Saint Dirty Face

Robert

Faith, Dirty Grace, and a Whole Lotta Whiskey, Regret, and Resurrection.

Visit my domain to dive face-first into the wild ride of my brain — a mashup of raw truths, dirty jokes, mental fistfights, and midnight rambles you didn’t know you needed. Saint Dirty Face. Imperfect on purpose. Faithful with fangs. Here to spill it all, laugh at the absurd, and maybe light a match under your too-comfortable chair.

  • I Would Burn the World… Until I Learned Why I Shouldn’t

    Robert

    Tonight, I watched a movie about Dracula.

    Yeah, I know… not exactly where you expect to find God.

    But there He was.

    Not in lightning.
    Not in miracles.
    Not in easy answers.

    He was in the silence.

    The story wasn’t about a vampire.

    It was about a man who loved his wife so deeply that when he lost her… he broke.

    Not the kind of break where you cry and move on.

    The kind where something inside you says:
    “If God won’t fix this… then I don’t want God.”

    So he turned his back.

    But here’s the part that hit me…

    He never actually stopped believing.

    For 400 years, he carried it.

    The anger.
    The grief.
    The memory of her.

    And somewhere underneath all that pain…
    he still believed God could bring her back.

    That’s not lost faith.

    That’s wounded faith.

    And there’s a difference.

    I sat there tonight with my wife asleep next to me.

    She said she felt safe.

    Then she knocked out like the world didn’t exist.

    And I just held her.

    Because the truth is…

    I’ve told her since day one:

    “If anything ever happens to you… I’d burn the world to get you back.”

    And for a long time… I meant that.

    Still do, in a way.

    But the movie showed me something I didn’t expect.

    Love doesn’t prove itself by destroying everything in its path.

    That’s pain talking.

    That’s fear.

    That’s a man trying to fight a loss he can’t control.

    The strongest moment wasn’t when he fought.

    It wasn’t when he cursed God.

    It was when he finally chose…

    to let her go.

    That’s when everything changed.

    That’s when love became something bigger than possession.

    Bigger than grief.

    Bigger than even death.

    I realized something tonight.

    God didn’t abandon him.

    God let him walk through it.

    Every second. Every year. Every broken piece.

    Not to punish him…

    But to teach him what love really is.

    And maybe that’s where some of us are right now.

    Not abandoned.

    Just… in the middle of it.

    Holding on to something fragile.

    Trying not to break.

    If that’s you…

    Let me say this clearly:

    Your faith isn’t gone.

    It’s just wounded.

    And wounded things… can heal.

    Tonight, I didn’t burn the world.

    I just held my wife a little tighter.

    And for the first time…

    that felt like enough.

    — Saint Dirty Face™
    Stay dirty, kiss like a sinner, but talk like a saint.™

  • Rambles of a Monday Evening Madman

    Robert

    Monday evening finally arrived.

    For some people it’s the start of the week.

    For the poor souls who clocked in on Sunday, it’s already Day Two of the grind.

    Either way…

    Monday hits like a freight train.

    It’s amazing how quiet the weekend can be.

    Almost peaceful.

    Then Monday shows up and suddenly the entire world remembers you exist.

    This broke.

    That broke.

    The car is making a weird noise.

    I need money for this.

    I need money for that.

    It’s like everyone waited until Monday morning to dump their problems on your porch.

    And the kids… oh man.

    Kids have this incredible belief that their parents are some kind of walking ATM machine.

    “Dad I need money.”

    “Dad can you buy this?”

    “Dad can we get that?”

    And when you say…

    “Not right now.”

    They look at you like you just told them the sky turned purple.

    Like…

    “Wait… what do you mean?”

    Are we poor?

    I swear sometimes I just smile and shake my head.

    Because one day…

    Those same kids are going to have kids of their own.

    And when that day comes…

    I’m going to sit back in a chair, sip a little whiskey, and laugh.

    Not because I’m cruel.

    But because the cycle will finally make sense.

    And when their kid walks up asking for money for the fourth time that day…

    They’ll hear a little voice in the back of their head saying:

    “Welcome to Monday.”

    Saint Dirty Face.

    Stay Dirty. Stay Human.

  • Self-Improvement: A Progress Report

    Robert

    Things I’m Working On

    I saw a meme the other day that felt a little too accurate.

    It said:

    Having more patience (Not going well)

    Not assuming everyone is an idiot (Also going badly)

    Being more approachable (Going even worse)

    Now before anyone lights a candle for my character development, relax.

    I am working on myself.

    But here’s the reality nobody likes to say out loud:

    The older you get… the less tolerance you have for nonsense.

    Not because you’re bitter.

    Because you’ve seen enough of life to recognize patterns.

    You’ve watched common sense slowly leave the building like it forgot its keys.

    You’ve seen good people struggle.

    You’ve seen fools fail upward.

    So patience?

    Yeah… still working on that.

    Approachable?

    Depends if the conversation starts with something intelligent.

    But one thing I have gotten better at over the years is this:

    Learning when to speak…

    and when to just sit on the porch, sip the whiskey, and let the circus continue without me.

    Because not every battle deserves your time.

    Some people want wisdom.

    Some people want attention.

    The trick is learning the difference.

    And I’m still working on that too.

    Saint Dirty Face™

    Stay Dirty. Stay Human.

  • You Called Me a Dog

    Robert

    Some people think being called a dog is an insult.

    I used to think that too.

    But the older I get, the more I realize dogs have a few qualities most humans lost somewhere between ambition and ego.

    Dogs survive.

    Dogs take the cold nights.

    The closed doors.

    The long roads with no map and no promise of tomorrow.

    And when they get kicked out… they don’t write manifestos about injustice.

    They keep walking.

    I’ve slept on floors before.

    I’ve run with wolves in places where the polite world doesn’t like to look.

    I’ve dug for gold and come home with nothing but a handful of coal and a story no one wanted to hear.

    So when someone says:

    “You’re a dog.”

    I don’t argue anymore.

    Because a dog knows loyalty.

    A dog knows hunger.

    A dog knows how to survive a winter most people wouldn’t last a week in.

    And the strange thing is…

    Dogs still wag their tail when they see someone they love.

    Even after the door was slammed.

    Even after the stones were thrown.

    So if you call me a dog…

    Fine.

    Just remember something.

    Dogs remember who fed them.

    And they remember who kicked them too.

    –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

    Saint Dirty Face™

    *Stay Dirty. Stay Human.*™

    –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

  • Pipe Dreams & Paper Losses

    Robert

    What Marijuana Stocks Taught Me About Faith, Timing, and Getting Smoked

    There’s an old saying in the investment world:

    “Buy low, sell high.”

    Simple, right?

    Apparently my portfolio heard:

    “Buy high… hold forever… then watch it become a life lesson.”

    A few years back, marijuana stocks looked like the next gold rush.

    Legalization was spreading.

    Wall Street analysts were smiling like used-car salesmen.

    Everyone was talking about “the green revolution.”

    So naturally I thought:

    “Hey… why not?”

    I wasn’t trying to get rich overnight.

    But like a lot of people, I believed the story.

    And in investing, stories are powerful things.

    Sometimes more powerful than reality.

    The Hype Was Stronger Than the Numbers

    The narrative was irresistible:

    • Cannabis would become a multi-billion dollar industry

    • Governments would tax it like alcohol

    • Big corporations would rush in

    • Early investors would ride the wave

    Sounds familiar, right?

    Because the market loves a good dream.

    And marijuana stocks?

    They were a dream wrapped in a press release.

    The problem is…

    Dreams don’t always show up on balance sheets.

    What Actually Happened

    Reality hit the sector like a cold bucket of ice water.

    Regulation slowed things down.

    Companies burned through cash.

    Dilution started eating shareholder value.

    And suddenly those exciting charts that once pointed straight up started doing something else.

    They rolled over… and kept rolling.

    Down.

    Then down some more.

    Until eventually the only thing getting high…

    was the number of shares people were bag-holding.

    The Real Lesson Wasn’t the Money

    Sure, losing money stings.

    But markets are expensive teachers.

    What marijuana stocks really taught me was this:

    Timing beats enthusiasm.

    Believing in an industry isn’t the same thing as buying it at the right moment.

    You can be right about the future…

    …and still lose money today.

    Faith vs. Reality

    Investing requires a strange balance.

    You need faith in the long-term story.

    But you also need discipline when the numbers don’t support it.

    That’s the tightrope every investor walks.

    And sometimes…

    you fall off.

    Not because you’re stupid.

    But because the market has a sense of humor.

    The Saint Dirty Face Rule

    If I had to sum up the lesson in one line, it would be this:

    Never confuse a good story with a good investment.

    One is marketing.

    The other is math.

    And math doesn’t care how exciting the narrative sounds.

    But Honestly?

    I’m not bitter.

    Every investor has a few trades that end up in the “Well… that happened” category.

    Consider it tuition.

    Because every loss sharpens your instincts for the next opportunity.

    And if you’re still in the game…

    you’re still learning.

    Final Thoughts

    The market will always tempt you with the next big thing.

    AI.

    Crypto.

    Cannabis.

    Whatever the flavor of the month happens to be.

    Sometimes those bets pay off.

    Sometimes they just become a funny story you tell later.

    But either way…

    you walk away smarter.

    And maybe a little humbler.

    Because in the end, the market doesn’t care about your hopes, your excitement, or your perfectly logical thesis.

    It does what it does.

    And sometimes…

    your portfolio learns the hard way.

    Or as mine did…

    Smoke it up.

    📉🌿

    Saint Dirty Face

    Stay Dirty. Stay High.

  • How to Earn Your Right to Sit

    Robert

    Fifty-four years on this planet.

    A lot of miles on these boots.

    Some of them were straight roads.

    Some were bar fights, bad decisions, and 3AM promises I barely remember making.

    Back then we used to laugh and say it was all just pillow talk, baby.

    Life moved fast in those days.

    Party.

    Work.

    Party again.

    Work again.

    Then one day you look up and suddenly it’s different.

    Family.

    Responsibility.

    Bills.

    Kids growing faster than your memory can keep up.

    And somewhere along the way, you realize something.

    The road wasn’t perfect.

    Hell, it wasn’t even straight.

    But you walked it.

    You told the truth most of the time.

    Sometimes you told a white lie just to get through Tuesday.

    That’s not hypocrisy.

    That’s called being human.

    And if you stayed standing through it all—

    the work, the chaos, the love, the mistakes—

    then one day you earn something most people never think about.

    You earn your right to sit.

    Not because you’re tired.

    Because you’ve walked enough road to finally enjoy the view.

    It hasn’t always been a straight walk.

    But I walked it.

    Saint Dirty Face

    Stay Dirty. Stay Human.™

  • Thirty Years in Nursing… and I Still Get the Call

    Robert

    A Saint Dirty Face Reflection

    Here’s something nobody tells you about nursing.

    One day you wake up and realize you’re no longer the new nurse, the charge nurse, or even the supervisor.

    You’re the veteran.

    The one people quietly look at when something doesn’t make sense.

    Ironically, I spent part of today rewriting my résumé and actually toning it down a little. After 30+ years in nursing, the strange reality is that experience can sometimes work against you. Hiring managers might glance at a résumé and think:

    “Hmm… This guy will run the room.”

    And the truth is… they’re not wrong.

    I’ve been on the other side of that desk. I’ve hired people. Sometimes managers choose the younger nurse they can mold instead of the veteran who might naturally carry gravity in the room.

    Now here I am.

    The veteran.

    Life has a funny way of flipping the script like that.

    But here’s the part that made me smile.

    A couple of days ago, someone close to me was getting an iron infusion at a local hospital. During the usual small talk with the nurses, my career came up. Next thing you know, they said:

    “Call him.”

    Apparently they had questions about an MD order they had just received.

    So there I was — sitting at home — suddenly doing a curbside consult through a phone.

    Thirty years in nursing and I’m still getting pulled into the conversation… even when I’m not in the building.

    And honestly?

    That moment meant more to me than any résumé line.

    Because the real badge of honor in nursing isn’t titles or awards.

    It’s when another nurse looks at a situation and says:

    “Hey… what do you think?”

    That’s trust.
    That’s experience.
    That’s the quiet reputation you build one shift at a time.

    So yeah, tonight I polished my résumé. I softened a few lines. I played the hiring game a little smarter.

    But the truth is still the truth.

    After three decades in the trenches, when something complicated pops up in a hospital somewhere, sooner or later someone will still say:

    “Let’s ask Robert.”

    And honestly…

    That’s the part of the job I’ve always loved the most.

    –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
    Saint Dirty Face™
    Stay Dirty. Stay Human.™

  • Reflections of Life

    Robert

    Time doesn’t slow down.

    It doesn’t ask permission.

    It just keeps moving — steady, relentless, forward.

    Fifty-three spins around the sun are done.

    Year fifty-four begins.

    And when I look back, I see everything — the good, the bad, and the ugly.

    I wouldn’t erase a single piece of it. Every scar, every laugh, every wrong turn built the man standing here now.

    When you’re young, you move fast and reckless, chasing noise and adrenaline.

    Your twenties and thirties? That’s the grind — building a career, raising a family, trying to plant roots while the storm keeps moving.

    Blink.

    Suddenly you’re in your forties, tightening bolts, securing the future, making sure the foundation holds.

    Now the fifties roll in — not slow, not tired — just steady.

    Cruise control doesn’t mean quitting. It means knowing exactly where you’re going.

    Somewhere in between, you raise kids who swear they know more than you ever did.

    That’s life. I tried. I showed up. The rest is their road to walk.

    Me? I’m still moving forward.

    Nothing slowing me down. Not doubt, not time, not anybody standing in the way.

    So here’s to another year —

    another lap around the fire,

    another step closer to retirement, freedom, and whatever the hell I decide comes next.

    Happy birthday to me.

    Stay Dirty. Stay You.

  • SDF After Dark

    Robert

    Saint by daylight. Sinner by candlelight. Luxury isn’t the gold… it’s who’s under the sheets. 🜏

  • Read the blogs…

    Robert