I am NOT an Animal... I'm a Human Da-da

Every time Da-da picks up the monkeys from the kid gulag or gymnastics or their snake husbandry lessons, Da-da get these LOOKS from other moms. Females, that is. REAL ONES. Remember them? Da-da doesn't. Anyway, the moms always give Da-da and the few other Mr. Moms the trout eye. Why the shunnage? Da-da's not a stalker, a pedophile, a weirdo (not like those other freak-bastards). Sure, he has a beard and hasn't bathed in a week and has a crazed gleam in his eye from all of DARPA's midnight rDNA harvests, but he's really very sweet, sorta like Julie Andrews, but with a penis. And a complex understanding of Boolean disintermediation. Sympatica, hermana! And so what if Da-da skips and sings, "Madame Butterfly" arias all the time. Lots of people skip.

Ex. 1. Manliness.

Still, [sniff], despite our common ground, the white-blood-cell moms continue to treat Da-da like an invading virus. C'mon, ladies! Let's commiserate! Let's swap recipes! Make JELL-O! Da-da will even let you wear his Mr. Mom uniform:

Ex. 2. SUPER Manliness.

Hey, wait... maybe Da-da's kryptonite because he's so so HOT. Ah. Yes. That must be it.

Waiter, Da-da Will Have the Saltwater Hose-down

A 30-something post-millennial recently approached Da-da, earnest and beseeching -- what is Da-da, the Old Man of the Mountain? -- inquiring as to how his life might change when he has kids, besides the lack of sleep. Da-da chuckled in the First Person. That was easy.

Da-da used to take pride in his personal hygiene: being clean, showering twice a day, USING SHAMPOO, soap, getting his hair cut, brushing his teeth, wearing clean UNRUMPLED clothing with no permanent stains. A mere five years of being Mr. Mom have stripped him of all that, turning him into some kind of filthy, unshaven, toothless, damned dirty APE in the wilderness. (Da-da is sure this comes as no surprise to anyone downwind.) Da-da goes to the grocery store and childless people flee, small children point, teens laugh outright. Sure, go ahead and laugh, 'CAUSE IT'S GONNA HAPPEN TO YOU ONE DAY, AHHAHHAHHHHAHAHHAHHAHHHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAAAAHAHEEHA, uh...

...what was the question? French toast, please.

Back to School, Baby

Strap yourself in, Timmy. Hope you wore your G-suit.

A Fistful of Da-da (or Da-da, You Sucker)

It's Friday, guests are incoming, and you know what that means...

Yeah, Da-da doesn't know what it means, either. Actually, it might mean some unsuspecting people are gonna get hit by Dada's Dynamite Zombie-cowboy casserole. Mmm-mm, that's good ZCC.

[UPDATE: Da-da ended up serving corndogs and everclear. It was that kinda night. At least his quick-draw garlic press saw some action. In what? You don't wanna know.]

A Brief Glimpse of Life Imitating Life on the Cranial Stage of VINTAGE DA-DA LIFE Imagined EISENHOWROTARIAN (or, "HUH?")

Why couldn't Da-da have lived in the '50s and 60s?

He would've gone out. All the time. On the company. Worn snappy suits...

 

...tuxedoes, dinner jackets, SMOKING JACKETS, worn HOMBURGS (or had them wear him)...

 

 

...driven automobiles of epic proportion...

...had 4 martini lunches BEHIND THE WHEEL, while lapsing into a kind of growlingly jingoistic Rotarianism. Smoked a pipe. LET HIS WIFE RAISE THE KIDS. Ah, allow Da-da this little Eisenhowerian fantasy a moment longer. What else? Oh, yeah. Da-da would've listened to some smiley happy white people music:

Taken up bongoes:

Had a mid-life crisis (at least THAT would be the same):

Moved out to the coast and taken up a new career for a time:

Picked up a new car, perhaps -- A ROCKET CAR:

Run with a different crowd:

Taken up acting:

Detoured with... THE WRONG WOMAN:

Then, totally freaked and warped in a whole new direction. ENGAGE!

Downshifted, sudden-like, all gray and weird and bitter, spouting his life story while piloting taxicabs at ludicrous speed...

...before finally discovering that Da-da was really in a Fellini movie all along:

Da-da is ready for his close-up!

A Sunday Drink Recommendation

A Sinister Friday the 13th

In honor of my oldest son being left handed, I invite you to drink left handed on THIS, Int'l Left-handedness Day. It's also Friday the 13th, so no tool use, please, southpaws. (Lefties have more accidents, statistically, as 99.5% of tools are designed by and for those damned right handers, but you probably already knew that.) That said, here are some lefty facts:

1. Left Hander's Day was started in August 13 1976 by Left handers International.
2. About 7 percent of the population is left handed.
3. Lefties are also called "southpaws".
4. In twins, there is a high tendency for one to be left-handed.
5. 1 in 4 Apollo astronauts were left-handed.
6. 4 of the 5 original designers of the Macintosh computer were left-handed.
7. Left-handers usually reach puberty 4 to 5 months after right-handers.
8. George H.W. Bush, Bill Clinton, and Barack Obama are all left handed. Ronald Regan was left handed too.
9. Pablo Picasso, Isaac Newton, Leonardo Di Vinci, and Michelangelo were also left handed.
10. Right handed people tend to use the left side of their brains more. Left handed people tend to use the rights.
11. Left handers tend to adjust quickly to seeing underwater.
12. Right handers tend to chew food on the right side, left handers tend to chew on the left side.
13. Albert Einstein was left handed. He also had three testicles.
14. Left handed people who have higher I.Q.s tend to have an I.Q. of over 140.
15. In some cultures it is impolite to touch your food with your left hand (because they wipe with it).

[link]

Ok, I'll add one:

16. Lefties are always telling you that they're Lefties and forming international clubs at the left-handed drop of a hat.

Finally, for that one poor schmoe whose brain still works and wants to know why this Friday the 13th is, "sinister"... the Latin, "sinestre" means, "left handed." Yes, but can the steam engine do this:

Go, son.

GETCHERHANDOUTTAYERPANTS!!

So, my old friend, Trotsky -- not that Trotsky, the other one -- has called me a big weenie for having all my gray matter roasted in tasty woks in Chinatown by my two radioactive youngins, leaving my cranium an echoey blimp hangar. Sure, ok, his youngest is a piece of work, BUT I'VE GOT TWO OF THOSE. And not only that, they walk around with their damn hands down their pants 23/6. It's impossible to know just how many times I've ululated: "GET YOUR HAND OUTTA YOUR PANTS BEFORE I CALL SANTA." They are both, alas, just like their irrepressible Grampa Scotty, who has one hand in his pants at all times, the other hand cradling a singlemalt scotch. Ahh, retirement!

Vast Lifeless Plain Found Inside Da-da's Head

Welcome to Da-da's Brain, aka, "Cracked and Barren Land of Long Sign-shadow."

Years of Mr. Momming and child-screaming -- not to mention repeating the same phrases to children over and over again until they have no meaning -- have finally taken their toll: A Man Called Da-da has absolutely no gray matter left in his (a)trophied head. This came as no surprise to the good-natured bank holiday crowd in attendance for the unveiling. Indeed, the cranial deficit is apparently so great that Dr. John Parrot, Chief of Incomprehensible Brain Thingies at the AcmeVaporware School of Medical Oddities, has announced that the vast, near-extradimensional space will initially be leased for ten years to provide ample parking for the thousands of brilliant female researchers and real estate developers flocking to the (a)trophy cavity. From the press release:

"...and that's sans chicken. However, this is a prime site for studying what has traditionally been known as, 'Mommy Brain,'" said Dr. Parrot lounging on sand that used to feature the corpus callosum, "but this time, we get to study it from inside the head of a MALE who was silly enough to volunteer for the duty, what a sap. We'll also be doing tissue samples to ensure that building permits will be readily obtained for the inevitable theme park."

"We can't WAIT to break ground here," drooled Starbucks CEO, Ted Starbucks, vibrating in place after 50 morning espressos. "THIS IS THE BRAIN. BUT IT'S A WASTELAND! WHEEEEEEEEEEEE! Hold still, will you? Mommy, uh...?" After regaining consciousness, Mr. Starbucks later said that he was thrilled to bring an overpriced cup of coffee to an otherwise barren region.

Most pleased was real estate developer [redacted by Civil Order #BR263254], not to be confused with the man rumored to possess a uterus, though this has never been proven. "Besides the strip mall and casino and theme park, we've already broken ground on a new drive-in multiplex. There's all kinds of weird movies being projected in here all the time, anyway, so we thought we might as well charge admission." Giggling like a little girl, the developer later added that, apart from all the UFO landing pads, there was also lots and lots and lots of room for toxic waste disposal, conjuring lucrative long-term illegal contracts with the federal government.

Needless to say, we're all very excited, and the sound of construction equipment is (yay) drowning out the sounds of small children screaming. Long live progress!

Bet no one saw that one coming.

Currently listening to...

I'm just at the part where the cat starts gnawing on her face. Groovy!

Every Child Loves Schnappsie

"The only dog in the world with a magic button." Awesome.

[And a lot of you pervs are finding this because of the unintentional keyword, "magic button." 
Guess what? You'll eventually be A Man/Woman Called Da-da/Ma-ma. And you'll feel the burn. Then... come on back, Lumpy. Bye for now.]

It's Stupor Thursday!

As my oldest loves Stuporman, here are a few da-da-esque covers for today.

Dada Rolls On

And you thought I meant Superman was ROLLING on Scooby Snacks, you depraved lounge zombie. He's actually on Salvie Divinorum, peanut butter and Tetrodotoxin, if you really must know.

Dada Goes Down

Your Kid is Slothlike

Guess who?

Da-da just heard two LSMs (Leopard Skinned Moms) at Hole Fuds -- where else -- arguing about whose kid was HOTTER. Their kids looked like drugged tree sloths, but Da-da doesn't think irony plays any part in their lives. Da-da has always hoped his kids would be awkwardly geeky and rather homely, so they'd end up as hugely attractive uberfashion models in Milan. Hey, it'sDa-da's DREAM, ok? Don't mess with THE DREAM. So, in support of his rather splanchnic hypothesis, Da-da presents a photo of a famous celebrity who wasn't exactly a dreamboat at nine. Can you guess who it is? Winner gets an autographed prosthetic limb of Adolph Menjou. Da-da's choice on which limb.

Brick Washing Day

Yes, Tuesday is Brick Washing Day, yay. (My bricks were DIRTY. Get off me.) Now, as da-das the world over are about as laundry-challenged as a demographic can get (I think dogs actually outrank us), this poor schmoe cannot be blamed for his confusion. I mean, whites with reds but not with socks on Thursdays but take the silk tiger cammies out before the napalm rinse and GET THAT BRA OUTTA THERE. Jeez, sorry. Anyway, here's this:





Absolutely NO washing machines were hurt during this episode... oh, except this one.