I cook. I clean. I do laundry. I shop for groceries. I don't particularly want to do these things, but people look at me funny when I walk around in stinky clothes, and Lord knows, I like to eat. The Lads also like to eat. Among other things, they like to eat peanut butter. Yeah, yeah. I know. There's some sort of peanut butter crisis going on. But I can't not eat peanut butter. If I do that, the negligent peanut butter makers have won. And I will NOT let that happen. Anyway, single dad discrimination continues. I buy this thing of extra crunchy, and what do I see?
This! Moms? What about me? I'm a choosy mutha? I'd sing the Blues, but I'm pretty sure it's illegal for Episcopalians to sing the Blues. Say, I know what'd cheer me up:
I LOVE peanut butter as well. But did you know that Europeans actually HATE peanut butter? They refuse to eat anything peanut-butter related. Yet they eat steak tartare. Go figure.
As my friend Coach Morejon says, "Peanut butter is a receipe, not an invention!"
Well, it's an invention with which I am down! I dig the stuff.
And SuperD, you must take the choosy mother thing as a compliment. I am often the only dad at Ali's ballet practice, and I'm always the only one at her Crusaderette practice. Hey dad's keep on sucking, you are making me look real good!
I was born in Montana, raised in Tampa, and reside in a small town in the lowcountry of South Carolina with the Lovely Lady Di, and son Tyler. Walterboro (the 'Boro) has about 5,100 residents. It's a moderately interesting place. I work in the public defender's office representing poor people charged with crimes. Some of them did it. Some of them didn't do it. Some are not very nice, a lot of them are just regular Joes with a huge plate of bad luck.
I'm a moderately interesting fellow, who has the good fortune to know or be related to some very interesting people. Is there anyone out there?
I cook. I clean. I do laundry. I shop for groceries. I don't particularly want to do these things, but people look at me funny when I walk around in stinky clothes, and Lord knows, I like to eat. The Lads also like to eat. Among other things, they like to eat peanut butter. Yeah, yeah. I know. There's some sort of peanut butter crisis going on. But I can't not eat peanut butter. If I do that, the negligent peanut butter makers have won. And I will NOT let that happen. Anyway, single dad discrimination continues. I buy this thing of extra crunchy, and what do I see? 
This! Moms? What about me? I'm a choosy mutha? I'd sing the Blues, but I'm pretty sure it's illegal for Episcopalians to sing the Blues. Say, I know what'd cheer me up:
11 comments:
Fat kids make me sad.
Clowns make me scared. Fat kids I'm alright with.
Watch out for those fat clown kids.
Speaking of scary!
Strangely compelling stuff, John.
I LOVE peanut butter as well. But did you know that Europeans actually HATE peanut butter? They refuse to eat anything peanut-butter related. Yet they eat steak tartare. Go figure.
They must be jealous 'cause they didn't think of it first.
As my friend Coach Morejon says, "Peanut butter is a receipe, not an invention!"
Well, it's an invention with which I am down! I dig the stuff.
And SuperD, you must take the choosy mother thing as a compliment. I am often the only dad at Ali's ballet practice, and I'm always the only one at her Crusaderette practice. Hey dad's keep on sucking, you are making me look real good!
Thanks, Ange. And congrats on your monster run this weekend.
That's a fun song. My boys get a kick out of it.
That video though is frightening.
And you should try natural peanut butter - the kind you have to stir first. Good for you and good eatin' all at the same time!
I've had the natural before, and it's alright. Shorter shelf life, though, on account of it doesn't have all those chemicals in it.
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