Daily Denver


For Men Only – Relationships

I do a lot of laundry and the one thing my wife gets mad at me for continuously is for putting stuff away in the wrong place. I get it. It is really annoying when you go to make a sandwich and the mustard isn’t where it is supposed to be because someone put it in the cabinet. When you are in a rush you just expect things to be in a certain spot.

But who else here has a problem with trying to sort women’s clothes? I got shirts, blouses, dresses, sweaters, tank tops, t shirts, t shirts just for home, sleepwear, button ups, and that’s only half of them. Why do women have so many different shirts? I wonder why they want to be able to blend in so easily…

It is obviously a conspiracy. I told you before that the “outfit of the month” is really code for what uniform women will universally wear that week. I also think there is some type of secret countdown going on. You ever notice they buy clothes for “in case stuff happens!”

“Well my sister might get married! I need this dress!”

“You don’t have a sister…”

“Well then I’ll wear it at your funeral.”

-Opinionated Man





I’ve come to the conclusion in life that some people will simply be offended. Period. It doesn’t matter what language you use or what you talk about, they will be offended by something.

Case in point, when I was a young man in college I worked as an expo on a food line. It was actually one of two Applebee’s restaurants I helped open and it had several managers. One manager didn’t like me and one night she made fun of the way I use my hands when talking. She was all “what is all this motioning you are doing.” What I didn’t tell her was that I wasn’t motioning my hands with my words, but rather was fighting off her evil spirit I felt trying to devour my soul. I don’t know if my hands will do any good in such a fight… but I’d rather that evil spirit eat them and not my soul right? I’ve seen people live amazing lives without hands, but the soulless look pretty bored. I’d hate to be bored…

It is funny, like that last post, I tried so hard not to use the word “bitch.” You use that word and people get really uptight. A normal Sunday conversation changes suddenly, because the word has a harsh sound to it and people that sit there constantly saying it look ignorant. Next to the ignorant fella wearing the patriots jersey and the Romo fan next to him.

I’m 36 now. That sounds old to me. I use adult language and part of my language includes some curse words. Do you call profane language that? Curse words? Down south that is what we grew up knowing those words as and I learned what I couldn’t say in public, and what I needed to use in private while I was a child. Now that I’m an adult and I work in the IT world my tongue is definitely a bit more harsh. But you try working in the tech field and not end up some days frustrated to the point where you are throwing fucks and shits left and right.

As a blogger I write the way I talk. I hear myself in my words and in my sentences. I don’t reread a stranger even if I wonder “when the fuck did I write this horse shit…” Still I know it is my hand because I recognize my voice. The repetitive nature in my writing that makes the writing mine. That’s the only ownership any author will ever have over words. Owning them for that thought, that sentence, for that paragraph.

I don’t ever try to change my style, only to sometimes spellcheck a little harder. I’m not worried about commas… I’m sure that last one was misplaced. There is a need for people to relay their immediate thought. That’s what blogging is for me and gives me that ability to sit here on this couch for a brief minute before I make breakfast for my children. In that second I’ve had many thoughts. I have no idea how we ended up here.



I was attacked

Viciously. And I have the boo boo to prove it.

Now some opinionated people might tell me to “suck it up butter cup” and move on. The problem is that my attacker is still here and lurking in my room. You just saw his cousin in the previous photo.

Here is the bastard below.

I just can’t keep walking by and not say something to this guy. I mean he is so smug and almost mocking me… and my knee hurts like hell!!!

I’m not going to lie to you all and say I didn’t wack it a few times with my sword… I did with some choice words. Choice I tell you.