Don’t you just get tired hearing about your coworkers New Years resolutions? Do you actually know anyone who sticks to the promises they make to themselves with the turn of each new January calendar page? I don’t.

In my experience, New Years resolutions are just about as realistic as the diet we all plan to start…tomorrow, or the deck us dads plan to build off the back of our house…when the weather gets nice.  It’s all a load of crap and you know it, because at one time or another we’ve all said those same words, and we didn’t even believe them when they were coming out of our own mouths.

Wouldn’t it be nice if there were a couple of New Years resolutions that you could actually stick to, and that would make your life measurably better? It just so happens that I have the perfect solution. To tell you the truth, they’re not New Years resolutions at all, they’re more like life rules. In fact, these are the 3 rules that have governed my life since college, and they have served me well.

The 3 rules work, and are guaranteed to help you lose 10 pounds, get more girls, land that guy who you think doesn’t even notice you, make more money, quit your job, work from home, get your kid into private school, train the dog, and anything else your heart has ever desired.

Before I tell you the 3 rules, I must say that this is the first time these rules are being written down, committed to paper, or shared with anyone other than direct family. Some might think these rules are so valuable I should teach a class and charge for it. To those people I say Nay, we don’t need another sleazy carpetbagger salesman slinging products on a 3 am infomercial. These rules are “the goods” and I think the world is ready for them, and I think Daddy by Default is the perfect forum to enlighten the masses of self-deluded resolution makers.

And without further adieu…

Life Rule 1:  The Fish Factor

Everyone knows that eating fish is good for your body. But it can also be very bad for your body, especially if you eat the wrong kind of fish in the wrong place. This is the reason for my first rule in life, which I call the Fish Factor. The Fish Factor states:

Never eat fish when you are more than 7 miles from the ocean, sushi never further than 1 mile.

It amazes me when people tell me about the horrible experiences they had eating a piece of bad fish. Like this one guy who told me he got food poisoning during a business trip to Omaha, Nebraska. He was out with the guys and decided to eat sushi at one of those high end fusion japanese steak houses. For him, he broke several laws of nature, not just my first life rule. Everyone knows you never eat fish at a steak house – that’s just common sense. It’s like asking for lasagna in a Mexican restaurant. You just don’t do it. You also don’t eat fish in Nebraska, it doesn’t matter how close you get to whatever river they have in that state. The point is, any sushi that makes its way to Nebraska is not only not going to be grade-A fresh fish, it’s probably going to be the decayed left over stuff that falls off the back of the truck that first delivered sushi to Colorado more than a week earlier, which isn’t edible either.

Here’s a guidepost to help you live rule #1. If you’re sitting in a restaurant and you’re thinking that cedar plank salmon sounds good, but you’re not sure how far away the water is – ask the waitress how long it would take to drive to the ocean by car. If the answer is longer than five minutes, skip the fish. If you can’t look out the restaurant window and see the waves crashing on the beach – skip the sushi. No one likes getting food poisoning, and no one likes pissing out of their ass. Pay attention to the fish factor and you’re dining days will be well lived.

Life Rule 2:  Never Skip a Dump

You know that feeling you get when you gotta take a dump? Your muscles clench as your pod bay doors are getting ready to open. Problem is, you’re always in the middle of something, like writing your resignation letter, or deep frying those tasty pierogies, and you don’t want to take time out to use the restroom, so you cross your legs and hold it in for a few minutes until the timing is more convenient. Or if the pod bay doors are almost fully open, or the urge catches you by surprise (like it often can after eating Mexican food), you grab the nearest chair and sit down quick, clenching your cheeks so as not to “shart” (combination of “shit” and “fart”).

I’m not a doctor, but I can tell you putting that kind of stress on your body is not good. Men especially need to heed the advice of life rule 2, because as we get older the colon needs to be taken care of, not abused. The colon needs to be loved, and nurtured. It needs to be pampered and made to feel like king of the castle – which it is.

When you get the urge, stop what you are doing and take care of business! Your body will feel better, you will be healthier, and your family will appreciate how you don’t leave stink stains on the living room arm rests.

A slight modification of this rule, and one that I have adopted with gusto, is never skip a pee. Bad things happen when you skip a pee, and the pee-pee dance is only cute when you’re under 5 years old.

Life Rule 3:  The Hall of Fame

I want to state up front that I did not create this rule. This rule was passed-on to me by a college friend, whom had the rule passed on to him by a family member of ill repute. However bad his reputation might have been, the rule intrigues me, and is worthy of examination. The rule states:

Your life is not complete until you’ve made love to at least two out of three of the following: a stewardess, a playmate, and a nun.

Obviously this rule is very heavily weighted toward the men, but there have been tremendous strides made in the past few years that make this goal not only possible, but very likely for women to attain as well. For instance, the airlines have come a long way in gender equality, and there are just as many male stewardesses as there are women (should it just be male steward not “stewardess” then? I don’t know). Playgirl takes care of category number 2, and while those guys aren’t as well known as the girls from playboy, you probably have a decent chance of meeting one, or stalking – err – tracking one down – some day. For category 3, just substitute priest for nun – easy peasy, and if you watch reruns of The Sopranos, you’ll even get a roadmap for success.

Of the 3, this rule will be the hardest to live up to. For some, it might be easier to lose 100 pounds overnight, than to accomplish 2 out of 3 on this list. As the saying goes, 2 out of 3 ain’t bad! Consider baseball – 2 out of 3 means a batting average over 660, and for that you’d claim your spot as the best hitter the game has ever seen – Hall of Fame material for sure.

For those of us who are currently married, myself included, and for those who have only experienced bliss with one of the people on the list – things can get complicated. It’s not like you’re going to have a bunch more opportunities coming your way to make this list happen. It’s hard to land a model when you leave the house with baby spit up on your suit. It’s hard to join the mile high club when traveling with a screaming baby. It’s harder still to find a real nun these days. How many people know where the nearest convent is? I don’t. And there’s no guarantee you’ll live close to a church. In some areas, religion is not a big priority, like in Seattle – where the only church you’ll find is called Microsoft.

All I can say is this, try to negotiate a hall pass with your spouse – and if you can – be strategic with it. Make sure that person is one of the three on the list. Don’t be like most guys who, when joking about a possible hall pass, mention names like Heidi Klum, Brooklyn Decker, or Meagan Fox. Or for you girls, names like Brad Pitt or George Clooney. Those aren’t realistic gets, unless you’re extremely wealthy and have godlike features – and let’s be honest, if that were the case you’d neither need New Years resolutions, stupid life rules, or be reading this blog.

If you’re still reading (and I’m not sure why you would be) I’d like to cap this post with a short summary to cement the 3 rules in your minds and your lives:

• Mind the fish factor;
• Never skip a dump; and
• Always have your eyes on the hall of fame.

Learn them, love them, live them!

If you’ve got a rule that you live by, or an extremely interesting New Years resolution I’d love to hear it – leave a note below.

First, I will introduce you to one that I’m sure is the ring leader, Christina from Solitary Mama.  She has been known to complain about mom bloggers, go ga-ga over country bands in Wal-Mart and even leave comments on my blog referencing old people porn so the creepies find me on Google.  I’m almost certain they formed a Triad because she’s Asian, and as everyone knows, all Asian gangs are called Triads in the movies even if they have like a million members.

The other two members of the Triad are Cari from Bubblegum On My Shoe and Marjorie from Don’t Call Me Marge.  I have only recently gotten to know these two, and they have not crossed me yet.  Although, now that they are aligned themselves with Solitary Mama, I’m sure they will be up to no good.  Ladies and gentlemen, you have now been formerly introduced to The Bitchery Triad.  Now, let me introduce you to The Wolf Pack!

Our alpha dog is Sev Winters, author, internet blowhard and human Chia Pet.  He took up the challenge that these ladies threw down and wrote a fantastic post about why he’s smokin’ hotter than hot.  It mostly has to do with his freakish ability to grow hair on every square inch of his body except his head (and there are also man boobs involved).  His wing men are myself and Richard from The Butterbottom Blog (you remember him, right? Hotness post forthcoming.).  We have heeded the call of the wild to combat this trio of self-proclaimed hotness.

And now, the 5 reasons I’m smokin’ hotter than hot and you can’t have any (unless you ask real nice):

I’m a dad.

BOOM. That just happened.  There’s nothing like a man that steps up to take care of his family.  With so much talk about dead-beat dads, I go against the trend.  I set my own definition of dad, and I do it without shame.  Yes, I wrestle with my kid, let her play in the dirt and push her too high on the swings, but I also do laundry and dishes.  What now?

I’m too hot for a job.

I walked away from a career to be a stay-at-home dad for my little girl.  That’s right – walked away.  Economy?  Pssssh.  I don’t need to earn money.  I let my wife do that!  That’s hot. “How hot?” you ask.  So hot that we have our own convention.  BAM!

People want me for my money. 

Thant’s right.  Dad’s are the hot target market in advertising right now.  Don’t believe me?  Check these out.

Companies shower me with gifts.

Since one of the Triad members wants to brag about her Movember accomplishments, I will too.  I was part of a group of dads and dad bloggers that raised over $34,000 for this great cause.  Part of that $34,000 was a $15,000 match from Philips-Norelco.  They also sent a bunch of us a free razor and beard trimmer that are worth a couple of hundred bucks – just to watch us shave with it!  Maybe if someone had that kind of hookup, she wouldn’t have had to wait two months to shave her pits.  And see, you can have some of me if you ask real nice – preferably in the form of cash or gadgets.

Wait, did I say five reasons?  Oh right.

I Can Pee Accurately From A Standing Position


Nuff said.

Please be sure to check out the other members of The Wolf Pack (Winters and Butterbottom… sounds like a bad law firm commercial, doesn’t it?) and all you have to do to join The Wolf Pack is pick up this title and give us five reasons you are smokin’ hotter than hot and do it better than those three ladies of The Bitchery Triad.  I’m out.

I started keeping a flashlight on the night stand next to my bed when I worked in retail.  Why?  So I could wake up when it was dark outside and see around my room without turning on the lights to wake my wife.  Call me courteous.  I would place it on my dresser by the door on my way out of our bedroom so that I could grab it on my way back in late at night, usually after dark when my wife was asleep.  Now that I am no longer working in retail, it stays on the night stand in case of power outages.

My daughter frequently jumps into bed with us when she wakes up in the morning but mommy and daddy aren’t ready to get up with her yet.  She likes to pretend she’s a Mexican wrestler and jump on mommy’s head.  She likes to climb on daddy and see how close she can get to falling off of the bed too.  As she was trying to defy death by jumping straight off of the bed, she discovered the flashlight on the night stand. “What tis dat?” she asked.  And her fascination began.

It wasn’t long before she began asking for the flashlight every time she was in our room.  One morning, mommy decided to play shadow puppets with Munchkin.  Once she noticed the shadows on the ceiling, my wife made the dog shadow puppet, you know, like this:

Mrs. Matt Daddy asked, “What is that?”
Munchkin said, “Dinosaur!” with much excitement.

Okay, I suppose that could be a dinosaur.  I mean, we don’t have a dog, and that shadow doesn’t really look much like grandma’s dog.  So, yeah, I can see it as a dinosaur.  Mommy and I shrug it off.  I ask mommy for the flashlight, “Let me try,” I said.  So, I grabbed the flashlight, and did the only other shadow puppet I know…