First, the Liebster:  This is the "award" randomly given to an up-and-coming blogger with fewer than 200 followers. Apparently. Someone gave me this award once and I forgot to do anything with it, so now I got it again, and MUST do something with it. Karen V awarded me with the prize this time around, but I feel like a total asshole because I forgot who gave it to me last time, or I'd mention and link her too. I may do some searching before I post this.  I feel like an asshole, but Andrea previously awarded this to me, and apart from thanking her, I really didn't do much else.  Now at least I can rectify that.

The idea essentially is this:
1) Answer a bunch of random-seeming questions about yourself
2) Send the award to five other poor suckers and let them know you "nailed" them. This makes me uncomfortable because I don't want my wife (who is a regular reader) to get the impression that I'm going around nailing bloggers left and right.
3) Link back to the person that gave it to you.

3) Link back to the other person who gave it to you.
4) Profit

I wasn't going to pass it along to other bloggers, because I didn't want to annoy them, but I'm catching some small amount of grief from people and it's making me feel guilty.  The reason I didn't acknowledge the award here in the first place (when Andrea gave it to me) was because I felt like if I picked five people I would be bumming out anyone who I did NOT pick.  So instead I'm going to pick one, who doesn't seem to be part of the regular commenter crowd that everyone seems to "know", though I know a few of you know her.

Autism & Oughtisms
This is one of the first blogs I ever followed.  The proprietress is very well "spoken" and primarily (in my opinion) writes excellent, well-reasoned informative posts.  Sometimes I find I have to reread them in order to completely follow her (she's wicked smart) arguments.  I often learn things from her posts and frankly she doesn't get the comment love she deserves (I think maybe people are afraid of saying something stupid).  Interspersed amidst the interesting and informative blogs. . . there are heartfelt soulful posts as well that let you glimpse her softer, mother-side.  I have never seen any frippery of the "favorite color/animal" nature on her blog.  She may be trying to keep it pristine. . . 

Here are the questions:

Favorite color? Cobalt blue. I didn't have a favorite color for the longest time, because I thought it was silly to pick a favorite color. Like let me tell you, if everything in the world were cobalt blue? I would detest it. But since everything is NOT cobalt blue, when I see it I think. . . hey, that's a pretty color!

Favorite animal? I . . . I don't know what to say to this. The Liger? No. . . no. . . it's been done. Honey badger? Too trendy. I guess. . . I guess if I had to pick an animal that I wanted to hang out with, it would be an otter. Those little fuckers know how to party, and they seem like they're always having fun. Have you ever seen an otter looking depressed? I'll wager you have not. Nor have I. Otter!

Favorite number? What the. . .? Fine. 4. When I think about numbers I think, what can I do with 1. . . nothing. It IS the loneliest number. And then when I start thinking about WHY it's lonely, I think, "because it doesn't have any other numbers to hang out with it", so then I think 2, because of my wife, but when I think of my wife, I'm like. . . but not the kids? And so I add them in. So my favorite number is 4.

Favorite drink? Hardest question ever. I used to say martinis were my favorite drink. A Ketel One dirty martini, up, with a blue cheese stuffed olive . . . or a salt and pepper martini. . . Absolut Peppar (sp?), dirty, up, olive, etc. But the truth is, though I like both of those drinks, the main reason I like them is because the glass is so damn James Bond. I mean, I am THE BALLS when I'm drinking out of a martini glass, and as far as you know I have a Walther PPK stuffed in the waistband of my pants. But truthfully, it's probably beer (though don't force me to pick one, cause it's like colors. . . if I had to drink one beer for the rest of my life I'd probably hate it. . . I like lots of different beers) or pepsi. I drink a can of Pepsi almost every day. Literally. We're talking probably 365 cans of pepsi minimum. So Pepsi.

Facebook or Twitter? I hate facebook. Twitter it is.

My passion? My kids. I know, I know. . . I could probably funny this one up a little, but the truth is, I probably care more about being a good dad than I care about anything else (even boobs).

Giving or getting presents? As I answer this question I'm hard pressed to figure it out. I guess giving. But it's still selfish, don't worry. Part of the charge I get out of giving a really good present is the surprise/joy/appreciation of the givee for the present I've gotten. I can't always buy the perfect gift, and some people are harder than Chinese arithmetic to buy for, but when you find that perfect present and you're like Person A is going to LOVE this. . . and then Person A DOES??? It's a pretty awesome feeling.

Favorite day? Saturday. It should really be everyone's favorite day. Except Jesus. I think Jesus loves Sunday. But Sunday for me (although it means pro football) means I have to go to work the following day, and the specter of the upcoming work week looms and casts a shadow over Sunday that makes Saturday gleam brighter in comparison.

Favorite flower? Lily. . . of course.

Next up, The Versatile Blogger Award.  Currently I have no recollection of who awarded this to me, or what it is about.  But since this is now a permanent page on my blog. . . I will find out and let you know first WHY I'm honored to have received it, and second. . . other stuff that I'm obligated to answer/perform.
Next, The Best Supportive Blogger.  This was given to me by Kristi at The Robot Mommy because she thinks I talk too much.  Well, that's not what she said.  She said it WAY nicer than that.  In her words:  "A few months back, I created a supportive blogger award to those that have subscribed/read/commented their little bloggy hearts to me and my little blog. Without support from those who visit, we sometimes stop writing or write less.
As for me, I started this for a reason. One of those reasons is to touch someone with humor, tears, or knowledge.  In turn, those supporting me have done the same."

The way she says it, her blog would die without me (and the other winners).  So that's a pretty important award.  

Kristi writes. . . without filter.  Poop/personal health issues/motherhood/slice of life stuff . . . funny or heartbreaking. . . just like life.  And robots of course.

Go visit her.  
A book blog titillatingly titled Insatiable Book Sluts gave me their comment award one day for a particularly witty comment I left on their blog.  I'm not going to lie, I don't think it was one of my best. . . so I see multiple comment awards in my future there.  Go visit for their book discussions. . . which are fantastic.
Sarcasm Goddess awarded me the coveted "Tell Me About Yourself Award".  In her words:

"As usual, awards come with rules, so here they are:
  • Share 7 things about yourself; 
  • Pass the award along to 15 bloggers you love reading; 
  • Contact your cho­sen bloggers to let them know about the award!"
Okay. . . first of all. . . '15 bloggers' makes me hyperventilate.  I'm not going to count that as one of my seven "things" about myself, I just thought it was fair to tell you that I will most likely name a couple at most.  

I think the honor of getting this award is knowing that anyone cares enough to learn more of me that they'd consider bestowing it upon me.

First, my "7 Things" (from my childhood)

  1. I used to imagine that I was constantly being watched; that my life was all part of this elaborate experiment or movie or something, and that my actions were being recorded for posterity.  
  2. If I hurt hand, like fell down on it or something, or smacked it on something, I'd have to smack the other hand to make it seem 'even'.  And not just hands, but the palms of my hand and the soles of my feet moreso than anything else.
  3. I created elaborate rituals that I had to complete or else the result was something bad would happen to my parents.  Sometimes I had to take steps 4 at a time, or hold my breath the entire time I was putting away laundry, or navigate the house with my eyes closed in the performance of some chore, or something.  It was always different, and I never cheated in case I inadvertently caused one of my parents harm by failing to complete the ritual.  For years (into high school) I wouldn't step on any cracks in sidewalks or pavement to save my mother's back, and every morning before my dad left, I would jump up on him and he'd catch me.  I would get nervous and agitated if this ritual got interrupted.
  4. In one house we lived, I used to count the stairs to and from the basement EVERY time I used them.  This went on for several years until we moved to a new house when I was a freshman in high school.
  5. I wanted to be a priest when I was younger.  I think it was the ritual of it that most fascinated me.  I. . . did not become a priest.
  6. I rode horses growing up (well, until maybe 2nd grade, actually, when we moved and had to sell them).  My parents used to have a few of them.  They had awesome names like Ka-Boom, and Trinket, Redboy, Whippersnapper, Choctaw, and Joker.  We eventually bought some again, but we lived someplace where it wasn't "cool"  (or at least I didn't think so) to ride, so I didn't do it much.
  7. Everytime I pooped, I imagined I was on a spaceship and the stall I was in was a secure control room.  It was part of an ongoing imaginary space saga I devised.  I was a computer genius leader of an elite group of soldiers who maintained control of a vast Empire.  
And now. . . I will award the coveted "Tell Me About Yourself Award" goes to. . . . (drumroll). . . 

Jon, who writes his blog "Happy Trouble" about his family (specifically his autistic son, Ben) at


Neil, who writes a blog about his family (specifically relating to his Asperger's ADHD son through sports) at

In the cutthroat "mommy blogger" world, they bring a man's perspective (when their wive's allow them) to the special needs parenting blogosphere, and do it very nicely.  They should have more comment love than they're currently getting.


Kelly gave me the Kreativ Blogger Award.  I read the award.  She picked me apparently because I made butter.  KAREN was a genius. . . Lizbeth we alllllll wanted to know more about. . . I made butter.  

The rulez:   I have to post ten things about myself that you may not know.  Then I have to tag six other bloggers and coerce them into who then have the honor of telling you about themselves!  Six is a really really high number though, so I'll probably tag one or two.

About me:
1)  Google thinks I'm a woman. . . because:
2)  I write a family blog, something that is 99.5% done by women.
3)  I have a pinterest account
4)  I made butter.  Okay, Kelly (see above) posted a blog about making butter.  I was inspired (which explains why she tagged me).  I bought a pint of cream at the grocery store when I went (see number 5), and told my oldest daughter we were going to make butter.  Then I set up the kitchenaid, and we did it.  I was probably WAY more excited about the whole thing than I had any right to be.  Do you guys want the recipe for butter?  Ready?  Heavy Cream.  The end.  Just beat it until it turns yellow, squish out the buttermilk and you're done.  It's like the recipe for making ice cubes out of water, only somehow it's SOOOOO much cooler!  I don't know why.  We had my parents over and I made rolls (see number 6) just so that we could butter them with my homemade butter.  Then later we made popcorn just so I could butter my popcorn with my homemade butter.  
5)  I grocery shop.  
6)  I cook
7)  I care about what kind of clothes we buy my daughters.  I don't mean "i don't want them dressing like sluts" although I certainly don't, I think most men share that trait, I just mean, there are things I think look cute or stylish or classy on my kids, and I'm pretty particular about buying those things and steering clear of other things.  It's caused problems on occasion with gift buyers. . . I'm pretty opinionated in general and probably not diplomatic enough.
8)  I watch Victorious, Hannah Montana, iCarly, and Good Luck Charlie.  I'm not saying that it's necessarily my PICK. . . I'm just saying you can probably ask me anything about those shows and I'll know it.
9)  I know wayyyyy more about women's issues than I care to.  I live in a house full of women or girls or both. . . and . . . you know. . . you pick up on stuff.
10)  Other stuff.  I don't know.  I ran out of steam there at the end.  

I pass this award along to. . . (drumroll) . . . Erika at The American Calgarian.  Erika writes about her journeys to the Great White North with her husband and three children farrrr farrr from the . . . Great White Slightly less North she left behind in Wisconsin.  She's everything my (female) blog audience wants:  smart, fun, libby (I used to flip her all sorts tongue-in-cheek of sexist shit back in the day) and marathony.  She started blogging when her family was uprooted to pursue her husband's career (hahahahahah!  Irony!).  She writes a good blog and should probably have more people actively commenting it.

Lindsey at gave me the "One Lovely Blog Award".  I tried to research exactly what the award was based on. . . why, in Lindsey's judgement, I deserved this.  It's an award. . . for participation, apparently.  So THANK you, Lindsey. . . thank you for noticing all my participation!

Here are the rules of the award:
Link back to the blogger who nominated you (check)
Paste the award image on your blog, anywhere (check)
Share 7 facts about yourself (or 5, whatever or 60% of 5) (check. . . see below)
Nominate some other blogs (hmmm. . . I have to think about this one)
Post a comment on these blogs letting them know you nominated them 

1)  Tree Fort (I'm mirroring Lindsey's facts because I told her 60% of her facts reminded me of my own childhood facts)

When I was a kid. . . 5 or 6 . . . okay, my wife always stops me their with an eye roll because she claims all my childhood stories happened when I was 5 or 6, but what can I say. . . I did stuff.  When I was five or six my dad made me a "tree fort" in a big old tree in our yard.  

My dad is like this fantastic carpenter, only if you say, "Hey, can you build me a cabinet?" He'll say he's a sucky carpenter but he'll do it anyway, and it'll be magnificent, but he says it's shit.  Same thing with cars.  

"Hey dad, can you help me fix my car?"  
"I'm not really any good with cars, Jim."  But then he fixes the car anyway.  

But back in those days my dad was in his twenties and he honestly did NOT know a shitload about carpentry despite growing up working in the lumber yard my grandfather managed and so my tree fort was a fucking wooden platform.  The end.  No roof, no rails, and I was lucky there was any way of actually climbing up to it.  

One day when I was sitting on my wooden platform *air quote* fort *end air quote* I noticed the tree had some sort of weird ass slimy mold spore thing growing from a knot and it was seriously scary disgusting to the point where even a five or six year old boy couldn't tolerate it, so I stopped sitting up on my platform.

A couple years later a friend of mine built his own tree fort in a strand of poplars.  Do you know what a poplar is?  It looks like this:

Only who builds a 'tree fort' in poplars?  Apparently 8 year old boys do.  Unsupervised.  So the tree fort (again air quotes) looked a little like this:

Essentially it was just boards nailed to the sides of the tree.  You took your life in your own hands when you walked on it.  The boards swayed and sometimes they just fell off the tree.  Worst tree fort ever.  

My daughters watch High School Musical 3.  Troy Bolton has this magical like. . . 3 bedroom tree fort in his backyard.  His dad's a thirty something basketball coach. . . riiiiight.  Fuck you, Troy Bolton.

the 1970 edition. . . this was totally the edition "we" had
2.  That last one was a really long fact.  This one will be shorter.  Lindsey had Girl Talk. . . my SISTER had "Mystery Date".  Oh how I wanted to be allowed to play mystery date.  I even had the best guy picked out.  To be fair, I really didn't understand the concept of mystery date because I was. . . um. . . five or six at the time.  Shut up, Leslie.  

So dreamy
Anyway, the appealing thing was there was a secret door and then the big reveal and I always wanted to be allowed to open the secret door, but my sister wouldn't let me because she was playing with her friends (she's about 6 or 7 years older, so she was probably 12 or 13), all of whom I thought were dreamy and none of whom wanted me around despite the fact that I was so goddamn cute.
3.  MY crappy day

It was really a crappy day three weeks or so prior . . . I used to read a lot.  I was just out of college and working my first "real" job.  I'd read a book then put it on the shelf that served as a headboard.  My dad made my bed.  It was a water bed, and he made it.  Anyway, the books would stack up until gravity and entropy conspired to spill them from the head board behind my bed and I was reaching over to pick them up and smacked my elbow against the base board heater.  It was won of those little metal heaters that sit along the floor board and I cut my elbow a little.  Some blood oozed out and then it clotted and I forgot about it.

Two weeks later I had a bruise on the inside of my elbow that was bugging the shit out of me and I went to the mirror to check it out and realized that a purple stain was swelling around the scab on my elbow and streaking up my arm toward my heart.  A friend of mine said, "Jim, that's bad."

I went to the doctor and he said, "If it doesn't get any better we'll have to admit you," and I joked and said, "you're not going to have to take the whole arm, are you, doc?" and he didn't smile or laugh.  Then he gave me a shot in my ass and a prescription to some powerful antibiotic.

One of the awesome side effects of the antibiotic was that occasionally I would have to fart and nearly shit myself.  Usually you can tell the difference. . . but on this medication, not so much.  I had a few near accidents.

Then one day I was riding with a coworker back from lunch at my real job and we arrived at the jobsite.  He got out of the car first and I felt it was safe to let the gas go that I'd been saving up out of politeness, and as I stepped out of the car, I let it go. . . and shit my pants.

I waddled into the office and made up some lie about having to drive home and get something I'd forgotten. . . I don't even remember what I said it was, and I squeezed my buttcheeks closed and waddled to my car and drove home clenched until I was able to dispose of my boxers and take a super fast shower and go back to work.

Crappy day. . . heh. . . 

And that's it!

Thanks for the award, Lindsey !

I try to theme tag people. . . book bloggers once, autism bloggers once, I'm running out of people to thematically annoy!!

So I'll just tag Danielle over at ProfMomEsq.  Do us proud, Danielle!


  1. Absolut dirty martini on the rocks with 3 olives.

    And didn't sataninsingsing give you that other award?

  2. Hey! This was funny to stumble upon! I am the other person who gave you this award! LOL

  3. Otters are wonderful. Always on the go, always up to something. Oh, and congrats on the award!

  4. @olive - Nope, Andrea did. Although I thought (until Andrea's comment. . . thank you for saving me, Andrea) that you might be right.

    @Andrea - I'm sorry i forgot. I swear I forget more every day.

    @Carrie - Otters ARE wonderful. And thank you for your congratulations.

  5. Congrats, Jim, and well-deserved!! It no surprise that you have found a supportive community due to your blog and how you write it. I'm glad to have run across you this year and yes, your support means I still have a blog ;)

  6. Very fun - somehow I missed out on the questions portion of the Liebster...I'm following up the chain since A&O nominated me and so did one of my other readers. Ah well - I couldn't do those questions justice like you have. I'll be back.

    1. That means you have to answer twice as many questions.

  7. These are the most testosterone filled answers to questions I've ever read. And, really, you're the only guy that I've seen take on this blogging award thing other than Big Daddy who, if I recall correctly, did quite a stellar job as well. There is a great manly man meme blog which I came upon when following a blogger who has since closed up shop. It's Sunday Stealing which links back to "Bud Weiser" at WTIT blog which some find objectionable but is run by a guy who does nothing but memes. So, truth be told, there are LOTS of guys who do memes, just in a different part of the blogosphere than we circulate.

    That being said, I think that otters who drink martinis with olives stuffed with blu cheese while tweeting would make a great new Nick Toon. It could replace Dino Dan...

    Thanks for doing this dirty work! And I feel so privileged to have been the one to push you over the edge to do it! Hooray! Nice page. :)

    1. Otters are HARDLY testosterone filled. They're fucking ADORABLE!

      I don't think Nick would bankroll drinking otters. Maybe Adult Swim?

  8. So it turns out you're completely INSANE. I like that in a blogger. I'm going to create a damn award and give it to you because you deserve it. Like the, "I'm questioning why I blog at all with crap like this already out there" award. I'll just go ahead and concede all of my followers to you.

    I'm not even mad. I'm impressed.

  9. Oh you are welcome! I nominated you because you have a lovely blog! I don't actually know the nominating rules either, so whatever.

    So you win for the crappy day, as I did not actually shit my pants. And "streaking up my arm toward my heart" made me laugh out loud for some reason (but not LOL, I don't do that).
    So YOUR three facts reminded me of more random stories from MY childhood.

    Also, I can't believe you have an entire page dedicated to your blog awards. You are a popular little minx.

    AND I used to ALSO imagine that I was constantly being watched. Like the Truman Show! (that is from another award, but I just saw that)

  10. I used to imagine that I was being watched also, but in my mind it was by the neighborhood bully. He claims that I used to walk by his house with my dog, reading my book, which is true, and that I ran into a telephone pole and fell down, which I don't think is true. He was a witty little jerk who made fun of everything I did. He drew pictures of me walking my dog, but on my body was Prince's head and on Prince's body was my head. He made copies and handed them out at school. He was a talented artist, on top of that, so the likeness was remarkable. Everytime I played in my backyard, I made sure I didn't do anything stupid or say anything that I didn't want him to hear because I was sure he was watching. Sometimes I would even try to act cool in my own house because I was afraid that he would be peeping through the windows.

  11. You are going to run out of random facts. Love your blog!

    1. I am now a month late on this. SO SUCKY OF ME!