So...Homer Simpson

I am turning into Homer Simpson (minus all those sweet Nuclear Power Plant 7G dollars). Lets start with the obvious (and painful)…

His age has been said to be 36, 38, 39 and even 40 (it is soooo close now), my age is 39. He has three kids, his oldest being his 10 year old son, Bart, his middlest being his 8 year old daughter, Lisa, and his littlest being his 1+ year old daughter Maggie. I have a ten year old, Luke, a 7 year old daughter Avery and a 2 year old daughter Noah Lynn. Ugh…that was boring to write, but I am sure the rest is better (spoiler alert, it isn’t).

The dude loves to eat, I would eat 5 day old sushi (mmmm…5 day old sushi), if I knew I wouldn’t get caught (I could care less about getting sick, until I am actually sick).  Because of our shared love of food (I could so go for a grilled cheese sandwich), I have started to put on a few lbs, which have made my mid-section very Homer Simpsonesque (sorry, dinkus…I’m working on it…I mean not right now, but you know what I mean).

So what about the not-so-obvious Homer Simpson qualities I embiggen (diehard Simpson Nerds unite!)…

Like Homer Jay Simpson, I totally outkicked my coverage in the spouse game. My wife is smart, caring, active, an amazing mother to all three of the kiddos, sells real estate (remember that one episode Marge did that, uh oh…is dinkus going to be a cop, or get a boob job), thinks more than 3 spices is too much in cooking (mmmm…mywife’schickenburritos), she loves an often bumfuzzled (it’s a work, look it up) guy, she is trustworthy (I would trust her to take bowling lessons), and is incredibly beautiful (Marge is a knockout, in fact she was on Playboy).

In my mind, I am a killer softball player. I was a pretty darn good baseball player in my day (left bench is a position, right?). Homer was recently enshrined in the MLB Hall of Fame, I believe someday I will be too (shut up, don’t take this from me). He got to hang out with famous athletes (Daaaaaaaaarrrrrryyyyllll!!) and I have too, kinda(I peed next to Lance Armstrong and called him “One Nut” Lance, true story).

Homer has a blog! He was the mysterious Mr. X. I have a blog! I am the boring M.

Homer has had a lot jobs, just so I can add a higher word count to this blog, here are some of them: boxer, mascot, astronaut, baby proofer, imitation Krusty, truck driver, hippie, plow driver, food critic, conceptual artist, grease salesman, carny, mayor, grifter, body guard for the mayor, country western manager, garbage commissioner, mountain climber, farmer, inventor, Smithers, Poochie, celebrity assistant, power plant worker, fortune cookie writer, Pieman, Kwik-E-Mart clerk and missionary (it’s not just a position?). I have had quite a few jobs in my life: butcher’s aide (if I didn’t go vegan after this, I never will), shoe salesman, sports writer, copy editor, office supplies salesman, copy writer, homecare and hospice representative, advertising account executive and pharma rep.

Homer has dreams, as do I (ok so everybody has this one in common with the Beer Barron). Homer dreamt of being an inventor. His mentor and inspiration was Thomas Edison (oddly enough I had a weird interest in the Wizard of Menlo Park when I was in elementary school), and he went for it. My dream is to become a novelist and my inspiration and mentor is Timothy Zahn (Star Wars Nerds unite!), and I am attempting to go for it as well.

Homer believes in his kids. He absolutely backed Lisa when she found out the town’s dirty little secret, sweetly saying “I believe you, honey. Of course I do. You're always right about this type of thing and for once I want in on the ground floor”, even though it cost him his job as town crier. I have total blind faith in my kids (despite knowing the genes I passed on to them, sorry kids). Soon your kids will either be voting for my kids, working for my kids or being treated by my kids.

Finally, and most importantly, Homer is happy. The Springfield Isotope fan has his bad days, injuries and faults, but man is he happy. I, being a huge Pittsburgh sports fan, have had my bad days, injuries (stupid crossfit) and I certainly have my faults, but man am I happy.

So I want to tell everybody that…D’oh…I bent my wookie.