Being a Parent Really Does Change You

They told you it would happen.  They told me too.

Being a parent will change the way you look at everything.

And sure, there's the way you look at the economy, and the neighborhood you live in, and don't get me started on worrying about public schools or the other idiot kids your child wants to be friends with.

The Lovely Wife and Grayson

Let's start with the basics.

Poop.

It wasn't that long ago that having a conversation about poop was frowned upon in my relationship.  If I ran out from the washroom to let the lovely wife know about the half-footer I unloaded in the toilet, she'd just stare at me as if to say, "Really, and somehow you think you're going to get laid tonight after telling me that?"

I can remember this one time I got in shit from her (pun not intended) because we were at her parent's place for Thanksgiving dinner and I left to go drop a deuce.  I was in the bathroom for, like, fifteen minutes, and apparently it wasn't appropriate for me to do the most basic of bodily functions while all of her aunts, uncles, and cousins were visiting.  Oops.

But here we are, happily married, with two wonderful children - and we often talk about poop.  We keep it a regular conversation.

"Did Ryleigh poop today?"
"Has Grayson pooped yet today?"
"Ooooh, the baby made a smelly poop.  He must be YOUR son."

Heaven forbid I manage to go a few days without changing a dirty diaper.  That's when I'm reminded, by the lovely wife, just how much my six-month old son really loves me, and how he's missed me while I was at work, and how he'd like nothing more than for me to wipe up the smelly poop that has somehow journeyed up to the middle of his back like settlers looking for spices in India.

Ryleigh and me.

We can be at the mall, and Ryleigh - who keep in mind is only four years old - will start a conversation by letting me know about the poop she had the day before.  And sometimes there's no more to the story.  It wasn't an adventure to get the poop out.  Nor was it a freeing experience that inspired a haiku.  Nope.  Simply, "Daddy.. and yesterday I just went poop."  Whoa, surprise ending.

And nowhere is sacred anymore.  If I let a little fart out at the dinner table by accident, I'm condemned to the likes of Hitler, Stalin, and Palpatine.  But just three feet away from me, Grayson grunts and turns his face redder than the devil himself as he fills his diaper with our new dinnertime conversation.  "Oh, somebody's having a big, stinky poop," the lovely wife will say as I shovel another round of mashed potatoes and gravy into my food-hole.  I can't say I blame the boy though, if I were allowed to shit at the dinner table I probably would too - if anything just to see what would happen.

So there you have it.  Poop.  It's what's for dinner.

- ryan

Top 11 Practical Vagina Uses

Top 11 Practical Vagina Uses
This one comes to us from RFC Newzinetter #5.

11. You can keep your bus fare safe in there.
10. Handy-dandy balloon blower-upper.
09. Cook a turkey in there for dinner.  It’ll take approximately two to three hours, tops.
08. Decoration.
07. Emergency coast guard siren.
06. Paint mixer.
05. Five-disc CD changer.
04. Shoe polisher.
03. Elvis impersonator.
02. You know how some people will lick their fingers when they’re counting money?
01. Registered P.O. Box.

And I'd Still Love You

...here's a new poem.

And I'd Still Love You
written by Ryan Fan Club

You know, you could have only nine toes on your feet
And I'd still love you
You could leave sweaty stains on my favorite seat
And I'd still love you
You could talk all day about boring politics
And I'd still love you
Or you can call all my friends a bunch of lunatics
And I'd still love you
You could pick your boogers then eat them up fast
And I'd still love you
Or if in dodgeball you might always be picked last
And I'd still love you

You see, you could smell like rotten old geezers
And I'd still love you
You might not understand a word of Julius Caesar
And I'd still love you
Maybe you'll never read an RFC Newzinetter
And I'd still love you
Or you might start sleeping in an ugly Habs sweater
And I'd try to find a way to forgive you
You could give me a pet name, like "Turdy-Face"
And I'd still love you
Or you could listen all day to Ace of Base
And I'd still love you
You might have a constant itch on your privates
And I'd still love you
Or you'd spend the whole day helping me find a rhyme for "privates"
Because you love me too.

And that's all.

Another Mother's Day

Another Mother's Day is upon us, a day in which we are supposed to dote upon the woman who gave birth to us, cooked for us, and raised us into the responsible adults we're supposed to be.  Flower shops all go in the black, restaurants have huge line ups from 8am to noon, and the producers of macaroni work double-time to keep up with the supply/demand problems from all the art that will be made by children.

My mother passed away in 2012, and not a day goes by that I don't think of her.

This isn't going to be one of those sappy, miss-my-mommy blogs.  We all know that's not my style. 

I do, however, find the humor in the odd places that I find myself thinking of my mother.  I can't go for a walk downtown without reminiscing about the donuts we'd get at Kreske's Department store or the hours on end she'd patiently wait for me while inside Cosmic Comics as I perused the 25 cent bins.

I can't hear Blind Melon's "No Rain" without thinking of mom.  I know, that's kind of odd, and given that my mother was a fairly conservative woman (this was the woman who asked my wife what a water bong was at the mall while looking at a display of them) if she'd known a bit more about Blind Melon she probably wouldn't have liked them at all.  But, my mom would watch the Coca-Cola Countdown with me Fridays on Much Music, and she thought the little girl in the bee costume was, "just really cute."  So she liked the song. This is also the same woman who thought the lyrics "Stayin' Alive" were, "ah-ah-ah-ah., staying the night, staying the night."  Beautiful.

I'm one of those guys who lets my computer screen saver shuffle through all the photos on my monitor, so sometimes when passing by I might see an old photo of mom and me on there from when I was a kid.  It can be a little odd too, considering the next photo in rotation could likely be Aerosmith, Superman, or even Lexi Belle, but I like the randomness of it all.

My mom made the best pancakes too.  Not too thick, not overly fluffy, and they were stacked in a circular motion.  They were the best.  I've tried and tried, and I just can't make them the same way.  I've gotten close, but I also don't want to crack that code because it gives me something to long for. 

I see a lot of my mom in my daughter Ryleigh.  Sometimes the faces she makes, especially when she smiles - an I mean really smiles - I can't help but see my mom there.

And now that I'm a parent myself, I understand so much more.  I understand how much more the little things must have meant to her, all the little things that growing up I took for granted - and I'm sure many of you did too.  I remember the day I cut off all my long hair, and how my first stop was to see mom and show her.  The look on her face was so excited, and at the time I thought, okay, she's happy I'm conforming to society again, but really I know she was just happy to see her little boy's face again.  Corny, right?  But if you have kids of your own you'll know what I mean.

My mom was pretty awesome.  She worked full-time as a telephone operator, made sure supper was ready by 5pm every day, kept the house and laundry clean, taught me morals and respect, and she even had a wicked rap song in the early 2000s.  My mom could do it all.

So, call your mom.  For no reason at all.  It would mean a lot to her.

- ryan

I Was A Fat Kid

I was a fat kid.

It's not something I talk about overly much, but I was a fucking fat kid.  And I was picked on a lot too.  No biggie, right?  Happens to a lot of us growing up.  Some might even say they are who they are today because of the way they were treated by their schoolyard chums.  Like the caterpillar to the butterfly.  I'm sorry, I can't help but laugh at myself as I type that last sentence.

I was a fat kid with a really short brush cut.  The other kids called me Pugsley, like the fucking fat kid from the Addams Family movie.  I distinctly remember this one time in Grade 7 that one of my friends pointed out how I actually had bigger titties than most of the girls in class.  Granted, theirs hadn't quite come in yet.  So I guess I kinda looked like your stereotypical dyke with an affinity for eating chips and drinking Pepsi.

Grade 8 Graduation.

I'm not telling this story today to garner any sympathy, or help anyone else out.  I can guarantee you that somewhere else is a boy or girl getting picked on for being fat.  And maybe it's their fault or maybe it's not.  That's not my place to say.  I'm not in charge of the world.

I have two children of my own now - two beautiful children who I encourage to be whatever they want to be.  My son Grayson, at four months old, already eats like a champ and is going to be a thick boy.  I predict a future WWF Champion in my family.  My daughter Ryleigh, only four years old recently had her first experience of not feeling like she was beautiful enough at someone else's hands.  Just hearing about it tore me apart.

I was a fat kid.  And I was also a lazy kid.  I liked reading books, drawing Superman comics, watching Star Wars, playing Super Mario Bros. 3, and trading O-Pee-Chee hockey cards.  When I did get my exercise, which was road hockey, I usually played goalie because I didn't want to run.  I was a fat, lazy, pimply kid who could down an entire 2L bottle of Pepsi while watching TGIF.  At the age of twelve I could easily knock off an entire Godfatha pizza while watching the Coca Cola Countdown on Much Music. 

That's when I decided I wanted to grow my hair long, from my early interests in rock music, but I knew I'd probably look like the singer Meat Loaf.  It was bad enough that everyone already called me Pugsley.  I had a hard enough time getting girls to like me without the other boys telling me that I'd likely do anything for love. 

Grade 9 photo

How was gym class, you ask?  Not bad.  You learn how much time you have to let your mind wander when you're always picked last.  I did some of my best daydreaming during gym class.  I even created a few super-heroes while there. 

I was fifteen when I decided enough was enough.  I was sick of people thinking my name was actually Pugsley because they didn't even know me.  I was a fat kid, and a lazy kid, and a shy kid because I didn't want to be seen by anyone.  For all anyone knew, my name really was Pugsley.  They'd hum that theme song, and ironically, I couldn't even snap my fingers to try and lighten up the mood.  So I created a very green diet.

This diet was so green that all it consisted of was Iceberg Lettuce and Lime Kool-Aid.  And that's pretty much all I ate for a few months.  I'm not proud of it, but I did lose a lot of weight in a short time.  People have large worded terms and conditions and disorders for these types of things nowadays.  I never made myself throw up; I hate vomiting more than just about anything.

Now I'm not trying to tell anyone a quick way to lose weight here, because listen to me, doing something like eating only lettuce and drinking Kool-Aid will fuck you up really good.  But you know what?  We live in a really fucked up world.  Nobody ever thinks they're good enough, no matter how truly great they are.  Fucked.  Up.

I had become friends in high school with a girl, Angie, who told me. "Ryan, nobody else can love you until you learn to love yourself."  Not sure if she got that from a Jewel song, but it's something that's always stuck with me. 

All kidding aside, this shirt was fucking awesome.

What really sucks is now, as an adult with kids of my own, I see all these stories about bullying and obesity and it's clear that the real problem is and has always been that nobody teaches their kids to fucking stand up for themselves anymore.  Yeah, I was a fat, lazy kid who got picked on a lot - but I also didn't stand up for myself when I should have.  I didn't know how.  It's one thing to be a pansy-ass and go cry in the corner until you starve yourself and then it's another to do something about it. 

Parents, please, you can teach your kids all you want about anti-bullying but you're really better off teaching your child how to stand up to those bullies and make them go away.  Sure, they'll probably get hurt a few times in the process, but it might just be worth it.  And I'm not talking about them telling a teacher, or writing a poem about their feelings - teach your kids to punch someone right between the eyes.  Hard.  Seriously.

As for me, I'm not a kid anymore.  I'm a little round in the belly, and yet I get more exercise these days than ever.  I've replaced the 2L Pepsi bottles with a few pints of Banana Bread Beer.  I can eat a whole Tata's pizza if I want to, but I like to save some for lunch the next day.  I'll change the TV channel if the Addams Family is on because it makes me emotional.  I still enjoy salad, but ninety-nine percent of the time I put something on it so it's not just lettuce.  I can't remember the last time I had green Kool-Aid, and that's fine.  I've learned to love so much about myself (hence why I have my own fan club), but there's parts of me that I don't truly believe I can ever come to terms with.

I guess some part of me will always be that fat kid.  And I bet you're the same, in your own way.
Fucked up, eh?

- ryan

Ryleigh and Grayson; my two exceptionally awesome kids.

Ultimate Poem

...this comes to us from my Newzinetter #4 (you can see the whole thing on the main page at http://www.ryanfanclub.com for a limited time) and it's very inspired by one of my childhood heroes from the 80's.  You can probably guess who.

Ultimate Poem
a poem by ryan fan club

a "self-portrait" I did in 1998.

let the clear discovery of the unknown journey
be made fully known within my eternity
that a man can be tested and fail upon his skill
or even witness one’s own destruction of will
for the outside suffering feels no real pain
and the inside insignificance falls like acid rain
we are living on the tail of the crashing comet
with only ourselves to collect the full debt
you owe nothing
unless you owe it to yourself
so speak with your lips in a closed position
and hear the words as a true acquisition
there is no fear in this realm for fear is absent
you can reach until the memory is distant
but do not continue to hold your hand out
forever, waiting for powers to come about
because only you alone can destroy panic
and administer your life in ways so tyrannic
that even the most royal of normal people
will watch for you upon that golden steeple
and wait with prayer for an approximate
measuring to declassify the illegitimate
but they know absolutely nothing of the ultimate;

Top 11 Retitled 80's Songs

I had such a good time writing RFC Newzinetter #4, that I'm going to be uploading it all into the blog for easy-reading (for those of you who aren't conditioned to read my true style of writing - it's all over the place)

Uncle Jesse's Girl

So here's the
Top 11 Retitled 80's Songs

11. You Shook Me All Night Long Until I Woke Up
10. I Laugh When Doves Cry
09. If OK With You, I Want Your Sex
08. Billie's Jeans Aren't Real Levi's
07. Girls Just Want To Have Fungus
06. Unusually Cold Summer of '69
05. Safety Dancing In The Dark
04. Sweet Child O' Mein Kampf
03. Mony Mony Mony Mony Mony
02. Never Gonna Give You Up For Adoption Unless I Have To
01. Uncle Jesse's Girl

Newzinetter #4

Ryan Fan Club Newzinetter #4

Idjits n' Midjits

Here's something new, just for the hell of it.

Pretty, ain't it?

Ain't that just the truth, how the world is full
Of idjits n' midjits thinking they're so on top
And thinking's kinda hard to do for themselves
Like, they can read what's on the paper but
Not know what it really means
Ex is ex, and why is why
And could Eh Be See then?
And did I just hear someone shout "OMG"?
Oh, goodness gracious me-oh-my
Just sound out those words, go on and give it a try
We're all just so conditioned, aren't we?
Though most of us aren't in very good condition anymore
I guess the good lord should've kept us in the packaging
Instead of taking us out to play with
The paint rubs off, the joints get loose, and
We're all destined to lose our best accessory
... mine would've been a battle ax or a fire sword...
But if we can't be mint anymore, we can at least be
Near mint - whatever that really is... Near mint...
Or slightly above average, which is what the
Idjits and Midjits are calling you to encourage you
You know, gotta earn that minimum wage
On someone Else's time, er... I mean someone Else's dime
And you gotta give a couple dimes back to the taxman
When we would've all been better off to give 'em to the Axman
And thus the idjits n' midjits, or midjits n' idjits
As they'll be called after a fuss is made over who comes first,
Wouldn't know who the Axman was anyway...
Hmph - who comes first... isn't the important thing
That everyone just gets to come in the first place?
And first place is fine and dandy if you're facing east
But don't face west, cause then look out - you're last place instead
And that guy you gave some spare change to is now in first
And he's driving your car and kissing your girl
And you're angry for a second or two...
Wait a minute... how can there be two seconds?
Wouldn't the second second be the third?
One second... what a bizarre concept
Goddam those idjits n' midjits

- ryan of the ryan fan club

Top 11 Pink Things

It's never been a secret that my fav'rit color is, in fact, pink.  I've taken a lot of unnecessary heat for it over the years too.  Some people have even tried to tell me that my favorite color is actually "salmon".  Nope, pink is just fine with me.  I just dig pink, if you haven't already noticed.

So here are eleven awesome pink things.

11. p!nk
10. Lois Lane's undies in Superman: The Movie
9. Bubblegum
8. my Hanson t-shirt
7. Pink Floyd's "The Wall"
6. Pepto Bismol
5. a pair of pink Converse All-Stars
4. Aerosmith's "Pink"
3. A freshly washed and pressed vagina
2. Bret "Hitman" Hart's shades
1. Kimberly, the Pink Power Ranger

Now, did we see anything pink in there?

- ryan of the ryan fan club