I hate to admit this publicly, but as a milquetoasted stay-at-home dad, the highlight of most of my weekends has now become an afternoon nap—not exactly a rocking beer soaked, Hold Steady lifestyle. I spend a large part of my day stuck in a giant pile of gobbledygook. Raising my four-year-old son is at times the most rewarding thing I've ever done and also the lamest thing I've ever done. While many of my fellow Twin Citians hang out in ultra sheik spots like the W Hotel and Hell's Kitchen, I tend to inhabit the other side of Minneapolis, the one nobody wants to talk about. On a daily basis, you can find my son Murphy and me at the indoor play area in McDonald's, meandering through Super Target, eating dinner at 4 p.m. in the IKEA food court or dropping cannonballs all over the Edina public pool.

Parenting can be an exhaustive cycle of mind-numbing domesticity. After taking care of Murphy all week, I usually look like Nick Nolte's mug shot. In an ongoing attempt to spice up my domesticated life, I occasionally venture out into the hip Twin Cities landscape. But the social scene in Twincy has become a minefield for me. I'm a little bit swarthy, a whole lot broke and a legendary nimrod. Every once and awhile I go out on man-dates with a group of scallywags, and those nights almost always end with Jucy Lucys or someone pulling a groin. I often drag my beautiful wife out with me as we try to reconnect through our weekly work and family whirlwind. After seven years of matrimony, Sarah's honey-red hair and rosy Irish cheeks still have me whipped. So naturally there's nothing I wouldn't do to make her happy. And that includes participating in things like "Zumba" Jazzercise classes at the Southdale YMCA and shopping at Costco on a Saturday. Dates just aren't what they used to be. 

When I'm not taking care of my son, I work a grinding job as a laborer at a Twin Cities garden center to bring in a little extra cash. The blue-collar world is a place where it's completely acceptable to announce one's forthcoming bowel movements. In fact, it's applauded. I've worked in the labor world for nearly my entire life and it is an endless source of great writing material. Down in the trenches of the working world, the necks are thick and teeth are optional. Needless to say, I fit right in.

Now I need to wrap up this whole intro blog post. A new episode of "Chelsea Lately" is about to come on. That just might be the lamest thing you've ever read. But hey, I am a Spazz Dad. What'd you expect?