White Girls Gonna White Girl

I love women. I love women of all shapes, sizes, and ethnicity's. They are beautiful. However, there is an epidemic sweeping the nation which cannot be avoided. The infamous white girl snap, or as I have hashtagged it #WGS. Duckfaces, booty shots, Starbucks cups (yes, it is pumpkin spice season, ladies), Ugg Boots, fresh out of the shower pics, "woke up like dis", some part of the body on "fleek" usually the eyebrows or hair, pedicure pictures, and laying out by the pool showing toes, to name a few.  I believe it all started with the duckfaces littering all formats of social media. Usually duck faces occur in a bathroom mirror or in a small group of friends.

Recently I have been recreating pictures I have received from women while enduring the constant struggle of dating in a world consumed with selfishness and attention seeking. #WGS has been fairly popular. It has generated a lot of laughs and often times people call me out if I forget to include them in my mass snapchat, usually displaying my ass. I have never taken myself too seriously and have no shame. I have always lived by the theory that if it makes someone smile or would make a good story, go ahead and do it. In no way am I trying to demean women by my white girl snaps. I find it quite humorous how almost every single girl I have dated in the past two years does the same exact poses.

White girl snaps can be sexy. It is not sexy when these pictures are sent to everyone in order to get attention. It is truly sad to see so many women constantly seeking the approval of others. You don't need it. Do you, boo boo. It's ok to smile and act naturally in pictures. Personally I think that is way more attractive than anything else you can do in a picture.  I'm not saying I don't enjoy sexy pictures. What kind of man wouldn't? You ladies keep taking pictures the way you want. Don't change what you are doing for any man. He can either embrace the "white girl" or get over himself.

Fresh To Death

I'm going to start by saying I don't know shit about fashion. I'm all about comfort. I feel my best in a pair of jeans, a t shirt, and a baseball hat. I've been this way for as long as I can remember. When I am home, if I am not enjoying the freedom of No Pants Sunday, I am usually wearing a pair of basketball shorts, or sweatpants, a hat, and my slippers.

Personally I believe the hat is the most important accessory a man can own. I have quite a few hats in many different styles. My all time favorite style of hat is the 59/50 by New Era. In my fashion opinion regarding hats it is a necessity to remove all tags and stickers. You look foolish with stickers all over your hat. I think it is important to match the hat with your shirt. It makes you look more put together.

Fellas, Adidas or Nike sweatpants in public is a dangerous move. Girls will be looking to see if they can see a "print." If you are not well endowed, I suggest staying away from these kind of pants in a public setting. A girl knows withing the first 32 seconds of meeting you whether or not she would like to sleep with you. Don't make her decision easier. Accent your best qualities. Regardless of what kind of pants you wear the main rule is...MEN SHOULD NOT WEAR SKINNY JEANS.

Skinny jeans are the worst thing to happen to men's fashion since Seinfeld rocked the puffy shirt and parachute pants.You should not be able to share a pair of jeans with your girlfriend. How is that even comfortable? You need to let your penis and boys breath. I realize that because of pop culture men are now prettier than they have ever been. What is wrong with a man looking like a man? If you take more time getting ready for a night out than your girl, don't be surprised when she wises up and leaves your ass for a man.

Although I love wearing jeans and t shirt, it is important to clean up nicely. Every man should have a suit or two for special occasions. Formal wear brings out a confidence you don't get with your everyday attire. Straighten up your facial hair, get someone to trim your neck, throw on a watch, and approach any formal event with the confidence of a man.

Now let me get into what I think about women's fashion. Girls, for the most part you do it right. White pants, yoga pants/shorts are my weakness. It is so sexy, but it is not for everyone. Also, nothing is sexy about a girl that wears yoga pants every day of the week. Men notice when you take the time to get ready. Some may be too shy to say anything, but we really do appreciate it.

What I noticed this summer about women's fashion that really bothered me was the 1970's Farrah Fawcett shorts, riding all the way up to your belly button, showing off that camel toe. Please lose this look by next summer ladies.  Its not flattering. Stick to what works; sundresses, white pants, or some short shorts with some cowboy boots. That last one may be the country boy in me coming out.

I also believe that girls sometimes do too much. A natural beauty is sexy. Don't be misleading to us guys. We are already dumb enough. Don't deceive us with the massive amounts of makeup, and padded bras. No one wants to wake up to a completely different person than the one they went to bed with. You shouldn't leave another face on our pillows. 

The bras are also deceiving to us. If it gets to the point of us actually getting to see the goods, we shouldn't be wondering where all the boobs went. Guys don't stuff socks in our underwear, unless its a bad 80's movie, don't fool us with your extra cup size inserts in your bra.  

When it comes down to it, everyone has their own style, and that is all right. These are just some of my opinions. I believe anyone can be sexy with the right amount of confidence. Do what makes you happy...as long as it doesn't include stickers on hats, and Farrah Fawcett jeans. Guys, if you want to wear your pants that shows off your goods (or lack thereof) do it. Girls, well the majority of you, keep doing what you are doing. It is appreciated. I'm just sad we have to wait until the spring time to see you in those white pants again. 

Nobody Likes A Quitter

Tobacco has been a part of my life for a long time. I am not proud of my tobacco addiction. It was always staring me in the face during my baseball playing days. I regret ever starting the nasty habit. I have tried to quit many times, all unsuccessfully. I'm writing about it today because I am embarking on the journey of being tobacco free once more.

My first taste of tobacco came my sophomore year of high school.  I had just moved from the Cincinnati area to Piedmont Oklahoma.  A 6A school to a small 4A farming community outside of Oklahoma City. I didn't fit in right away because I was a "city boy." I didn't drive a big truck. I didn't listen to country music religiously. The only common ground I had with many of the guys at my new school was sports.

 Baseball season rolled around. I was starting to fit in a little more. Life was good. I was the starting shortstop for the team. I had proven myself to be all right in their book. We were on the bus heading back from a game we had won. I was sitting at the back of the bus with the seniors when the second baseman pulled out a can of Copenhagen Snuff.

He packed the Copenhagen and put a fat dip in his lower lip.  Then he asked if I wanted one. I couldn't say no, even though I had no idea what I was doing. He packed the can and told me how to do it. By now all the seniors were gathered around me. There was no turning back now. I reached into the can and put a big fat dip in my mouth. It burned. Snuff was getting all over my mouth as I packed it into my lip. I was sitting on a ball bucket in the aisle. I started getting light headed. They all told me this was perfectly normal and I would soon start to fill like I had to shit. As soon as we arrived back at the school I rushed off of the bus and headed straight to the bathroom. This is what we call in the business "Double Jeopardy." I was so sick. Spraying out both ends. 

I would like to say this was the last time I did tobacco but I can not. Everyday I was offered a dip, or a chew for the rest of the baseball season. Before I know it I was addicted to the tobacco.  I would have a dip during class. Cleverly spitting down the straw of my drink so I wouldn't get into trouble. I couldn't wait to get to practice so I could chew without having to hide it. It was a bonding kind of thing I suppose. We would sit around the clubhouse with a chew in our mouths, sharing a spittoon, talking about baseball and girls.   

Time went on and I left for college.  My tobacco use was at an all time high now because I didn't have to hide it from my parents. Almost all of the baseball team chewed tobacco. One of my favorite times is when the team did a fundraiser at the Kansas Speedway. The Skoal and Timberwolf tent gave out free logs for every empty can you took them. We would make the guys on the team who didn't use tobacco go to the tent with one of our empties. By the time our fundraiser was over we all had enough dip to last us the entire season. My freezer was filled with cans of all different types and flavors.

Four years of college came and went. I always thought that when I was finished playing baseball I would quit my habit easily. I was wrong. I put away the chewing tobacco and switched to cigarettes. I was told that one chew was equivalent to four cigarettes. I thought that this would make it easy to wean myself off of tobacco. Again, I was wrong.

I began smoking regularly. It was more socially acceptable in the professional world. Work hard and then sneak outside every so often for a smoke break. It broke up the monotony of the workday. It formed friendships with people from other departments. We all had that nasty habit in common.

Over the years I tried to quit several times. My professional life took me on the road. Living out of a suitcase with long hours and not much free time. Sometimes having a smoke was the only thing that kept me sane and sometimes it was the only thing that kept me awake while driving cross country. When I gave all that up to move to Kansas, I started working in the bar where I am currently employed. We all know that drinking and smoking are synonymous. 

Last year I decided I was done with cigarettes and chewing tobacco. I went and got the patches. I was tobacco free for about three months and then my birthday rolled around. I was out celebrating with my friends, really tying one on. My friend lit up a cigarette and the aroma immediately made me crave one. I asked him to bum me one. He told me no because he knew my struggle with quitting. I told him it would be ok, and I only wanted one for my birthday. This started the addiction right back up again because one turned into ten. Then the next day all I wanted was a cigarette to help my hangover.  Before I knew it I was back to being a full time tobacco user.

I am writing about this now because I am about to embark on the arduous journey of quitting tobacco once more.  I know it will not be easy, but I know it will benefit me in the long run.  I guess this is one of the signs of growing older. I have realized my mortality and want to take the necessary steps to living a longer and healthier life. If I'm not going to quit the whiskey, I need to quit the tobacco. I will miss it dearly, but I know it is the right thing to do.

Baseball

Those of you who know me know that I am a passionate individual. My biggest passions are baseball and music. Both have the ability to take you away from your reality even if it is only for a little while. I believe there is truth, romance, and honesty in both. Playing baseball has left my life. Music still remains but I will spend the rest of this edition talking about my first love...Baseball.

I was born into a family that loved baseball. My grandfather played in college and coached my fathers little league team. My dad also played in college. My dad married my mother who came from a family which hated sports. Marrying my dad, she really had no choice but to learn to love baseball. Baseball was the centerpiece of the Nelson side of the family. There is always a ball and a glove around at every family function. 

When I was born, one of the first pictures of me included a baseball in my hand. My love for baseball grew more and more as the years passed by. I remember going to my dads' "old man" games as a child. I always wanted to be around the game. I sat in the dug out. I did the bat boy stuff. I fondly remember my dads' team winning a tournament and getting to witness the popping of champagne. I also remember my dad taking a ground ball off of his face. His eye being swollen and bloody, but he still made the play. Its almost as if you cant be a Nelson on the baseball field until you have had a ground ball bust your face up in some way.

My dad is a life long Red Sox fan. Talking to him today, he will still talk about the time he met Carl Yastrzemski and got his autograph as a child. I really had no choice in the matter in being a Red Sox fan. I tried to fight it along the way. My favorite team early in my life was the Oakland A's. I loved the bash brothers. As I grew older I tried to rebel against being a Red Sox fan. I cheered for the A's, and when my family moved to Cincinnati I cheered for the Reds. I didn't want to like the same team as my dad. Looking back, I kind of liked the rivalry. It wasn't until middle school, where I really started embracing the history, torment, and tradition of the Boston Red Sox. I have been a fan ever since. I still keep the Redlegs close to my heart. Living in the Cincinnati area for so long will do that to you. 

I was very fortunate at a young age to be able to travel to watch baseball games. One of my favorite memories as a child came when my dad and I took a trip from Cincinnati. We watched the Reds play. The next day we drove up to Cleveland to catch an Indians game. That Indians team was so much fun to watch. Albert Belle, Kenny Lofton, and Carlos Baerga were my favorite players on the team. They were playing the Seattle Mariners. I don't recall the score of that game but I do remember how happy I was to be able to spend some time with the old man. After the game my dad took me to the players parking lot. We watched the Mariners board the team bus. Many signed autographs and took pictures with the fans. It was a great experience.

The next day we drove up to Detroit to catch a Tigers game. I remember they played the Kansas City Royals. I was pumped because David Cone was scheduled to pitch and I packed my conehead. The Tigers and the Royals were so bad that season that we were able to get really good seats rows behind the Royals dugout. The Royals players thought my conehead was hilarious. Jose Lind came out of the dugout and gave me his baseball bat. I still remember the smell and the stickiness of fresh pine tar on a baseball bat. To this day it is one of my favorite smells. Jose then went into the dugout and talked David Cone into coming out and autographing my conehead. I still have that in my parents house with all my memorabilia. This game was also special to me because I had my first drink of beer. I remember how terrible I thought it was and promised to never drink beer again. Young McCoy would be so disappointed in Old McCoy's love of beer.

After the game in Detroit we headed up to Niagara Falls. I didn't appreciate the glory of what I was seeing at the time. I didn't want to be there. I wanted to watch more baseball. I could have cared less about Niagara Falls. My dad knew this, but I think he also knew that it would be a good thing for me to see. I haven't been back to the Falls since, but I'd love to go back. 

We ended the trip with the highlight. We left Niagara Falls and headed to Cooperstown. The mecca of baseball. Every baseball fan should make a trip or two to Cooperstown in their lifetime. I could have spent days in there. Even as a kid, I was in awe of everything the Hall of Fame included. I was fortunate enough to have my dad there with me. He explained the importance of everything to me. He showed me all of his favorite players growing up. We spent two great days in Cooperstown. before making the drive back to Cincinnati. I didn't want to leave. I hope and pray one day to take my future son to Cooperstown and relive that experience with him.

I would love to take this time to talk about all of my baseball accomplishments. I was a pretty good player. I did not start blogging to toot my own horn. Those that know anything about my past, know about my playing career. My favorite memories of life have happened on a baseball field. I will say that I played in college. I had the chance to play over seas, and won a few awards. All of that means little to me compared to the memories I have from being at a baseball field with my dad. As a grown man, my favorite part of going home is knowing that my dad, my brother, and I will find the time to go out in the yard and play catch.

Feels Like The First Time

When I set out to write an interactive blog I knew that my twitter followers would undoubtedly take things to a sexual nature in no time. The first follower to make a suggestion asked that I write about losing my virginity. For most, losing your virginity is a very important and sensitive issue.  I, on the other hand, am an open book. I have no problem discussing my history. 

I was a young man when I first started getting the sexual urges. I felt ashamed of them because of my religious background. I felt like my feelings were wrong and dirty, but I liked it. My mind often wandered to sexual places, even though I had no idea what it was really about, or even how to begin. I hadn't even kissed a girl.

My first kiss was with an older girl. I walked to her house one day after the school bus dropped us off. I knew it was going to happen all day. I talked with my friends about it. One of my friends explained to me that kissing was easy. "All you have to do is open your mouth and rub your tongue on the front of her teeth." This seemed easy enough. The school day went so quickly. The anticipation was almost more than I could stand. After school, as I walked her to her house, I held her hand. When we arrived at her front door, I knew the moment of truth was upon us. It was now or never. I was going to get my first kiss. What happened next was an awkward sequence of events starting with me closing my eyes, leaning in, opening my mouth way too wide and sticking my tongue out. My eyes were closed and I had no idea where I was going. Instead of simply "rubbing my tongue on the front of her teeth," I put my mouth completely over her mouth and part of her nose because she actually knew what she was doing and was going to start with just a peck.

My first kiss was a disaster. My "coolness" with the older girls faded quickly. Its funny how it worked. My failed attempt at the kiss and popularity with the older crowd made me more popular with the kids in my grade. My friends thought I was the man because I "kissed" an older girl. The girls in my grade thought I was experienced and a lot better than I actually was. My phone started ringing off the hook the next few weeks with girls wanting to go to the movies or them inviting me to parties. Then one Friday night at the high school football game I took a girl behind the bleachers and I got my first successful French kiss. No rubbing my tongue on her teeth, an actual real kiss.  I was so happy. The first thing I did afterwards was tell my friend that he was right, and I kissed her exactly how he told me to. I wanted to make sure when he got his first kiss he would be as embarrassed as me.

Now that the first kiss was out of the way, I was ready for more. As a young man I was obsessed with Niki Taylor. She was a super model, a swimsuit model, a cover girl, my absolute fantasy. One evening while watching late night television in the basement. I became aroused. Then a Niki Taylor commercial came on. The next thing I know I am freaking out because stuff came out of me. I quickly got to the bathroom to clean myself, hoping I did would not get caught. I had done a bad thing, but once again, it felt so right. I've been masturbating guilt free ever since.

It wasn't long after that the Niki Taylor fiasco I got my first girlfriend. We talked on the phone all the time. We got really good at kissing. She was beautiful and fun to be around. My friends made fun of me like teenage boys will do. They told me I was "whipped." I didn't care. I had a girl that would let me kiss her whenever I wanted. I thought this girl was going to be the one to take my V card. She had a four month rule. If she dated a guy for four or more months, it was all right for them to have sex.  The four months seemed to last an eternity. When the four months were up all that was left was to plan when we could be alone in a private place to make this happen. Then light a sign from the heavens, we had a school holiday. No school, but our parents would both have to work. We would both have a house to ourselves. This holiday ladies and gentleman...Good Friday.

Good Friday arrived. I stayed the previous night at my friends' house who lived closer to her. When I woke up, I cleaned myself up nicely, grabbed the condom I had stashed in my backpack for four months, and headed to her house. Something happened when I got there. It was like I was being punished for planning to commit a sin on a holy holiday. When I arrived, her older brother was there. Home from college. There would be no boom boom this day. Looking back I am grateful for not losing the V card this day. There is no way that condom was worth a damn. 

My family made the move to Oklahoma that summer. I stayed in the Cincinnati area to finish my baseball season. I made the move right before school started. Oklahoma girls were beautiful. I had options being the "new kid."  For some reason the new guy in school does well with the ladies. I guess it is because the girls are used to seeing the same horny idiots day in and day out. The new guy is their chance to get to know a new horny idiot. It was after a short while at my new school in Oklahoma where I lost my virginity. I'm not going into the details of it because I was a minor, you creepy pervs. 

I will share with you my first sexual encounter as an adult. I met her at a party. The music was loud. The fraternity house was crowded and smelled of bad decisions and regret. I knew she had been eyeing me all night, and why wouldn't she? I was looking fresh to death, pounding Natural Light, and taking random pulls off a bottle Jack Daniels. I was tearing up the dance floor with my awesome white boy moves. I finally built up enough liquid courage to go and talk to her. She was a blonde. Tall, nice tan, and legs for days. I suggested we move somewhere a little more quiet so we could talk. We made our way to another room where there were only a few people. Thankfully there were others there. My best friend saved my ass in that room. Being the intoxicated mess I was, as I was leaning on this couch to talk to the blonde bombshell, I did not notice the couch started to move. I was bound to fall flat on my ass and make a fool of myself. My best friend saw this happening and moved to the other side of the couch to keep the couch from sliding further. Crisis was averted.

After talking to her for a few more moments. She suggested we go back to her place. We walked back. Making frequent stops to make out and grope each other. About an hour later we ended up at her place. A nice little duplex off campus. After entering the duplex she shut the door and we immediately went into a passionate embrace. Clothes started shedding. Breaths getting deeper. Each moment more intense. It was now I decided to step it up a notch. I picked her up and began to carry her up the stairs to her room. In my drunken state, I thought I was way more coordinated than I actual was. About six stairs up, her still in my arms and wrapped around me, I tripped. I dropped her on her back. She hit her head on one of the stairs. I fell to the side of her. Embarrassed and afraid I had hurt her, and ruined the mood. Luckily for me she had a great sense of humor and she was tough. We laughed it off and began making out on the stairs. 

The rest of the night was fun. We are playful and insatiable. We spent the night satisfying our every need. I came a long way from the first unsuccessful attempt at a kiss, and the planning on having relations stage of my life. The best moments in life are the spontaneous ones.  Not knowing what is going to happen next makes things interesting and worth doing. I encourage you all to be more spontaneous with your life. Make some mistakes, do some things you may regret. I promise you won't forget the memories made along the way.

Mans Best Friend

A dog will teach you unconditional love. If you can have that in your life, things won't be too bad.

Robert Wagner 

When I began to think of the many topics I would like to discuss in my blog, the first thing that came to mind was the power a good dog can have on a mans life. Growing up I always had a dog. Luckily my father thought this was an important thing for a boy to have. Owning a dog teaches responsibility, love, and friendship. I loved all of my boyhood dogs dearly. 

It wasn't until my fifth year of college I really learned what being a responsible dog owner was all about. I was about to begin my fifth year at Baker University. I was finished chasing the baseball dream, and I knew I would have a lot of spare time on my hands. I had talked with my girlfriend at the time about getting a dog. She thought it was a great idea. Now came the time for picking what breed I wanted.  After researching the breeds I settled on the Boxer. A noble, smart, and playful dog. I knew this was the breed for me and my lifestyle. I love the outdoors and being silly. Everything I heard about the breed was positive.  

I began calling different breeders around the Kansas City area and I found a lady in Topeka whose boxer was about to have pups. I was so excited. The breeder called me when the puppies were born and a few days later I drove to Topeka to pick out MY dog. This would be the first dog that was all mine. I didn't have to share with my family. It was all on me. When I arrived at the house, I was taken to the basement where the beautiful fawn mother was nursing the litter of pups. I was immediately drawn to the runt of the litter. I picked her up. She looked like a little guinea pig not able to open her eyes yet. As I was holding her, she pooped on me. This is how I knew she was the one. I let her down and she tried to go back to her moms nipple, but the other pups were fat and wouldn't let her in. I moved one over so my pup could get in there and eat.  

I paid the breeder, and for the next six weeks I made frequent visits to see my girl.  I decided on a name after consulting with my best friend. I have always had an extreme love of music. Willie Nelson is my all time favorite musician. Since my last name is Nelson, I decided I could play around with "Willie" sounding names. Then I decided to simply flip the "W" to an "M" and Millie Nelson was the name I decided on.

The day came to pick up Millie. I drove to Topeka with my lady friend to pick her up. It was by far one of the happiest days of my life. Millie rode on my lap all the way home. She was so small and curious. When we got back to my house she explored the yard and went to take her first poop at my house. She was so clumsy, she fell back into her poop. This spurred Millies first bath.  

I will fast forward a few months down the line. Millie had grown into a great dog. So much energy and love. She learned quickly and loved walks around campus with her Frisbee. I loved walking her around campus because I loved the attention I received from everyone as we played. Millie was not fond of the leash, still isn't to this day. She never goes far from me. 

It was now April. A month away from graduation. I would go to class and come straight home to play with Millie and do homework. I was still active around campus, but I was kind of out of the loop since I was no longer playing baseball and had a serious girlfriend. I had a radio show with my best friend. I would take Millie to the studio with me during our weekly show. I had recently broken my leg during an intramural softball game (I still refuse to play softball to this day). Then the darkest day of my life happened. 

I woke up early in the morning to Millie howling at the door. I heard the doorbell ringing and excessive knocking. I looked at my phone to see many missed calls. I grabbed my crutches and hobbled down the stairs to find the campus minister, the Dean, and two police officers at my door. They were there to inform me that my roommate had been killed by a train the next town over. I won't go in to much more detail on that day, because honestly it was all a blur.  So many people in and out of my house. Family members, friends, people I had never met before. The only constant that day was Millie. I tried to be strong for everyone. Millie was the only way I was comfortable to cry and grieve. She was my pillow, my only reason for getting out of bed so she wouldn't go potty in the house. I do not know how I would have survived that ordeal without Millie there for me every second of the day. 

I graduated college in May and accepted a job for Fox News in Oklahoma City. Millie and I were there for a about a year. During this time, things became more serious with my college girlfriend. After much thought I made the drive back up to Kansas for the weekend, with Millie and a ring in my pocket. The three of us went to the lake, Millie chased ducks, and me and the lady sat on a blanket like we had done many times. I proposed to her that night and now I had a fiance and the hopes of a good start to a family. The three of us. The future was looking bright.

The next summer as I was getting ready to be a married man, Millie and I moved to Kansas City. The fiance wanted to live there so I obliged. It was tough leaving my good job and family in Oklahoma City, but I was excited for the next chapter in my life. As the wedding date moved closer, me and the fiance started moving further apart. Things just were not working out. We decided it was best to break it off before we got in too deep. As we were going through things each of us wanted from the break up, I told her she could have anything but the dog. Millie was the only thing that mattered to me.  We broke it off and me and the dog moved to Omaha Nebraska. It was a random place to go, but I didn't want to be around all the things that reminded me of my "failure" in a relationship.

It wasn't long into my stay in Omaha that I received an amazing job opportunity. I was sitting in the bar I was employed when I got a random phone call from an old friend. There was an opportunity for me to film for Peacock Productions. It was an opportunity I couldn't pass up. I packed my things and drove everything back to my parents house in Oklahoma. I had to leave Millie there because I couldn't take her on the road with me. I was going to be in a different city every week and living out of a suit case. To this day, my stint at this job is the longest I have ever been away from my girl. Every time I called home to check on my dog, my mother would tell me Millie had been staring out the window every day. I could not wait to come home to her. 

My stint with Peacock was short lived. The project I was assigned to was terminated. This left me unemployed, and on the next plane back to Oklahoma City. My parents picked me up at the airport. I was excited to see them and my little brother, but most important thing to me was seeing my pup. Once again I had "failed" at something, but I knew my dog was going to be there for me. I remember walking in the door to my parents house and Millie running to me as fast as she could. I sat down and she jumped on the couch. She showered me with affection. It was a great homecoming.

I spent the next few months trying to find another job I would enjoy. Job hunting all day and then spending my evenings at the dog park with Millie and my little brother. I thought of tucking my tail and trying to return to Fox where I proudly resigned a two years prior. I could not bring myself to do this. I ended up accepting a position as a videographer for a local production house. I was able to fine tune my filming and editing skills while spending more time at home with loved ones and the pup. While working this job, I was able to save and team up with a few friends to start our own production company. It was very stressful, putting me in a different city every week. It was nice, because as the boss, I was able to have Millie with me whenever I wanted. 

Millie is the best road trip partner. Her favorite thing in the world is a ride in the truck. She rides shotgun and knows we only stop when I need gas.  She puts up with the loud music and shenanigans that happen on the road. She has seen so many states, and traveled farther than most people get to in their lifetime. She has been the only ear I had to listen to me vent and has kept me awake on many sleepless nights on the road. I feel like we are very lucky to have each other.

Almost 3 years ago I decided it was time to give up the travel and move back to Kansas. It proved to be beneficial for both of our health. I was able to stop eating fast food for every meal and Millie got a big yard and friends to run around with.

When it comes to a man and his dog, I believe the only bond stronger is that a man has with his wife and kids.I have neither, so I only know about the dog aspect. A man can learn many valuable lessons from the silent stares of a good dog. I have been very fortunate to have a great dog.  She truly is my best friend. She knows all of my hopes, fears, and insecurities. She never judges. Someday when I have a child of my own, he will have a dog. Until then it is me and the Millie.

“Be the person your dog thinks you are!”

― J.W. Stephens