Stupid Wankers Productions | Greg Vance

Ye of little intelligence.

April 8th, 2013

It has been brought to my attention that people are worried that my last blog could be grounds for someone to claim slander. First, calm thy selves. Secondly, what I wrote is NOT slander it’s libel. So, before I rip bitches a new asshole lets get into what each one is and what that means for me. Before that happens I need you to understand that this is not me craving drama but more of a way to set the record straight for people in my life who think I will get sued. I am in no way giving anyone I care about shit... Or am I giving anybody legal advice. Fuck, this shit is touchy.

Let us begin.

According to dictionary.com, slander is:

So what that means is I have to actually speak the fucking words in an oral fashion, not written form. You know that front part of your face that some people like to shove a cock in and some like to speak in an intelligent way. See, some people think they are so damn funny, witty and think they know their shit. These are people I like to call fucking morons. In order for me to be hit with slander I would have to tell a rumor that you are a slut. Basically saying that one is a walking manhole and that harmed your reputation, but to do that, as stated previously, in an oral fucking fashion! So, with that out of the way lets move on to what matters.

Libel.

Also according to dictionary.com, libel is:

See, this is more befitting the medium you are getting this information in. I never spoke that last blog I typed it. I know that concept is lost on some people but there is a distinct difference. Look, I know thinking is hard. You only have so much time to ignore your kid(s), what with the copious amounts of drugs and alcohol you so need to shove down your throat. I thought being a well-rounded individual was important and you know… Shit, what do you call it? Oh, I know, being a fucking parent is important as well.

But Greg, changing the name surely isn’t enough to clear you of a lawsuit. Well, good readers I admit into evidence exhibit C. According to eff.org, the leading provider in legal information for a digital age says:

When I wrote about people in my previous blog it was vague. When I talked about “Staubrey” I made some references to any woman in the world with a kid(s). Here’s an example, I say, “So one of the women I was seeing will be changed to Staubrey…” I never said one specific person; I mention that it could be any woman I had seen over the summer. I never said who she was, where she lived, what she looks like or what friend it was over the summer. I had multiple relationships over the summer, some were platonic and some were intimate. So, there’s no conclusive evidence of me talking about any one person. So for some people to say that they could sue me is wrong. I mean, if you want to sue me go for it; you’ll lose, but go for it, champ. It costs a lot of money to start that venture and some people don’t have that kind of money.

Hypothetically, lets say someone reads my blog and then started posting things referring to my blog. Then while referring to my blog they insult me and defame me. Clearly, no one could be so stupid. Make a claim of “slander” against me then make LIBEL claims towards me. Hypothetically, I could counter-sue and send this person into legal hell as well, but this is all hypothetical.

In closing, the next time you and your friends start talking about how I’m a slanderous asshole and I lie about what I write. Yes, some of it is a lie or hypothetical for you litigious motherfuckers. I said that in the beginning of the last blog and what I wrote isn’t slander it’s libel.

P.S. This is not an attack on anybody I care about in my life. Just setting the record straight.

Oh, the webs I weave. Part II

March 26th, 2013

It’s been over six months since the last time I wrote. Me not writing the second part is because, well, I’m exhausted. I’m exhausted from all the groundwork I have put in to rebuilding my relationship with Sara. So sitting here and forcing myself to write this is difficult. I only say this because it is physically exhausting trying to comeback from something this destructive.

So I ended part one with the notion of Sara and I nearly getting a divorce over an open marriage. Here’s the deal, I’m not getting into too many details and some things will be a fabrication for two reasons; first being that I’m tired of explaining something so stupid. Everything that transpired was my fault because I decided to do something so damn stupid. Secondly, I like not being sued. If I go into too many details it could be enough to sue me. Despite everybody doing it, being sued or suing is a fucking mess and I would rather not go through that.

To start things off I will be changing certain names in this story to prevent what I just explained. So one of the women I was seeing will be changed to “Staubrey” for one reason, who the fuck names a person “Staubrey?” The man Sara was seeing will be changed to Steve, because it’s easier for me to not get angry with someone named Steve. Think about it, it’s absolutely impossible to get mad with someone named Steve. You just say, “Oh, Steve.” Then you shake your head a few times.

Here’s how it went. As previously mentioned in the last post, Sara and I are sexually curious. So in a need to curb that curiosity we start looking into people to incorporate into an open marriage. She had a lady friend named Staubrey (See, now I’m legally free.), and her male friend Steve. (And not angry.) We talk about it, about whether or not we are strong for this or not and the rules for this new endeavor. One being that when someone says stop we stop, no matter what. So we setup dates for each to go out and try this new adventure with our prospected candidates. Both get off to a good start. (Pun intended.) Something I should say before we move on, Staubrey was also someone that we hung out with on a regular basis. Thee worst idea in the world. It would be like inviting Michael Vick to star in an ASPCA commercial. Sure the idea was to turn his image from dog fight promoter to animal lover but you know that if anybody sees that commercial they are yelling “What the fuck?!” It’s the same thing here, anybody looking in would say “What the fuck?!” Like I’m sure you are doing now. This goes on a few times, she goes to her guy on the side and I go see Staubrey. Things looked to be going good, until Staubrey, Sara and I went to lunch and after eating Sara goes to the bathroom and Staubrey and I walk out the restaurant, leaving Sara in the restaurant.

Side note: As I type this I am reluctant in divulging this info because it is and was incredibly stupid. Nothing I ever tell Sara will make up for that huge fuck up. Not because it was the beginning of the end for everything, but because it was insensitive and dumb.

We get home later that day and all hell breaks loose. We get into what happened at the restaurant and initially I had no clue why she was upset, now I do, but at the time I thought she was being ridiculous. Right then and there Sara calls all of it off. As a result I got furious and the arguing escalated to a volume we never have experienced. I got furious because I was the one causing the heartbreak and I never wanted that for her. During the rest of the fight she retracted her statement of wanting it to end because I convinced her walking out of the restaurant meant nothing and it really didn’t. (Just stupidity.) So, a few more days go bye of the open marriage, then the bottom drops out. Her and I get into a fight over the open marriage and this one is worse than the last. This fight is so bad that we decided to separate over it because it was too much pain we were causing each other. A few weeks pass of us separated and another fight happens and this one temporarily seals the deal on the marriage. We decided with this third fight that it was too much and maybe divorcing completely was the best idea. Papers are drawn and dates are set.

During this whole process I start seeing this one woman named Staubrey and Sara starts seeing Steve. (Oh, Steve, stop being so unable to punch in the face.) Over the next couple months we are at each other’s throat worse than someone from the Jersey Shore show fighting over that last condom from the vending machine. The majority of the fights are over Gage and who gets him the most. The summer of ’12 was the worst time of my life. During my tenure with Staubrey I quickly realize that my life is meaningless with anybody but Sara. I do want to say this about the people we were seeing. To Steve, when you figure out how to work your eyelids and then move onto more complex things, i.e. thinking. I want to tell you that wasn’t a cop. I’m not going to speak about Sara and Steve too much because I’m sure I don’t know everything that went on and it’s not my place to know. But one thing I do know, this guy got so crazy clingy that Sara and her friend needed to fake a restraining order and a cop calling him. Apparently, he wouldn’t stop without some sort of legal motivation. Now, with that said, I move onto the person I was seeing, Staubrey. I’m trying not to make this sound like shit talking, but I can’t figure out another way to put this. This is to her, what I said was bullshit, all of it. I never really wanted you, just didn’t want to be alone. I was happy with Sara and I’m even happier being with her again. Maybe not the best thing to do but some of the fights with Sara and I were caused by her. Without sounding like a caddy housewife, bitch ran her mouth so much. So, I didn’t feel too bad about what I said to her. Yes, I know that makes me a huge asshole but given what she told Sara I don’t care. As I sit here going through what to put down I’m shaking my head wondering what is wrong with people. For instance, Staubrey actually spent the majority of her paycheck on whip-its. (Whip-its are little nitrous oxide tanks used for whipped cream dispensers. Some people get the bright idea to take these tanks, a device to release the gas and a balloon. They fill the balloon and then inhale the contents of the balloon. Forcing them to pass out for a short while.) This is something she would spend a lot of money on, while taking care of her own kid and then wonder why she has no money. Then say that she’s just reaching a higher plane of existence. Sorry, no you’re not, you’re just getting high and using that as an excuse. Ugh! That shit fucking pisses me off. Just say you’re getting high and you're a junkie because you are not fooling anybody.

Okay, so I’m moving on because this is not about what pisses me off about people but more about atonement. I will say this before I move on, to the people continuing to talk about the summer. To the teachers with newly born kids and the people with a bakery that sell pot out of their home and everybody in between. (See what I did there?) Shut the fuck up! Look, I know after what happened over the summer you clearly don’t like me, so stop with the passive aggressive bullshit. You don’t like me and I don’t like you if you’re getting all indignant about something that doesn’t fucking concern you. I have no problem answering questions about what happened, but ask from both sides then go about your fucking business. Don’t get one set of information and then take sides. There are no sides to take. There is Sara, Staubrey, me and nobody-fucking-else. I know you think your relationships are better than mine with Sara, but here’s something you’re not considering. Mine will endure. Sara and I will endure all this and come out stronger than ever.

To Sara, I’m sorry, I’ m sorry this had to happen. I’m sorry that I was so fucking stupid. I know it’s cliché to say it will never happen again, but it won’t. I screwed up so much over the summer and nothing I say can make up for it. That’s why I’m hoping my actions will suffice. I love you and I nearly pissed away something so fucking amazing. Baby, you have to admit that on our worst day we are doing better than a million relationships on their greatest day. You asked at the beginning of all this if we are strong enough for this. The answer is a definite yes, because look where we are at now. I know we’ve hit bumps along the way of rebuilding, but if there were one thing I want you, Sara, to take away from this it would be that you didn’t think we could have kids. You were convinced that we would never have a kid and I always told you as you soaked my shirt full of tears that it would happen. So, when another bump comes our way and you think maybe we can’t repair this, just remember that we now have Gage and another on the way.

In closing I leave you, faithful reader, with this. When you make rules in a sexual endeavor, stick to them. Don’t go for someone that you know personally and someone that you meet on a daily basis. Remember nothing is permanent and anything can be fixed. Use my tale as a blueprint for whatever you may do. Most importantly stay away from the crazies because Sara and I both found them. Hers is done acting up and contacting her. Mine won’t get the hint and it’s really sad.

Oh, one more thing. During my near divorce with Sara, I was staying with Ryan, my co-host on the podcast. If you ever want to test the mark of a best friend then do what I did over the summer. Do something so wrong that the friend knows is wrong but stands beside you willing to offer a helping hand. Ryan knew what I was doing was not smart, but he never berated for being that way. Just offered his guidance. For that I will never be able to thank him enough.

Oh, the webs I weave. Part I

Sep. 7th, 2012

So I’ve mentioned on the podcast that I was dealing with some legal troubles. Well, that legal trouble is I was in the process of getting a divorce. Not really something I thought would happen in my life, but I was dealing with it. Before I even go on, unclench; I never went through with it. More importantly, we never went through with it. How my wife and I got here is a story of mystery, intrigue and international spies. Okay, so none of that actually happened, but it is a story.

Now, before I go into how I got to this point I need to preface this story with another story. My wife and I are very sexual people and as a result we like to toy with the notion of new things. Not because we’re bored, but more along the lines of curiosity. We wonder how things would go down if the opportunity were presented to us. Before we got married, a year into our relationship, we toy with the idea of doing a threesome, of vagina proportions. Sorry, I’m not taking a dick and I can’t watch some guy fuck my wife. She may be able to watch some woman fuck me, but I can’t do the previously mentioned. That is why she is a better person than I. So, we find someone that is open to the idea, someone that has no connection to either of us. This was a safety precaution so we wouldn’t have that awkward moment at some gathering and the three of us are hanging out and this thick layer of I’ve seen you naked and it was not enjoyable. Nobody wants to make eye contact because everything was so unbearable that even eye contact forces your mind back to that fateful night. I didn’t want that and neither did anybody else. So, we found someone that we could have a good time with and she would be on her marry way. All steps were taken to ensure safety of an STD or an unwanted child. But, uneventfully the plug was pulled about a week before it was going to happen… by me. Now, for any guy reader, the normal reaction is to call me a pussy, grunt and curse my name for pissing away the opportunity. To that I say, nothing. I don’t feel the need to explain till I’m blue in the face to try and save what male bravado you think I should have. I don’t have any and neither do you. The faster you realize that, the quicker we as a society can kill the douche bag, frat boys of the world. For the purpose of this story I will tell you why I stopped this from happening. I called it off because of jealousy. I didn’t like the idea of another person, male or female, being with the woman I fell head over heels for, so I called it off. Your other initial reaction for reading that I called off the threesome is that I couldn’t handle two women and the jealousy thing is just a cheap cop out. It isn’t, and here’s why, it is genetically hard wired into every species, including Homosapiens (That’s human being’s for you slow readers. And by slow, I mean people that should act smart, but prefer to act like a fucking idiot. Not actual mentally challenged folk.) … Where was I? Oh, yeah. It is hard wired into every species on this planet to make sure your species does not die out. So, when two of the same species make a vow to exclusively fuck one another, it’s nothing to sneeze at. It’s something to honor, cherish, to hold onto for as long as you can. My jealously came from that, I didn’t want someone to have what I had, it’s mine. (It’s also hard wired into every species to act like a child from time to time.)*

Let’s jump forward about a year after that. The wifey and I are actually husband and wife at this point. We are at a social gathering and I don’t know how it came up, but the potential of a threesome comes up. She tells the story and ends the tale with me stopping it from ever happening. She explains that it was sweet that I didn’t want anybody but her. Following all the story and several women looking at me like I was the sweetest man alive, one guy chimes in with how I’m a pussy for not going through with it. He makes some joke; we all have a laugh and move on. I didn’t have a problem with some D-bag telling me I’m not a man. I really could care less what some hillbilly in his sleeve-less shirt and camo hat, thought about me. It wasn’t a problem until this event in my life became the topic of conversation at every social event, gathering, or hangout. That’s when it started to bother me, with her ending the story, someone makes some piss poor joke and we move on. That get’s tiring after awhile. My wife meant no harm in telling the story. It is one for the books, but I was tired of the fake smiling and laughing when some dick-wad made a comment about it. When all I wanted to do was punch all of them in their fat fucking heads and tell them when you can trick a girl, and I mean trick some helpless girl into falling for your Nascar loving, beer chugging, gun swinging ass, into loving you. Give me a call and let me know if you could get the opportunity. I never did that because charges would be filed, I would be forced to go to some anger management class and told I have an “attitude problem.” I didn’t need that, so I just bit my tongue and moved on.

Not until the beginning of this year would I have to deal with another sexual curiosity. An open marriage was on the docket and it is something that shakes the very foundation of my marriage.

(Cue suspenseful soap opera music.)

Seriously, this story involves multiple parts. Check back in a week and read on.

Look, my child is cute as fuck.

*Research pending

Thou shalt not piss me off

July 11th, 2012

So, it comes to my attention that I have an attitude of intolerance towards religion/spirituality. Which isn’t the case at all. I have intolerance towards people’s need to always be right. People have this sense of arrogance when it comes to religion of any kind.

I’m not a religious guy. Well, not in the sense that I need to pray, worship, or try to become one with the universe by taking some psychedelic. I don’t need to give my appreciation to mother Earth to respect her or tell some omnipotent God that I need it. I am religious in the sense that I have read a few books (King James Holy Bible, The Quran, and a few Silver Ravenwolf books about the Wiccan faith) to get an understanding of religion/spirituality. Now, just cause I have read a few books about different sects of religion does not mean I am the be-all-end-all of religious talk. I am a 26 year-old jobless writer looking to drop my hot, steaming pile of thoughts on your sweet craniums.

“I credit that eight years of grammar school with nourishing me in a direction where I could trust myself and trust my instincts. They gave me the tools to reject my faith. They taught me to question and think for myself and to believe in my instincts to such an extent that I just said, This is a wonderful fairy tale they have going here, but it's not for me.” – George Carlin

One time I was asked what faith I was, without even thinking I said Agnostic. I have never heard the term Agnostic before in my life, but it was the first thing out of my mouth. Not Christian, Wiccan or even Atheist but instead my sub-conscious had an answer of Agnostic. An Agnostic is someone who cannot prove nor disprove the existence of God. When I said Agnostic to this person, I went home and looked up the definition. I agreed with this definition whole-heartedly. Some people believe Agnostics are just fence sitters, people who don’t want to choice a side between believers and non-believers. I say, why does it matter? Why do we need to have a side to choose from? Religion has a lot of guidance for people to find. Granted, most of it is bullshit, but who am I to tell people that it’s complete crap, that’s just my opinion. Religion shouldn’t be taught but found.

That being said, I put a lot of faith in science. Science has never said they are the one true answer to everything, but they make sense. It’s not the easier way to understand life, just fits better. When building a puzzle, you don’t take a corner piece and try to put it in the center. You put it on the corner, that doesn’t mean you’re settling for societies answer. It just means that is the proper place for that piece. (Not herd mentality, Stephanie. Sorry, a long running argument leaked through.) The theories that smarter minds than I come up with are hard to disprove. So, why not trust that they have some of the answers? Scientist’s number one agenda is not to disprove any religion/spirituality, but to ask questions about life. Religion has always claimed that they have all the answers, so why look somewhere else? Like I said, science does not have all the answers, but neither does being religious or spiritual.

I also don’t think you need take some sort of psychedelic to try an get closer to God, or what ever excuse you need. I believe the human race is not meant to have all the answers just yet. By taking that shit you are tempting fate with whatever high power there may be. And if you keep pushing that button, then your mind will fry and you will be no use to anybody. Think of it like this, you go to peek behind the curtain to see the person running the show and instead of it saying, “Oh, man. You caught me.” It shoots you in the fucking face for being too damn eager to have all answers. Don’t be fucking stupid.

Recently, my partner-in-crime for the podcast and I, did a bit about the idea of a retarded Jesus. I don’t know if it was the liberal use of retard or the fact that we paint some listeners Lord and Savior in a different light, but the end result got us fewer hits on that particular episode than any episode yet. Why people get so pissed when you poke fun at their religion is beyond me. Our podcast is a comedy podcast, not a lets-get-serious-about-everything podcast, but a podcast based around the idea of telling jokes. You know, the thing required to make sure you laugh and not to be taken seriously.

My motto is, never settle for the bare minimum. Always look beyond what you are given. Always ask questions and never accept one man’s answer. But in the same sense, know when to stop, because the answer you get won’t be the one you want.

No one thing has all the answers.

To the women in my life

May 22, 2012

I adore women. Not in a way where I need to experience what childbirth is like, that special gift from Mother Nature or how society treats you as a whole. I’m not some bitch male feminist that needs to feel what a woman feels. Sorry, in no way, shape or form do I want to experience that bullshit. I cherish women and everything they offer and do. Where does this fascination with women start?

I will tell you.

When I was young, my father was killed (wait for it) and my mother remarried. She remarried a gentleman, a gentleman who would, in his leisure time, beat the piss out of her and I. It wasn’t until one night that I decided that no woman deserved to be treat like this. This gentleman, lets call him… No we will stay with the gentleman. Well, one night after staggering into our home, he decided to beat the ever-loving shit out of my mother, in front of me. She tried to fight back. So, like any rational human being, he grabbed a snub nose .38. Yes, like the one used in the Godfather. Only this one was silver with a black grip. He then proceeded to threaten her life for fighting back. What a charmer. Well, I would like to say I did something so fucking heroic, but I was a kid, four years old, if memory serves me right. It wasn’t until I was coming into puberty when I realized that that incident was fucked up. Beyond fucked up, it was deplorable that a man needed to feel good about himself in that way. It was on that day I vowed no woman in my life would ever feel that scared, lost and ashamed. Eventually, things got better; my mother kicked the gentleman to the curb and found a godsend. Her white knight, if you will. Her third husband and thankfully last… Hopefully. When my mother reads this. (Trust me, she will) I want to say to you, I have NEVER blamed you for anything that transpired so many years ago. You were a widow with two very young children. Drop anybody else into that same scenario and the result would have been the same. It has made me the man I am today.

It took my mother to go through hell for me to understand how precious woman are. (Yes, I have mommy issues. Back off.) Without woman this world would be filled with men angry masturbating to each other. And as appealing as that may sound to a gay reader, the human race would have died off so many, many, many years ago. I’m not saying that the only relationship is the relationship between a man and a woman. Not at all and if you, the reader, took it that way and punched your computer screen out of rage, shame on you. You’re missing so much. I’m dropping knowledge on some motherfuckers and some fucking mothers. Look, all I am saying is that women are the catalyst for life on this planet. In the grand scheme of things, that’s a pretty big fucking deal.

Women truly are awesome. Not only as baby factories, which is also not my intent with this piece, but as individuals. I absolutely love a strong, independent, and confident woman. A woman that knows what she wants and goes after it. Now, with that being said, women also have their flaws. For the sake of my argument lets just say they have flaws because if I start making a list, the women in my life will harm me. Nothing is perfect and that’s what life is about. Having flaws and accepting them.

So, what should you take from this piece? Don’t look at a woman and think of ways how you would “wreck that shit.” What ever that fucking means. Instead, I challenge you to set your stupid fucking ego to the side, look at a woman and think what would life be like without women around? Pretty fucking bleak, I assure you.

To all the male readers out there reading this right now and saying I am only writing this to get more pussy. Well, trust me when I say, I don’t need to write a fucking article to get laid. TRUST ME.

To the women in my life, I want to say this. I love you, adore you, cherish you, respect you and most importantly, wouldn’t be able to function without any of you. Thank you.

Though this be madness, yet there is method in it.

March 27, 2012

That has got to be one of the best lines written by anyone. Granted, it was written by everybody's favorite, Shakespeare. Hamlet; Act 2... I think. That line has always been my mantra for years, not because I want to be a pompous ass who quotes Shakespeare. More along the lines of wanting to assure the logical side of mind that the creative side knows what it is doing. See for a year now the Abbot to my Costello, Ryan Downing, have done a podcast. As many of you may know, we started the podcast to simply bring a smile to someone's face. As cheesy as that may sound, it's true.

For years I have known about podcasts but I always thought it was an exclusive thing only for the elitist of elites, Apple owners. I'm not slamming Apple in anyway but some owners can be such douches when it comes to saying what system is better. That being said, when it comes down to brass tax, Apple, in my opinion has excelled far better than any windows computer I have had, but I digress. Yes, for years, I thought a windows user wasn't allowed in this club of Steve Job's induced circle jerk. It wasn't until I started doing research that anybody can listen to the plethora of content iTunes had in the podcast section. Now, this was 2007 so, not as many as there are today. In 2006, there were approximately 83,000 podcasts and the number has grown since then, by ten fold. In 2007 I stumbled upon, Smodcast, a Kevin Smith and Scott Mosier podcast. Followed by the Nerdist podcast from Chris Hardwick, Jonah Ray and Matt Mira. These podcasts, each week, kept me entertained at a time in my life where I knew what I wanted to do but didn't know how to achieve it. It was very daunting knowing what I wanted but had no clue how to get there. Being a fan of Robert Rodriquez, Quintin Tarantino and Kevin Smith, I knew what they did to break into the entertainment industry... Oh, if I haven't mentioned I want to write movies for a living. But, after listening to an episode of the Nerdist podcast, Chris and cohorts, list off things that anybody could get their hands on, to start a podcast. That's when I knew I could do this and fuck what anybody else thinks.

I say fuck what anybody else says because I had no doubt people in my life would say, "Yeah, but you're some dick from Ohio. So, who gives a shit." Who needs that pessimistic bullshit. I also want to point out that that last comment was in no way, shape or form, a slam on anybody akin to my heart... so unclench. So, without a second thought, I grabbed my Mac laptop (yes, Apple product) and the nearest mic I owned at the time. A Rock Band mic that came with the entire band set, for the Xbox 360. I take all that shit and get a hold of the one person that has been through the shit and back with me. The brother from a fire crotch mother, Ryan Downing. I simply tell him I want to do a podcast and he is all for it, and as they say, the rest is history.

Earlier, I said I wanted to write for the talkies. I passionately still want to do that but I found a new passion, podcasts. It's not replacing writing, which I still do, but filling my time with more than beating my head against the wall to try and get past writer's block. For years, I was going insane trying to get people to look at what I have written. One of the many trials of writers, beyond actually writing something, is getting other people to read it. The notion that you're not a real writer until other people in power approve of your work. That no matter what you write, it won't be worth its weight in gold until someone with particular tastes is convinced to like your work. It drove me bat-shit crazy.

Then my son was born.

Nine months before he graced the world with his presence, I was dealing with the idea of being someones father. That I, the guy who would play ball tagging contests to see who was the tougher "man", was going to be someones dad. For once in my life everything fit in its place. When I was growing up I didn't want kids, it scared me. Not because of some male chauvinistic thing, but because I wasn't going to be a kid anymore. Here's why, where I live and I'm sure where many of you live, teen pregnancy was very prevalent in the school system. I had seen many girls go down this road of broken dreams and diapers. It didn't stop there either; many "adults" had the same life after having kids with a career. I did not want that for me nor would I want that for the woman that would want to play with my penis on a daily bases. But that changed when I met my wife, Sara. In later posts I will go into how we met. As cheesy as some of this shit is, it's true. My wife is just as much a kid at heart as I am. That's when I knew if you have two "adults" acting like kids then the life of the child is going to be one for the books. So, after the battle of having a kid (more on that later), the all night gaming guy was going to be a father.

So, on April 20th, 2010 at 11:06 pm (Hitler's birthday), Gage Michael Vance was born.

Something a lot of people take for granted, my wife just did. The reincarnated dictator that is my child, finally made me realize there is a method to my madness. See, when a kid is born, all that bullshit that makes you you, goes away. Out the fucking door, because that kid doesn't give a shit about what you do or how you do it. You are mommy or daddy, that's it. That's when I knew it doesn't matter what people think of my career or how I achieved it. All that matters is that I am doing it. It's more than what some bitches can say.

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