the amount of which I've consumed, I feel caps and exclamation ...
At least ponies don't escape and crawl into bed with you. Unless you wronged someone in the mob. Hope the girl is well.
Not a Pony
Note: I wrote this a little over three years ago, just after I retired my old blog. I sat down this morning, planning to update it and post it, but something I swear isn't laziness compelled me to leave it as it is (laziness). If you are new here and are interested in following the saga of my ol...
So that proves hot dogs really aren't made of lips and a-holes, right? Welcome back and pardon the mess we made in your absence.
Once
Once my daughter was served a hot dog that had a plastic bag inside. Not inside the bun; inside the actual hot dog. She was a fussy eater, the kind that decorates the seat around her with strings of those things that aren't quite banana but aren't quite peel, and after the first bite of hot dog,...
Someone must be doing something right with raising her. Oh that Kristen. Happy day, little one.
Oh That Margot
It's what everyone says when they spend more than a few minutes with this girl, with her husky little voice, ridiculously mature sense of humor, and mostly easy going personality. Just don't piss her off. Or accidentally bump into her. In fact, I'm almost certain she's a wise, old soul, back f...
RA Dickey pitched last night so the Mets game officially moved up mediocre TV.
CHAOS THEORY: October 2012
It's a dark and rainy night in NYC. The Girlfriend is in Europe for work. And after a long weekend of solo parenting three young girls, I just want to lie down on the couch, crack open a bottle of wine, and watch some seriously bad television. Before I get drunk and turn on the Mets game (the ve...
This being rational and reasonable is sooo not the Internet-age. Way to go old-school.
The other side.
A few days ago, Drew came down for school in long pants, at which point, we sent him right back upstairs to change considering it was a balmy 85 degrees here in Atlanta at 7:30am. This didn't go over very well -- cue screaming, stomping, and my favorite, flopping on the ground. I generally s...
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