As I creep ever closer, or glide right past whatever middle age is (always a rather presumptuous term, really) I find that my preconceived notions are wrong.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Allow me to explain: for whatever reason when I was a kid, probably based on observations somewhere, I assumed that when I hit a certain age I would somehow instantly start listening to classic rock (or much more unlikely, country music) forever. I mean that my taste in music would just get switched over to classic rock permanently, and without my input. This has not happened yet. I mean, I enjoy that stuff just fine, sure. (although I do have a problem with noticeably racist asshole or otherwise socially problematic artists that younger me was either ignorant of or oblivious to. Think Ted Nugent, etc.) <\/p>\n\n\n\n
So really, that’s a positive thing. There’s just so much good music out there, I always wondered why people didn’t listen to a broad range of stuff. Life is just too short to stop growing and discovering there. Overall this preconception is one that I am happy is wrong. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I also assumed I would start wearing my shirts wide open to show off my copious chest hair, framing several gold chains. In hindsight it’s entirely possible that many of these notions were formed while watching Three’s Company as a child. This one I have also not started to do. Mostly due to my lack of chest hair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
However, there is one that I just didn’t see coming. I mean this honestly, I absolutely had no idea this was in me. It’s like I grew another head slowly over time and noticed it in the mirror one day. It’s not something that younger me would be necessarily embarrassed about, but I sure wouldn’t be proud. So, I will share it with you here since I am trying to write authentic and real words here as part of my new resolution<\/a> (of sorts).<\/p>\n\n\n\n Realize this is very personal, and difficult to talk about. I have been wheezing, crying, trying to read something that is by many standards just so so bad. I realize this, by the way. I know deep inside that this stuff is comedy junk food. It’s hacky, tired, refried jokes that have been around in many forms for decades in some cases. But try as I might to reason with me, it’s just too compelling. I LOVE THIS CRAP.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Anyway, that was cathartic. Now that it’s out there, I can promote my newest favourite Twitter account: @DadsPuns<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n
It’s my biological imperative to find the groan-iest of “Dad puns” absolutely hysterical. I mean, really funny. I think that stuff is amazing. It’s my jam<\/strong>. <\/p>\n\n\n\n