The "Dad" Race

Myself and my 3 daughters last night before the
father/daughter dance.

Hello all, or none maybe.  I know I haven't been around in a while.  I guess that is due to a few reasons.  We have had a great time playing this winter.  Mostly on the slopes of Cannon Mountain in New Hampshire.  I have enjoyed another incredible year with my children, wife, father, and friends on the mountain, and even though mother nature didn't bring all the natural snow we prayed for, we still had one heck of a winter, and hopefully still have a couple of weekends left God willing.  Work has been very busy, and that has kept my little mind occupied.  I guess I may have needed a break from blogging, and a few other things.  I am cursed by an obsessive gene that really only allows me to focus on a couple of things at once, just so happens that the blog wasn't one of them this winter.  I needed some time to sort of recharge the batteries.  This winter has been a time of reflection for me.  I am not a deep guy by any means, but I know when I need to take a step back and focus on what is really important to me.  The one constant that always matters to me is my relationship with my family, and my three kids.  Like a lot of guys, I probably take my wife for granted more than I should.  But I think she knows I love her, and that she will always be a most important part of my life.  What I try to stay focused on, no matter what, is my relationship with my 3 daughters.  I have spent the last 3 months skiing with all of them on a weekly basis every Saturday and Sunday.  It is amazing what you can learn about your kids on a chairlift, or on a ski trail.  You can see toughness as they close the lift on a sub-zero day, you can learn about their zeal to excel, you can learn how much they love you as a dad, you can learn what it feels like for them to feel totally free as they spread their arms and cry out "wheeee" as they ski down the hill, and so much more.  What I learned, and continue to have to remind myself of, is that is so important to make every second with your kids count.  You don't have to try to be super dad, and don't be their best friend all of the time.  Just take some time to stop and smell the roses, and realize that we ain't leaving a bunch behind besides our family.  The lessons that we pass on to them are our true legacies.  I know that I am never going to be president, or be written about in some history book, but I do know that my kids will have a few fond memories to recall to their own children and grandchildren about their crazy old dad, and that thought truly makes me smile, hell I'm even smiling as I am typing.  As we get older we tend to look at our lives and take stock on where we're at.  Are we successful, are we doing well financially, etc..  I would suggest that what really matters most is not the rat race, but the dad race.  Are we being the best dads we can be.  For most of us the answer is no.  A lot of us lose focus on whats important, certainly including me, but when I take a step back and think about it, my family is the pinnacle to me. Helping to give my daughters confidence to conquer.  It doesn't matter a whole lot what they conquer, it could be a tough math equation, a standardized test, a mean ass glade trail at Cannon, as long as they conquer it, and feel the success and confidence that comes with that.  That is what makes me tick, and that is what makes me happy.  Knowing that my girls can kick ass, take names, and be happy kids and young ladies is the most gratifying thing I can do with my life.


Happily a Dad,


Wacky Dad 

Porta John Poetry

It is entirely possible I wrote some of my own poetry on
this fateful night!  What a drunken ass!

Well I am a little disappointed that I had to tone the title down a bit.  It really should be "Shithouse Poetry" but this being a "dad" blog and all I thought I should keep it somewhat family friendly, at least on the cover.  I thought of this post while standing at a stinking urinal in New Hampshire this past weekend.  I remember reading some silly poem that the Shithouse poet wrote, I don't remember the lines, but it brought back a few of my favorites from years past.  Some of them were written in Marine Corps Porta John's, affectionately called the "Shit House" - Thus the the name "Shithouse Poet".  You might ask what a shit house poet is.  This is how I have seen it defined on the web.  


Shithouse Poet Definition :  Widely-acclaimed anonymous author of infamous wit and wisdom written on the stalls and walls of many bathrooms. The "Shithouse Poet" is believed to actually be a number of different individuals acting in nearly every state of the United States. Much to the chagrin of janitors, the Shithouse Poet leaves his nuggets (pardon the pun) of wit and wisdom in the form of well-crafted prose and poetry through various means in bathrooms throughout the U.S.A.


Good stuff right?  Well I felt compelled to share 5 of my favorites with you from all of my years of "Shitty" reading.  Here Goes!  This list will end with the best of all time in my opinion.

5.  "Some come here to sit and think, Some come here to shit and stink, But I come here to scratch my balls, And read the bull shit on the walls..."


4.  "Here I sit all broken hearted, came to shit, but only farted." - Truly a classic!


3.  "Pee hard, Pee fast. Pull the handle and haul ass"

2.  "No need to hover above the seat, the crabs in here can jump six feet."


1.  "Please do not eat the big urinal mints..." - I saw this line as a young kid while standing at a urinal while attending sailing lessons at the East Greenwich Yacht Club.  Such refinement!  I know it ain't really poetry, but it is damned funny!  I told my kids this one tonight and they all roared!  It has always been my favorite.  If I may give you a piece of advice - share your favorite shithouse poetry while your wife is far, far away from the dinner table.  Some things are better left as little secrets between dads and kids.  I am taking the bullet for all of you morons out there by writing this post. Some of you may still have your wives fooled, I however, am a known degenerate, and she is surprised by nothing, thus this blog's existence.


Happy Shithouse Reading!


Wacky Dad


Please feel free to share some of your favorite shithouse poetry - keep it at least a little clean though!

Video - Meathead Ideas Gone Bad

Here are a couple of my favorite meat head videos I've come across in my travels.  These guys are just plain whacked out.  They are definitely worth watching for the 2-1/2 or so minutes it will take to get through them.  I am reminded that even though I call myself Wacky Dad, I ain't got nothing on these boys!







Unbelievable morons right?  I'd love to see some links from some of my fellow meatheads out there of their favorite dumb stuff.  Bring it on!


Humbled,


Wacky Dad

Mia's Breakthrough On Skis At Cannon Mountain

A photo I took of Mt. Lafayette from the summit of Cannon.

Well anyone who has been to this website in the winter knows that my obsessions switch to 2 things, skiing and snowmaking.  I am a life long skiier, and on most weekends between January and April you will find me at my favorite ski haunt - Cannon Mountain in Franconia, NH.  I have had a life long love affair with this place.  I grew up skiing at a lot of different mountains, usually the one we could get the deepest discount tickets for, but I had a special place in my heart for Cannon Mountain.  My father used to have a map of New England in his glove box, and I would always read about all of the ski areas that were listed in its margins.  Cannon had the most imposing sounding description, a whole lot of vertical drop, a ton of expert terrain, and a lot of history.  Before I even made it to the mountain I had already dubbed it the best of the bunch sight unseen.  Once I finally skiied it I was infatuated.  I had never witnessed a more hardcore place, where most of the skiiers, were truly great skiiers.  Back in those days Cannon didn't have the greatest snowmaking, but boilerplate ice and all I was totally hooked. I talked dad into skiing the place quite a bit over the years, and although it was never the place we skiied the most it was my "true love".  When I proposed to my wife Cathy, it was the summit of Cannon Mounatin that I chose as the place to pop the question.  I told her afterwards that if she said no I had plans to throw her off the top, of course I was joking, I think.  As life has gone on and we have started raising our family, naturally it was Cannon that we have gravitated to as our family's mountain.  I am now on child #3, my little Mia, and I have been determined to give her a love of skiing that Abby and Ailey both share.  It started last year when she was 2-1/2 years old.  I thought she was some kind of prodigy, and figured she could hack the beloved Junior Development class called the Polar Bears.  Truth is, she was just too young to hack a 2 hour class with the kids.

After a couple of weeks we pulled her out of the class, and I started working with her as much as I could.  I got the little sucker skiing pretty well, but at 2-1/2 the attention span just wasn't there, so I didn't push my luck, but I could see the potential for her to be a great skiier.  Even if we only did one or two runs sometimes, we got out on most days and we had a good time with it.  I have been really excited to get her on skis this year, and this weekend we finally made it to the mountain for the first time after the holiday rush was winding down.  I knew it was going to be great when we put her skis on and her perpetual little smile just lit up the instant she started sliding around on the things.  On our first day out she did 2 hours in the morning and 2 hours in the afternoon.  What can I say, she is just beautiful on those little K-2 skis of hers, and she totally loves it.  She is now in the polar bear class and is keeping up just fine.  Today she even graduated to the larger of the two beginner lifts, and she did it with style.  I think the only one smiling more than Mia was her goofy old dad skiing down behind her.  She even tried to hit a jump on the Huckerbrook trail (she kind of stalled on the top of the jump luckily!).  I am just so proud of her, and relieved that we have created another Cannon lover, and skiing lover out of her.  As far as Mia is concerned there isn't anywhere else in the world to ski, and hell for that matter her old man is right beside her.  I will be on this hill for the rest of my life, as long as my body will allow, and I hope I will be skiing right alongside my awesome family, Dad, Cathy, Abby, Ailey, Mia, and the rest of all the hotshots I have the privilege of skiing with on a weekly basis.  God Bless Cannon Mountain!


Happily,


Wacky Dad

TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS - WACKY DAD VERSION!

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a Meathead was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that Santa soon would be there.

The rug rats were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Home Made Snow danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long bloggers’s nap.

When out near the snow maker there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and fell on my ass.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a tangled up sleigh, and eight angry reindeer.

With a livid old driver, all covered in snow,
I knew in a moment it was St. Nick - Oh no!
More pissed off than snakes, his coursers they came,
The Elf Meathead whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on Donner and Blitzen!
Untangle yourself from that snow maker hose! Please hurry and get your ass out of that snow!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away now!"

They shook off the snow, the compressed air, and water,
and finally took off which was still quite a bother.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and the Fat Meathead too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The stamping and pawing of sixteen angry hooves.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney the mad Meathead came with a bound.

He was dressed in wet fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all covered with ice and with soot.
The bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
Were snow covered and smashed, a really sad sack.

His eyes-how they squinted! his dimples no fun!
His cheeks were like roses, from the spraying snow gun!
His droll little mouth was drawn up in a scowl,
And he looked over at me and said go get me a towel.

The stump of a pipe was all smashed in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a great big beer belly,
That shook when he toweled off, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, one pissed off old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A twinkle in his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had something to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
he poured a bucket of poo on the floor like a jerk .
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He shuffled to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew, deer poop raining down like a missile!
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, never make snow on this night!"


I gave him the bird as he flew to the right
and hollered I AM WACKY DAD, AND WILL MAKE SNOW JUST TO SPITE!!!!  




MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM ALL  IN THE WACKY DAD HOUSEHOLD!
rhode island snow