I Wanna Rock and Roll All Night, and Eat Pizza Everyday – #80sPizzaParty

Lately I’ve been trying to share some of my favorite musical influences with my son. I mean, there’s only so much of the annoying cartoon theme songs I can listen to. Cartoons these days are garbage.
The other day I picked up my son from pre-school. As we buckled up in the car and headed home, I popped on some music from the greatest decade of all – the 1980s. So you know what that means; power ballads, big voices, and most of all big hair!!
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The Funniest Stuff I Saw on the Internet This Week – Papa Does Preach

The internet can be horrible. Especially right now as election season ramps up, but it can also be a silly-ass place. I prefer to find the funny shit people are doing/saying, and share that with the rest of you. We have enough serious shit to worry about. So, here’s what I found this week:
#1 – What can I say, my son might be missing a few screws ~ Papa Does Preach
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#2 – Much like the sloth in the animal kingdom, we parents need to conserve energy where we can ~ Wait, what was I doing?

#3 – But moms always look so well rested after maternity leave  ~ Science of Parenthood
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#4 – My gym goals be like ~ AKA Dave


#5 – At least I tried ~ Mattzilla


#6 – I should introduce her to my wife. They could murder analogies together ~ Marlebean
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#7 – EVERY time when my favorite part comes on the radio ~ Lurk @ Home Mom


#8  – Well, looks like we have to burn the house down now ~ Paige Kellerman, Author-Humorist
paige#9 – And this is how men die, and don’t even know why ~ Shakespeare’s Mom

#10 – My student loans thank you ~ Amy Dillon
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#11 – Why yes, my kid like to live dangerously ~ Papa Does Preach

#12 – Kind of gives a whole definition to the term #StreamTeam. This kid has No chill ~ Home With Aneta

#13 – It’s not the size of the town, it’s the motion of…ok, that doesn’t apply here ~ SHUGGILIPO

#14 – Always mess with their minds ~ Foxy Wine Pocket
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#15 – It’s times like this, they’re lucky they’re cute ~ Mommy Back Talk

 
Did you see something funny on the good ole interwebs that made you laugh? Email me at papadoespreach@gmail.com to be considered for next week’s round up. And make sure to come join the craziness over on my Facebook page for more jokes and memes that you might not see here.
thatsmeMike is a parent, a writer, and life-long story teller. He always wanted to be an actor or stand-up comedian, but clearly didn’t make enough poor life decisions to get there. He now makes his jokes on the internet. He’s made The Today Show’s List of Funniest Parents on Facebook, and is a contributor at Huffington Post, Good Men Project, Scary Mommy and BLUNTMoms. Join him here each Friday where he share the things that made him laugh this each week. And make sure to follow him on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram for more of the funnies.

Hey parents; joke's on you!!

It’s said that you have to take life with a grain of salt; meaning you can’t take things too seriously. I would agree with that, right up until the moment you have a kid.
Having a laid back attitude is nonexistent when you have kids; instead it’s a constant life of worry and misery. Are they eating enough, are their social and verbal skills on par with everyone else, holy shit what did they just put in their mouth?!?
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This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things: A Book Review

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When parents are expecting a child, there are literally a metric shit-ton of books on the market that can (supposedly) answer every and any question new parents may have. I’m serious, books on everything what to expect (literally a book title right there), from how to feed you kid, solve sleep problems, discipline, fostering brain function, on and on.
But, in my honest opinion, I wouldn’t recommend any of those books to anyone. Why, because they talk at you, not to you. For my money, I want to hear some Dick or Jane who’s been there; in the trenches, hanging onto their last piece of sanity, hoping, wishing, praying, bed time comes soon. Like a grizzled battle-weary soldier…I want someone who was in the shit…literally and figuratively.
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New Year, Cookies, Cocoa, and #PinkRelief

The holidays are a special time for so many reasons. For some, it’s spending time with family, and for others, it’s the joy of the winter weather. But for people like me, it’s all about the food.
I love to eat, especially foods of the sweet variety; the sweeter the better. Christmas brings out all my favorite sweet, tantalizing treats. Cookies, cakes, pies, you name, I’m eating it.
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Papa Does Preach 2015: A Year in Review

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Well, we’ve come to the end of another year. And boy was 2015 a doozy for your old pal Papa. I would love to do a top 10 or even 15 posts of 2015, but I clearly don’t blog enough for all that. So, instead, I give you my top 5 favorite things from 2015.
I can honestly say that over this last year, blogging consumed my life. You wouldn’t know it with how little I write, but each day of 2015 was filled with something that had to do with the PDP brand (i.e. blog post or social media update)…well, minus those 3 days over July 4th weekend when the Wife convinced me to go to some remote cabin out in West Virginia where there was no WiFi…and NO CELL SERVICE!! I was convinced for a moment she was going to kill me and leave my body out there, but then I remembered she refuses to be left alone with Ferris.
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I Don't Get Paid Enough For This Shit!

I love my son – really I do. I feel like I needed to say that, as much of the content on my Facebook page, and some of the stories I’ve told here might suggest otherwise. Being a parent has it’s cool moments (or so I’m told), but it also can easily rival the worst jobs I’ve ever had. Ok, not all of it, but right now driving my kid around has become the bane of my existence. Not only does he complain the whole time until he gets to listen to the music only he wants to listen to, but he’s become the mother of all backseat drivers – constantly questioning where we’re going, what direction I’m going, and why I ran the yellow light. Come to think of it, he’s become his mother.
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How to Tell Someone You Don't Love Them Anymore

The Wife and I have been together for just under a decade. We are your quintessential roller coaster couple, in that we’ve had a ton up highs and lows. But through it all we’ve always come back to one another, and our love has always stayed strong. That is until recently….
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The Day I Realized I Was an Asshole

If you’ve been here for a while, chances are you’re also a fan on my Facebook page…and if you’re not, what the hell is taking you so long, that’s where the real is fun is happening.
For those of you who ARE fans on FB, you know the majority of my posts are about how much toddler is ruining my life. And, I give him a lot of shit for it. Most people get that it’s all in good fun, and of course I love my kid, but in the year and a half I’ve been running the page I’ve had my fair share of people tell me what and asshole I am for talking about my kid that way, and how kids are a blessing, blah blah blah.
Luckily, I have some of the best fans on the internet who just get it, and quickly come to my defense, and those individuals who have their heads firmly inserted up their rectums have been weeded out. But, I’m going to break some news to you my loyal subjects…the jerks were right; I am an asshole, I know the exact day I realized it.
The day was Friday, September 5, 2008. The Fiance (now known as The Wife) and I had moved from San Diego, CA to the Washington D.C. just 3 months prior and since I was still looking for work, I decided to supplement a little extra cash with officiating youth sports; high school football to be more exact.
I had been a football referee for around 5 years before moving to the East coast, giving it up briefly for a year to focus on finishing my degree and as well as taking a job that required I work nights and weekends. I had officiated all levels of experience ranging from 5 year old flag football, all the way up to Junior College, but I was still nervous when I got my first assignment in DC. If felt like I was rookie ref all over again. New area, new people, and new fellow officials; I couldn’t help but be a little scared.
I received my first assignment from the commissioner of our league at school called Model Secondary. Along with the assignment the commissioner sent special instructions emphasizing how important it was that we remember how special this particular environment was that we’d be working in, and how we needed to utilize all our experience with making calls without our whistles. I thought nothing of it, as any good official knows the whistle in football means very little. I was confused why he went out of his way to send such a note. Maybe this school was known for players cheap-shoting other players after the whistle, maybe there were a rough crowd, either way, I wasn’t worried. Any referee worth his salt can officiate an entire game, and never use their whistle once.
Finally the day arrived. Still not knowing the area very well I ran into crazy DC traffic on a Friday afternoon. Frantically following the direction on my GPS, I grew more and more anxious as I arrived at what looked like a large college campus in the heart of downtown DC. I was convinced this had to be the wrong spot, which meant I was going to be late, making a bad impression on my crew chief and possibly get me a bad rating.
I entered the campus and began driving around. I quickly saw a sign saying, ” Model Secondary School Located on East Side of Campus.” HUZZAH!!! I had in fact made it to the right place, but now I had to navigate this large campus and find a small secondary school. As I sat at a stop sign I found my saving grace; a student crossing the street in front of me.
I rolled down my window to ask the student for directions.
“Excuse me, do you know where I can find Model Secondary?”
The young man didn’t answer. Maybe he didn’t hear me; so I called to him again,
“Excuse me, over here! Do you know where I can find Model Secondary?”
Still, the young man who could not be more than 10ft from me, nose in a book, refused to answer. Can you believe this fucking kid?!? While it’s not my style to yell at people, my frustration and fear of being late got the better of me.
“HEY KID!!! Over here!”
At that moment he looked up and saw me staring at him. He looked back at me with the a disinterested who, me? look that seems to be all the rage with the youth of today.
“YO! Yeah you! I know you heard me! (Speaking slowly to emphasize my disdain with him) Do…you…know…where…Model…Secondary…is…located?”
At this point the young man’s face changed from disinterested to something resembling slightly confused, with an overwhelming amount of offended. Clearly me asking him for directions and pulling him away from his book was beyond reproach in his world.
He slowly shook his head no, while maintaining a look of disappointment. As I drove past him I added one more parting shot to put this kid in his place saying, “I don’t know why you look so mad; don’t act like you’re deaf next time someone talks to you.”   As I drove away I thought to myself, “Good for you Mike, kids like that need to learn a lesson in being respectful.”
After meeting up with the rest of my officiating crew, the head ref held out pre-game meeting, and once again emphasized using our best non-whistle mechanics. As we walked out of the locker I strolled up next to him and asked why such the emphasis on non-whistle stuff. He looked at me somewhat shocked and said:
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah, I’m new in the area. Are these guys a rough team, prone to cheap shots, stuff like that?
(Stopping in his tracks) “No one told you about this school?”
“No, why? What’s so different about this team?”
“This is Model Secondary School for the Deaf, on the campus of Gallaudet University, the only university to cater strictly to the deaf or hearing impaired.”
All the sudden it was like I was just kicked in the stomach. Not only was the football team deaf, but so were the students, and the college kids…just like the one I had just yelled at for not listening to me. Holy shit, what had I done?!?
When I returned home that night the Fiance lovingly asked, “How’d your game go? Did it feel good to get back out there?” Standing there like a shell of myself, all I could muster up was, “I yelled at a deaf kid today,” to which she appropriately responded, “WHAT THE SHIT?!?”
I told her the whole story. I explained my frantic nature, and how it was an honest mistake. I kept saying things like like if I could back in time I would. She just sat there, expressionless. I waited for her to say something; anything that would help me feel better and absolve me of my massive fuck up, and then it happened; the Fiance busted out in uncontrollable laughter. It went on for what felt like an eternity, and it was all at my expense.
Finally I plopped down on the couch:
“I feel like an asshole.”
“That’s because you are!” (more laughter)
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Have you ever done something or said something so bad, and out of your character, that you felt like a complete asshole? You know I’m not going to judge you, because at least you didn’t yell at a someone who was deaf.

That Time I Waterboarded My Son

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One of my all time favorite shows from my youth will always be 24. I spent nearly a decade watching this action-packed show, becoming more and more engrossed with every passing season. Some people (like my wife) even say I developed an unhealthy man-crush on the main character Jack Bauer. Well if loving Jack is wrong, then I don’t want to be right!
How could you NOT fall in love with Jack and all his rugged badassery?!? I mean the man has saved the world from imminent terrorist threats on more occasions than you can even count. The man just knows how to get shit done; at any cost. He’s MacGyver on fucking steroids!
I know what you’re thinking – “But Mike, that show was so unrealistic. If it was supposed to take place over 24 hours, how the hell can Jack travel all over the world, and still have time to thwart a terrorist attack, all in the same day?” Well, the answer is very simple…SHUT UP!
Spending the better part of my single days twenties watching Jack save mankind one crazy adventure at a time, it never really hit me that watching all his tactics for gathering information no matter the cost, would one day prepare me for fatherhood.
Now let me be clear here, I am in no way condoning torture for information, however; jackevery time I pick up Ferris from preschool and am met with the same non-answer or incoherent babble when I ask the simple question, “What did you do in school today”…all I’m saying is I understand the lengths Jack goes to in his information-gathering sessions with terrorists. Sometimes extreme situations call for extreme actions.
When Ferris was about 9 months old the Wife went out of town on a business trip, and not just like down the road kind of out of town, she was out of the continental United States in Puerto Rico lounging on the beach and enjoying adult beverages, while I was home with an infant all by myself.
This may come as a shock to many of you, but I was nervous as hell to care for my son for those 3 days all alone. I know, I know, you’re probably thinking, “But Mike, you’re like the poster child of I’ve got this parenting shit all figured out,” but trust me when I tell you, I was even more clueless back then than I am now.
On the second day the Wife was gone, the kid was still alive and our apartment hadn’t been burned down, so needless to say, I was feeling pretty awesome about myself. I picked the boy up from daycare and being that it was a nice day out I decided to take the kid on a walk (well, I walked, he sat his lazy self in the stroller) around the neighborhood.
We had a great time. The walk was great, I talked, pointed out different animals and plant life, and Ferris did his usual ignoring me. It wasn’t until we returned home that the real problem started.
Upon returning home I set the newly mobile agent of destruction (aka infant) playing in the living room while I started preparing dinner for the two of us. And much like the evil-doers on 24 my son moved in silence, while my back was turned, unknowing and unsuspecting. I was lulled into a false sense of security by his miniature size and overall cuteness, yet unbeknownst to me, he had a diabolical plan for chaos.
I turned around just in time to find my son licking the wheel of his stroller. Normally I would just chalk this action up to his usual buffoonery and think nothing else of it, but this time I saw the wheel was covered in some sort of brown substance and Ferris was nomming on it like it was some veggie puree.
At the time we lived in an area with lots of dogs, with even more lazy owners who refused to pick up after those dogs, so naturally my mind shot to that brown substance being dog poop. HOLY SHIT, my son is eating dog poop!!!
I scooped up Ferris so fast I’m surprised I didn’t snap him in half. The moment went from calm and fun to OMG DEFCON 1 in a blink of an eye. All I could think of that my son had just ingested some poodle poop. I frantically searched all over the kitchen for the magnet we had been given by pediatrician with the number for poison control.
After thoroughly destroying the kitchen with no number to show for it, and a frightened infant in my arms, I decided it was up to me to fix this situation. Much like Jack Bauer, I knew I had little time to do it in.
First I tried opening my son’s mouth to scrape out the yuk that was in there. This is when I found out that kids jaws are made out of fucking steel. I would have had an easier time breaking into a safe than getting that damn kid’s mouth open. Luckily for me, for as strong as my son may be, he’s even less smart. As soon as my kid yawned I stuck my finger in his mouth to keep it open, but this is when I discovered I wasn’t much smarter than my infant son. I had forgotten my son was getting his teeth in; razor sharp teeth at that.
I was at a loss. My son wouldn’t open his mouth, and I had no other way to get the toxic crud out and keep it from seeping through my son’s body. It was time to go full on Jack Bauer, because desperate times call for desperate measures.
I grabbed the tiny water bottle we used to wet the cloth wipes for cleaning his butt and shoved it into his mouth. Maybe it was out of shock or him thinking it was a bottle to drink, but the boy opened his mouth, and that’s when I squeezed with everything I had. Water filled my son’s mouth then came shooting back out like a fire hose into a bucket. That’s right, I literally douched my kid’s face.
The look on his face was one of sheer terror and confusion. But much like my teacher of interrogation methods, Mr. Bauer, I wasn’t satisfied and decided to ramp things up a notch, just so this little agent of chaos would know I meant business, or maybe I was still so freaked out by the thought of poop in my kid’s mouth. I flipped on the kitchen faucet and shoved his face under while rooting around his mouth to clean it out.
So if you’re keeping score, not only did I douche the face of my infant son, I waterboarded his ass too. Satisfied that I had removed all foreign objects from his mouth, and possibly a couple of teeth, I set Ferris down. My son crawled away with a look of bewilderment on his face, but also now armed with the knowledge that his father meant business.
Later that evening after putting Ferris to bed I did a closer analysis of the substance on the stroller, only to find out it was only mud. That’s right, I used enhanced interrogation techniques on my 9 month old all because he put mud in his mouth. Father of the year right here folks.
Hey, even Jack tortured an innocent person once or twice.