Never Mess With The Face
My name is SciFi Dad, and I write a little blog called Tales From The Dad Side. (Why do I suddenly feel like I'm standing up at an AA meeting?)
So here I am, guest posting. If tradition is to be followed, I'm supposed to make some quips about looking in the medicine cabinets or dresser drawers, but since a man rummaging through a woman's drawers is frowned upon in most states, I'll just stick to writing; that way, no one ends up in the back seat of a state trooper's car. (Although I was in a state trooper's recliner receiving inappropriate attention from his daughter once; but that is a story for another time, and definitely another blog.) I'm also supposed to tell you how awesome this blog is, and how amazing Megan is, and how I'd totally lie down in traffic for her or something. But a) you already know about the blog and Megan and b) I don't lie, so the whole traffic thing? Not going to happen. (Sorry Megan.)
Guest posting is an interesting thing: people may say they do it as a favour, and in all likelihood that is true. However, they also do it to direct traffic to their own blog. Anyone who tells you different is lying. If they were really trying to be altruistic, they would guest post anonymously with neither name nor link to attribute it back to themselves. So, if the goal is to drive traffic, what works best? I could be funny or sarcastic, and while I am those things at my own place, I would not say it happens often. Usually I'm more pensive, more self-involved more self aware.
Anyhow. I usually start my posts with a song; sort of a soundtrack for the post. So, let's get started, shall we?
One night I was sitting on the couch holding my (one month old) son, marveling at the newborn's ability to sleep in any place, in any position, and do so while appearing both peaceful and comfortable when my (three and a half year old) daughter climbed up beside me. After making the requisite attempt to stroke her brother's hair in an effort to see just how soft his soft spot was, she turned her attention to me.
"Daddy, why is your ear purple?"
"My ear is purple?"
"There's a purple dot in your ear."
"Where?"
"There," she said, touching a spot in my ear.
"Ohhh..."
In university I had a penchant for ear piercings ("never mess with the face", my good friend always said, "always the ears"). When I met my wife I had five earrings in one ear and one in the other. The singular one was a lobe piercing. On the other ear, three were in the lobe, one was in the helix, and one was in the upper part of the antihelix above the tragus (ref: Pinna (via Wikipedia) - bet you didn't expect an anatomy lesson when you started this post). Since then, I have removed all my earrings.
My daughter was interested in the antihelix piercing, probably because it is "inside" the ear and atypical. My wife smirked with that common "Let's see how you figure your way out of this one, smart guy," look.
The point of GoBloMeMoFo is 
