A Dose Of Dugan

People always ask me what it is like to have three daughters … what is it like to go from 2 to 3?  I always hem and haw in response, talk about having to now play zone defense and how hard it is now to find time for yourself and how hard it is to get alone time with your wife.

But honestly, the hardest part is that you rarely get quality time with just one of them.  You rarely get that extended daddy and daughter time.  I had the opportunity this past weekend to get that special time … and it was everything I was hoping it would be.

So this past weekend, I was fortunate enough to go to a very special wedding.  It was special for a number of reasons.  But first and foremost, it was special because of the bride.  Simply put, there is no one I know that deserves to have their “happily ever after” as much as she does.  I truly hope she has found it and it looks like she has.  That always makes for a special wedding.

Selfishly, it was special for me because my date was the best looking, the best dressing, and the best dancing 3 year old in the whole place … my middle daughter.  It was special for me because I got the rare pleasure I described earlier of having 48 hours of just daddy and daughter time.

If you have never taken a 3 year old on a trip by yourself … do it now (well, only if you have a 3 year old … don’t go take a random 3 year old … that’s not cool).  Truthfully, it’s not exactly the most enjoyable experience you will have, but it is one of the most rewarding experiences you can have.  

Now I’ve been called selfish, self-absorbed and arrogant a number of times in my life (ok, pretty much every day of my entire life).  I will admit I have always been a little “Dugie-centric”.  But the thing about having kids is that you no longer get to be selfish.  Sure, you can continue to be selfish … but you don’t get to be.  What I mean by that is that if you don’t put your kids needs and wants above your own needs and wants, you are failing as a parent.  There is no other way to look at it. 

This is especially true when you fly solo with your 3 year old daughter for 48 hours.  Everything you do has to be based on her.  You don’t get to be selfish.  There is no off switch for kids.

And that is one of the best parts about taking a trip with your 3 year old daughter.  Your focus is completely on her.   I didn’t think about anything else for 48 hours.  No work, no bills, no other responsibilities … just my daughter and that gave me a chance to really appreciate how much I love her.

My daughter and I had best time together this weekend, pretty much because we were in lock-step in our decision making.  Want to go to Chili’s for lunch?  Sure!  Want to go swimming for 2 hours?  Sure!  Want to steal desserts from the caterer?  Sure!  Want to take a bus to Tijuana and bet on some cock-fighting???  Absolutely!!!

Everything was perfect except for one 90 minute period in the middle of the wedding reception. 

You see, my daughter is notorious for flipping out in the blink of an eye (just like her dad).  But the one part where she isn’t like me is that she doesn’t flip back very easily.  She really grinds out the attitude.  So in the middle of the wedding reception she has one of these catastrophic melt-downs.  Partially due to the heat, partially due to her being hungry, partially due to her having a blister on her foot and mostly because everything had gone too well so she felt the need to make my life a living hell for 90 minutes.  That’s what kids do … they mix mountains of joy with ant hills of pure hell.

And trust me … this was a little fire ant hill of hell.  I actually had to carry my daughter kicking and screaming out of the reception at the hotel because she was just too loud and upset.  I tried to put her in a cab to go back to the hotel we were staying at, but she was so inconsolable that the cabby started yelling at me in Spanish and drove away.  I proceeded to walk about a mile holding her as she continued to hit me in the face while telling me that she didn’t love me. 

Finally, after about 20 minutes of walking, I just stopped.  We were in some neighborhood that didn’t look like the best part of town and there was a shady spot under a tree in someone’s front yard, so I just sat down.  In the middle of that yard I had given up.  Sure … if she ran away I would have chased after, but I was spent.  It was like 90 degrees out, humid and I had on a suit and tie and had just carried my 40 pound daughter a mile.  My crotch had literally become a humidor and I was done. 

But my daughter didn’t run away.   In fact, she sat down right next to me and continued to scream and cry and yell at me for the next 30 minutes.  She just left it all on the table.  For 30 minutes we sat there … two proud warriors doing battle and engaging in psychological war-fare.  Me trying to do whatever I could to convince her to calm down and go back to the reception and her doing whatever she could to keep the battle going.  

Eventually I tried reverse psychology on her.   When I would say that I loved her and wanted her to go back to the reception, she would say something like … “you don’t love me!  You couldn’t!!!  You don’t want me to go back to the reception!”  So I would then agree with her and say, “you’re right.  I don’t.  I don’t want you to go back to the reception.  In fact, I love you yelling at me!  Please keep yelling at me!  I love it!”

She got a very confused look on her face knowing full well what I was doing and would then say, “NOOOOO!!!!  You don’t!!!  You wouldn’t!!!   You don’t like my yelling!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!“

This went on for a good 30 minutes.  Finally, she started to calm down and began to negotiate the terms of surrender.  It started with ice cream.  She wanted ice cream … ice cream and chocolate.  If she could have that, she would be willing to stop yelling.  But that wasn’t it.  Nope, in order for her to go back to the party she wanted me to carry her back … but not any kind of carrying.  She wanted a piggy-back ride.  A one mile walk to the reception on my back in 90 degree heat while wearing a suit. 

I found these terms to be suitable and agreed.  And with every step I took back to the hotel she was right there in my ear the whole time reminding me that I promised her ice cream as well.  And every once in awhile she would add … “all I wanted was a piggy-back ride.  I wouldn’t have gotten upset if you just gave me a piggy-back ride!”  I knew full well that was a bunch of crap and revisionist history on her part but I told her that I understood. 

Once we got inside, it took another 20 or 30 minutes for her to really settle in and play nice.  In fact, it wasn’t actually until the band started playing that she became herself again.  Because when the music hit her ears, her feet hit the dance floor … and they didn’t stop for a good two hours.  Finally, at about 9pm, just as the party was wrapping up, she put her arms around me and said, “daddy, I’m tired.  I’m ready to go home.”

So I took her outside the function room and we sat down on a chair together.  It was just the two of us again.  This time we weren’t waging war … we were sharing a daddy and daughter moment.  There, I looked at her and I didn’t see the 3 year old that only 3 hours earlier told me she hated me, told me I was bald and continually punched me in the face.  No … what I saw was the future.  What I saw was everything that was great about our weekend together. 

So I told her,

“Someday.  Someday you and I will be sitting like this again at another wedding.  The two of us … alone.  We will have a couple minutes just the two of us.  And this time, it will be your wedding.  That’s in a long time, but it will happen.  And when it does, I will tell you then what I am going to tell you now … I Love You.”

She looked at me with her tired beautiful blue eyes and started to gently cry as exhaustion swept over her.  For a brief moment I thought maybe she was getting sentimental and I was about to get a … “I love you too daddy.”

Instead, she started to whimper and then sharply yelled at me, “I never got my ice cream!!!  You never got me my ice cream daddy!!!!”  At that point I realized I could never win … and that was ok.

So I picked her up and we boarded the shuttle back to our hotel.  It had been a long day and weekend, it was time to go home.  But right before my daughter fell asleep on the bus … she looked up at me one last time and said, “Daddy … you know what?” 

Usually when she asks that question it is followed by … “I love you or … I farted.”  But instead on this night … this weekend, she simply said … “There’s no blood on our hair tonight!”  And then passed right out for the night on my lap.

I have literally no idea what that means but the more I think about it, I think it’s probably a pretty fair way to judge a successful night/weekend for when the two of us hang out.  No blood on our hair tonight. 

Honestly, I think that is really just her own way of saying, “I love you too daddy.”

It’s well known that there are only three known forms of kryptonite for Shooter.  They are:

1.       Shirts and skins games.  We’ve been over this.  Shooter doesn’t like sweaty man chests rubbing up against him while plying his craft.  Completely throws me off of my game.

2.       Basketball games without 3 pointers.  That’s not even Basketball … it’s more like “Kid who had to play right field in little-league ball”.  If you ever join a pick-up game and some ass suggests that there should be no 3’s … that guy sucks at life.  Just a fact.  That guy hates America, votes only for liberals, and likes tofu.  Like I said … he sucks at life.

3.       Bone spurs in my shooting elbow.   They ended Shooter’s run to a rec league title 3 years ago … and they may have just ended his book before it even started.  Nasty little buggers they are. 

(Now I know what some of you are thinking … you’re thinking I left a pretty big one off.  Jack Daniels.  Honestly, JD has been known to be the cause of most of Shooter’s problems … but it is also the solution to many of them as well, so I’m not sure I can classify it as his kryptonite.  More like his debilitating vice that exacerbates his attitude problems and fuels his hatred of authority.)

So those are the 3 … but we now may be able to finally add a 4^th.  It’s name … Greg O’Connor … Sports League Director of the Foxboro YMCA. 

Apparently Greg O’Connor is the most powerful man in the world, or at least that is what he thinks because he’s pretty convinced he can toy with Shooter’s emotions.  As I mentioned in my last blog, I signed up to play in a YMCA rec league where I didn’t know anyone.  My first game was supposed to be March 1^st.  Well, imagine my surprise when the day before opening night, I still hadn’t heard from anyone at the Y what time my game was or what team I was on.  Sure, they had cashed my check for the league some 3 weeks earlier, but I couldn’t get a hold of anyone that knew anything about me being in the league.

I’m pretty convinced it is a big conspiracy against Shooter.  You see, a couple weeks earlier I played some pick-up games at this Y, and I may or may not have been in full Shooter mode that day.  Either way, I don’t think it went over well when I had to be physically restrained from going after this 17 year old punk who was handing out elbows like Shooter hands out easy baskets to his opponents. 

I switched over to guard the kid after he hit two other guys on my team with elbows.  I proceeded to grab his shirt, pull him close to me and whisper sweet nothings into his ear … something along the lines of “I dare you to try that shit on me.  I will literally bury you under this court if you throw one of those at me.  UNDER THIS COURT!”   And then hilarity ensued (hilarity that is captured in vivid detail in my book about Shooter).

I cannot confirm that incident is the reason for Shooter being black-balled at the rec, but I’m pretty sure it was frowned upon.  Honestly, there are so many possibilities as to why Greg O’Connor hates everything good in life and therefore Shooter.  But what is unarguable, is that Shooter is not welcome in the Thursday night rec league.  Greg O’Connor claims it was some misunderstanding when I signed up, but I think the truth is probably somewhere between his version and mine.

Look, I wasn’t very happy last week when I was informed there was no place for someone like me in that league.  But, they are trying to make amends.  Apparently they are looking to start an over 30 league on Tuesday nights.  I know what you are thinking … “over 30?  Shooter doesn’t play old man basketball!!!”  Well, news flash … Shooter is getting old.  Besides, his anecdotes are probably less disturbing when they involve people his own age.  So I am hopeful to start that league in the next couple of weeks.  I will keep you updated. 

One last point … I mentioned earlier that those nasty bone spurs have come back.  Well, they have and I really only have myself to blame for them.

You see, about 3 weeks ago one of my clients challenged me to do 30 push-ups in a conference room after we read an article that stated anyone that can do 30 legitimate push-ups at one time is in above average physical condition.

Challenging me to test my strength is like challenging Shooter to shoot from 3 point range … it’s an easy yes and always ends poorly for all involved.  So I started to do the push-ups, got through the first 25 with little resistance and just as I started to do a victory lap towards #30, my right elbow started to give.  I finished rather meekly, but still finished nonetheless.  But I knew almost immediately that the small satisfaction of proving my physical prowess to a random guy in a conference room that Wednesday afternoon, would have long-term negative impacts.  When I woke up the next morning, my right arm was shot.  I knew it was bad, but for a week or two I pretended it wasn’t that bad.

Well last Sunday, the sh*t hit the proverbial fan.  I decided to venture back the hardwood to get ready for my upcoming season … well, that was a mistake.  On about my fifth shot, my right arm literally fell off.  I shit you not; right there on the Foxboro YMCA court was my arm staring back up at me. 

So the next day I woke up and decided enough was enough … as I have always said, sometimes pain just really hurts.  Pain hurts!

I went to the local urgent care and had an X-ray … same diagnosis as 3 years ago … the worst bone spur in the history of man-kind.    The nurse asked me how much pain I was in … on a scale of 1-10?  I told her it was a 14 … Shooter doesn’t come in for anything less than a 14 in pain (she made some comment about Shooter being a 14 on the pain in the ass scale).

Then my doctor came in and he was literally a lunatic.  He asked me what I would like.  “Cortizone shot?  Vicodin?  Percoset?”  I told him to give me the works … Shooter needs to play.  As he was giving me the cortisone shot he astonishingly asked … “what do you think they would do for this?  I don’t even know what they would do for a bone spur like this.  Do you think they would perform surgery?”  I kid you not … he asked for Shooter’s opinion.

I politely explained to Dr. Nick that he was the doctor … not me.  I’d be happy to help him improves the processes of his office so that he could get patients in and out quicker, but he really should be owning the medical stuff.

He sent me on my way with a bandaged up elbow, enough pills to kill a horse and the very real possibility that Shooter’s season may be over before it even started.

So as I sit here today, I am a Shooter in need of a league.  I am a Shooter in need of a new elbow.  I am a Shooter in need of a ray of hope.

But most importantly, I am still writing a book about being Shooter and nothing will ever change that … not bone spurs, not Jack Daniels and certainly not some sports league director for the Foxboro YMCA named Greg O’Connor!   You hear me Greg O’Connor??!!!  You start that over 30 league!!!  Shooter’s ready for his close-up!

The first thing I would like to say is thank you to everyone that made the first week sales of “Accepting” Average so satisfying.  It was incredibly gratifying to see and hear the positive response and I am really looking forward to hearing from more people once they receive their copies.  Sure, there are some people that have been … ummmmm … less than supportive about the book.  But that’s ok, it’s not for everyone. 

Thank you again to those of you that have been supportive and remember … if you like the book, encourage 5 of your friends to buy it.  If you don’t like the book … encourage 10 people you don’t like to buy it!

Ok, now for the real reason we are all here.  I realize that I have not been able to control all the buzz on social media and chances are you already knew this.  But in case you have been living under a rock the last two weeks, let me be the first to tell you … Shooter’s Back!  Now cue the confetti, allergic reaction to passing and lack of defense!

So this isn’t quite like other Shooter comebacks.  This one is bigger … a lot BIGGER.  You see, it turns out Shooter has pretty much burned all the bridges with people he used to play with and no longer can find a team that will let him play.  Which is fine … Shooter has always considered himself more of a solo artist anyway.

But the problem is, while Shooter is more than happy to stand in an empty gym and shoot baskets by himself, and Shooter certainly doesn’t miss “teammates” that insist on being part of the offense … there is one thing Shooter does miss … the competition (and chastising the officials, drinking heavily after games, sending belligerent e-mails, .. ok, so I guess I do miss a lot of it).

So Shooter did what he had to do … join a league where he doesn’t know a single person.  That’s right … starting March 2^nd, the Foxboro YMCA Thursday night men’s league is in for a HUGE treat!  I’m talking to you Greg O’Connor League Director!!!!!  Shooter’s coming to your league!  Seriously, you guys might want to think about locking up the women and children … and the refs, water coolers, benches, basketballs … pretty much anything not bolted down. 

So last weekend I drove to the Foxboro Y to sign up and announce my presence.  Turns out they have a lot of open gym times and pick-up games as well, so Shooter signed the whole family up for an annual membership (add on the fact that my wife and I just bought a mini-van and Shooter is pretty much your average middle class male). 

So I go to the front desk and I have my youngest daughter in tow in her carrier.  I tell the guy at the front desk I would like to sign up for the Thursday nights men’s basketball league in addition to joining the Y.  His response … and I kid you not …

                “The Thursday night men’s league?  Oh man … that league is REALLY competitive.  I mean, it gets physical.  The games are a lot of fun to watch because of how physical they are.  I hope you like competition!!!”

Now mind you … this young man had no idea who he was talking to.  My immediate reaction was to give him the old “do you know who I am?”  But I let it slide because it was obvious he did not recognize that he was in the presence of greatness.

Instead … being Shooter kicked in immediately … I simply responded … “No, I don’t like competition … competition likes me!”

Then I did this tough guy move of putting up my coat collar turned around without saying anything else and slowly started to walk out of the Y.  I remember thinking to myself … “now that guy knows Shooter means business and is one bad mother.  He’s going to spread the word.”

But there were two problems that immediately ruined the toughness and coolness factor.  One, I had started to walk out of the Y without picking up my youngest daughter in her carrier.  She was still back at the front desk.  And two … I hadn’t even paid or given the guy my information yet to sign up for the league.  So I slowly turned around, pretended to do like a little jig move and then a half-assed wind sprint or some crap, and went back to the front desk to get my daughter and finish signing-up.

But once I finally did walk out of that Y … with my daughter in tow this time … I knew that place would never be the same.  For they just had their first brush with greatness … and greatness is a 5 foot 11 and ½ inch mass of humanity that speaks in the 3^rd person, has an underserved sense of self-worth, believes defense was invented by the same sick, sick bastard that invented turkey-bacon … and has never, ever seen a shot he didn’t like (both on and off the court).

And starting March 2^nd … greatness has it’s old name back … Shooter! 

Two last points … first, last night I went to an open gym at the rec.  I won’t go into too many details, but let’s just say I ended up in a 3 on 3 game where my teammates combined age was roughly 140 and the combined age of the three kids we played against was under 50.  Needless to say … Shooter came alive and buried dagger after dagger and only once threatened physical harm against a 16 year old.  (ok … out of frustration, the kid hit one of my teammates with an intentional elbow in the face so I switched over to guard the kid.  I whispered into his ear … “I dare you to try that shit on me.  I will literally bury you right here in this gym … I’m not stable.)

Second … the reason I am not going into too much detail about last night (and trust me … it was everything I could have hoped for) is because the other rumor you probably heard is also correct.  I have been saying for a year that I just need to finish my first book, finish “Accepting” Average and then I could start on my second book.  “Accepting” Average was always about living out my passion and gaining industry “credibility”.

And that second book you ask?  A season with Shooter.  Yup … I will be writing an entire book about my experience playing in the Foxboro YMCA Thursday night men’s league.  The season runs from March 2^nd to late April and I will be writing at night after every practice session/league game/shot of Jack Daniels.  So hopefully I will be able to turn the book around a little bit quicker than “Accepting” Average. 

I will continue to blog short updates about Shooter’s season/progress, but a lot of the details will be saved for the book.  And when it’s done, the whole world will be just like those three little 16 year old punks I put a clinic on against last night … they will respect/fear the greatness that is Shooter!

Look … I know I have been talking about this book for over a year.  And I realize you are probably sick of hearing about it.  I have even heard from a few people that they think it doesn’t really exist.  Well, to all my doubters and haters (you know who you are)… the wait is over (oh … and suck it)!!!!! 

“Accepting” Average is available for purchase and ready to make love to your mind!  Just click on the below link and place your order. 

http://www.lulu.com/shop/dugan-condon/accepting-average/paperback/product-18895378.html

$14.95 for the greatest advice you will ever receive … and just an enjoyable read.  And yes, I realize the delivery cost is slightly high … but can you really put a price on greatness (I can … and it’s $14.95 plus shipping and handling).

In a couple of weeks, I hope to have it searchable on a couple other sites including Amazon, but for now, this is the best way to buy the book.  Also, if you see me on a regular basis and can wait a week or two, I will have physical copies available for purchase and will be happy to autograph them if so desired (I may even autograph them as Shooter if that is your fancy … and apparently it is for a number of people).

Now some people have been asking for a free copy.  Look, I understand that sentiment.  You know me, we’ve been through a lot together … hell, you may have even given birth to me.  And I respect all of that … I really do … especially the birthing part.  But I have 3 kids to feed now and well, this book set me back a couple of bucks.

Seriously though, I really appreciate anyone who buys the book.  I’m estimating I spent close to 500 hours writing and re-writing it.  There were many long nights that went into it, and I am not expecting to sell a ton of copies, but I value every copy that I do sell.

If you read the book and like it, please tell a friend and encourage them to buy one.  If you read the book and don’t like it, please tell a couple of people that you don’t like and encourage them to buy it!  Either way, please encourage people to buy the book.

I have no marketing budget, no machine behind me to sell the book.  I am solely relying on my “je ne sais quoi” so to speak to sell the book … so I am going to need as much help as possible!

Lastly, stay tuned because in the next week I will have another big announcement.  One that I think will make a lot of people very happy.  Let’s just say that someone is coming out of retirement … and this time … he’s playing to win (well, playing to shoot really, winning is just the natural byproduct of his shooting prowess .. and insolence … probably in that order, insolence, shooting and then very far down the road … eventually winning).

So I am learning some valuable lessons about how not to self-publish a book.   Turns out … it’s tough to self-publish when you have 3 kids under the age of 5, work 12 hour days at your real job, and have a close friend named Jack Daniels in your life.  Not sure I really have the desire to give any of those three up … although I probably could do without the 12 hour work days.

Anyway … I think the thing is … whenever you do something you are not familiar with, you really need to be zoned in so that you don’t make mistakes.  And that is a problem for me right now.  Too much going on to be completely zoned in on publishing a book. 

I’ve been sweating over the details (like making sure I had a good picture for the back cover … I wanted to go for an Ernest Hemingway shot of me drinking whiskey in a smoke filled bar while wearing a pea-coat with my head in one hand as I stared out to the distance pondering the meaning of life … my wife vetoed and I settled for a corporate head shot).

And I’m sure there are a million things I could be doing better to publish this thing … but as my wife alluded to this morning, “the people that really want it (all two of them) don’t care if I look like an alcoholic seaman on the back cover … they just want the book”.  Sound advice.  That’s the one thing I have always said about my wife … she’s always got advice for me.

But she’s right.  It’s time to stop dicking around and just get it done.  Who cares what the picture on the back of the book looks like.  Who cares if my graphics are slightly off or if the book is printed on bar napkins instead of actual paper.  The people in Tunisia need this book!!!  The pre-order there has been sold out for months!!!  Just get it done Dugan! 

So I am.  I am getting it to the presses today come hell or high-water. 

But there is one thing I will not sacrifice or compromise on with this book … the reviews.  I always loved the inside cover or back covers of books that had quotes from reviewers.  Things like … “War and Peace is a masterpiece of our time.  An epic journey that everyone should read.”

From the very beginning when I started writing this book, I wanted to have those quotes.  Now granted, I knew I wouldn’t be able to have actual real ones.  So I came up with the next best thing … I’m making up my own.  I’m not trying to pass them off as anyone else’s.  They are attributable to me.  Below are some of the ideas I am wrestling with including as reviews on the back cover …

Accepting Average … like having your balls set on fire!

Accepting Average is what I imagine heaven to be like … if heaven was filled with 38,000 words of cherubic angels shooting arrows of brilliance into my skull while filling my soul with an ever enduring light … yup, then it is just like heaven.

Accepting Average … because passing is for quitters.

Accepting Average … it’s like the time you took that waitress from Outback Steakhouse back to your cheap motel room in Toledo and then woke up the next day with that burning sensation … Accepting Average will leave you with that exact same burning sensation … but for half the price!

OK … so maybe I need to rethink some of these reviews.  Maybe I will just save them for the second publishing run or wait for the real reviews to come flooding in.

So I have alluded to it in past blogs but I can now say it without any reservations … “(Accepting) Average” is officially done and it is glorious!  I finally finished the last chapter last week.

In all honesty, I am very proud of it.  I poured my soul into it and invested a lot of blood, sweat and tears (but mostly urine from peeing every 30 minutes while writing it).

 Look … I’m pretty sure it’s not going to bring me fame and fortune.  And I’m pretty sure Mr. Pulitzer isn’t about to knock down my door with one of his precious awards.  Oh, and I know the grammar police a field-day will have with the book since I have chosen not to pay someone a boat-load of money to edit it (I like to think of my book as being “in the buff” in regards to its non-edited state.  It’s an au natural book … kind of like me).

And maybe it won’t get me on the Today Show so I can tell Matt Lauer how truly unhappy he is with his job because he is average at interviewing C-list “celebs” and doing stories about puppy dogs that chase a flash-light (which he is and it’s obvious to anyone that watches because it’s not his passion). 

But you know what?  It’s already all been worth it. 

Last week I sent the first two chapters of the book to a guy I work with that isn’t completely happy with his career/life right now.  He’s starting to hit that 30-something doldrums of “oh crap, where is my career going and how did this happen to me!?”  So I sent him just the first two chapters … something to wet his appetite.  Now mind you, this guy is not one for hyperbole or easily impressed.  He’s kind of a tight-ass actually.  So anyway … I shot him the first two chapters and he read it this past weekend. 

Yesterday morning when I came in to work he sent me an IM.  It simply read …

“wow - you are truly a gentleman and a scholar my friend. After reading the first 2 chapters I have a great regard and respect for you. I think I have been lucky to know you - straight from the heart.”

That is not a joke!!!  He was completely sincere!  That is what (Accepting) Average is all about!!!  That is what (Accepting) Average brings to the table and how it moves men and women of all types.  (Accepting) Average is no joke!!!  It is real life and it may or may not have your baby while you are reading it!!!

And that was just the first two chapters of the book!  I told him wait until he reads the next 8!  He told me he could not wait.  He wants it on Kindle right away. 

Well, he’s going to have to wait a couple of days at least.  I am currently in final discussions with many publishers (actually web-sites that let you publish a book yourself) and am deciding between a number of pretty sweet financial deals (if I order 100 copies of my book  it costs me $6.32 a copy where if I order 500 copies it only costs me $5.48 a book!!!!).  So I need to speak with my agent (my wife) and determine what is the best deal for me (how much she will let me piss away on publishing my own book).

I know you are chomping at the bit for the book and no one could blame you for your unadulterated giddiness.  But you have waited this long, I simply ask your patience for a couple more weeks while I determine the steep financial impact to my family and whether (Accepting) Average should have 1,000 copies in its first edition or 100,000.

Seriously though, if anyone knows a “real” publisher though, shoot me an e-mail.  I am exploring all options.