OK, so we've established that even with pre-existing material to make fun of, I still can't make myself keep any kind of regualr schedule with this thing, so I give up. I'm not even going to pretend anymore. If you want to check in every now and then, you may actually be surprised to find a new post or two, but I wouldn't bet on it. I'd say I'm probably good for one every couple of months or so. Because, after all, I am a lazy son of a bitch. Anyway, that being said, I need to rant for a minute.


I like to think that I'm better than the vast majority of you. Truly, and for many reasons. And if you know me at all, you've undoubtedly heard at least a half dozen or so. Say what you will about it; at least I'm honest. But what it really comes down to the most is pettiness. I hate pettiness. I try, very hard, not to be petty. I hold a clinic in self-loathing every time I find myself being petty.

Like now, for instance.

I hate myself for being hugely irritated that my daughter calls my son's "father" Da-Da. I get that it's his name to my son. I accept that. And I understand why she calls him by that name. But I can not begin to explain why and in how many different ways it makes me want to choke somebody every time I hear it. My son calls me Nate because it's what he's known me as since he was four, and so when she says it, I hate it, but I understand. I simply explain to her that, to her, I'm Daddy. It hasn't happened in a while, and I'm very happy for that. But to hear my little girl call that piece of shit "Da-Da" makes me want to put him through a wall all over again. Every time.

I make myself be civil to this guy when I see him. I honestly, in the past, have even tried to see the situation from his point of view (something that is as normal to me as, say, eating glass). But ever since he didn't so much as speak to my son for three months (including Christmas for fuck's sake), I have done everything but wish death on his worthless ass. And my daughter calls this fuck "Da-Da".

I understand that, in the long run, it means nothing. And that's why it bothers me that it bugs me like it does. But I can't help it. I wasn't the perfect husband, and I'm not the perfect father. But there is nothing in this universe more important to me than my kids. It's at the root of why I got divorced in the first place. So I simply can't fathom how this piece of shit can treat my son like a hobby. Like I treat this stupid fucking blog. I don't get it. I never will.

And so, I can't stand hearing my daughter call this motherfucker "Da-Da". And I hate that it bugs me in such a profound way. It really just makes me want to stomp on his head even more than I already did. So I sit here and admit to all of you (luckily, nobody reads this, so I don't have a whole lot to worry about) that I hate myself for wanting to stomp this motherfucker out for something as simple and ultimately meaningless as what my 3 year old daughter calls him. But that doesn't change the reality that I hate it, and him, on a level that I can't even properly explain.

And to think, I used to consider myself a writer.