Tag Archives: Ki

Tweet Your Face Off

by Richard

Just in case you’re stopping by here and you thought — to yourself — “Dude, I’d love to read more about this kind of stuff, but, really who has the time? What with all the secret trips to the moon and defending humanity from extradimensional incursions of thought beasts from beyond the stars? And stuff?”

Well, maybe not that. Maybe that’s just me.

I do, however, have a solution for you dudes.

You can check us out, not only here at your beloved repository of all things father-y and snarky, but you can also find us on the Twitter and the Facebook. You know, the stuff all the kids are talking about.

On the Twitter, you can find my feed by looking for rjones64 (Yes, I know, highly original and very descriptive. What can I say? I got on early and didn’t think I’d have to keep that moniker for all that long. I was convinced the Twitter was going down the tubes in a matter of months. So much for my fearless prognosticating.). You can tell it’s me by the picture. Yeah, that’s me doing my best impression of an Easter Island head. What? I’ve got issues.

On the Facebook, you can find our page for A Dude’s Guide just by searching us out by name. The name of the site — A Dude’s Guide — that is. Or just, you know, by clicking that link there. Go there and like us. Who knows? There might be something in it for you.*

And, as always, if you’re enjoying the writing here, but you’d like to read more from me where I’m just totally making things up, — as opposed to the strict truthiness here — you can always head over to my fiction-based website.

Finally, if you’re at all interested in giving me money (and, really, who wouldn’t want to do that? [Other than most people on the planet. But I’ve always said you were special]), you can find my business website for Web Words, an internet-based content-generation consulting service, just by clicking on the link there.

Who says we don’t offer far too many ways to waste time on the internet, just for your pleasure? No, really. Who says that?

*probably not


Share on Facebook

Shouldering The Load

by Richard

I get it. By jimminy, I get it. I really, really do. You dudes can all stop now. Please.

Here is a typical conversation with a stranger, pick a stranger. Basically anyone who I bump into during the course of my day. Anywhere. Anytime. Anyone.

“Hey, what’d you do to your arm? Shoulder?”

Me: “Shoulder,” trying to move on because I know what’s coming.

Stranger: “Rotator cuff?”

Me: sighing, “Yeah, among other stuff. Had the biceps tendon reattached and had some of my clavicle bone shaved off.”

Stranger: “Wow.”

Me: “Yeah,” trying to leave, but knowing it won’t work.

Stranger: “You know, a (insert relationship here; friend, relative, acquaintance) of mine had that kind of thing. He said it was the most pain he’d/she’d ever gone through. I mean, it’s agony on wheels.”

Me: “So I’ve heard. I’m doing all right, though.”

Stranger: “You must not have started the physical therapy yet. Boy, that’s when the pain really kicks in. I mean, she/he told me she/he was crying like a baby every time she/he went to physical therapy. And it kept hurting all the time. For months. Said it was like having a knife jammed in there and then stirred around for good luck.”

Me: wincing in anticipation and starting to feel sympathy pains for my future self, “Um, yeah. Thanks for sharing.”

Stranger: “No, really. I mean, he/she had (insert some horrible, appallingly invasive surgery or medical procedure here) and he/she said that was nothing compared to getting his/her shoulder done and the rehab after.”

Me: feeling nauseous all over again, “Uh, yeah. Thanks for sharing. Again.”

Finally feeling my oats enough to be rude, that’s when I turn around and walk away. Very, very quickly. And normally bump my shoulder into something hard and unforgiving.

So, yes. I get it. I understand that it’s painful. I also know I don’t need to be reminded — constantly — of that fact. You’d think people would get the hint.

Unless — you don’t suppose? — it’s some sort of conspiracy, maybe. Maybe they are all out to get me. That must be it. I’m sure of it. You’re all trying to hurt me. I see it all so clearly now. I —

UPDATE: I’ve cut down on the meds a bit now and I think I should be all better. Just sort of ignore the previous. I know that’s what I’m trying to do.

Share on Facebook

A Dog And His Boy

by Richard

Here at stately Jones manor, it’s always the dog days.

That is, the dog keeps taking up a disproportionately large section of all our days. Not only does Buzz, the garbage disposal that walks like a dog, think he’s a fully fledged member of the family, outranking more than a few of the young dudes in the pecking order, he’s starting to see them as merely food delivery systems and a good place to rest once he’s finally devoured everything remotely edible and even slightly nailed down.

Yep, that’s Hyper Lad, down for the count after an exciting time running around and doing, well, whatever it is that tires out 11-year-old young dudes. He lay down for a quick breather and just sort of zonked. At which point, Buzz, the garbage disposal that walks like a dog, decided he needed a more comfortable pillow.

I just love the look we’re getting from the dog. Sort of a, “What? He’d do the same to me.” And he’s right.

Still, I always thought it was the other way around. Whatever works, I guess.

Share on Facebook