A virtuous role model for twin daughters

Kevin Ryder is half of KROQ radio’s morning team, Kevin and Bean; Ryder claims he’s “the more heterosexual of the two.”

A tights fit in Las Vegas

I usually like to spend the first four to five hours of my weekend in the security line for Southwest Airlines at LAX, because at the end of that line is an airplane going to Las Vegas, and at the end of that flight is a cab going to the Hard Rock or the Palms. Those are the only two places in Vegas where old people with fanny packs are banned.

Then it’s into a pair of tights and out onto the stage with the cast of “Bring In ‘Da Funk, Bring In ‘Da Noise”-- I’m “ ‘Da Funk.” If it’s a particularly good show, we usually celebrate by doing some shots and drag racing those guys in the Blue Man Group down Las Vegas Boulevard.

We end the night in a nightclub like Baby’s or Rain or Dre’s and [dance] into the wee hours, stopping only long enough to locate the people who are clearly on E to see how many hugs we can get. Our current record is 17. No matter what really happens in Vegas, that’s always my story.

Home, home on the . . . lawn

I come back to Los Angeles on Saturday morning in time to race my 4 1/2-year-old twin girls around the front yard on Go-Peds. This accomplishes three things: It annoys the neighbors, it teaches my girls who’s boss and it ruins a little more of our “precious” ozone. If they beat me I put them on timeout. Kids have to have rules.

Saturday lunch is In-N-Out and then we play with the dogs. And whenever there’s a game Saturday night, we go to the Staples Center -- or the purple building, as they call it -- to watch the Los Angeles Kings. They just learned to boo whenever Rob Blake touches the puck. I’m so proud.

If there’s no game we usually go the California Pizza Kitchen and order pizza and pasta, then they fake like they’re eating it, leave it untouched and order brownie sundaes for desert. I pretend not to notice. Kids can’t have too many rules.

Sunday, Sunday

Sunday morning my wife and I take them to Shutters in Santa Monica for brunch. From there we usually walk down to Venice and, while I get in a pickup basketball game, we have the girls beg for money on the bike path. Kids need to learn about the free enterprise system. Just kidding. We don’t have them beg; they sell Chiclets.

Hopefully the girls have reached their Chiclet quota by the time my game is done, because then it’s back to the house in time for the second half of all the football games.

Sunday nights are special. We sit on the couch and my wife picks up the remote and turns on “Trading Spaces.” My daughter Maggie changes it to “Scooby Doo.” My daughter Katie changes it to “Barbie as Rapunzel.” And then I change it to “Alias” and immediately take the batteries out of the remote. Little girls need role models.

-- Carolyn Patricia Scott