Mitch McDad’s World

At the risk at attracting even more blog hits from nasty Google searches, here we go.

During a plane ride a few days ago I stumbled upon this article in Best Life: Can I Buy My Wife A New Va-Jay-Jay? “This year for Mother’s Day, why not give your wife….a new Vagina?” I wonder if Hallmark has any cards that go with such a gift?

Every dad has heard or said this common line during a chat with the fellas when someone has a pregnant wife, “How ’bout a couple extra stitches, doc?” It’s the generic joke that addresses man’s fear of being faced with having to make love to the female version of the Lincoln Tunnel. But, this article about designer vaginoplasty takes the discussion to a whole new level––imagining moms recreating the vagina of an 18-year-old.

The article is tongue-in-cheek; it’s pretty funny actually. But it brings to mind the ever-present problem I have with the modern state of being a woman. Hmmm. That doesn’t sound right.

As the papa of two lovely little ladies, it really pisses me off at what they’ll be faced with going forward––all the superficial bullshit women thrust upon each other. The never-ending search to “look good” and the evil campaign to make each other feel bad about each other’s bodies. And now, this Holy Grail-esq search for a teenaged vagina.

I can just hear the conversation, “Doc, I want the ass of a twelve-year-old boy, the tits of a Macy’s parade float, and the box of a pep squad girl.” Yeash. Where will it end? And women wonder why self-esteem is vaporizing across our national landscape.

Ladies, you need to take a page from our book. When we look at the cover of a Men’s Health mag, we don’t feel inadequate. We call the guy a douche and head to the nearest sports bar for some beer and wings. Fat and happy is our mantra. Our vanity goes no further than trying not to be the fattest guy at the pool––and making every attempt to position ourselves as close to the fattest guy as possible to benefit from the positive juxtaposition.

Now I’m not trying to be the obesity proponent. Since we started the McDad litter, I’ve increased my body mass by a good 25 lbs. and I definitely want to get rid of each one of them. But as anyone in my inner circle knows, I’m not exactly gripping about it. I haven’t gotten the lipo evaluation yet. I’m not downing Fen-phen. I’m enjoying yet another man-perk, caressing my sexy beer-belly and easing into my workout program––we’re now into month 4 of the planning process.

So, I guess what I’m saying is that instead of falling for the Hollywood trappings of designer vaginas, let start with a few sets of kegles and take it from there. Life’s too short. Sanity needs to make a comeback. And we men love you just the way you are.

Happy Mother’s Day!

McDad Related posts:

Vajayjay Snaps

Easy Riders

Girls Gone Wild

Sex. Marriage. The Secret Problem.

Which one are you?

There are two basic types of people: Hangers-on and Page-turners. I’m a page-turner and I’m finding that so is Lilly.

Since college I have moved more times than I could count, never looking back after any move––except for my time in Manhattan Beach, you can’t beat living on the beach.

In my life I’ve had numerous girlfriends and the second those “relationships” ended, they ENDED. I was never one to linger and try to work things out––regardless of who initiated the break up.

When I left a job––or was asked to leave––I deleted that experience from my brain the instant my ass left the building.

I love change. I rarely look back. Read more »

The McDad’s are pleased to introduce Lola. I actually made the final call on the name as Lilly and Lulu were battling over “Belle/Bella” and “Tallulah.” Thusly, MRS decided to get all fancy-like and give Lola some flair with the extra names––I don’t officially recognize the add ons. As far as I’m concerned she just plain old Lola…L…O…L…A…Lola. And she does walk like a woman and talk like a man, especially as she recovers from kennel cough.

Read more »

Apparently I’m a glutton for punishment. We got another girl, today.  And now the most important McDad contest ever––

NAME MITCH’S NEW DOG

5000 McDad points for the winning entrant. Our new puppy is a 2 year old pug mix we met at the Dumb Friends League today. She was the one and only dog we met with and it was an instant match. Now, she needs a name, we can’t call her Puppy McDad now, can we?

Better Than GPS

MRS has what I have termed “Directional Chick-lexia.” As far as I know, I have coined the term chick-lexia, as I have never heard it before. That being said, I’m sure someone has most likely beaten me to it.

Regardless, let’s review MRS’s condition, which in reality is a real lifesaver when I don’t have a navigation system handy. Whenever we are not sure which direction to go, I ask her what she thinks––OK, she tells me where to go whether we are lost or not. But when I ask for her help she always comes through. The more sure she is of the direction we need to head directly correlates to the probability that we need to go the other way. Even if she’s only marginally inclined to go right, left is a 97% lock. She really comes in handy. If only I could figure out a way to market this skill.

Move Over. I’m Driving. Read more »

Not a lot of McDad points handed out today. Big ups to my boys at the BF’s. Here’s how the weekend went down.

First of all, I chose the solo Saturday. No brainer. But check out what a great husband I am. Saturday morning I told MRS I would blow of cards and take her out. I even texted our babysitter to hook it up. I love that we text our babysitter. And talk about win-win situations. She couldn’t make it, and she had told us she was free for Saturday night just a couple days earlier. Points for me for the effort and all day to myself. Check back home to kiss the kids and help with dinner. Out the door to win some money. That’s a good Saturday. And it was close to great. I played in a 35 person Hold ‘Em tournament that was a fundraiser. Top 3 got paid and of course I finished 4th. Guess you can’t win them all.

And oh by the way, I got lucky Sunday night! With MRS––for all you pessimists that might be assuming something more solitary.

Keep scrolling to see the winners. There aren’t many. Read more »

Today I was faced with the decision of a lifetime that left me in a dizzying quandary. MRS works from her home office––so she was home, obviously.

I came home early, around four, because I was spent. I wanted to crash for an hour before MRS picked up the girls. Unfortunately, she was spent also. This was a particularly tiring week for both of us and MRS had committed 100% to picking up the kids today. Of course, she wanted to crash, too. And she wanted me to go pick up the kids REALLY bad.

In exchange for getting the girls, I was given the choice of one, and only one, of the two following options. Which did I choose?

1) SEX TONIGHT.

2) ALL DAY SATURDAY FREE TO MYSELF. (Note: for full disclosure, I already have poker night on the books with the fellas Saturday night starting at five-thirty.)

100 McDad points to the correct guessers.

I have been brooding about this subject for a while and have continued to put off writing about it because I dig women, women read this blog, and I live with three of them so I’ve become sympathetic to the cause. But today was the last straw (I’ll explain at the end of the post) so I’m throwing down the gauntlet.

The #1––and yes maybe only––reason that men are smarter than women is that women are dip-shits in automobiles. (For those of you with steam streaming from your ears right now, relax. Yes I know that statement is a gross generalization. Yes, I know that not all women are dip-shits in automobiles. Yes, I know that some women are very good drivers. There are at least 3: Danica Patrick, Sara Fisher, and there has to be at least one more.)

For those of you ladies that are unfamiliar with my writing style and sense of humor and think I’m a big dick right now, please note that I like to bust balls and exaggerate to make points. That being said let me prove my statement that women are dip-shits in automobiles, especially relative to men.

THE FACTS

Some of us like to apply makeup while we drive. If you’ve NEVER done this, consider yourself a step above the multitude of those who have. Read more »

Just a little while ago I was cruising through Boulder, Colorado, and at a light I found this dude. He had a huge smile on his face and the best panhandling sign I’ve seen in a long time. Gotta love Boulder.

I enjoyed it so much I gave him a c-note––OK, I gave him a buck. He gave me a big thumbs up and it dawned on me that I had to immortalize him on the blog. I caught this shot just as I was pulling away.

More proof that I am married with children and find entertainment anywhere I can because I don’t get out much.

I have spent the last 12 years in California and Colorado––light years away from my native New Jersey. It’s been 12 years since I’ve had a semi-edible bagel (not including trips backs east). It’s been 12 years since I’ve been told to “fuck off” by a seven-year-old. It’s been 12 years since I’ve been flipped off by a senior citizen cutting me off at a toll booth. It’s been twelve years since I’ve hooked up with one of my beloved, big-haired, gum-smacking, bridge and tunnel chicks.

But most importantly, it’s been 12 years since I’ve had the world’s most perfect and delectable breakfast. Yes, I’m talking about Taylor Ham-Egg-and-cheese on a roll (with salt, pepper and ketchup, of course). It’s the food version of a blow job wrapped around a hole-in-one sprinkled over a week spent on a yacht in the Mediterranean. Read more »

A lot of you ladies out there have been clamoring to see McDad in all his sexiness. Well, your wait is no longer––thanks to the wonderful artwork of Lilly.

In this portrait of her Adonis-like daddy, she describes my hair as “pokes.”

After spending last week in Palm Springs for work––I know, I know, poor me––my boys from LA drove out for a little golf weekend.

As we were making plans for Friday night, I sent a good friend of mine this text message. She’s a mom of two and I think she REALLY needed a night out. Please note that in her response she agreed to go out though she wasn’t really sure who was inquiring.

And you’ve got to love the drawing power of MM.

Though she was only able to meet us for an hour or so, we had a lot of laughs.

The boys and I then went out till at least 10:30, maybe 11:00. Yes, we can still tear it up.

_______

So after a week away from the girls, and MRS completely exhausted, I arrived home Sunday night with a lot of dirty clothes and a nasty case of the flu––which struck me somewhere over the Rockies. So, I’ve literally been in bed since I got home and I’ve had to stay away from the kids.

Needless to say, MRS is delighted!

I think I need to do something really nice for her very soon. And here’s a message to all you hubbies––your ladies might need a night out more than you know. I think my friend illustrated that point pretty well.

If this post strikes a chord, pass it along….you just may save someone’s life. Wow. Very dramatic.

I have a pet peeve when people say, “wow, that really put’s things in perspective,” after something tragic happens. I prefer to be conscious of the people and things I should appreciate as a matter of course.

That being said, it’s not often that we are witness to actual tragedy anyway, which is probably why that type of phrase is so common when we are.

Tuesday, I witnessed tragedy. Hell, I was damn near part of it.

Driving across north Denver in serene midday sunshine with a colleague, one second we were preparing for an impending meeting, the next second my car was showered with glass from the second most horrific car crash I’ve ever seen.

It seems that one car ran a red light, the same red light we were slowing down for in the opposite direction. A pickup truck entered the intersection, a violent collision ensued and the car was sent spinning, air-born, directly at us. The car impacted the pole supporting the traffic light, square on the driver’s side door virtually crushing the car and killing the driver. Read more »

Guess which one is the real Mitch???

Read more »

So, I’m supposed to be in Chicago….but I’m not. Let’s break it down.

• MRS in in Dallas this week.
• A meeting that I really couldn’t pass up arose for me and I was supposed to hit the Windy City this morning–a 6:50 flight necessitating me to get up at 4am.
• Two days ago, Lilly complained about an ear ache. A little Motrin knocked it right out–well masked the pain.
• To take my trip I had to enlist Lulu’s daycare provider, Emily, to take the kids last night and tonight, and MRS would be home in time to pick them up tomorrow.
• NEWSFLASH: O’Hare Airport Gets Bad Weather-Shocker

Read more »