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'I'm Sorry' photo (c) 2011, Maroon Surreal - license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/I once tried to write a post for TV Asylum, that safe place for the television-obsessed. Because I don’t, you know, actually watch a lot of TV, the piece felt very tentative to me. So I turned to one of the site’s proprietors, Knox McCoy, looking for affirmation.

Because that’s what all secure writers do, right? And received the hiss of static in reply. Instead of just, you know, concluding he was busy (which he is), I assumed he was ignoring me (which he wasn’t).

So, yes, you know where this is going: when we make assumptions, not having all the facts, we make faulty ASSessments of ourselves. And others. Or something.

In my insecurity, I pestered poor Knox via email, and iMessage. Because, for some reason, I wanted so desperately to be liked, rather than respected.

And I got neither in return. In fact, I surmise that Mr. McCoy doesn’t think of me much at all.

All because I listened to the voice of fear, let it feed my insecurity, and let that fester and grow into douchebaggery.

All that to say: I’m sorry, Knox McCoy. I hope you can forgive me. Perhaps we can work together someday.

Those of you who write/blog/etc, have you ever done the same?

PS In the end, I decided that writing about T.V. shows is not my forte, and turned my piece over to another blogger who has something to say (on the subject). I may never see my byline at TV Asylum, and that’s okay.

'Pacifier anyone?' photo (c) 2011, Philipp Antar - license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

After reading Ricky’s post–“One Paci to Rule Them All”–yesterday, I was reminded of my own children, and their interest (or lack thereof) in their own respective pacifiers.

Thus, I give you “Paci Throwdown:”

When my son was one, he threw his paci down
Mom, not being ready, retrieved it with a frown

She popped it back in, and to her chagrin,

Back it went, down on the ground,

For five full minutes this went on,

Out! It popped, back in it went,
Until mother and child, both were spent,

But mom would not relent,

And in the end, she won:
Forcing that paci back on our son

And to my chagrin, you see,
He kept it til he was three

Would that were the end of the story:
My daughter, nary a paci will she use,
When asked, she has refused,
A thumb sucker, in all her glory

—————-

You can catch Ricky on his blog, Ricky Anderson Dot Net, or follow him on Twitter @Arthur2Sheds (though I’m told he only has one shed)

Today’s hilarious guest post comes from my friend, Larry Carter. You know–John (“of Mars”) Carter’s funny brother. <--Don't actually know if he has a brother named John. Anyway, Larry is loved by multitudes, is a husband, and father, and claims this is the most ridiculous thing he's ever written. Take it away, Larry: I have a lot of conversations with myself. A lot of them end with bacon. For example: “T.G.I.F.” <--This is either a restaurant, or it: “Sounds like the intro to a Katy Perry song.” [What? You mean like "E.T.," (pronounced "et") right? "Heart attack victim, fill me with some bacon"] And... You listen to Katy Perry? I thought you were a Christian? Uh, I did when she was Katy Hudson. “I wonder how Katy Perry made the transition from Katy Hudson, Christian singer, and morphed into Katy Perry, girl-kissing, pop-singing wife of Russell Brand?” [My guess? Not enough fatty, protein-rich bacon in her diet] Isn't that what happened to Amy Grant? No, she married Vince Gil--not Russell Brand. “No, I mean Amy Grant sang Christian music and crossed over to pop.” Oh, yeah, "Baby, Baby," right? “Yeah, but she had that song with Peter Cetera.” “All I Need To Know.” No, that was Aaron Nevill and Linda Ronstadt. Stay on task with me, please. Amy and Peter had "Next Time I Fall In Love." [Ed. note: Amy did sing "House of Love" with Vince Gill--while still married to Gary. We know how that turned out. Also, the next time I fall in love, it will be with bacon!] Peter Cetera was in Chicago, right? 25 or 6 to 4!!!! “I thought Richard Gere was in Chicago.” That was a musical, not the pop group. “Richard Gere was also in "Pretty Woman" with Julia Roberts.” I thought he was in "An Officer and A Gentleman" with Debra Winger? He was, but you're getting off task again. Stick with me. He was in "Pretty Woman" with Julia Roberts. Julia Roberts was also in "Mystic Pizza," right? "Yeah, but not what I'm looking for---though I'll bet her pizzas had bacon on them." Ok, Alex, give me another Julia Roberts movie, please, for 1000. Erin Brockovich? [Best line in that film? "They're called boobs, Ed."] Ocean's Eleven? No. Try again. “Oh yeah. Julia Roberts was in "Flatliners" with Kiefer Sutherland.” Yes!!! But guess who else was in that movie? No!!! Not him. Really? Yes, no denying it. Kevin Bacon? Yep. “Kevin Bacon makes me think of bacon.” [Which makes me think of the recently remade "Footloose. Did Kevin get cameo? No? If it tanks at the box office, we know why: Decided lack of Bacon] “Since it’s Friday, I’ll stop at T.G.I Friday's on the way home from work to get a BLT. Hope Jan doesn't notice I'm not hungry." “Sounds like a plan.” And that, my friends, is how all roads lead to bacon. And bacon makes me happy. How many steps does it take you to get to bacon?

Larry Carter lives in “Dunn Holler,” somewhere outside of Knoxville, TN. He blogs most days at Deuceology, and can be followed on Twitter @LarryTheDeuce. Roll tide, Larry, roll tide! 😉

Good morning! Today I have the privilege of guest posting for Leanne Shirtliffe as a part of her “Whiteboard Wednesday” series.

Here’s an excerpt:

“I’m a dad. Have been for a little over thirteen years now. Indeed, I was in my twenties when my parenting odyssey began, and it wasn’t until I was thirty seven that God decided to throw my wife and I a curveball. Or drop a surprise bomb (in the form of a little girl) in our laps.

Whatever.”

To read the rest of Daughters, Bad Breath, & Losing It, please head over to her site.

Thanks, Leanne, for the privilege and opportunity to post for you!

As a bonus for those of you who stopped by here today, here’s the postscript that didn’t show up on Leanne’s blog:

“As if showering is somehow a cure for halitosis? (Side note: isn’t there one of those in Canada? Oh. Never mind: that’s Halifax, Nova Scotia).

Thus, I’m forced to conclude that I’ve lost my mind. Can you help me find it? The one I used to have worked pretty well…”

(Imagine it coming after the picture).


So a few weeks ago, I asked via Twitter who I should “hate.” The answer was swift, and universal: Tyler Stanton. And by “universal” I mean that one person, Rob Shepherd, replied. Therefore, as duly nominated, and elected, by a majority of one (don’t worry, Rob, your time is coming), I hereby bring you my stinging ire. My flaming flagon of Haterade for Tyler Stanton!

Why do I “hate” Tyler? Let me count the ways:

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