Another Top X list

Ugly Dad has recently made an important life decision. See, I decided I needed a thing. A thing of my own. My own thing. I want to build an identity around something, like people do with church or family, but I want to build it around something low key kooky.

I just punned your ass and you didn’t even know it.

See, I’m into doors now. You read that right. I’m a door enthusiast. If it’s meant for something to enter and/or exit, that’s what I’m about now. Get me a set of salt and pepper shakers that look like doors because I need to post the pics all over social media so everyone knows how much of a door guy I am now. I want people to see a post about a door and think about me because I’m the door guy. So without further blah blah blah I give you Ugly Dad’s Top X Doors.

1. Car Doors

Car doors are great. Not only do they keep you from spilling out of your car and onto the road, but if you are Mel Gibson in Lethal Weapon II you can use it as a weapon to murder one of the guys responsible for your new South African girlfriend’s death.

You should not open the car door while you’re riding in a car though.

Here’s that part from Lethal Weapon 2 I mentioned. Car doors man, their great.


2. The Polka Dot Door

This show man. I’m probably dating myself but I remember liking this show. Perhaps it’s responsible for my love of doors? I don’t know. You tell me.

Wasn’t that some door? I realized upon rewatching this that it’s Canadian and I have a soft spot for Canadian children’s programming. Probably because that was 90% of Nickelodeon’s content those early years. Remember YCDTOT?

Fuck, I’m old.


3. A Trap Door Spider’s Door

Don’t go knocking on this bad ass door. Not unless you want to be lunch you idiot! But seriously, you’re too big. It’s a bad ass door though.


4. The Scary Door

I love Futurama almost as much as I love doors, so it’s only appropriate that I steal their content for this list. This is an homage to that “twilighty show about the zone.”


5. Trapdoors (not the spider kind)

I wanted to find a video of a real trapdoor in action, but it’s difficult because instead of trap doors that lead to crocodile pits or a secret dungeon, it’s all secret entrances to wine cellars and junk like that. So here’s the best trapdoor of all time.


There it is. A top X list about doors. The sad thing is that writing this list has stripped away all the enthusiasm I had for them. They’re just not the same. Doors these days, am I right? They’ve gone too commercial, I mean, they have them at Home Depot now. I liked it better when doors were my thing. Like how jerks feel when their favorite unknown band becomes a known band, that’s how I feel about doors. Maybe I’ll give windows a try.

So that’s it I suppose. Please leave. And don’t slam the door on your way out.

Ugly Dad’s Top X Reasons I Quit Teaching

I taught school for ten years before I became the Ugly Dad you know today, and getting out of the field was one of the best things I’ve done for myself. You know why so many teachers are shitty and angry? Based on my experience, it’s because teaching school is one of the worst things a person can devote their life to.

Continue reading “Ugly Dad’s Top X Reasons I Quit Teaching”

Ugly Dad’s Top 8 Worst Social Media Post Haters

Hey! Welcome back, or just welcome. You spoke and Ugly Dad listened and as a reward for all that hard work you did in answering my question, “What’s the worst type of social media posts?” here’s a terrible post about the worst social media posts.

But you might be saying, Ugly Dad, there are so many of these already, what could you possibly add?

Continue reading “Ugly Dad’s Top 8 Worst Social Media Post Haters”

Rosemary’s Bae by Kimmy Dee

Sure, I’ve danced with the devil in the pale moonlight… and then stared at the ceiling for three and a half minutes while ole Beezlebub jackhammered away, before rolling over and farting himself to sleep.

As far as Tinder dates go, I’ve had worse.

Still, I was relieved when he didn’t call. The only reason I’d swiped right on Satan in the first place was piqued curiosity over his fabled forked tongue, only for him to casually blurt out over dinner that he doesn’t go down. You’ve gotta admit that’s a dick move, even for the Antichrist.

So you can imagine my glee when three weeks later, after several mornings of projectile vomiting green goo, I pissed on a plastic stick and a faint pink line appeared.

Joy.

I was in my 30s, single, and knocked up by the devil. Even my cats seemed disappointed by my life choices. And if there was ever any doubt about paternity, it was dispelled when ultrasound pictures clearly depicted adorable cloven hooves.

Abortion wasn’t an option. I’m militantly pro-choice, but once I felt the first stirrings of my demon fetus I knew it wasn’t a decision I could live with… mainly because the bastard probably would’ve killed me first. I once grabbed a wire hanger to put away my coat and immediately queefed out a fireball – I think it was a warning shot.

Pregnancy is so precious.

As my unholy baby bump grew we opted to give our relationship a real shot, so I accompanied the devil down to Georgia on a business trip. I quickly decided my diabolical child deserved better than a second-fiddle bully for a father, and I fled home to prepare for life as a single mom to the rightful heir to hell’s throne. (I also stopped for a pedicure—that Southern humidity was nefarious to my swollen tootsies.)

Most new mothers consider their birth stories (and only theirs) as miraculously thrilling tales, but mine was pretty unremarkable. There was the usual chanting in tongues and the air swirled with streams of virgins’ blood, but I was too stoned to pay much attention.

Oh come on, I banged the Prince of Darkness without using protection, you didn’t expect me to hop upon that “natural childbirth” high horse, did you? I took all the drugs, and afterwards asked the nurse for a doggie bag.

Two days later little Lucy and I were sent home with instructions on umbilical cord and severed tail care, and we settled into our new lives pretty well.

But it was hard to make ends meet.

Childcare costs in this country are ridiculous anyway, but with the “possession premium” heaped onto the already overburdened families of demonic tykes I was basically paying to go to work. I swallowed my pride, and texted Satan for help; he responded with a “new phone, who dis” meme, then blocked my number.

So I took his accursed ass to court.

My petition for child support required several supplemental pages, as one could fill a book with just the known aliases of the defendant. I submitted the first shedding of Lucy’s curved horns as proof of paternity, which the judge deemed sufficient before signing the cross and rushing me out of the courtroom.

But I still haven’t seen a dime from the serpentine prick. He’s vanished, and if anyone can go deep underground for a few millennia to let a scandal blow over, it’s Satan.

The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the family court system he didn’t exist.

But don’t worry about me or Lucy, we’ll be fine. Since my court order went public I’ve had offers for book deals and talk show appearances that will bankroll both of our futures. And Lucy, well, if our naptime battles are any indication she’ll be ripe to defeat her father and reign as the Queen of Hell before she’s even through her terrible twos.

And in the end, isn’t that all we want for our children?


Kimmy Dee is the author of the essay collection Pussy Planet and Other Endearing Tales, and she has soiled various dark corners of the internet with her harebrained excuses for short stories. She lives in Grand Rapids, Michigan, with her beloved cats and a family she barely tolerates.

Ugly Dad’s Unsolicited Writing Advice #2: The 5 things every writer needs to have within arm’s length when being a writer

Hello! Here comes another edition of Ugly Dad’s unsolicited writing advice. People are never asking me: “Ugly Dad, how can I be a well writerer?”

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