Tag Archives: LAZY RULES

I’m trying this New Thing at home where I give the boy “chores” and then I pay him an allowance. Since I’m kinda sort of a control freak I don’t really know what kinds of chores I’m supposed to give to a seven-year-old, I made up a few cockamamy chores for the boy, like cleaning up his playroom and brushing his teeth.

The boy said, “How about one of my chores is to say, Where are my goddamned shoes!?!” And I said, I don’t think you know what the word chores means. And the boy said, “Actually, dad, I think you don’t know what the word chores means!” And I said, Yeah, you’re probably right.

Then I gave the boy a dollar for picking up his own shizz. And then I rearranged his toys again cuz the kid doesn’t know how to properly put away his shizz, sheesh.


Hi again! lol How does one go about getting followers, lol. I do not personally know anyone with a tumblr. I know that you have lots of followers cause you are funny and all that, but how!

Oh hey guurrl! You pose an interesting question, although unfortunately, I don’t really have a good or simple answer. TBH, I continue to be flummoxed by the fact that any peeps who aren’t related to me or don’t know me IRL follow my blog. I suspect it’s a bit like watching someone having a nervous breakdown in slow motion, which is totes tragic and horrifying, but you just can’t look away, know what I’m sayin’?

The short answer to your question is, I dunno. The longer answer is way long, so I’ll tuck it under the jump…[[MORE]]

I’ve been told that there are a few tricks to increase the visibility of your Tumblr blog, if that’s what you’re looking to do, although they’re not guaranteed to increase your follower count.

Like, you can use popular tags and stuff to get attention cuz apparently peeps search through Tumblr tags. Some peeps will do things like connect their Twitter and Book of Faces accounts to Tumblr to extend their reach, but that’s kinda sorta lame, IMHO. No offense if you do this. Others will create fan pages on the Book of Faces for their Tumblrs, which is also kinda sorta lame, but I plead guilty to this trick. So sue me, sheesh! It’s not like I’m gonna get my parents to sign up for Tumblr!

I actually don’t like to use searchable tags on my posts cuz the tags I’ve used in the past seemed to attract a lot of loons. No offense to the loons who have accidentally followed Lazy Dad’s Guide based on tags. Normally I just use tags to create an internal taxonomy so that I can find shizz on my own blog. I hate absolutely can’t stand the “mumblr” and “parenting” tags, for example. No offense if you use these tags. They’re just not for me.

The better question to ask yourself is why you want followers. I think (some) Tumblr peeps get overly (and unnecessarily) obsessed with their follower counts. Between us Squirrel Friends, I can tell you that the number itself isn’t really all that important—or it shouldn’t be. Blogging isn’t a popularity contest—or it shouldn’t be. I lose and gain a dozen followers every single day. I think most of my followers are robots anyway, so whatevs.

I’m much more interested in the followers with whom I have developed genuine friendships and affection for, which takes time. But I’ll tell you what, I doubt I would’ve had the chance to meet some of these incredible peeps IRL, if not for Tumblr. Like, I get to check in on the adventures of some pretty awesome Aussie and Kiwi peeps (you know who you are, yo), and cool peeps in Europe and Asia and all over the States and Canada, too, eh.

Hopefully you’re writing a blog because you have something to say, and you would be writing and creating whether you had an audience of one or 1,000. If your work is true and good and authentic, peeps will follow. There are lots of hackneyed blogs out there, created by peeps who are just looking for attention and/or fame. No offense to attention-seeking famewhores. The attention is fleeting and being famous because of your blog is like being High School Prom Queen. It might be meaningful to a 17-year-old, but it’s kinda sorta lame when you’re a grownup. No offense to Prom Queens. Yer hurr did looks nice today.

I guess what I’m saying is that you should build your audience based on what interests you, not the other way around. In my nearly dozen years of blogging, I’ve realized that whenever I tried to write or create shizz to suit the tastes of others, I ended up hating myself and hating my blog. I’ve since realized that if something makes me laugh, it’ll probably make someone else laugh, too, even some peeps who aren’t related to me or don’t know me IRL. (Although, full disclosure, my blog is, like 300 percent funnier if you knew me IRL cuz I’m pretty much the opposite IRL of what I am like on my blog).

I dunno, that was probably way more of an answer than you were looking for, sorry. The management of Lazy Dad’s Guide to Everything regrets any inconvenience reading this TL;DR post may have caused.

BTW, I like your blog! You take purty pics! Peeps should follow you!

Lazy Dad, I am relatively new to your blog; jus a few weeks, and I just wanted to say that not only are you a great blogger and an inspiring father figure but also, you’re really funny too! Keep it up. Quick question – I am about to become a father for the first time, my girlfriend is due in May, and I wondered if you had 5 top tips for new parents? much love. Mick.x

Hey guurrl! Sorry it took me so long to respond. I’ve been traveling and stuff for werk, and apparently I was supposed to be werking instead of wasting time hanging out on Tumblr.

Thanks for your nice note, but more importantly, congrats to you and your girlfriend on your impending arrival! I dunno if I’m the best person to provide tips for new parents cuz I pretty much spent the first three years of my son’s life in a sleep-deprived-induced mania. So take whatever I say with a giant grain of salt.[[MORE]][[MORE]]

Five Lazy Tips for New Parents:

  1. Document. Like, everything. Cuz you will invariably forget the details. When my son was born, I picked up my camera again after a nearly 10-year photo hiatus. Now there’s proof that my kid was actually a teeny-tiny baby once.
  2. Sleep. Like, whenever you can. Like, under your desk at work if you have to. Cuz your personal sleep schedule will be whacked for, like, a really, really long time until your baby gets his or her shizz together. Which takes a while. 
  3. Talk. To your partner and family and friends and stuff. Cuz peeps ain’t psychic (unless, of course, they are), so they don’t know what you need or if you need help. And generally speaking, peeps wanna help, especially at the beginning. Accept peeps’ help.
  4. Eat. Parenting is hungry business. Don’t forget to eat and stuff. The extra pounds you gain will be totes worth it. Plus, the baby weight will melt away once the kiddo starts to walk and stuff.
  5. Enjoy. Babyhood and childhood don’t last long, like, for realz. Savor each and every moment, even the hard ones.

A few bonus tips: I’m an attachment parenting kinda guy, so I rocked my son to sleep every night (if I wasn’t out of town on business). I was also committed to baby-wearing, so I wore my son in a baby carrier until he was nearly three-years-old. At first I bought my son super-adorbz, super-expensive clothes, then I quickly realized that a $5 t-shirt from Target was just a good as a $30 designer t-shirt, which your kid will wear, like, three or four times before outgrowing it. Lastly, listen to your kid. Like, really listen to him or her. Cuz (most) kids are hilarious and (most) kids are natural-born geniuses, and it’s our jobs as their dads to make sure our kids remain funny and smart. Cuz there already are enough lame morons in the world.

Thanks for your question!

Do you follow your followers

Hey guurrl! I totes follow, like 738 Tumblrers, which is apparently quite amateurish to some peeps, but I dunno how to keep track of many more Tumblrers than that because I’m tired and busy with work and stuff. I do have a few modest rules about who I follow, tho. But I want to follow you! Assuming that:

  • You’re not an asshole.
  • You don’t just reblog shizz.
  • You’re a little bit artsy and/or funny and/or smart and stuff.


Hey, do you like One Direction? Because I’ve heard they’re really popular with the kids and stuff. Actually, are you my One Direction-loving niece and you’re just trolling me? If so, tell your mom that I’m gonna call her.

Yesterday evening, I had a quik-e conversation with the boy nanny’s about the failed playdate situation over the weekend, and I told her that while I felt bad about reneging on the playdate, I felt worse about having to navigate around the boy’s social calendar and needing to arrange playdates for the boy with kids who I don’t think are a good influence on my son.

The boy’s nanny told me that a) I was over-thinking the situation and b) I need to let it go because there are some parents at the boy’s school who don’t accept my “lifestyle” and don’t want their kids to have playdates with the boy simply because he has two dads, so I should keep an open mind, too. The boy’s nanny is correct.

OK, let me back up for a second: generally speaking, the Busy-Lazy boys live in a pretty diverse and accepting community. I feel fortunate that (most) peeps who live here are, in fact, well-educated and open-minded enough to recognize that a kid who has two parents of the same gender isn’t a big deal. But since our town is adjacent to Uppityville, there is some inevitable spill-over of judgmental, conservative douchebags who are obsessed with how other peeps live their lives. They believe that God has entrusted them with teaching sinners how to walk the righteous path, and anyone who deviates from the path that they’ve identified as the right one should be ostracized and/or ridiculed.

Nevermind that these judgmental, conservative douchebags are likely alcoholics who ignore and/or beat their children as well as abuse and cheat on their spouses, the mere fact that they are God-fearing peeps means they get a pass.

I dunno why these judgmental, conservative douchebags choose to live here because our town is crawling with the gays. And people of color. And pagans and atheists and such. I can only imagine how difficult it must be for these judgmental, conservative douchebags to walk through the local Trader Joe’s and have to witness the abomination of two dads or two moms shopping for groceries with our children.

Despite the benefits of living in the suburbs versus living in the city (and there are many benefits), one of the major drawbacks is that there are pockets in the suburbs that can feel like living a time warp. Cities and city dwellers tend to live in the present, while (some) suburbanites can sometimes be stuck in the 1950s.

So the boy’s nanny was telling me about one of the boy’s classmates’ mother who has been extremely vocal about her displeasure with the “lifestyle” that my son is exposed to, and thus this judgey highfalutin mom doesn’t allow her kid to have playdates at our house. Granted, I probably wouldn’t want her kid to come to our house anyway, lest he be exposed to our gay cooties and turn out to be fabulous, but that’s besides the point.

Here’s the plot twist: lately, judgey highfalutin mom has been asking the boy’s nanny if the boy can go over to the judgey highfalutin house for playdates. The boy’s nanny’s response to judgey highfalutin mom is simply, “No.” When judgey highfalutin mom asks why, the boy’s nanny says, “No is no.” And when judgey highfalutin mom presses the issue, the boy’s nanny says, “Because my God doesn’t judge anyone.” Which apparently immediately shuts up judgey highfalutin mom’s facehole.

It’s ironic that the boy’s devoutly Roman Catholic nanny has been pushed into the position of having to defend our “lifestyle.” She told me that each family she has cared for has become part of her own family, and we teach each other things about love and acceptance because that’s what families do. The boy’s nanny is pretty cool.

Since I live in the present (and not in the 1950s), I continue to be confounded by peeps who think that there is such a dramatic difference in the “lifestyles” of LGBT parents and non-LGBT parents. Truth is, I suspect we’re probably more alike than not. Except I probably wouldn’t be caught dead with the bad perm and awful shoes that judgey highfalutin mom wears on the daily. But who am I to judge, amirite?

I had a minor epiphany while we were out running errands this afternoon. I realized that one of the major, unexpected benefits of having a nanny to care for the boy is that she deftly manages his weekday social calendar. We’ve basically given her carte blanche on deciding what the boy’s after-school activities are and with whom he has playdates.

As a Strong Black Haitian Woman, the boy’s nanny has no problem (graciously) declining playdate invitations from other nannies or parents. She runs a tight ship, and the Busy-Lazy boys pretty much depend on her to keep things in line.

The weekends, on the other hand, are dicier, at least for me. Like, if I am confronted by another parent with a request for a playdate, my default response is, Yes, of course. Even if I absolutely, positively cannot stand the kid for whom the playdate request is being made. Despite my generally ornery disposition, my years of Boy Scout training coupled with my natural inclination to be polite often prevents me from simply saying, No. Like, to anything. For me, the answer is almost always, Yes. To my detriment.

Let me digress for a moment: generally speaking, I like (most) of the boy’s playmates and I’m happy that he has made the good friends that he has. But there are a few bad apples in the bunch, and try as I might to keep a distance from them, occasionally I will be caught unawares and accept an invitation for a weekend playdate with a kiddie asshole.

Let me digress some more: while I believe that (most) children are innately born to be kind and fun, there are some kids who are natural-born assholes. I’m not talking about the usual kids-will-be-kids jerkiness (even though I don’t believe this is a legit excuse), I’m talking about the kind of horrible behavior that suggests socio-pathology. Like, some kids are born to be serial killers or white collar criminals. True story.

The other day I was minding my own beeswax when I was asked by the parent of a kid who I Cannot Stand for a playdate today. I reflexively said yes, and then I immediately regretted it.

So I have been dilly-dallying all daylong, trying to avoid getting the boy together with the asshole kid for a playdate. Saturdays are really the only free, uninterrupted day that I can spend with my family, and the last thing I want to do is rush home while we’re out and about to take the boy to a playdate that neither he nor I really want to happen.

We ended up being two hours late for the playdate, and by then the kid in question wasn’t home anymore. While this should be a win, I feel terrible, not because we dodged a bullet, but because I continually put myself in situations where I feel obligated to do things that I simply don’t want to do.

I’m sure the asshole kid’s parents think I’m being an asshole, but I don’t think it’s my place to tell them that I don’t want my kid to play with their kid, like, ever, because their kid is simply a horrible, unrepentant, impossible-to-deal-with asshole. I don’t think it’s my responsibility to point out the severe character flaw in their child, is it?

Today’s Very Important Realization: I need to practice saying no more often. Or at least turn over the boy’s weekend social calendar to his nanny. Sheesh.

A Letter to My (Probably) Straight Son

Dear the boy,

I’ve been told that today is National Coming Out Day, so I thought I’d write you a letter to let you know that I am so proud of you and that I will always love and support you, whatever you decide to do or be when you grow up.

I know it’s likely too soon to open this can of worms and you’re probably not yet ready to talk about it, but your daddy and I have long suspected that you are (probably) straight, and I wanted to let you know that we’re OK with that. In fact, we’re more than OK with that. We will always love you unconditionally, whether you are straight or gay or bisexual or transgender or apricot.

As you get older, some people might tell you that being straight is a lifestyle choice, that you can choose who you are attracted to and who you love. IMHO, being straight is as much a lifestyle choice as “choosing” to be innately creative or naturally open-minded. I’m pretty sure that we are born the way that we are born, and being straight doesn’t automatically mean you will lose your spirit of compassion and curiosity, despite what some people might believe.

Some people might even go as far as saying that being straight will limit your career opportunities or cause others to immediately assume that you have bad taste. Ignore these naysayers. Straight people can do most things that LGBT people do, including being police officers, designers, stylists, and writers. Maybe it will take a little more time to hone your good taste, but nowadays there are entire industries created to help straight people find their good taste.

Even if being straight was a choice, who really cares? There are plenty of kind, successful, well-adjusted straight people, and many of them are quite nice! Truth is, most straight people are completely ordinary and don’t go around flaunting their straightness or shoving their straightness down everybody’s throats. Those who flaunt and shove usually have something to hide. You might be surprised at who identifies as straight nowadays.

As you go through life, you’ll discover that some of your friends will come out as straight, too, and that’s cool with us. Many of my best friends are straight, and I’ve never held it against them. What people choose to do in the privacy of their own homes is none of my beeswax, so who am I to judge?

One day when you fall in love, the girl who wins your affections will be the luckiest girl in the world because she found a boy as sweet and funny and smart as you. It’s possible that you will fall in love with another boy, and he, too, would be incredibly lucky to have you. Either way, I hope you will use your grandmother’s wedding ring when you propose to her (or him).

The world today is a very different place than it was when I was your age, and it will only get better because there are incredible people like you—straight or gay—in the world.

You’re the best son a dad and a daddy could ever dream of calling our own, and we are so lucky to be your fathers. You make us proud every single day, just because you are you.

Love, your lazy dad

Trigger Warning: Peeps on Facebook Who Do Stupid Things

An Open Letter to My “Friends” on Facebook:

OK, here’s the thing: I’m pretty much a live and let live kinda guy, but if there’s one thing that drives me to apoplexy, it’s when you think you have just one good pic of yourself, but it’s with someone else, and so you crop that other person out of the pic and use the cropped pic as your Facebook pic.

I mean, seriously, call me and I will take a new pic of you—by yourself—so that your Facebook pic doesn’t have the corner of someone else’s head and/or eye peeking out of the corner of your Facebook pic. Obvs if you can properly crop or PhotoShop the pic so that it doesn’t look like you have another head growing out of your head, then I say, Werk it out.

However, I find it impossible difficult to believe that there is only one good pic of you, sheesh. What about that cute pic of you from that work thing we were at? Or that pic of you from that time when you came back from Puerto Rico with a nice tan? You are an attractive, intelligent, photogenic person (otherwise why are we friends on Facebook?), so there must be a solo pic that you could use, instead of using that pic where your BFF and/or your ex’s head is (badly) cropped out, amirite?

I didn’t want to incriminate any of youse, so I enlisted a pair of the boy’s plushies to illustrate my point, but you know what I’m sayin’, yo. Don’t be like that one-outfit-wearing hot mess.

Love, lazy dad.

P.S.  Thanks, but I’m gonna have to pass on your invitation to play Candy Crush-slash-Farmville-slash-Bubble Safari, etc. Because, you know, I have a life and stuff. Plus, I kinda sorta don’t really like you all that much anyway. I’ll totes understand if you want need to unfriend me now. No harm, no foul. But at least change your stinkin’, weirdly cropped Facebook pic, sheesh!!!

I guess the reason why the TSA agent was all up in my grill and frisking my hair this morning at the airport was because apparently ma hurr did in my passport pic looks nothing like the current state of ma hurr did in real life. I tried to explain to him that sometimes this thing in nature happens where your hair grows and stuff, but it turns out that it’s an Asian thing, and only my doppelgänger Kim Jung-un and I can serve Executive Hurr Did Realness while going through airport security.

I wanted to tell the TSA agent that the first rule of Ma Hurr Did Club is, You Don’t Touch Ma Hurr Did, bro; and the second rule of Ma Hurr Did Club is, You Don’t Touch Ma Hurr Did, bro! But I had a flight to catch and I didn’t want to make a scene or whatevs.

Maybe today was a bad day to start werking my new toupée?

Lazy Dad’s Guide to Lazy Dad’s Guide to Everything, Who the Heck Is Everypony?


There are a bunch of random characters who show up on Lazy Dad’s Guide, but the characters who make the most frequent appearances on my blog are our dear friends, the Designing-Business family. Because there was some confusion about who’s who, here’s a more detailed breakdown of our Little Lazy-Busy-Designing-Business Empire of bald, bespectacled daddies and our kids and stuff:


Busy daddy and I have been friends with designing daddy and business papa for more than six years. We first met when the Busy-Lazy boys and the Designing-Business family were on the same overseas trip to pick up our sons (the boy and Eddie K, respectively) when they were adopted.

When we first got the boy, designing daddy and business papa took us under their wings, and helped us navigate through all of the first-time dad stuff. They are exceedingly kind, super-generous, and amazingly fun. Plus, they know how to pour a nice cocktail or two.


Here is a pic of the entire Designing-Business family, clockwise from left: Miss Lily, business papa, designing daddy, and Eddie K.


Here is a pic of designing daddy. He doesn’t really like to wear much clothing.


Here is a pic of business papa. He, too, prefers to go au naturel whenever possible.


Here is a pic of Miss Lily. She is fierce, with or without pants.


Here is a pic of Eddie K. He doesn’t understand what the big deal is with clothes.


Here is a pic of a topless Tom Hardy that I found while trolling the Tom Hardy tag on Tumblr.


Now on to the Busy-Lazy boys. One thing you should know about us: our household is populated entirely by males. It’s basically a 24/7 sausage fest at the Busy-Lazy Shack. We’re hoping our second kid is a girl to help balance out the insane amounts of boy mojo that we live with every single day.

We currently have three pets, all males, natch: busy bunny (a short-hair dwarf rabbit, not pictured), regular lazy pup (an American Eskimo dog, pictured above left), and mini lazy pup (a Pomeranian, pictured above right). 


Here is a pic of the boy at his cousin’s bar mitzvah party. Custom-made bowtie courtesy of The House of LaTanya.


Here is a pic of the baby girl who was our daughter for five days, until her birthparents changed their minds.


Here is a pic of busy daddy. He’s usually pretty busy and stuff.


Here is a pic of me with the boy. The boy and I usually take a mustache pic every Wednesday.

OK, so to recap the differences between the Designing-Business family and the Busy-Lazy Boys:

  • The Designing-Business family doesn’t especially like to wear clothing.
  • The Busy-Lazy boys are (currently) an all-male family.
  • We all live in the same town, but the Designing-Business family lives in the fancy-schmancy part of town, while the Busy-Lazy boys do not.
  • All of the adults are bald, except for me cuz of the glamour and stuff.

If all else fails, here’s a really simple trick to help remember who’s who: designing daddy and business papa are wealthy, eccentric nudists, while busy daddy and I are reformed smart-aleck-punks-turned-never-nude dads. It’s actually pretty easy to remember it that way.