Oedipus, Simple!

My son sleeps with my wife. I sleep in the next room — his! It’s an arrangement that would make Oedipus himself puce with jealousy. There’s a simple enough explanation for this, and no it doesn’t rhyme with divschmorce. The reason: my son is a fucking bully. My wife and I have obviously discussed the

The Writer Who Wouldn’t Write

I’m starting to believe that my creativity has died. That it has vanished into the ether, like my youth and my disposable income. When I was 23 I had the imagination to write whatever I wanted. I wasn’t as good a writer as I am now, in the technical sense – I was full of

One Whole Page!

I’ve written the first page of my novel. I’ll be the first to admit, it’s not spectacular, but rather than hit select all > delete, I just keep telling myself “first draft, first draft, it’s just the first draft”. I will probably be too lazy to do a second draft, if I ever actually do

The Reach Zone

There is an imaginary line in every room, every shopping mall, every street… everywhere. This imaginary line is about four foot high, and anything left below this line will be cause, or consequence, of the most hostile of abuse. For most folk, this line is invisible – non-existent – but for the parent of a

Video Killed The Dad Blogger

Last week, I had to leave work early a couple of times and even take a day off. My wife has been unwell, and seeing as how caring for our two kids would drive a perfectly healthy person into the realm of madness, it’s been a bit too much for her while sick, so naturally

More Less Of Me… And A Kitten

I have have zero time at a PC or a laptop for days now. My life this week has been a mixture of screaming, demanding kids, lack of sleep, poor life choices, and a sick wife. The poor life choices were mine and involved alcohol (as 99% of shitty choices are), reminding me why I’ve

Old Man

I’m dealing with getting older well. At least I think I am. No longer do I pass frivolous nights in garish bars, trying hard to drown in a well of booze, trying hard to entice women who maybe pass for a seven (when drunk) back to my place for coffee – coffee and sex, trying

Picture Perfect

That good-looking guy in my profile picture, right there at the bottom of my sidebar. That guy in black and white, with the cheesy smile and the scruffy-chic hair? Yeah, he’s a lie. He doesn’t exist. The guy writing this is an older, fatter version. Don’t get me wrong, that’s definitely me, it’s just me

Return of the Living Dead

You may have noticed, if you’ve been paying really close attention, that I haven’t been around for a while. There’s a reason for that. I am now the proud father of two small children. Three weeks ago my wife gave birth to my daughter, who now, along with my three year old son, is the

Perc’d Up

In the way that slightly overweight dad’s who’ve let themselves go do, wearing ill fitting jeans and a t-shirt of their favorite sports team (an irony that only becomes apparent when standing near an actual athlete, with abs that look like they could be used to crash test Jeeps, and Pecs you could take shelter