Thursday, March 26, 2015

Ask Away Friday: Like A Virgin

Touched for the very first time.  And I'm still selling out...not really this time, I've got my feet wet now and this week I am hooking up (not like that, get your mind out of the gutter again) with Lysa from Welcome to My Circus, a pretty funny blog about a crazy ass life that she lives.

Welcome to My Circus

So here's the deal in case you forgot, I have asked Lysa 10 questions about her firsts and she, in turn, has asked me 10 so without further ado, here are the questions as asked by Lysa from the Circus herself.

1.  What was the first "real" concert you went to and when was it?  Do you even listen to the band today?

Oh, a concert?  Back in the day I had frequented tons many a few concerts ranging from Rosenshontz to Garth Brooks.  But my first real concert however was (not counting Rosenshontz when I was 10) Guns & Fucking Roses in May of 1993 on their Use Your Illusion tour at what was known as the Mullins Center in Amherst, Massachusetts.  Do I still listen to GNR?  What kind of question is that?  Guns and Roses is one of the best bands (back in the Axl AND Slash days) and I still rock to Paradise City.



2.  What was your first regrettable decision and why did you regret it?

My first regrettable decision?  Holy shit balls, how am I supposed to remember that?  OK, I know what it was.  I stole a candy bar from the local general store.  There I said it.  I regret it because it was a family owned store in a town of less than 1,000.  However...I returned the candy bar.

3.  What is the very FIRST thing you think of when you wake up every morning or on most mornings?

I gotta take a shit.

4.  What celebrity do you have the biggest crush on and when did you first develop you crush on them?

Her and this exact moment.
5.  What is the FIRST famous person you ever met and when did you meet them?

Ever heard of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?  Know who created them?  That's right, I met, know and kind of still know Kevin Eastman the co-creator of TMNT.  It was in the late 80s and I have several autographs from him.  He even let my Boy Scout Troop camp on his property.

6.  What was you first day in high school like?

Shit high school?  I was scared shitless like any other normal 9th grade kid that was chubby and a geek.  Thanks for bringing up bad memories....kidding, it was fairly normal just a little scary, I had friends that were with me since I was 3 years old, so it worked  out fine.

Yup...that's me.
7.  When was the first time you licked a 9 volt battery to see if it was still working?

Well....that's a totally random question.  Lick a 9 volt battery to see if it was still working?  What kind of idiotic guy do you think I am?  I licked it because I was dared to not to see if it was working.  Geez.  Anyway, to answer your question, I would have to say I was probably around 10 years old and yes...it shocked my tongue but in a good feeling way like the rope in gym class...wait, what?

8.  What was the first curse word you ever said and how old were you?  What made you say it?

Shit, I don't fucking remember what goddamn curse word I said or when it was.  If I had to guess, it was probably shit, yeah I'm pretty sure it was shit because shit was a common word in my house.


9.  What was the first Bubble Gum Pop song that you remember from elementary school or high school that drove you nuts but now you sing it any time you hear it?

First, what the flying fajita is a bubble gum pop song?  Did I miss something growing up in New England?  Anyway, when I was in high school we did alternate weeks of academics and shop.  In shop we listened to the radio and it was one of those stations that put their list on repeat, so it came on at least twice a day.


10.  What was you favorite Cub Scout event and when did you first participate in it?

PERFECT!  Cub Scouts!  My favorite event was and still is the Pinewood Derby, the thrill, the race, the fun, it's so much cooler than NASCAR.  My first one was in 1986 and I took first in the Pack and third in Council.  I love the PWD.



So there you have this week's Ask Away Friday with Lysa from Welcome to My Circus.

Monday, March 23, 2015

Food For Thought

Ah Fakebook, we meet again.  Each time we meet, you irritate me more and more, yet I can't quit you.  Like a moth to a flame, I am drawn to scrolling through and seeing people's posts.  I have mastered the use of the unfollow option and I have even been brave enough to unfriend some people...and it's a liberating feeling.


However there seems to be a new trend that has cropped up on the evil interwebs.  Selfies? Nope, even though no one cares that you THINK you look cute while standing in the same room that you poop.  What color is the dress?  Nah, I can ignore that shit.  Automatic videos?  Nope, even though it is tough to scroll Fakebook in public and the bikini video plays.  It's posting the food you make or eat on Fakebook.


Yup...food.  People go out to a restaurant and take a fucking picture of the taco they are about to eat.  Why?  Seriously...why?  It's not like you are at a 5 star gourmet restaurant and the food is aesthetically beautiful and pleasing, it's Taco - fucking - Bell.  It looks the same now as it will in an hour.  How about showing me that big ass plate of nachos you are about to devour by yourself...ooooo, don't forget to put the three beer bottles in the picture too, you drunk.  No. One. Cares.

I don't know if you're trying to make people jealous by posting the slimy sunnyside up eggs and burnt Wonder Bread toast you got at Denny's, but rest assured...no one gives a flying monkey fuck.


The same holds true for the food you make at home.  I am sure you are an ah-mazing chef (in your own mind) and your food is truly scrumptious (to your dog) but again, no one really cares that you cook.  No one cares what it looks like when you're cooking it, no one cares what it looks like when you serve it and no one cares what it looks like sitting on the paper plate with your mismatched silverware laying next to it.

Now I know I can't stop people from posting pictures of the crap they make at home but at least let me give you some tips.  First, don't serve the food you slaved over on a Dixie plate.  Nothing says white trash quite like Walmart brand paper plates.  Second, make it look decent.  If you're hell bent on posting food pictures, make it look good.  I've seen better plating at my high school cafeteria.  It looks like you used an ice cream scoop to serve everything and for shit's sake, add some color in there.  White, tan and brown are not eye candy colors.

Also you might want to consider hiding the Hamburger Helper box you made it from.  Made from scratch?  Bullshit, made from scratching your ass is more like it.  Seriously, even if the box is out of the picture, you can still tell that it's Hamburger Helper or Whatever-Meat Helper you used....it just has that look to it, the greyish, sloppy, chunks of meat product and those wide noodles.


*DISCLAIMER - I am not condoning eating these items, I eat them all the time, there is nothing wrong with the food items or how you serve them, we use paper products too, when our sink is overflowing with dishes.  I just don't take photographs of the Trophy's Redneck Surprise.

Do you think Jesus would have posted the Last Supper if the Internet was around back then?  Simple answer...no, he wouldn't have.  Even multiplying the fish or bread or whatever and turning water into wine do you think he would have posted that shit?  No, so next time you get a hair across your ass to post your food, stop and think WWJD?  He sure as hell wouldn't post his food pictures.

There...I feel better, I got that off my chest,  While writing this, I had an epiphany, I will counter balance the food posters on Fakebook.  I shall photograph my after meal shits.  Maybe I will make it a regular on my Facebook page or even here on my blog.  Maybe I will call it Saturday Shits or Aftermath Wednesdays.  Maybe Look What I Digested Thursdays.  Hmmmm, I wonder if it would fly.


Who Woulda Thought?

Thursday, March 19, 2015

Ask Away Friday...Or I'm A Sellout

Your choice...I am leaning towards being a sellout but hey as you know I just got back into the blogosphere I decided to join a thing called Ask Away Friday.

I was invited by my friend Jodi at The Noise of Boys to sign up for what's called Ask Away Friday...little did I know that it's Mommy Blog thing...and that brings me back to being a Dad Trapped In A Mommy Blog World which you can read HERE...go on, I'll wait.

Anyway, here's the deal, I am supposed to answer 10 questions and ask 10 questions from and to another blogger.  This Friday I am hooking up (NOT that way) with April Noelle from Finding Favor and she has asked me 10 questions which I will answer in a minute but right now I would like to apologize to April because after reading some of her blog...she's a very nice blogger and me, well you've read my blog, so you know what I'm like.

Without further ado, here are the questions and my answers.

What was your favorite food when you were a child?

Hmmm, my favorite food when I was a child?  That would have to be my grandmother's pierogis, cabbage to be exact.  There is nothing better.  What can I say, I'm a Pollack.

What's the #1 most played song on your iPod?

That would be my guilty pleasure song....


What is one of your favorite quotes?

My all time favorite quote is

What chore do you absolutely hate doing?

Well I don't really hate anything...except clowns and cotton balls, but one chore I despise doing is cleaning the litter box, it's like spelunking for nasty ass Tootsie Rolls.

If you could choose to stay a certain age forever, what age would it be?

I wouldn't actually.  There isn't any age that I would like to stay, many of them were great but I wouldn't want to stay any of them.

If you knew the world was ending at the end of this year, what would you make sure you do?

Wow, that's deep man.  OK, this is my one and only sappy answer because it's the truth.  I would spend the rest of the year with the Trophy and Minions, quality time with them, making sure that they know I love them.

When you have 30 minutes of free-time, how do you pass the time?

Free what?  Between working full time, Scouting, blogging, and so on I don't have much free time, however if and when I get 30 minutes of free time I usually sit and listen to the quietness.  It's magical.

What would you name the autobiography of your life?

Pull My Finger:  Tales of Fun and Flatulence.

What's the hardest thing you've ever done?

Man...another deep question.  The hardest thing I've ever had to do was stand by my Mom and my Dad when they both passed away three years ago.  I was by their beds each time....great thanks...it's just dust in my eye.

What is something you learned last week?

I learned that winter is never, fucking ever, going away this year.  I usually don't complain about the weather but this winter has been re-donkulous.

So there you have it...my sell out post.


Monday, March 16, 2015

Just Shut The Hell Up!

...is what you want to say.

If you're not a parent then this is one of those posts that will stop you from having kids, kind of like my going out to dinner post.  If you are a parent and most of you are who read this you can probably relate.

"Hi honey, how was your day?"

"Not bad, I was able to,,,"

"Mom!  Look what I can do!"

"What was that dear, you were able to...?"

"I was saying, I was able..."

"Dad!  Did you know you can pull spaghetti out of your nose?"

"As I was saying..."

"Mom!  #2 just peed on the flowers again!"

"Fuck it, I'll tell you in 16 years how my day was."

Kids...they have no concept of conversation.  They either interrupt you with some babble about something you really don't give a shit about like the rare Pokemon card that he has called Flickaturd or whatever the fuck it is or they develop a version of tourettes.

It doesn't matter the age either, 1-13 it's all the same, kids are attention whores.  You and the Trophy could be sitting on the couch for 2 hours reading a book or Fakebooking, not saying a word to each other and the Minions are all in their rooms playing or whatever they do behind closed doors and it happens:

"Oh, you'll never guess who I ran into today."

"Mom, Dad!  I can't get this Lego to fit!"

What the fuck!  It's uncanny.  First of all, whoever bought them Mega Blocks AND Legos for their birthday needs to get a brick firmly implanted in their rectum because those DO NOT work together and second of all, how do they know when we start talking?  Damn them and their Vulcan hearing.

Then you have the non-interrupting scenario or Non-interruptus-maximus as I call it.  You're driving to the store with one of them (because that's how I roll, divide and conquer) and they are going on and on and on and on about something you have no clue about.

"Dad, did you see my Squinkies?"

"Huh, what the fuck is a Squinkie?", is what you're thinking but can't say it so you play into it.
"Oh yeah buddy, they are cool!", thinking that will end the conversation...wrong.

"Yeah I have bunch of them, maybe even a gazillion!  They are really small so Mom says not to stick them up my nose or in my ears because they will get stuck and we can't afford another $300 bill from the hospital like last time I put the Mega Block in my ear, remember that Dad?  I have Iron Man, Spider Man, Kick-A-Jew, Lightning McQueen, Superman, Bakugan, Mighty Mouse, ummm, oh yeah and I have this case I keep them in so I don't loose them because Mom says...."

They just keep droning on until it eventually becomes a consistent buzzing of a fly or that humming you hear driving down the road with the radio off,

When the Trophy and I talk to other people, especially people without kids, some how the conversation always turns to bedtime for the Minions.  When we tell them that's our favorite time of day, they look at us like we just clubbed a baby seal over the head.

"What?  Don't you cherish your time with your children?"

Hmmmm, let me think about that one...95% of the time, yes I do.  The other 5% I want to drop kick them through the picture window and bedtime can't come fast enough.  The we can't put the Minions to bed quick enough some nights (OK most nights) because we want what all parents crave....

Quiet.

There is nothing better than putting the Minions to bed and sitting on the couch and listening to...nothing.  Nothing at all, no TV, no music, no phones, nothing.  It's awesome.

If you'll excuse me I have to go listen to...not a damn thing.

Welcome to My Circus

Follow my blog with Bloglovin

Monday, March 9, 2015

Two Thongs Don't Make A Right

If you live anywhere remotely close to New England you are aware of the frozen tundra we have endured this winter.  If you are not near here, it is the new Siberia.  This winter has been brutal but there is a glimmer of hope this week.  We are supposed to reach the 40s!  Compared to the non-existent temperatures we've had, it's a freaking heat wave.  It brings thoughts of summer, warmer weather and the beach.  Who doesn't love going to the beach in the summer?

Me, that's who.


Before you click the X in the upper right corner let me explain.  I do go to the beach, it's in the Dad contract I signed when Minion #1 barreled out but just because I go doesn't mean I have to enjoy it.  There are many reasons why I don't enjoy the beach, especially New England beaches, I've been to some really nice beaches in the Caribbean and those aren't too bad but they still have the same issues.

It's fucking loud.  There's no way around it, it's a very loud environment.  Between the waves, the wind, kids screaming, the seagulls and Studley Wondermuffin blasting Pour Some Sugar on Me, it's on overload of the hearing sense.  Don't get me wrong I love me some Def Leppard but I also like to relax in a little quiet.  Turn it down asshat.


It's down right gross and nasty.  Look up, there's fucking pterodactyls flying around ready to dive bomb you and take a shit on your shoulder.  You're sitting in what essentially cats use as their toilet and the sand gets everywhere.  The sand gets into crevices that you didn't even know you had.  I'm still pulling sand out of my belly button from the last time I went to the beach.  You go into the water to "rinse" off and you come out tasting like a dry roasted peanut.  Of course, because it's an open area, people think it's perfectly fine to smoke.  Mmmmm, let me choke some of that down along with my seaweed salad.

The ocean is full of mystery and danger.  You're sitting in the litter box when the Minions want to go into the ocean.  You can't say no so reluctantly you head in.  First the water is 50 degrees in the middle of August and your testicles crawl up and sit on your shoulder giving you the "What the fuck?' look.  Your first step in you step in seaweed and get icky toes.  I despise icky toes.  You don't know whats lurking under the seaweed, there could be some crab waiting to pinch your pinky toe off.  While on land, you swear you saw a shark eating a seal, so there's that.  I've seen Jaws, I don't want to live it.  Salt is good for french fries not your body.  After gulping down several waves and feeling like someone coated you in double sided tape, you've had enough.  As you try to wade your fat ass out of the water a wave comes and knocks you over, you recover and see your bathing suit floating nearby.  The ocean is a bully and there's no place for bullies.

It puts the sand in sandwich.  I don't think I have to delve too much into this one, but it's impossible to enjoy lunch at the beach.  Sand every-fucking-where.  You might as well take your Subway and roll it in the parking lot, pour some water on it and then douse it with 1/2 gallon of salt.

You need to pack enough shit to last an overnight.  When I was younger I would go to the beach with just a towel and my bathing suit.  Simple.  Now you need to bring three Beach Buggies full of sand toys, two coolers of food, an extra change of clothes, chairs, an umbrella and don't forget the sunscreen,  It's a planning nightmare, it's easier to pack for a week at camp than it is for the beach.

Speaking of sunscreen...it doesn't matter if you have some or not, inevitably you're going to miss that one 6" X 6" spot somewhere on your body.  It could be your back, your leg or even your chest and then you burn like a the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.  True story, last year I went to the beach with the family, I slathered myself in sunscreen and promptly fell asleep in my chair (I had my iPod and ear buds in to block the noise).  Instead of waking me to flip me like a pancake, the family lets me rest.  I wake up feeling refreshed but looking like Two Face from Batman.  The right side of everything was burnt, despite the liberal amount of sunscreen I put on.  All I needed was a coin to flip.

Kids.  Way too many kids at the beach.  As you know I don't dislike kids, I have three of them (they're up for sale if you want them) but dammit, there's too many kids doing stupid things at the beach.  They run by you flicking sand all over you, they cry and scream when their sandcastle gets washed away and they fly kites.  Kite flying should be banned from beaches, the kids run along the beach dragging their Spongebob kite behind them, while the kite is bouncing back and forth hitting people and impaling them with the wooden dowels.  Once they finally get it in the air, they have no control of it, it dips and bobs and then divebombs you, eventually crashing down next to you.  It's like a game of Lawn Darts, one good hit to the cranium and you're done.

There you go, now you know why I despise the beach.  I know, I'm not fun anymore, but I blame the Minions for that.


Thursday, March 5, 2015

What's Your Super Power?

A little throw back Thursday...

Why would I go and waste a perfectly great fart and blame the dog?  It doesn't make sense, be loud, be proud of what you have created!
Yup, that's right, I love to fart and I am proud of my farts, always have been, however, when I was younger I was shy (yeah I know, you don't believe me, but I was) and farting was something that was viewed as obscene and nasty and I should never, ever do it in public.  Now you know why you see people walking around the streets with a look on their faces like they are hiding something, it's because they need to fart and they haven't embraced their inner Fart Child.  Embrace it my friends, embrace it!

Up until the age of fifteen, yes I was a late bloomer when it came to public farting, I was one of those people, walking along the halls at school, shopping at the mall or even watching a movie in the theater, holding in the farts, making mmyself look like I was guilty of stealing something.  Then one day, I let a fart slip in Caldor and it was like a weight was lifted off my shoulders, well more like off my lower abdomen.  I could concentrate on what I was looking for, I didn't have to be worried that someone thought I was up to something, I could just go on with my shopping.  It was great.

Some people can burp on command, that's nothing, I have the ability to fart on command.  My favorite game was and is Pull My Finger.  Syd Vicious loves playing that game with me.  This power has been handed down to me from both of my parents, my Mom would do the walking farts and Dad would be able to sit in his recliner and levitate about three inches.  With great power comes great responsibility though.
 I am forced to shield this power, to keep it contained in certain situations and to use it for good.  I have used it at water parks where I am climbing the fourteen story water slide (I paid $50 to get in here, multiple that by the thousands each day, put a freaking elevator in for shit's sake) and the person behind me was right on my ass and they kept bumping me with their inflatable tube.  I turned around and gave them the, "I just ate some greasy french fries, I'm loaded and not afraid to use it" look hoping they would get the hint before I had to release the beast and have them disintegrate before they hit the ground.  Bump!  Sorry sir, today just wasn't your day....

The power can be used to end a meeting.  You know the kind of meeting I'm talking about, you're all sitting around the table and you've covered everything important and then someone decides, now is the perfect time to discuss something totally irrelevant.  You look around the table and see the look of pain and torture on the faces of the hostages, you can feel their pain.  It is your duty to protect the innocent, like Iron Man you need to decide which weapon to use.  Will it be the loud, no doubt who did it door buster or maybe you should use the middle of the road squeaker?  You decide on the S.B.D. or silent but deadly fart.

Clenching your cheeks just enough to stimey the sound, you eek the fart out.  It's only a matter of a few seconds until the full stench reaches the open air and then someone gets that look of "what died in here?" and promptly excuses everyone from the rest of the meeting.  You are a hero, yet you did not reveal your identity.

I need to come clean though, I have strayed off the righteous path for a time and I was tempted by evil.  I was driving my car with my friends in it.  Everyone has that one friend who is considered a friend but is annoying as all hell (right now my friends from younger times are wondering if they were that friend).  This friend would not shut the hell up about whatever he was spewing out of his pie hole.  After about twenty minutes of nonstop gibberish, I had had it.  There comes a time where it is not longer the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, but you need to unleash holy hell on the entire group, innocents and all.

When you are in a car, you can just let a fart rip, the cushioned seats and the road noise muffle the sound, so I fired away.  Once the smell had reached my nostrils I knew it was time for Phase 2 of the plan.  I quickly locked the windows and turned the heat on full blast.  Unfortunately, two out of the three other people riding in my car that day suffered the consequences.  It was a necessity and a victory, despite the minor loss of two friends.

I have passed along my power to one of my Minions.  #3 has already taken the torch and is running with the power, we just need to steer him on the good path and not let him stray.  Again, if we ever have a shortage of natural gas, you can just shove a pipeline up #3's ass and we will be supplied for years.

So. remember my faithful Minion Followers, it's OK to fart in public, if you are self conscious about it you can do the "wander around looking at things until the coast is clear" maneuver or yes, you can blame the kids, no one ever condemns a child for passing gas, just be sure to switch to S.B.D. mode, the noise gives you away.

Oh and I forgot, it is OK to fart in church.  I've done it several times, mostly at weddings...on the alter... The place will not fall down, so when you hear the phrase "...went over like a fart in church" you can tell people that you actually did fart in a church and it went over just fine.  Now, you can use the phrase "...went over like a fart in a space suit." to replace the church line, I'm sure that farting in a space suit would not be a good thing....

Tuesday, March 3, 2015

I Am A Geek Dad


I guess I was cool before it was cool to be...uh, cool?  I'll admit my coolness went away the second Minion #1 came sailing down the old sperm shoot.  I traded my Metallica CDs for Veggietales and my house parties became themed birthday parties.

But before that I swear I was cool...

Since the rise in popularity of the Big Bang Theory and King of the Nerds, wearing superhero t-shirts and quoting sci-fi, thus geekdom has become mainstream.  However, I was a geek before it was cool to be a geek, but let's get something straight right now, there is a difference between being a geek and being a nerd, but that's a post for another day.

When I was younger I was wearing superhero t-shirts and rocking the Atari 2600 and NES.  I was quoting the Star Wars Trilogy before I could ride a bike and my favorite part of my one and only Disney vacation was Epcot.  Fuck the small world, I wanted science!  My parents bought me a home computer back in the 80's, and Apple IIc.  That's right I was Mac before before Steve "Motherfucking" Jobs made it cool to be a Mac.  In fact I had an Apple IIc before my school did.

I remember the day I was called to the principal's office, I was shitting bricks trying to think what I did wrong.

"We just bought three new Apple IIc computers and we need you to train the teachers how to use them."

Wait..what the hell did I just hear?  My little 4th grade mind was blown!  I was in fact the first Apple Genius.  Now don't get too excited, if you had ever used an Apple IIc you know it doesn't have a hard drive and runs solely on those big ass 5 1/2 inch Verbatim floppy disks.

Remember Nintendo Power?  Yeah I had a subscription from day one.  My friends and I were gamers before anyone knew what the fuck a gamer was.  I saved Princess Toadstool so many times I got a hard on when they introduced Peach.  The Legend of Zelda?  Please, I didn't break a sweat.  Contra?  Up, Up, Down, Down, Left, Right, Left, Right, B, A, Start bitches.  Kids these days think their Skylanders games are hard, how about needing to dedicated and entire day to trying to beat a game because there was no save feature and you could only go forward.  You had to pray to the maker that your mom didn't accidentally trip over the power cord and unplug the NES.

I owned enough t-shirts to wear a different one for every day of the school year.  Batman, Spider-man, Superman, Star Wars, Star Trek, you named it I had a t-shirt for it.  I was novelty t-shirts before Dr. Sheldon Cooper.  I had a semi-replica lightsaber growing up, it was Darth Vaders and I had the official movie posters for Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back and Revenge of the Jedi.  Yeah you read that right, REVENGE of the Jedi.

I am a geek, like my father before me and my Minions will be geeks too.  I was a geek before it was cool to be a geek.

Saturday, February 28, 2015

I'm Not Quite Dead Yet

During my hiatus from blogging I found myself in the Emergency Room or the ER to the cool kids.  Don't worry, I'm fine, thanks for asking...you did ask right?


Picture it, 1980 something, a small town in Western Massachusetts.  There's this dumbass kid whose parents are going out for the night and he wants to know when the babysitter is coming over.  The babysitter lives across the street from this dumbass kid and the dumbass kid thought it would be a good idea to go across the road and find out for himself.  Well, this dumbass kid decides to hang off of the 6 foot flower box on the picture window to try to get the said babysitter's attention.  After a few jumps, the flower box comes crashing down on the dumbass kid and long story short, he is puking up blood and gets a complimentary ride in an ambulance to the hospital.  Yeah, the dumbass kid was me.

While in the hospital, they noticed I only had one kidney.  In the 70's they didn't use ultrasound often so they never caught that I was born a mutant.  So after a week long stint in the hospital, I was released with some serious restrictions that I was supposed to follow the rest of my life.  Things like, no contact sports, drink shitloads of water, no outdoor adventures, no touching, no breathing, you know things like that.  The biggest was no contact sports or rough housing because they were afraid I would lose my remaining kidney.  Fair enough, I'll sit around playing Nintendo while my friends are outside, playing...yeah that didn't happen.

My friends all knew about it, my teachers and Scout Leaders did, my coaches, everyone.  I was like a fucking X-Man minus the cool abilities and a bald dude in a wheel chair.  I was the kid with only one kidney.  My friend's parents didn't know what to do with me when I went over their house.  Some wouldn't let me step outside if it was slippery, some didn't know what to feed me, I was like a Mogwai, don't feed it after midnight, don't get it wet and don't expose it to bright light.  My entire life I only had one kidney and had to be careful.


I didn't start this blog post to tell you that story.  Like I said I went to the ER last year for a pain in my kidney.  Normally I would suck it up but I don't fuck around with the one kidney, especially now I know there is kidney issues in my family, so I called the Trophy (remember her?).  She told me to go to the ER and met me there.  There I was laying in bed, freaking the fuck out, thinking that I played a contact sport or something and my original doctor was right, I should have been bubblized, that's when I heard it.

"Where the fuck is the fucking doctor?"

Oh, I don't know..maybe he's helping out the 50 other people that came in.

Then it hit me, what if I am wasting the doctor's and nurse's time, what if there are people in here that need more medical attention than me.

"Tell the doctor this is my fourth time in this week and he still ain't figured out what's wrong with me."

Nope, I'm not wasting their time.  That waste of plasma is.  I'm here for the first time in 20 years.  She's got a frequent flier card.  What the hell man?  Maybe I should start being a hypochondriac and use the ER for my drug addiction and to comfort me when I have the sniffles.  Nah, I'm too nice for that I guess.

By the way, I'm fine, I had severe gas and come to find out I actually do have two kidneys, the one that was "missing" just doesn't function.  38 years and no one told me this?  Oh well, life goes one, just watch those contact sports.

Sunday, February 22, 2015

Wanna Go Out To Dinner?

Sure!  Maybe we can go to that nice Italian restaurant in Boston, have a couple glasses of wine and maybe catch that movie we wanted to see.  That sounds so nice, I can't wait, we can top it off with cannolis from that corner bakery we like...

Oh...shit...we have kids.  Never mind, spaghetti and meatballs sounds good again.


Having kids a blessing and a curse.  I mean I wouldn't trade any of the Minions for all the gold in the world but goddamn they make it hard to have a life.  This one goes out to the kidless people, enjoy it while it lasts.  This is the 23rd reason to stay kidless as long as you can.  Something so simple as going out to dinner is now a tedious task, you have two options:

1.  Pay a teenager a bunch of money to come over for a few hours, just so they can eat your food, watch your TV, make out with their significant other and defile your couch.

2.  Take the kids with you.

Goodbye Italian restaurant, hello Friendly's (wait Friendly's is too fucking expensive), hello Chili's.  Arrivederci wine, aloha water with lemon. Sayonara, cannolis, bonjour store brand Oreos.  Instead of wasting $50 for a babysitter, you opt to take the kids with you.  Now, one kid...easy peasy, two kids, doable, three or more...good luck with that, you're outnumbered.  For those of you who need it, here are 10 steps to help you manage this fiasco the best you can.  I also did a "Kidless List" under each step to make it feel like you have a case of the heathens.

1.  Don't Make Plans, Just Do It.  If you tell the kids you are going out to dinner any sooner than when you step foot out the door you'll regret it.  It will be like you telling them you're going on vacation in July or that Christmas is next week.  They. Won't. Shut. Up. About. It.  Wait until the last possible minute to disclose where you're going.

Wake up one day, slap your significant other in the face, have them kick you in the balls and then start getting ready it's about that painful.

2.  Start Getting Ready At Least 3 Hours Before You Have To Leave.  (The hours are based on the number of kids you have, 1 kid = 1 hour).  Unlike adults, kids need to pack random crap for the 30 minute car ride.  Gameboys, iPods, DVDs, toys, random shit.  All because they have the attention span of a newt.  It also takes time to get each kid ready.  After the barrage of "Let's go!" and making sure they have socks on, you're ready to go...and late.

Grab a Transformers backpack and shove as much shit in it as you can.  Make sure it's stuff you haven't used in three years.

3.  Set The Ground Rules In The Car.  Be smart, purchase a vehicle with a third row, you'll thank me.  Position the kids where they will annoy the shit out of each other the least, buckle them in and lay down the law.  No touching each other.  You are a foot away from each other, no yelling.  You have your shit, they have their shit, don't take your sibling's shit.  Don't look at each other.  On second thought, save your breath, it's not going to work anyway.

You sit in the front and your significant other sits in the back seat.  Turn the radio up loud and make faces at each other while occasionally poking each other in the ribs.

4.  Avoid Driving Past Recognizable Places.  You know your own kid's favorite places to go, avoid driving near them.  Kids are like Garmin GPS units, they stay inactive, buried in a screen when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, you hear "Can we stop at Toys R Us?".  Instead of being the bad parent, avoid it, take the back way if possible, it will throw their internal GPS units off....if you're lucky.

Take all back roads so that the trip takes 45 minutes longer than it should.  Don't think about stopping at Dunkin' Donuts for a coffee even though you REALLY need that dose of caffeine.

5.  Before Arriving At The Restaurant Ask What They Want.  Chances are you know the menu left to right because it's the only place you go with the kids so take their orders ahead of time.  Tell them to pause the game and ask them what they want, it will save...dammit, I can't even complete that sentence, don't even bother, they will change their ever moving minds at the restaurant.  Scratch this step.

Play the old, "What do you wanna do?  I don't know, what do you wanna do?" game with each other over and over and fucking over.

6.  Upon Arrival Leave Things In The Car.  Instruct them to take one and only one thing into the restaurant, this way you can keep track of their shit.  Be aware though, kid are like ninjas with terrible attention spans, they will sneak other crap and you won't notice until it's too late.  How the hell did you bring your Build-A-Bear in without me seeing it?  They will smuggle things in like drug mules, just don't ask where they hid the item.

Leave that Transformers backpack in the car but make sure you bring one thing the other knows about and then one item that is smuggled in your hoop as a surprise.  Your significant other needs to play "Where'd you hide it?"

7.  Just Accept The Failure And Prepare To Tip Big.  You've made it to the restaurant, you're sitting in the booth, you're ready to order and it happens.  The waitress asks the kids what they want.  They have choices, many choices and holy crap on a cracker they can't handle that many choices, it's overload for them so it takes 5 minutes per kid to order the chicken fucking nuggets kids meal.  By the time she gets to you guys, you forgot what you were going to order so you panic and order the first thing you see.  You thank the waitress for her Jedi like patience and know that a much bigger tip is appearing when the check comes.

Open your wallet and drop $150 on the table and tell the waitress to take it, no questions asked.  Don't look at the menu, ask the waitress to hang the menu on the wall and throw a dart at it, whatever it hits is what you're having.

8.  Don't Make Eye Contact With Other Adults.  Unless it's another parent who has the same problem, then you can lock eyes and sympathize with each other.  Look down at your plate and eat, calling out the kid's names every 5 minutes, knowing that they are doing something that needs to be addressed.

When your food comes, grab your fork and eat it as fast as you humanly can without looking up. Develop tourettes for the meal and randomly shout out things like "Don't stick that up your nose." or "Turn around and stop bothering those people." over and over again.

9.  Pay The Bill and Apologize.  Look under the table, there's enough dropped food to feed Ethiopia for a month.  The top of the table is a militarized zone and the kid's haven't eaten any of their food.  Give the waitress your card and leave more than 20%, 40 or 50% should cover it.  Make sure you take the leftover food though, you will have snacks that night while the kids eat their Hannaford Oreos.

Remember the $150?  That was a courtesy, like when you were 23 and you tipped your bartender first to ensure good serive.  Don't even look at the bill, pay it and get out, there is no time for small talk.

10.  Take The Walk Of Shame And Go Home.  Put your jackets on and walk through the piercing eyes of what use to be your peers.  You get in the car and vow never to take the kids out to dinner anytime in the foreseeable future.

You know that walk of shame you took when you were younger after a one night stand?  That was practice for parenthood.  Good luck and avoid the rotten tomatoes.

So that reminds me...how do you like your spaghetti and meatballs prepared?


Monday, February 16, 2015

Did You Miss Me?

Well, I guess I have been a dich.
Well I missed you.

No seriously I did.  I realize that I haven't done a blog entry since April of 2014 (fucking A to Z Challenge).  I definitely put the blogging on the back burner and you know what, it was nice.  I spent time with the family, did some great things in Scouts and lived my life but deep down inside, I missed it.  I missed the torture of trying to be humorous, the agony of trying to write something that people would enjoy and more importantly the free therapy.

Yup, that's the look right there.
What prompted this you may ask?  Simple, I was a friend's daughter's 3rd birthday party (I know, I'm a baller when it comes to parties) and his brother came up to me and said he's been away and hasn't been able to keep up with my blog and was looking forward to catching up on it since he left.  When I told him there wasn't much to catch up on, I kinda got the "Whaaaaaat?" look from him, it was like almost an approval rating of -29 from him.


Then it happened again, this time I was talking to a friend of mine, helping him out with some stuff and he mentioned that he always looked forward to my blog posts and that he missed reading them.  I looked at him and asked why, his simple response was that it gave him something to look forward to each week.  I gave him the "Don't start this shit" look and he bounced that look right back at me like a volley ball.

"You're a fucking published author and a funny one at that.  Stop being a dumbass and do what you like doing."

Blink, blink, blink.

Wow dude.  Thanks.

Hi, my name is Kevin and I'm a dumbass.
And you know what he's right, I am a published author, I can blog at least once a week. I have some crazy shit to blog about (that's the beauty of this world, the dumbassary pool never runs dry).  I may not write things everyone will like and I won't get discouraged when my views are low, this is something I enjoy doing.

It's a new year, I'm buried under 7 feet of snow, what the fuck, let's kick this thing off again.  Maybe I'll revamp the look, maybe I won't.  One thing is for sure I will blog, dammit I will blog.

Hope you're ready.