11 Of The Many Things You’ll Regret Knowing About Me

We are not above doing the occasional Internet meme here at Uncool Enterprises but we will employ the royal “we” to class it up a bit.

Today’s Fill ‘er Friday comes courtesy of the wackiest redhead with a high-heel fixation in the blogosphere, A Daft Scots Lass.

She gave me a list of 11 questions to answer, so here goes:

1.  Why do you “put your two cents in” when it is only “a penny for your thoughts”? What happens to the other penny?

It goes in the tray next to the cash register for those with no sense at all.

2. Pen or pencil and why.

Pen because I stand by my mistakes. Such as sporting a mustache.

3. What is your favorite Disney character and why?

Bloody Hell

It started with a simple runny nose.

A Claritin here, a Zyrtec there, Benadryl everywhere and all will be fine in a couple of weeks, so I thought.

Then the sneeze.

A quarter-size red bubble on the white tile floor.

Off to the doctor we went.

Not my doctor.

My dog’s.

All you need to know about a dog having blood come from its nose is this: It is never good.

Dads are Capable Parents, Too

While I’m polishing my next epic, I thought you might enjoy my “final” word on the Dad 2.0 Summit, which appeared last week in my hometown newspaper column.

Bits at the start and end first appeared on DadCentric, but the bulk is new and fleshed out for non-blogger mass consumption. If nothing else, the writer types among you may enjoy seeing the evolutionary twists, turns, adds, deletes and punching up done in the never-ending battle I wage on writing every time I sit in front of the keyboard. Cheers!

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The only adult male this at-home dad hangs with on a regular basis is his dog, though, if not for fences, my best friend would most likely spend all his time canoodling with the cute beagle next door.

Naturally then, I had some trepidation about being corralled for three days in Texas recently at a conference with 200 other fathers.

Were we going to the woods to beat drums? Do primal scream therapy? Whine endlessly about how our dads did or didn't treat us as kids? Not at all.

The inaugural Dad 2.0 Summit in Austin gathered bloggers of the paternal persuasion to discuss with each other, marketers and social media mavens the role of the modern father.

We also gathered to drink beer, a statement based not on stereotype but on my credit card receipts.

Fill ‘er Friday: Removing ‘Blah’ from Blogging

The recent passing of my blogiversary has gotten me thinking about my early days in this racket.

You remember those simpler times.

Before we personal bloggers all signed lucrative contracts to endorse personal hygiene products, received book deals to reprint our Tweets (with sequels on our Instagram streams and Facebook status updates), and became stars of TLC shows that failed miserably because – face it – we’re pretty boring in reality. That’s why we all entered rehab: to regain our mojo, our qi … and our audiences (wink, wink).

We had pointless memes. Spread around silly blog awards like venereal diseases. Yes, life was blog carnival.

Now it’s all melancholy word masturbation, competition and denial, moaning and whining. It’s like the worst of NPR but without the pleasure of being hit up for money in between stories about the obscure 17th fingerpainters without thumbs and the sexualization of Thanksgiving turkeys.

High time we who are still plugging away at this took the “blah” out of blogging.

For the next few weeks (or at least until I run out material or get lazy again), I’m going to dedicate Fridays to returning some of the goofy spirit of 2008 to the blogosphere.

Welcome to FILL ‘ER FRIDAYS!

Here we go …

Fight or Flight

After several hours of Googling coding freebies then typing then re-coding the re-re-coding and banging my head on the keyboard, the latter often resulting in better work than when using these mitts of concrete at the end of my arms, I stood up and sighed.

Walk it off, clear your head, I yelled at myself internally because doing so aloud when you work by yourself is just loony.

I pushed back my chair and stood with a creak-creak here and a Mother-Fletcher-I’m-old there.

I looked out the sliding glass door, lost.

That’s when I saw him.

Indecision Keeps Me Here

Somewhere around my second Tropical Sunrise Margarita at the airport Chili’s Too last Sunday morning (um, I was in the Central Time Zone – it was well past several minutes past noon back home) a milestone passed.

I entered my third fourth year of blogging.

You weren’t the only one who forgot. I did, too.

So Happy Blogiversary to me.

To celebrate, since some of us obviously forgot the cake and presents (a-HEM!), I did a little renovation. If you’re reading this via a reader or Facebook, come on over to the blog and check it out.

Surviving (and Recapping) the Dad 2.0 Summit

The air thickened with conspiracies to prevent me from attending the Dad 2.0 Summit last week.

There was My Love’s first business trip in a year, a 10-day behemoth to Berlin that overlapped with half of my Austin adventure.

But my sister agreed to look after the Things and Murphy and all their medications and appointments for me.

There was American Airlines continuing its long history of delaying nearly every flight I’ve ever taken between Dallas and New York. We were 90 minutes late this time, forcing me to miss the registration. And curse a lot.

However, a conference staffer agreed to run back to the storeroom and dig out my badge so I could get into the opening night party.

Oh, there was more.

Yet once inside, it was all good.

Real good.

Go over to DadCentric for the deets, a rare group post by me and two of my colleagues, titled: Dad 2.0 Summit in a Nutshell (by 3 Nuts with Nuts). I promise you’ll like it. And that I’ll never again say “deets.”

Here’s some stuff I left out:

No Stupid Smartphone for This Dad 2.0

Today, with a little luck, I am on my way to Austin for the Dad 2.0 Summit, a.k.a. Paternity Party 2012.

Given my usual luck traveling in or out of Texas, though, I’m most likely stranded at the Chili’s Too in Terminal C at DFW International Airport, reduced to selling my “wares” for Shiner Bocks and Southwestern Eggrolls to survive the long, dull Lone Star nights.

That might not be a bad thing. I’m a little nervous about whether I can really hang with daddy-type dudes for three days.

What worries me?

The Skinny on Me

You’ve been seeing a lot less of me lately.

Roughly 30 pounds less.

(Oh. You meant my online absence. I’ll explain. In due time. Honestly.)

I had what you may call a transformative moment, an epiphany if you will, about 18 months back following my annual physical.

My blood pressure was slightly elevated.

My cholesterol, a few ticks into the red.

Most importantly, I had trouble buttoning my pants.

Having spent most of my adult life in a 34 waist, in the year previous I had moved to a 36.

Then, a 36 with a “comfort waist.” That’s a 36 with an extra few inches of elastic hidden in the belt line. Lands’ End is Genius.

Eeeeee-vil genius.