April (Not the Giraffe) is Going to Rock!

No I wasn’t sucking up because I’m in the doghouse with Miss Madison, hell I didn’t even buy them!

This is going to be a retirement post.  I’m cashing in while I can.  I recently got offered $20,000 euros for a site that I have less than $1,000 pesos invested in monetarily.  Timewise the investment is much more, and paper routes pay better hourly wages.  Since I don’t have to worry about being a blogger anymore what am I going to do with my free time you are probably wondering?  I’m going to veterinary school starting tomorrow and my sole focus will be as a giraffe ob/gyn.

I am going to achieve #lifegoals by learning to look into the mythical phenomena known as baby giraffe births.  I feel that after this whole April the Giraffe pregnancy debacle it’s obvious nobody has a clue on how to monitor giraffe pregnancies.  Imagine being an expectant mother and told your due date was many weeks ago and you still haven’t birthed your offspring.  I have a feeling April is probably livid right now, the whole world is watching, she was told at the end of February that birth was imminent, and here we are to April (no pun intended) and she’s probably more miserable than a vegan dining at Ponderosa on steak buffet night.  So, goodbye blogging world, hello giraffe vaginas!  Never mind, I’m going to stick to blogging, I just Googled “giraffe birthing.”  What is the mortality rate of baby giraffes?  Good lord, the term “Plunk” has never been more fitting!

Personally, I think April made the whole thing up to get back at her ex long-necker.  Some poor boy giraffe is dreading support payments and co-parenting because of a wild night in the Serengeti drinking African fire water and grazing on cannabis laden mimosa trees.  April drop that damn kid already or I’m calling your bluff.  For the love of god, my Facebook feed begs of you to put up or shut up!

Since my retirement lasted for about 300 words, it’s time to move on.  Speaking of April (the month), it is going to be a glorious time in the Skipahsphere.  While most of the world celebrates Spring Break in March, not the commonwealth of Kentucky.  While my daughter was court ordered to attend school in Kentucky a long time ago, I still get to live under Hoosier rules when it comes to the holiday schedule.  Hello, odd numbered years, and dad’s week for Spring Break!  Sloane will be with me all week.  Hopefully, it will continue to be more fun than the law allows.  That would be Criminal Law, Family Law frowns on kids having fun with the “other” parent.

Even better about April 2017, Easter weekend is dad’s year also!  Since nobody without a theology degree has a decent explanation of why Christ was resurrected on a different day every year, he chose April 16^th this year.  So, for those of you scoring at home:  This past weekend was the start of Spring Break dad time, next weekend the end of Spring Break still on dad time, the following weekend is Easter and more dad time, then throw in my “regular” weekend for good measure.  Four weekends in a row if your math skills are little rusty or this paragraph makes no sense.  I’m pretty pumped about, Sloane is ecstatic since it means more Miss Madison time for her.  When your daughter tells you in private that your future wife makes her feel special, you just count your blessings, and keep rubbing your lucky talisman that she replied to an email back when you were in the online dating muck.  I am retired from that world, and trust me there will be no “comeback” on that front!

The annual daddy/daughter weekend was rather ho-hum for us.  Friday night Sloane and Miss Madison Jr. were special guests at the middle school dance Miss Madison was chaperoning.  She needed some extra help to ensure that all the kids knew to make sure “Jesus could fit in between them,” and trust me pizza faced 12 year old, you don’t want an ass ripping from either of those two.  Throw in some free labor that broke 100 different child employment laws and all in all everyone had a great time!  Everyone was in such a festive mood they even talked old dad into a round of Just Dance when they got home.  I possibly blew out my knee and became the butt of six hundred jokes, but I’m not complaining.  Bruised egos heal over time, and memories definitely help the healing process.

These two are thicker than thieves anymore!  Not pictured me tripping over myself in a ruckus round of Just Dance!

Saturday Miss Madison was off for some much needed “adult” time Saturday night checking to see if the rumor was correct that Louisville, KY is kind of a cool place.  That left Sloane and me to fend for ourselves since the rest of the Madisonians were off with their sperm donor in chief.  She and I had been nominated to play bouncers for a local concert at the historic Ohio Theater in downtown Madison, Indiana.  Our job was to check wristbands to make sure no vigilantes were trying to bum rush some of the finest in local folk music in their backstage Hilton.  She ate her weight in popcorn, and I didn’t have to perform any John Cena like moves on any misbehaving patrons.  Don’t think I didn’t watch YouTube videos all day learning how to perform a piledriver!  Giraffe yoo hoos and WWE references in one blog post.  My mom should definitely be so proud.

Quaint little lunch before we sent Miss Madison off to Stevie Rays Blues Bar for some girls night out fun.

U2 if you are looking for some hardcore security this summer, Sloane and Skipah work for popcorn and free tickets!  

The underlying theme for Sloane and I all weekend was her desire for a Skipah’s Realm T-shirt.  Me, not ever wanting to disappoint her thought, what the hell, let’s make some T-shirts.  With apologies to Versace and Armani, I’m now in the retail clothing business thanks to the good folks at TeeSpring.  They are currently selling quicker than the loser of a special Olympics snail competition, but no worries because in a week or two my little girl will have her own T-shirt and hopefully a few of you will as well.

Before I get accused of being a profit whore, I’ll politely remind you that a portion of the proceeds will automatically be donated to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention.  In case you didn’t know, Mr. Skipah way back when tried his best to be a suicide statistic, so it would only be hypocritical of me not to help where I can.  I’ve woken up literally not having a clue what had occurred the previous 48 hours of my life before.  It’s a frightening experience, and anything I can do to prevent it for others, I’m doing it!

A great conversation starter, or in certain parts of the country a good way to get shot at!

As of now, the great business- minded Skipah only has T-shirts and other apparel with my silly logo and #SkipahsRealm.  I and a few others though are coming up with some creative hashtags for future clothing if anybody actually buys one of these things.

About it for now, going to be a lot of Sloane time this month and I can’t wait to recap it for you!  We’ve got weekend road trips planned, T-shirts to sell, and more memories to be made!