MetroDad

Country Music just ain't the same in New York City

By now, I think most of you have figured out that I have a somewhat strange sense of humor.  I'm also what one might call a goofball.  And nobody on the planet brings out my goofiness more than my lovely and beautiful wife, the BossLady.  When we're together, one of my favorite things to do with her is to write and sing our own songs.  She's a brilliant lyricist and has many classic songs under her belt.  My favorite is her insanely catchy pop song chronicling her profound love of SPAM. 

I work mostly in the show tunes category.  I think my best work was "Raise Your Hand, Raise Your Hand (If You Woke Up Too Early!)"  But for the past few years, whenever BossLady is feeling a little blue or sorry for herself, I've been working on a country ballad that I've tentatively titled "If It Wasn't For Self-Pity, I'd Have No Pity At All." 

I was thinking about all this recently when my neighbor lamented the fact that NYC has no country music radio stations.  No real surprise there.  But then my mind started drifting and I began thinking about what would happen if all the musicians in New York started writing country music songs.  I think it's safe to say that the subjects and titles of the songs would be drastically different.  Here's a short list of some possible song titles that I came up with today while I was on the crapper:

"Billy Broke My Heart At Bloomies And I Cried All The Way To Bendels"

"I Gave Her A Ring And She Gave Me The Clap"

"My Tits Are Fake But My Love Is Real."

"I'd Walk Four Flights To Feel You In My Arms"

"My Shrink Shrank Our Love"

"I Changed Her Locks.  She Changed My Life."

"If Manolos Were Money, I'd Marry You Too"

"I Knew It Was You When You Sneezed In The Subway"

"How Come Our Kids Look Just Like The Doorman?"

"Have I Told You Lately That I Love Me?"

Pretty fun game!  I could play it for hours.  Anyone else want to play?  Give me your best (or worst) country music song title.  Winner can join me for some cold Buds at NYC's only country music bar.  Drinks are on me.  I'll be the tall Asian guy at the bar in the black cowboy hat wearing Pumas, reading the New Yorker and drinking a scotch.  I think you'll find me.       

Elwood: What kind of music do you usually have here?
Claire: Oh, we got both kinds. We got country AND western.
The Blues Brothers (1980)

September Mailbag

As always, I offer the usual caveat that I have absolutely no professional experience except for my 36 years on this planet and my 11.5 months of fatherhood.  These are just one man's answers to your many questions.  And as usual, I question who's more disturbed...me or my readers.  Anyway, it's been a while folks so let's get right down to it.  Welcome to the September Mailbag! 

Dear Metro…My therapist suggested I contact you for advice.  She's upset because my narcissistic personality disorder has been magnified ever since I started a blog.  Personally, I think she's just jealous because I called her blog a fucking bore and told her that I don't think anyone in the world cares about the mundane minutiae of her pathetic little existence.  I mean, really.  This woman has degrees from some of the top institutions in the country and charges me $300/hour.  Why the fuck is she blogging about the snow outside her window?  Anyway, feel free to read my blog and let me know what you think.  If you like it, my egotism will be well-justified and I'll know I need to find a new therapist.  If you hate it, I'll have to crawl back to that boring shrink's couch for some more treatment.
-Lucy (Kalamazoo, MI)

Dear Lucy,

I’m flattered that you would turn to me for advice.  Really, I am.  But I just read your blog and WOW!  You are one crazy fucked-up bitch!  Get back on the meds immediately and lose my e-mail address!  (Just kidding, Lucy!  Just kidding.)

In all seriousness, I’m actually having the same problem.  Now that everyone and their mother has a blog, I tend to evaluate people based on their writing, story-telling and grammar.  Unfortunately, that’s really not a great way to choose a lawyer, accountant, a physician or a therapist.  This might go a long way towards explaining why I’m constantly talking to myself like a madman in bankruptcy court while having heart palpitations and stomach disorders.  Seriously though, my physician is not only a crappy writer but he probably thinks Strunk & White is the name of a barbecue sauce.  And Good Lord, man!  Have you never heard of fucking spell check? 

Personally, I think reading a professional's blog is like reading a girlfriend’s diary.  As all guys know, nothing good can ever come out of reading a girlfriend’s diary.  Similarly, nothing good can ever come out of reading your shrink’s blog.  If that advice doesn't work for you, just find a new therapist.  Preferably one with better meds and a liberal prescription pad.  Worked for me!   

Dear Metro…My two year-old daughter continually takes her diaper off (during her afternoon nap) and proceeds to decorate her crib, bedding and self with her poop. I have put her on a potty with no luck as of yet but I can't seem to get through to her that poop is NOT fun to play with OR clean up! HELP! 
-Beth (Chicago, IL)

Beth…See, the problem here is that playing with poop IS fun!  It’s NOT fun to clean up but it’s definitely fun to play with.  Besides, I subscribe to the theory that you should never stifle a child’s creativity.  After all, did you know that some of our most respected artists dabbled in feces?  That’s right. It’s a little-known fact that Van Gogh’s first major painting was “The Poopy Eaters.”  As you know, he expounded on this theme throughout puberty until he was 16 and painted the famous “Potato Eaters” series.  It's called childhood development, my friend.  Personally, my favorite medium was urine.  And to this day, every time I’m up in the mountains skiing, I always take the time to drop my pants and pee my name in the snow.  I like to think my excellent penmanship stems from my early scribblings.      

Dear MetroDad...My 12 year old son can't sleep alone in his bed. He wants to sleep with his parents every night. It's getting ridiculous.  He's more than old enough to sleep by himself.  How can we get him to sleep in this own room?
-Richard (Trenton, NJ) 

Dude...I don't know what to say.  When I was 12, the LAST place I wanted to sleep was in my parents bed.  Hasn't your son discovered the joys of masturbation yet?  Anyway, unless this is some sort of premeditated evil conspiracy to ensure that you and your wife never have sex again (therefore eliminating the possibility of your son having any siblings), I think you need to resort to some drastic measures.  First, buy him some porno mags.  There's a good chance you'll never see him in your bed again (in fact, there's a good chance you might never see him ANYWHERE again.)  But if he's not interested in girls yet and that doesn't work, then I would seriously consider hazing the crap out of him.  When he's lying peacefully in your bed, dip his finger in a cup of lukewarm water so he pees in his pajamas.  Or put some shaving cream on his finger and tickle his nose while he's sleeping.  Worst case scenario?  Shave his head and graffitti his entire body with a permanent marker.  As any child psychologist will tell you, kids aren't dumb.  He'll get the hint.  Of course he might hate you for life.  But at least you'll have your bed back.  Besides, who DOESN'T hate their parents these days? 

MD...Have you noticed that some unbelievably stunning women have been hooking up with the biggest dorks these days?  I saw on TV the other day that Rebecca Romijn-Stamos is engaged to the dork from "Stand By Me."  And have you seen that fat loser that Mischa Barton has as a boyfriend?  WTF?  What's a guy like me have to do to score one of these hot babes? 
-Jeffrey (Cambridge, MA)

Jeffrey...Why are you so surprised about this phenomenon?  It's been around forever and will continue to be around forever.  Need I remind you of Courtney Cox and David Arquette?  No?  How about Drew Barrymore and Tom Green?  Then, there's the klepto queen herself, Winona Ryder.  I love the girl but she seems to have made an art form out of fucking her way to the bottom.  Anyway, I'm sure you're a smart guy so let's just face facts here.  David Arquette is a member of a semi-legitimate Hollywood family.  He's allowed to be ugly and weird (in L.A., it's called "eccentric.")  And Mischa Barton's boyfriend?  That's Brandon "Grandson of Marvin" Davis.  Believe me.  When you're worth $500 million, you'll be dating Mischa Barton too.  So my advice to you?  Study hard.  Stay in school.  And play nice with all the smart engineering kids.  One of them might be the next Bill Gates.  If all else fails, just pretend to be one of those eccentric people who never showers, sleeps in his car and is completely unaffected by a girl's celebrity status.  After all, it worked for K-Fed. 

MetroDad...if somebody donates sperm now, if I got the changes in the law right, they are no longer anonymouse. This means, presumably, that sperm donors may have childrens knocking on their doors demanding to see their daddy, who nevers for a moment knew they existed. This must be nasty for both of them.  What affect would it have for the father to have a child turn up on their doorstep that they know nothing about, not even the mother? What affect would it have on the children having the 'real' father they look for not knowing they exist and possibly not even caring? Would the sperm donor be responsibles?
-Jesse (Baltamore, MD)

Jesse...let's start with the fact that you can't even spell your hometown correctly.  And although your letter borders on being completely indecipherable, I think I know what you're getting at.  And the answer is NO.  If a child comes knocking on your door claiming that you're his biological father, you don't have to give back the $17.00 that the sperm bank gave you for jerking off in a cup.   Just drink your orange juice, eat your cookie and be on your merry way.

Metro...My friend and I were recently reading an article somewhere about the "Fredo Hall of Fame," an imaginary institution where screwed-up siblings of famous people could be enshrined for  posterity.  We think that the inaugural candidate for entry into the Hall would have to be Billy Carter.  After all, he not only became a paid lobbyist for Libya but he also tried to cash in on his brother's fame by peddling the infamous Billy Beer!  You've got to love a guy like that.  Definitely a true Fredo.  Anyway, who else would you put on the list and why?
-Rick (Marin, CA)

Rick...Staying with the political theme, I'm going to start with another presidential sibling, Roger Clinton.  When brother Bill was governor, Roger was busted for cocaine possession.  Then, after being controversially pardoned by his brother, Roger had the balls to set up a business collecting money from people in exchange for a promise that he would get Bill to pardon them too.  Then, in a true Fredo trifecta, Roger got himself arrested for 3 counts of drunk driving.  Classic Fredo manuever!  You almost have to love the guy for being such an idiot!  (By the way, why is that siblings of Democrats end up being such dumb bumpkins and the siblings of Republicans end up being prostitute-loving felons like Neil Bush?) 

Anyway, my friend Bill Simmons from ESPN answered a similar question recently and stated that no real list could be complete without including everyone in Snoop Dogg's family, Steve Sanders' half-brothers on 90210, Frank Stallone and all of Don Shula's sons.   To that list, I would probably add any of the Baldwin brothers, any of the Duff sisters, and anyone with the last name Lohan.

Ok, folks.  That's it.  I'm outta here.  Post future questions in the comments section or send me an e-mail.  And if you want to read some past mailbags, check here, here, or here.  See you next time!

From the mouths of babes

Because it's Monday and I'm still exhausted from the long weekend, I thought I'd relate a little story about two kids overheard speaking to one another.  I don't remember where I read this but I thought it was hilarious. 

(Overheard in McDonalds)

Two little boys, approximately 4 or 5 years old, spy each other in line. Their mothers are holding their respective hands, staring straight ahead at the menu board with that dispassionate glazed look -- like they're pumping gas, or waiting for a dog to do its business.

Little boy #1: Hey! You get McDonald's for breakfast too!
Little boy #2: Yeah! I'm getting pancakes! I thought I was never going to get pancakes again.
Little boy #1: How come? Your mom doesn't make pancakes at home?
Little boy #2: No. I only get them here. And I didn't think I was ever going to taste them ever again.
Little boy #1: How come?
Little boy #2: Because after my little brother's birthday party, my Mom said she'd rather take it up the ass than eat here anymore.

(Postscript:  The little boy, as he was being led back to a booth by his hysterically laughing mother, was heard fussing, "BUT I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!""

I've always been a big fan of hearing the innocent little jewels that come out of a kid's mouth.  And I can't wait until the Peanut starts speaking so we can have some fun conversations together.  BossLady and I always say that the one thing we surely won't have to worry about with the Peanut is any lack of personality.  With two geeky weirdos as parents, that's a pretty safe bet.      

So meanwhile, I'll count on all of YOU to tell me your funny stories.  So tell me... 

What's the funniest thing you've ever heard your kid say?

Friday Entertainment

It's Friday morning here in NYC.  Since the BossLady, the Peanut and I are going out of town for the weekend, I'm only working a half day.  And since I didn't have time to write an actual entry, I thought I'd clean out my bookmarks and leave you with some cool links I've found lately.  I think you'll enjoy them.

Which Napoleon Dynamite character are you?
Shit.  I'm Summer.

Gay-O-Meter
I guess the reason that I'm Summer is because I'm 42% gay. 

Ice-T to produce Hasselhoff rap album
All you crazy mofos in da house, give it up for Hassle The Hoff!  H to the Izzo!  Seriously, this is for real. 

Sarah Silverman to take over "Chappelle Show"
I've always been a big fan of Sarah Silverman.  She looks so demure...until she opens her mouth.  Then, she's like a truck-stop hooker on crack!  But she is one damn funny woman.  This clip of her supposedly taking over "The Chappelle Show" is absolutely hilarious. 

Where are they now-The White Shadow
Really one of the seminal TV shows of its time, the "White Shadow" was one of my all-time favorites growing up.  I think it was far ahead of its time.  Here's where the fellas from Carver High are now.   

The World's First Inflatable Pub
Hey, honey.  THIS is what I want for Christmas this year. 

The 50 Worst Hairstyles of All Time
I think I've had about 8 of these. 

Coolest High School Band Ever!
I have nothing to say about this except...THIS IS FUCKING RAD!

Have a great weekend, everyone!  I'm outta here. 

Tripping

Here's the situation, folks...

One of our closest and oldest friends is getting married in the south of France.  The wedding was previously put on hold due to the fact that the groom's father had a triple bypass and a valve replacement.  However, the surgery went surprisingly well and the wedding is now back on.  BossLady and I were able to book some last-minute flights and we're scheduled to take off in a couple weeks.  Our whole trip will be about 6 days long.      

But our dilemna involves the Peanut.  We're seriously struggling with the decision on whether to bring her or not.  Of course, we want to bring her.  Being away from her for 6 days is going to kill us.  I have a hard enough time being away from her when I'm gone on an overnight business trip.  My wife literally starts tearing up just at the thought of being away from her for so long.   

But on the other hand, it's not going to be easy with the baby.  We don't have direct flights.  We've got a few long layovers.  And it's a safe bet that the Peanut's sleep schedule would be seriously screwed up by the whole travel ordeal.  We're afraid that by the time she finally gets adjusted to the new time zone and reverts back to her usual schedule, it's going to be time for us to pack up and leave again.  Furthermore, the hotel we're staying at doesn't have babysitters or nanny services.  So we'd have to scramble and figure out a solution for some child care help as well.

If we go to France without her, she'll be in good hands.  My parents will stay at our place and take care of her.  Furthermore, the nanny will still be around to help out.  And the Peanut can maintain her normal routine and schedule.  She'll be fine.  We're not worried about her.  It's her parents that are going to be a mess!

Do any of you have any ideas or experiences similar to this?  How did you reach a decision?  Are there any other considerations that we're missing?  Is it selfish of us to bring her even though it would be pretty disruptive for all of us?  The Peanut is in such a good groove right now that any major disruptions to her schedule tend to wreak havoc.  If the trip were longer, it would be a no-brainer.  We'd definitely bring her.  But due to the short nature of the trip and all the crazy time-zone changes, we're at a loss on how to handle the situation.  That's why, as always, I respectfully turn to all of you and your collective parenting wisdom. 

A humble newbie awaits your advice...

 

What's on YOUR ipod?

The blogging world's resident DJ, Because I'm Your Father, recently asked me to send him a list of songs that I'm currently listening to so he could post them under his "Blogger's Choice" project on his site. I've mentioned previously that I don't get a chance to listen to as much music as I did pre-parenthood. You guys had some great recommendations for me.

Anyway, go over to Alan's site and check out my current playlist. And let me know what's currently on YOUR ipod. I'm always looking for new music.

Situational Comedy

Many of you know that when the BossLady became pregnant, I completely immersed myself in parenting literature and read almost every single book ever written about both parenting or childcare. (What can I say? Being an insomniac, speed-reading neurotic is dangerous sometimes.)

Now, I'm not going to get involved in the whole controversy regarding the validity of these parenting books. Who really cares? For the BossLady and me, we read all the books, digested all the information and culled what we thought would be useful. Some information helped. Some didn't. C'est la vie.

No...my real complaint is that nobody seems to answer the really hard questions about what it's like having a child who's almost a year old. Because if there's one thing that I've learned in my 11 months as a parent, it's that every day brings a new set of situations where you're forced to make game-time decisions and all the reading in the world won't help you out. As an example, I'm going to give you a couple situations where all the books in the world wouldn't have helped. Maybe some of you more experienced parents can help a newbie out with some advice. Anyway, here they are...

(1) You're holding the baby in your arms in someone else's living room, which is swathed in the plushest white carpet available this side of Persia. The dog is at your feet. All of sudden, your baby's ass explodes in a volcano of diarrhea. It's blown the doors off her diaper and is oozing down your leg onto the white carpet. Suddenly, the dog starts licking it all up. But the combination of the smell and the sight of the dog eating your child's diarrhea are making you nauseated and you feel like you're about to vomit. What do you do? And in which order?

(2) Your daughter loves sticking things in her mouth. Anything. Anywhere. Anytime. Your wife isn't home yet so it's just you and the baby. Do you let your baby chew an unplugged electrical cord, nibble on the dog's chew toy and suck on one of Daddy's smelly gym socks? Knowing that the removal of any one of these objects from her mouth is going to lead to some serious screaming? Or is it all relatively harmless and will only build character? What do you tell your wife if she finds out?

(3) You and your wife work full-time. While at work, you both miss your daughter tremendously and can't wait to get home and play with her. In the morning, you get to play with her for a solid hour before you have to go. But at night, sometimes you only have 20 minutes together before it's time for her nighttime bottle and bedtime. Not nearly enough time and you want to make the most of it. So exactly how long can a baby go without being bathed? Can you bathe her 3x during the weekend to make up for it? Or can you hold out until she smells worse than the dog? Eactly how often does a child need to be bathed?

(4) You meet an attractive woman at the playground and she starts cooing at your daughter and remarking how absolutely adorable she is. She mentions that she and her husband have a child the same age. When her equally attractive husband comes over with their daughter, you look inside the stroller and witness what surely must be the illegitimate love child of Chewbacca and Shrek. You've never seen a hairier baby in your life. You didn't even know babies could be that hairy! What do you? Do you swallow the vomit in your mouth? Or do you coo back at the baby lovingly and remark how beautiful she is? After all, they've got to know, right?

(5) Your daughter was breastfed for the first 6 months of her life. And as much as she loves eating solid food now, old habits apparently die hard. Every time a woman holds your daughter, she reaches down the woman's blouse and tries not only to grab some breast but also attempts to put her mouth on the woman's nipple. What do you do? Laugh it off nervously? Pull your daughter off? Or smile tepidly and ask the woman, "got milk?"

Whatchoo got, Internet? Whatchoo got? (No really, I'd like to know.)

Who's yo daddy?

Regular readers know that I always like to give voice to parenting blogs written by new fathers.  The more, the merrier.  Not only do I enjoy hearing the different perspectives and stories that other men have regarding their kids but I also think there's a great sense of community among "Daddy Bloggers".  And while there are a million "Mommy blogs" prevalent througout the blogosphere, there are still only a handful of fathers out there writing about their experiences.  Nobody seems to know that we really even  exist.  But we're a tight community.  We all read and comment on each other's sites.  And we stumble across one another on a semi-regular basis.  To me, that's very cool.  But the coolest thing is that I think I would like all these guys even more if we met in person.   

Anyway, although I've mentioned some of these sites elsewhere, I thought I'd do it here on MetroDad.  So without further ado, here's my latest set of Props for the Pops...

Sweet Juniper
This blog is actually written by a couple, Dutch & Wood.  But they're so cool and iconoclastic that I literally find myself always waiting for one of them to post something new.  Dutch is the kind of guy I would hang out with cruising old record shops, harassing San Francisco yuppies or discussing politics and literature.  Wood is someone I could see spending the afternoon with at a cafe, drinking espressos and talking about China or our mutual addiction to fiber.  Together, they're raising the very cute and adorable Junebug.

Child's Play
Matthew started his blog a few months before his lovely wife gave birth to their ridiculously cute twins.  And although he's not a new Daddy blogger, he just got himself some fancy new digs and a new url.  What can I say about Matthew?  He's literally one of the nicest people that I've never met.  But not only is he a good guy but he also might be the only new father around who's even sappier than I am.  While I have to rein in my mushiness, I often find myself reading Matthew's posts and going "awwwwwwww!"  We like Matthew.  A lot. 

Shotgun Daddy
I don't know what to say here except that Hank is fucking cool (even though he went to Stanford.  Go Bears!)  He's an 8th-grade teacher, a fellow sports nut and a father to three beautiful kids.  Mostly though, he just loves telling great stories about his children.  Go visit him and, if you're a sports fan, be sure to check out his other sites as well. 

Not-For-Profit Dad
Another father of twins and the best thing to come out of D.C. since Michael Jordan.  NPD is a man equally devoted to his wife, his kids and his job.  It's fascinating watching him balance everything in his life.  Sometimes, I read him and feel like he's busier than Courtney Love's pharmacist.  But he's bright, insightful and intelligent.  Like me, he's a semi-regular blogger but you can always count on him for a good read. 

Mr. Big Dubya
Mr. Big Dubya survived Catholic school, a maritime academy and the army.  Not only did he score a perfect trifecta by surviving all three institutions, he then went on to get a degree in English Lit.  How cool is that?  And although he's a Red Sox fan by birth, I think you'll find him as funny and entertaining as I do.  Plus, he's as addicted to parenting blogs as I am! 

Because I'm Your Father
Alan is the resident DJ of the parenting blogosphere.  As a music artist manager based down in TN, his blog incorporates the three greatest loves of his life:  his wife, his baby son and music.  He's got a great-looking site and an even better-looking kid (keep him away from my daughter, dude!)

The Bean's Dad
This blog is written by a SAHD with a lovely little daughter who knows sign language and the way to her dad's heart.  I enjoy reading this blog because TBD will throw up anything that comes to mind.  Relatively new but very enjoyable.  I'm looking forward to reading more.   

The MisAdventures of a First Time Dad
Amateur Dad is another relatively new daddy blogger.  And as much as I enjoy reading his blog, he only posts about once a month.  He attempts to atone for this by putting up very very cute photos of his little girl.  But go over and tell him to get his lazy ass in gear. 

Clare's Dad
Clare's Dad is the newest member of the Daddy blogger community.  This is a new blog started by a Ct. father just a few short weeks ago.  Even though he's a Yankees fan, he seems to be a generally good guy.  Besides, he was named after a sitcom character, is an EX-lawyer, works in the theater and was a self-admitted geek in high school.  How could I not love a guy like that? 

Chocolate Makes It Better
We're stretching across the Pacific to introduce you to Chocolate, an Australian father of one (with another on the way.)  Based in Brisbane, Chocolate is a cool dad who writes lovingly about the wonderful experience of fatherhood.  Say hello to him and his pot-belly friend named Barry. 

Adventure Dad
If we're going across the Pacific for some linky love, then I also have to go trans-Atlantic and throw a shout out to Adventure Dad.  Although he's an ex-New Yorker, AD is now living in Sweden with his beautiful family and spends his free time participating in adventure sports, taking photographs and travelling.  Pretty rough life, eh?  He's a very cool guy and if you ask nicely, he'll show you the fjords. 

Pet Cobra
Last but not least, I've got to mention my San Diego buddy Jason again.  His blog is basically a cool amalgamation of whatever happens to be on his mind at the time...whether it's surfing on the weekend, ranting about Katrina, reviewing his favorite TV shows or telling stories about his son Lucas eating rocks.  He's by far the most reliable and consistent blogger out there.  If he doesn't put something up every day, his body literally goes into convulsions.  Ok, maybe not literally.  But you get the idea. 

That's it, folks.  Check these relatively new daddy blogs out and enjoy.  Also, here's the previous entry I wrote about my feelings about my fellow Daddy bloggers.  And if there are any new daddy bloggers out there that I missed, post a comment introducing yourself or shoot me an e-mail. 

Don't forget, my friends....Men who change diapers change the world (or at least that's what my wife keeps telling me.) 

(Update: Thanks to my own personal Daddy Blog guru, Jay for continuing to pay it forward and mentioning these new dads today over at Blogging Baby.)

Say hello to my little friend

A few months after the Peanut was born, I wrote a post about MY pregnancy weight.  The post was appropriately called "Hey, Dude.  Do my tits look bigger to you?".  Essentially, it chronicled the fact that I had gained over 15 pounds during the BossLady's pregnancy and the ensuing few months after the Peanut's birth. As it turns out, I wasn't the only new father to experience this phenomenon so I didn't pay it much mind, figuring the weight would magically disappear after a few months. 

Well, a little while ago, I noticed that the BossLady had lost all of her pregnancy weight but that I was still stuck with all of mine.  I'm 6' tall so I can carry a little extra weight but now when I'm sitting on the can, I find myself fascinated by this new little pot-belly friend of mine.  We're relatively unaccustomed to one another so I like jiggling him every once in a while to see how he'll react.  I haven't named him yet but I'm leaning towards "Hector" because I think that's a fun name for a pot belly. 

Anyway, with the Peanut's 1st birthday coming up, I decided that it was time to take drastic action.  Now, for those of you who don't know me, I'm one of those people who doesn't do anything half-assed.  So rather than gently ease into a new fitness regime, I went charging in headfirst.  Starting about a month ago, I cut out all carbs from my diet, limited my caloric intake and began working out like a madman.  I've been hitting the gym about 5 times per week and not only logging some serious miles but also lifting weights as well.  I've quit coffee and drink about a gallon of green tea per day.  And if I eat any more skinless chicken, I'm going to start clucking.      

I definitely do feel better.  So far, I've lost about 8 pounds.  And my body is starting to regain lean muscle mass and definition.  But guess what?  Hector's not fucking going anywhere!  It's like he's decided that my body is the perfect host environment.  We're like two gunslingers in the middle of a standoff.  I feel like a landlord trying to get rid of a deadbeat tenant who doesn't pay rent and sits on his ass all day drinking beer.  Regardless, there just ain't enough room in town for the both of us so one of us is going to have to leave.

I just hope it's him and not me.

And by the way, is it me or are we all getting older?  And just when exactly did that start happening?  I never got any notices in the mail.  Did you?  What the fuck?  I feel like I fell asleep by the pool at the age of 25 but woke up and noticed that I was almost 40.  Anyone else feeling me out there?  Shit, I'm hungry.  I haven't crapped in like three days.  I think I'd kill for a slice of pizza.  Or a big-ass juicy burger.  Fuck you, Hector!  You hear me?  Get the hell out of my house!   

Phew.  Ok.  I'm done now.  I think my blood sugar dropped there for a minute.  But I can't be the only parent or new dad out there struggling to get back into pre-progeny shape, can I?  What's the deal, people?  Will I make it back to shore or am I too far away from the beach?  Because ever since the Peanut was born, I feel like my metabolism has ground to a complete halt.  Why should the BossLady's pregnancy affect ME like that?  Was it all the breast milk I drank?

Dear Andy

I miss you, Andy. I miss you a lot. We all do. It's been four years since 9/11 and I still think about you all the time. So many things remind me of you and so many things just aren't the same without you around. The other day, I was walking down 7th Avenue and I saw a guy who looked just like you. My heart stopped beating for what felt like an hour and I thought I was losing my mind.

I miss so many things about you, Andy. I miss having my phone ring precisely as I was walking into the office and hearing your voice on the other end, wishing me a good morning and asking me what we were doing that night. I miss the fact that after we went out together, you'd always call in the morning to recap the evening...and then ask what we were all doing tonight. I miss your unbridled enthusiasm and amazing smile that would never allow any of us to remain depressed or in a funk for very long. I miss how when any of us got into a stupid argument, you were always there to make the peace and remind us all that it was ok for family to fight but it was time to make up now.

As for our crew of friends (whom you always lovingly referred to as "la famiglia"), we're all doing ok. None of us see each other as much. Maybe it's because we're all getting older and are busy with our own lives. But I think it's because you were really the glue that held us all together.

I miss those dinners where you'd force me to come to the Upper East Side to meet up with you, Kyle and Shary. You'd always have a drink waiting for me at the door and, to tell you the truth, I never laughed as much as I did during those dinners. In fact, so many memories of good times and laughter include you. From the time we dressed up in silly costumes and went down to Atlantic City to the night we decided to walk around the city only following the "walk" signs, we had fun, didn't we? And make no mistake, I'll always remember summers out at the beach where we'd stay up late talking and philosophizing about life. In fact, I haven't been out to the beach since. It just wouldn't be the same without you.

I loved the fact that you always challenged yourself and sought out new life experiences. Whether it was by immersing yourself in the work of new artists, travelling to new places or working on your screenplay, you always remained in touch with the world around you. And you always made sure to include all of us. For you, a rewarding life experience didn't really happen unless your friends were around to share it with you. That's a rare character trait, my friend, and it only scratches the surface of what a truly special friend you were.

BossLady and I are doing well. Although it's been over 4 years since we got married, we just got the video and photo album a few months ago. It's taken us that long because every time we sat down to edit it, we'd see your smiling face and it would break our hearts. I can't tell you how many times we tried to work on them but ended up sobbing for hours. Although it was the happiest day of our lives, BossLady and I agree that nobody looked happier for us than you.

Speaking of family...guess what? We have a little daughter who's almost a year old. You'd love her, Andy. In a way, she reminds me a lot of you. She's always got a smile on her face. She loves people. And she's the easiest going kid I've ever seen. The two of you would have had fun together. I could just see Uncle Andy taking the Peanut out for Saturday morning pedicures and window shopping on Madison Avenue. Or maybe you'd be the one dressing her up in a mini football jersey and taking her to Jets games on Sundays. And since I'm artistically illiterate, I'm sure she would have enjoyed playing hooky from school so she could go to the MOMA with you. Like her father, the Peanut would have loved all the different sides of you.

The first year you were gone was tough, Andy. I've never been so depressed in my entire life. I felt like I was literally drowning in sorrow and swimming in waves of grief. I used to call your office every day just to hear your voice. I even left messages so you knew what was going on in all our lives. It was rough on all of us. You have no idea how many lives you touched during the course of your short lifetime. We all grieved together. But ultimately, I think that remembering your spirit was what allowed us to heal. Together, we decided that we'd stop mourning and start celebrating your life. That's why we started the charity in your name. You would have loved it. We're sponsoring some great kids and giving them opportunities in life that they never would have had. They're good kids but, like our beloved Mets, they're underdogs who need a helping hand to get to where they want to be. You'd love them., Andy. You always loved kids and these are some good ones. And we love celebrating you by being involved with them. Once again, your life brings us all together.

I miss you terribly, Andy. The past few anniversaries of your death have been tough. But this year, I'm determined to not cry, mourn or bury myself in a bottle of scotch. Maybe parenthood has made me a little more optimistic about life but I want to remember that terrible day by thinking not only about our friendship but also what a truly amazing person you were. And more than anything, I just want you to know that I'm thinking about you. I always have and I always will.

Love,
Pierre

p.s. Our Mets still suck.

p.p.s. Screw that whole last paragraph, Andy. Seems like my optimism was just a fleeting moment. I cried last night thinking about you and drowned myself in some scotch in your honor. We just got back from Ground Zero this morning. BossLady and I didn't hold it together for very long. We heard the names being read and we just lost it. I miss you, my friend. Wherever you are, save me a seat at the bar.