dot... dot... BOOM

How to make a drone; Or, GAWD, my parent's are the biggest losers!!

2005-11-09T09:52:00.000-05:00

Ok, well, it's been a while, and many thanks to those of you who emailed to ask what the hell happened. I wish I had a saucy anecdote about a 2 week brush with fame, fortune, babes, and booze, but alas sometimes life simply gets in the way, and we need to let our soapbox dust over.

Last night was the first night my 5 year old has slept straight through in about 4 weeks. He developed a rather acute fear of just about EVERYTHING shortly after starting Kindergarten; he rarely goes quietly through such stages in his life. Frankly, I think it's part of the Master Plan that every kid has programmed into the depths of his subconscious for the sole purpose of breaking down the will of his parents. Sleep deprivation has been shown time and time again to be an effective tool for the purposes of information gathering, manipulation, and keeping your parents out of your grill so that you might continue to strive toward your ultimate goal; boss. Think about it for a second. You know that your parents were probably not the foot sliding, grumbling drool trolls that they later came to be about the time you turned 12. I'm here to tell you that they were once as bright of promise and laughter as the first 32 seconds of an Ellen show. The human animal simply isn't designed for such repeated abuse. Basically, we're all Ford's, not Toyota's, and repeated misuse of the equipment eventually causes the machine to break; starting with the outer form, to internal systems, and finally, a complete breakdown of the vehicles ability to run the AC with the radio on. How many of you have really had your Ford for more than 12 years without seriously considering what is was useful for in the first place? I thought not. You're parents aren't losers kids, they're just really fucking tired.

So, cruel agenda aside, the little trooper has been wrestling with everything from nightmares, to fear of abandonment, to an inability to pee alone without a shotgun riding along to forewarn against impending monster attack while his pants are down. It's insane to watch what an imagination so fertile and expansive can do when it turns on it's creator; Chaos ensues. The biggest issue is that my wife and I are more likely to hear about what's bothering the cat through it's series of mews, grumbles, and sorry displays of sooo transparent affection than we are the boy whom we've spawned and raised in the cocoon of the suburban anti-hood. We get nothing, and we guess, and hope we don't screw it up; such is parenting. So, we've discussed, and consulted, and commiserated, and a plan of action was made, and executed in Brady-style exactness. Too what end, we don't know, but as I said before, he never goes through these things quietly. So, we wait, and wonder, and comfort; but we don't sleep.

The Burbs, They Ain't So Bad

2005-10-26T15:29:00.000-04:00

Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeez

2005-10-26T13:45:00.000-04:00

Is the entire world in a crap-ass mood??? I mean, WOW! I really need to know; gimmie a sign people... tell a joke.

ABC's...123's...and other roads to the strange and unusual

2005-10-26T12:12:00.000-04:00

So my son is in the advanced throws of absorption of all things literary; be they books, signs, scraps of paper, or the warning labels of various provocative deathtraps about the house. He just so incredibly excited to be "getting it" that the stream of consciousness is something equivalent of a consistent fix to that all powerful 5 year old pleasure center known as accomplishment; all powerful little master of the universe is he. Anyway, if any of you have read The Owl and the Pussycat, you'll know where I'm headed here. For those of you who haven't, read the following verse out loud:
----------
The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
'O lovely Pussy! O Pussy my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!'
----------
Spending 20 minutes sounding out this passage, and subsequent spellings just brings a certain something to the educational process.

Tuesday Night Means the Twitch Comes Back

2005-10-26T09:42:00.000-04:00

So I'm standing in the kitchen last night, staring at the two open lunchboxes sitting there on the counter; taunting me. I literally just stood there, for longer than I'd even like to think about, and imagined that there must be a small wing in most mental institutions devoted to those who simply fold under the pressure of trying to figure out what to put in these boxes day in, and day out. That, or there's shared space with those harboring post-traumatic stress syndrome, or where postal workers go when that little voice just decides to call it a day and let the rampage begin. I could see it in my head, long, deep discussions on the parallels of how the mail just never stops versus the eternal balance of nutrition, and convenience, and peer acceptance; "the letters, my God the letters... and MOTHER'S DAY!...can I have my woobie now please?", and "Fruit Cup... fruit cup... fruit cup, no apple sauce, no FRUIT CUP!, fruit cup... yes, fruit cup." Is it any wonder why the smallest decisions suddenly seem to be so monumental, or that the act of simply getting dressed every day has turned into a decision seemingly befitting the Mensa elite? "Shoes... shoes... shoes, no boots, no SHOES!, shoes... yes, shoes."

File under: It's the Little Things

2005-10-20T21:04:00.000-04:00

2:53 am

2005-10-19T09:53:00.000-04:00

So this dyslexic guy walks into a bra...

(Low) Pressure

2005-10-14T09:40:00.000-04:00

rain on my roof goes
drip
drip
drip

rain on my window goes
drip
drip
drip

rain on my head goes
drip
drip
drip

and we sing
the
in
san
ity

song

File under: It's the Little Things

2005-10-12T22:19:00.000-04:00

Watching my wife work the remote brings me great joy:
---
"What the hell are you doing?"
---
"I don't know, it's not turning off the mute"
---
*TV goes off*
---
"I don't think that's it"
---
*TV on, but no picture now as the channel has been changed from 03*
---
*I start to giggle; that's right, giggle*
---
"Do you need help?"
---
*Picture back, mute still on*
---
"Press harder"
---
"You think? Nooo, that won't work; will it? ...Ass."

Happy Now

2005-10-12T15:40:00.000-04:00

Now THAT'S How to Sell a Kiddie Park!

2005-10-11T13:55:00.000-04:00

We took the kids to this place last weekend. Not for nuthin, but that's some DAMN good copy; don't you think?

Umm

2005-10-11T12:57:00.000-04:00

And now, for today's really, REALLY bad idea...

What Matters More Than Brain Matter Matters?

2005-10-11T12:41:00.000-04:00

I think I may be suffering from an acute bout of 24-hour A.D.D. I can't keep a straight thought in my head for more than 15 seconds, and staring into space is more than merely an enjoyable way to spend a careless moment. Frankly, I fear my wiring may be crossed, or I slipped a cog somewhere in the works, but there's no doubt in my (currently) feeble mind that I'm

just. plain. dumb.

It's not sleep, I tried that the past 3 nights and it's just not making the cut. Vitamins? Took a Dino this morning. I'll just have to wait and see. Perhaps you'll all enjoy future postings where I laugh at typing the word "boobs" over and over, or a top-ten list for cool things to put on a hot fudge sunday. Time will tell.

Monday Face

2005-10-11T11:39:00.000-04:00

Get Me a Parachute; Any Color Will Do

2005-10-06T13:53:00.000-04:00

So this morning while walking my son to school, we talked one of our talks, as we so often do about random thoughts and events. This morning's topic was mainly focused on gender-specific colors; pink is for girls, etc. But what came out had me stop in my tracks to where he had to bring me back from the dark beyond from 10 paces ahead; "Um, daaad, why did you just stop walKINgggg?"

Here's the snippet of what I'm talking about:

Me: "What's wrong with pink? It's just red with some white in it"
Him: "Nothing, pink's a good color for anyone to have."
Me: "I would think so." "What's my color?"
Him: (insert audible sigh) "Well, right now, you're blue, but not like a pretty blue, more like a castle blue. You used to be red, like a strawberry. I like it better when you're red."

Clearly, I have some things to attend to.

Let's Review

2005-10-06T11:03:00.000-04:00

Gentlemen, I feel that a review is in order, as I've begun to notice a serious lapse in basic methods here. Lets gather round, shall we?

1. You pee; I pee; we all pee. You poop; I poop; we all poop.
2. Eye contact in the bathroom is ok; trust me, don't want to cuddle with you.
3. Supporting yourself on the wall while you pee is just a sorry display.
4. Every time you herk a 3oz phlegm ball into the urinal, and angel looses it's wings.
5. Childbirth hurts, your bm doesn't; let's keep it down huh?
6. Spasms; jolts; sudden rotations of the earth? hey, they all happen; if you miss the bowl, clean it up sport. I have enough to think about.
7. Society appreciates that you use the sinks provided. You may not want to give it your taxes, but it certainly doesn't want you're funky hands spreading your personal demons all over the damn place. Using the soap is suggested; stop, look, and listen; it's not hard to find it. Done properly, it should look something like this:Keep trying guys, you're all doing a super job!

Thinking

2005-10-04T11:20:00.000-04:00

I wonder if Swiffer® would consider creating a line of toddler clothing.

File Under: "hmmm"

2005-09-30T15:23:00.000-04:00

A friend just posted a spam that she received; nothing much, just a bunch of gibberish. But within the body, appeared three distinct words together: luscious spooky broomcorn.

That's just going to bother me all day.

Goodbye Summer Days...

2005-09-28T09:20:00.000-04:00

...You will be missed.

Fresh Bologna

2005-09-27T14:59:00.000-04:00

I gotta tell you, I'm consistently impressed by how marketers keep coming up with ways to make the sandwich bag newer; better; cooler. From Ziploc's, to "yellow and blue make green", to slider clips, to assorted colors, to write-on labels, to textured prints; BIG, small, and everything in between. I mean DAAAAMMNN, never in the history of our world has a sandwich been so fresh, yet so stylish.

Mr. Mom? Oh that WAS a silly movie.

2005-09-27T11:14:00.000-04:00

One of the best things about being an "involved" dad are the perks bestowed as I'm out in public on my own with my kids. For example, the dozen pair of extra eyes on my kids at the playground, as the herd mentality takes over to protect my vulnerable offspring due to my perceived inadequacies. Hell, if I wanted to, I could read a paper, grab a portable DVD, and dial up 1-800-PLAYDAD while my 3 year old traversed the side of a wooden structure 30 feet in the air while reaching for a squirrels tail 6 feet away from him. He'd be just fine as I'm sure the mommy-net would be sure to spring into action should the inevitable transpire. Hell, I NEED them; poor thing me. I must be unemployed.

Same for eating out. Whenever we get seated, we're automatically transported to the quietest, out of the way recesses, far from those who we would most certainly interrupt. "Will your fourth be along?"... "No, it's just the three of us."... "Fine; Janet? Why don't you take them to table 52." This of course is more than an acceptable perk for me, as I have a quiet table and the crayons and the extra placemats flow freely in any effort to help this poor caregiver who's clearly out of work, and over his head. I just smile and have the kids sit back down once they go away.

I hope society never comes around.

I wonder if it will pick this up? HELL YEAH!!

2005-09-26T13:02:00.000-04:00

Thank you Carroll Gantz, inventor of the dustbuster. I praise your name, and my children's children shall know of your deeds.

My need to make my life as confusing as possible, just may be finally catching up with me.

2005-09-23T10:02:00.001-04:00

I've always thought of myself as a relatively grounded person; messed as a gay pride festival in Provo, Utah, but grounded nonetheless. Where and how I ever came to this clearly absurd declaration is beyond me. You see I have this peculiar tendency to make my life as impossible as it can be, while assuming that circumstances just carry with them a sense of order, and that things are simply the way they are.

Let me explain further. Take this blog for example. With the myriad of templated solutions out there; primed and ready for off-the-shelf "blog in 2 minutes; amaze your friends; be a star" instant gratification, you think I'd just start typing merrily along and be done with it. Really, it's nice; kind of like picking out paint colors without actually having to apply roller and brush to wall. But noooooo, I gotta paint baby. Me? I gotta code the thing myself; Why? Because it just seems like I should; I mean, come ON, I'm a :::**Designer**:::. But this business of CSS and lack of tables [where the Fuck are the tables?!?] has sped me into a mire that could be best explained by watching the face of a four year old when you asked him to read the Constitution; the old one with the funny script. At times, I've become reduced to feeling as stupid as an American adaptation of a BBC comedy; on par with staring endlessly at my lava lamp, and giggling at the silly shapes it makes, while Pam Anderson reads Eric Carle books to me. I press on of course, and eventually whatever situation I've stuck myself in gets resolved; but do I really need to travel the road to implausible again and again? In my silver-fox years will I look in the mirror and see MacGyver, or Magoo? Or, will all the mirrors in the house be busted because that all went into the home made satellite on the roof from my do-it-yourself SETI program.

File Under: "huh"

2005-09-20T10:02:00.000-04:00

So this morning I stopped to relieve this clearly terrified lilOlelady, who must have been a hundred and a half, of what I'm sure was another step to her impending agoraphobia, by letting her cut across me and merge into oncoming traffic. That not seeming such an odd gesture to me, but to the raging lunatic behind me, honking and brandishing the universal symbolic gesture of non-verbal communication, it seemed I had, for a moment, been the epicenter for all that ails this world. Upon passing me [yes, she bolted around me] I noticed a bumper sticker: "Jesus loves. I love."

Frightening

2005-09-16T13:16:00.001-04:00

Ok, it's September 16th now, and I'm officially putting out a general plea to all you out there (you know who you are), to cease and desist the use of the term "Spooktacular."

Your kind attention is most appreciated.

Q-U-E-R-T-Y

2005-09-13T22:32:00.000-04:00

I was going to tell a story profound in nature, but there's a cat sleeping on my left hand, and I'm guessing she had a hard day. It took me 28 seconds to type this.

Giving to The Red Cross

2005-09-13T09:12:00.000-04:00

As the dust starts to settle on the events of that last couple of weeks, it's becoming apparent that there's no lack of charitable giving and donations coming in to those in need. It appears, however, that the Red Cross is has received more than 80% of these donations. While a fine institution, the primary focus of the Red Cross is to feed, shelter, and assist in short-term relief for just such disasters. Given that, the moneys poring into the institution at this point will likely need to be "routed" to more long-term initiatives. Let's face it, immediate need is of course a priority, but as we often overlook the future as a culture in general, people are going to need assistance for the long haul. There's a city gone; everything is gone, and the long-term will certainly be on the minds of everyone sooner or later. Soooooo, given that, if you are ruminating over contributing still, or just can't stop yourself from sending those checks, here are some pretty good organizations, which will likely find their cupboards bare, who focus on housing; re-building; family placement; relocation; education; health; and on and on.

Of course, if you still feel a nagging need to help someone, fill that by calling your local shelter, food bank, or service council. They'll be glad to take your dollars, and they'll most certainly be feeling the pinch when it comes to the outpouring to those in need from Katrina. Local charities especially always take a beating in such times.

http://www.oxfam.org
http://www.wvi.org
http://www.mercycorps.org
http://www.careusa.org
http://www.savethechildren.org

11 million bloggers... There must be MILLIONS who suck worse than I do

2005-09-06T15:48:00.000-04:00

As anyone who knows me can attest, I'm not one for lack of verbosity, but I was at an impasse with this blog last week. Frankly, as much as I enjoy this little monologue, it's really hard for me to do at times. For me, writing is something I enjoy; the ability to tell a story is one of those little things that I think all of us wish to posses; I'm no exception. But the reality is, it's really fucking hard for me at times. I have to push myself through to the other side. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't keep doing it if it weren't for my inherent need to hearken to the masses, and thus gum up this fertile cacophony that is the Blogosphere. *insert 'BOOM'*

I'm rambling. See.

Back to topic. So, last week I was wondering about whether it was worth it; should I continue to perpetuate this expulsion of my head to hard drive?; What's it all for?, blah, blah; etc, etc. I put a counter within the site to simply tell me if anyone is listening. Do people actually read this tripe? Both to my horror and chagrin the answer appears to be yes. Lots of people come here, day after day, week after week for reasons I can't begin to fathom. Some have even sent me email; one dick too. I loved that one. Fuck you, dick. "Build it, and they will come." Fancy it all. So, without knowing, you have spoken, and I'm touched. Thanks for the Special Purpose, mama.

To be continued...

What now? And what about tomorrow?

2005-09-02T22:16:00.000-04:00

Another day passes, and I can't help feeling that anything I think about the past weeks events would be somehow wrong; somehow selfish, or simply... insignificant.

But what I will say is this. As my heart breaks for those in need on the coast and New Orleans; the loss is something I can't possibly comprehend or imagine; and I'll hold my breath that l personally will never know such sorrow. But in the midst of the anger I feel, the anger we all feel at an event so monumentally out of our control; I wonder why we are all so capable to jump to action in such circumstances. Children are living on the streets where you live; they're hungry, and sick. Many of those young, old, and in between go without basic healthcare for they have none; they simply can't have it, and there's no choice but to go without, and hope, and endure. Someone in your neighborhood probably cried themselves to sleep tonight. Could they have been helped with something as simple as companionship?; an understanding that they're not alone? There are those this winter who will have to decide on heat, or food. There are victims of racism; and the prejudice of a culture who disregards those who have no voice. I could go on. We are so quick to respond when we feel helpless, yet we are so easy to took the other way when residing in the complacency of the status quo. If we could put forth such efforts in the wake of disaster to ourselves; our neighbors; our people; just imagine for a moment what we could do. We need to give of ourselves, and teach our children, show our children, what it means to be fortunate; to be blessed. Perhaps our future would be brighter. I'll continue to hope. Here's to those in need, wherever you are.

Yep, I admit it, I Just Can't Get Enough Wonka.

2005-09-01T12:15:00.000-04:00

So, I've been watching Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. A lot. I'll fully admit, I've not seen Burton's remake, and since I apparently have some sort of wormhole running through my living room, causing time to pulse by faster than the lifespan of a Seinfeld spinoff, I'll reside to wait until Netflix® will provide me with said fix. I love you Netflix; kisses. Anyway, I've introduced this to my kids now [I'm looking forward to the nightmares it will surely bring, btw] and I'm reminded again of what true art can bring. How it makes you feel different each time you visit it; gives you something new to take away. This was always one of my favorite stories, and although it's not as "true" as many would like to Dahl's telling, I say so what. It's timeless; funny; sad; ironic; infuriating at times; a bitchin score; perfectly cast... and the lines... ahh yes, the lines:

1. "So shines a good deed, in a weary world."

2. "We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams."

3. "The suspense is terrible... I hope it lasts."

4. "Of course you don't know. You don't know because only I know. If you knew and I didn't know, then you'd be teaching me instead of me teaching you - and for a student to be teaching his teacher is presumptuous and rude. Do I make myself clear?"

5. "Where is fancy bred, in the heart or in the head? "

6. "I feel very sorry for Wonka. It's gonna cost him a fortune in fudge."

7. "What is this Wonka, some kinda fun house?"
"Why? You having fun?"

If you haven't seen it, do pick it up. if you haven't seen it in a million years; buy it.

Don't Blink

2005-08-26T15:23:00.000-04:00

It's those moments that you may easily overlook that stay; then show up again at the strangest times, when you most need them.

Hedge Maze

2005-08-26T09:32:00.000-04:00

So lately I've been feeling out of sorts. I've been trying to pinpoint the feeling. The best way I can describe it is that I've been wandering through the hedge maze. All is well and I'm feeling good about my bearings, then recently I seem to have ended up down one of those really long spiral paths with the dead end. It's not a bad day out. The sun is shining and it's comfortable; low humidity. I've even got a sandwich or two, and frankly not all that much to complain about. But I just can't seem to figure out where I lost my path. I've gone back; traced my steps, and peeked around a corner or two, but the paths don't look the same as they did on the way in.

Ever feel like that?

I've seen others in here.

Hey, at least I'm tanned

2005-08-24T14:56:00.000-04:00

Well, I had fully intended to ultimately sit down and regale you with anecdotes from my vacation that I'm sure would have you envisioning the family-friendly-days-gone-by-era of what vacation SHOULD be about; stories of me and mine trolloping along the sandy beaches of Cape Cod in our Kennedy whites laughing and prancing like Keebler elves after a Keebler/Nabisco merger with milk-dunking glee for all.

But any remains of my vacation buzz has been stripped clean by the past 48 hours, and frankly, I'll just post pictures cause I'm just too damn tired.

"What's got you down, Mark?" Dare you ask. Well my friends, I won't bore you with ALL the details, but lemme just share this little tid-bit of an anecdote:

So we get home on Saturday. As we're unpacking the car [a genius of manipulation of spacial relationships within a finite amount of space was my trunk. Were Hannibal to pass by with his hoards, I would have sure to have been lauded for my execution of of said packing with the incredible amount of gear needed for a week spent with two children into a space not meant for such treasures. "Nice packing boy". He would say. "I could use someone like you on the team; pillaging as we will; you got Ops... see my lieutenant in charge of transportation and marauding."] we started to pie everything into the kitchen; the counters; the tables; the floor. I quickly noticed that a brown goo had been creeping it's way across the floor. This seemed odd. "Honey, did we want this here?" "Nope." So I investigated.

Turns out, we had ourselves a pesky little pipe leak. My guess is about one weeks worth, minus 10 seconds after we pulled out of the driveway seven days prior. Long to short, I relented, and called a plumber. Nice-guy plumber came by the next day and fixed me up; I did my part by increasing his kids college fund substantially. He replaced the length of pipe and handed me the culprit. "Take this for your insurance", the nice man said.

So I did. Now here's the fun part. I called my insurance agent today; oh we had a lovely chat. The gist our conversation went as follows:

Homeowner: I'd like to see if I can get any coverage for this
Agent: Well, basically, it falls under a maintenance issue. You won't be covered because the pipe was either old, or you haden't been taking proper care of the pipe. [Sorry kids, from now on, the pipes come first; grab a pop-tart].
Homeowner: Ok, so I'm out of options then?
Agent: Well, no, you can file a claim, but I feel I should tell you...
Agent: Insurance companies are really starting to take a look at the amount of claims on properties when it comes to renewing policies, and if there are "too many" claims, they reserve the right not to renew your policy; and should you're policy not be renewed for such reasons, you'll have a "very" hard time trying to find coverage elsewhere. [This would be the second in 8 years]
Homeowner: So, basically, if shit goes wrong with my 150+ year old house, ever, I become a black sheep to my insurance carrier?
Agent: Basically, yes.
Homeowner: So, why have the insurance at all?
Agent:Well, in case something goes wrong; more wrong than this. [Your choice bucko]

I thanked the nice agent and wrote an email to the "expose" department of my local news. I'll be accepting donations of soapboxes and megaphones.

Ohh, and I won't be on vacation again any time soon, so feel free to say hello.

Curious

2005-08-23T16:54:00.000-04:00

How come wrong numbers are never busy?

Blessed Be Family Time, for We Have So Little

2005-08-23T16:27:00.000-04:00

As I assumed, getting back to the "real world" has brought it's challenges. To that, I haven't much time to get out any "real" thoughts. Thus, in the interim, I thought I'd type out one of my notes from vacation. Thanks be it's not a long drive:

A Theme: "What me and my brother almost killed each other over during our Summer Vacation":

1. A flashlight
2. Who got to lay next to mom for stories
3. "Diver guy" GI Joe
4. A stick
5. A plastic crab
6. A beach chair
7. An 8 inch piece of rubber: "Snakey Thing"
8. A plastic stove from some Barbie townhouse
9. A red glass bead from a board game
10. Dad's binoculars
11. Superhero figures: Pick one, it doesn't matter
13. A quarter, two dimes, and a penny
14. and an ice cube tray

pssssssssshewwwwwwww

2005-08-21T23:16:00.000-04:00

So, I'm back. The image above describes how I feel at the moment quite well thank you. Interpret it how you will. In fact, I'd prefer it. So much has happened, and I'll get to posts in the next day or so; but tonight I'm tired, so go read Heather's post. See you soon.

the ocean... ahh yes... the ocean

2005-08-12T17:16:00.000-04:00

I'm going on vacation next week. I really need it. I won't be posting for that time, but I will be writing, so rest assured, I'll have enough tripe built up when I get back to keep you all away for considerable moons.

Thanks Doughty

2005-08-12T13:34:00.000-04:00

Listening in on my way to work this morning, I scrolled across this. How I love you iPod. I don't know exactly what it means, but it makes me think of someone.
---------------
The body like soft serve, dripping down in the June sun,
I tried to shoot a thought, but the thought sunk.
Nothing to do but scratch words in the dirt and
Watch the water roll down.

Phantom kisses buzzing like the insects.
Beads of sweat dripping down on the rent check.
My Candyland melted down to syrup while I
Watched the water roll down.

And here comes the lust in phaze,
but you're down in Marietta.
So sweet my mouth was seared,
But the words you mouthed were sweeter.

My Sister,
Your words can be held against you in a court of law.

My Sister, You owe no allegiance to the facts.

And you're talking like the saint on the site of the accident.
Talking like the clause in the lease about the late rent.
Ringing like the random call patched to the payphone.
Talking like the water rolls down.

Talking like the saint on the site of the accident.
Talking like the botched shot, attempt on the President.
Ringing like the change in the legless man's Dixie Cup.
Talking like the water rolls down.

Day Undone,
Day Undone,
Day Undone,
Watch the water roll down.

I feel better today

2005-08-12T13:21:00.000-04:00

Last nights events reminded me that I need to put things in perspective. Storms come and go. We're all imperfect, and we have limits; sometimes without fully understanding the boundaries. It really is a hard thing, raising kids. I'm not complaining; why should I. I have it good. Better than most. Once in a while, we need to toss. It's just the right thing to do. Those we love need to know what's going on inside us. If I were to bottle all the frustration what swings my way on a daily basis, I'd have a tumor in my chest the size of an elephant dump by now. Frankly, I don't want that. I got some advise last night. Good advice. "Tomorrow, ask them what they remember about yesterday."

The answer was "the playground." Thanks CB.

Who are you Troll Boy, and what have you done with my dad?

2005-08-11T21:34:00.000-04:00

I've had the shittiest night. I swear sometimes I just don't know who this guy is. Everything starts out great. We go for pizza; ice cream; playground where we play chase, and I tell about a dozen stories. Sounds pretty freakin good to me if I were 5 and reading THAT brochure [with the help of my trodden parent of course]. The we get home and the whole thing goes to shit. I won't get into the details, but lets just say:

I blew.

Yep; that's right. I would assume many other parents know what I'm referring to here, but for the sake of retaining my status of SuperDad I'll refrain, yet again from the details. What I will say is that I hate myself tonight. I'm 100% chum. I yelled the same kind of yell as the guy I used to see in Kenmore Square who ate deodorant; the one he used to whip at me for not giving him the "Queens respect" of curtsey when he floated by in his own personal olive colored fog. The kind of yell that makes kids stop in their tracks; look at you different; trying to figure out where the nice puss who does nice things for them just went. Then they cry. Not that stupid shit-lame-ass-theatre cry. The real deal. The kind from inside.

Why is it that a good evening should go so wrong? Why should it end in disaster? Sure, we hugged and I told them that I love them, and that they were shit to me, and I understand, and it will just be...ok. But man, this is hard damn work sometimes. It's nights like this that make me feel that I'm losing a piece of who I am... just a little bit at a time. Where does that part go? And worse, what comes in it's place?

My Dad does. Lord help us all.

Observations and field Description

2005-08-10T09:45:00.000-04:00

Description: Infants and juvenile spend at least 5% of their time playing each day. Adults sometimes play with infants, and even with each other, but this is less common. Play is usually accompanied by a play face, and when play becomes boisterous, chimps laugh. Play includes tickling, wrestling and chasing and sometimes incorporates objects such leafy twigs, sticks, stones, action figures, and large fruit. Sometimes infants play on their own.

82 degrees, the sun is shining, and it's... quiet.

2005-08-09T19:46:00.000-04:00

Sometimes it's nice to just... stop.

Why won't they just go to sleep?

2005-08-07T20:44:00.000-04:00

So, here I am again, sitting downstairs as I listen to Pain and Panic up there demolishing what's left of the playful, yet not without it's nods to "boydom" of a bedroom. It's been this way all summer. The process is always the same. We eat; we play; we wash; we tv; we read; we warn them that they NEED sleep...they MUST sleep. Do they listen to our wise words? Never. Inevitably, I finish my chapter, or two if I'm enjoying myself, and sign off with: "I'm going downstairs now. YOU are going to lay down, CLOSE your eyes, and go to SLEEP. "Nite Da-da"... "niiiigght."

Then it begins.

I'm not really sure how a child is equipped with the ability to reach an octave that defies nature; nay physical science. If there were monkeys within 20 miles of here, they'd be humping the glass of their bedroom window in an attempt to assure the owner of the Scream that he's the schnizit. Then the giggles. I don't like to talk about the giggles. Something hits the floor *tonights specimen just did* and ultimately it crescendo's into a free form spectacle of flight and frequent trips to urinate.

I go up. "GO. TO. SLEEP."

but, I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING... IT WAS X THAT WAS MAKING ALL THE NOISE AND..."

"GO. TO. SLEEP."

This is repeated once, twice, three times [depending on whatever supply of speed they have stashed up there] until the tank runs dry.

Then comes the best part. That's right, the cry. As any parent will tell you, the phenomenon known as "Overtired" is something which is largely misunderstood until we actually experience it. When a 5 year old gets upset about the thread count in his sheets: Overtired. When his three year old brother needs the door open, no closed; no open; cracked: Overtired. Eventually, this builds to it's apex until at last, there is silence.

Is it wrong to yearn for the dark days of winter?

File Under Ironic

2005-08-05T14:17:00.001-04:00

So I went out this afternoon and got routed through a detour befitting the most heartily decorated scout; ins; outs; one ways, I swear the scent of cheese was hefty in the air. It was the absurd kind of situation that one might expect to come to the end only to find a giant billboard that read:

"IF YOU HAD A GPS, YOU'D BE HOME BY NOW."
[The highway is this way --> dumbass.]

Anyway, don't let this get out, but as I was at the height of my aggravation; I cracked. That's right, I needed council. I needed *sniff* help. LOW AND BEHOLD WHAT SHOULD APPEAR, BUT A UPS MAN AND HIS COCOA BROWN REAR! (The ladies seem to love it; it brings them great cheer). I asked the man, to my delight "which way is the highway, for it's out of sight"... the man looked over, and scratched his head, which suddenly filled me with a feeling of dread. He winced and scratched and then he said:

"huh, you know, I JUST DON'T KNOW. I JUST NEVER GO THAT WAY."

Sigh. That, my friends, is why we never stop and ask.

Comments

2005-08-05T09:41:00.000-04:00

Blogging etiquette requires that I have my comments on. And, since the alternative option is to pitch a "clean one" down the mouth of the local chasm, I'll relent to the former; as we're short on "clean" here in these parts, and frankly, I just don't have the energy. Fire away.

In-finite

2005-08-03T23:41:00.000-04:00

This is a walk I walk most every day. Isn't it the most soul-sucking tube of lifeless symmetry just north of the nearest Eichler playground?... MMMM, symmetry *huh?*

Oh, well, anyway, today was one of those days. One of those days where you realize that big or small, bloods or crypts, cloth or disposable, people are all the same. Yes that's right, I'm talking about petty. I picked Door Number 3 and got me a continuing supply of WHAT THE FUCK?!?! It would seem that no matter where you go; class prevails. I mean seriously; WHY no matter what, when you put more than one person in a common space does one inevitably turn into a cross between Lindsay Lohan and Daniel Ellsberg? Clearly you have no idea what I'm talking about. I don't expect you should. Frankly, I started typing to search for clarity; purpose. I missed the mark. So, lets move on shall we? Lets grab our morning's liquid love and have at it again.

Summer

2005-08-03T16:29:00.000-04:00

Mama say mama sa ma Miku sa

2005-06-14T11:07:00.000-04:00

wise words... wise words indeed

We're gonna need more candles...

2005-06-10T14:54:00.001-04:00

It's a very special kinda day. Gemini's continue the birthday march... so lets all give best wishes to the following three [uh, six] schizo's out there:

Woj. It's great to have you in the family. It's nice of you to help tip the scales of the m/f ratio into reasonable proportions. We're all looking forward to witnessing your most embarrassing moments, and talking about them for years to come.

CB. I can't express how thrilled I am to have created such a special friendship with you. Your humor, insight, and freakish understanding of my inner workings is something I greatly cherish. I look forward to the day you finally get older than me =]
I hope your day is truly special. You deserve it more than most.

Jim. Well this is always a trifle odd since you're dead and all, but I continue to miss you. I'm sorry for those who read this that never got to know you. They missed someone very special. You still pop up in the strangest places, and in the strangest ways. I know your being thought of today especially, and I know those thoughts are all bringing smiles; for you always brought them to us. Happy Birthday my friend.

A very Happy Birthday

2005-06-09T10:27:00.000-04:00

Greg turned 40 yesterday. He won't stay that way, so let's all wish him well.

In the key of "F" please

2005-06-01T17:40:00.000-04:00

37 today. Yep, went pretty much as expected.

Who wants a hug???... c'mon, you know you want it

2005-05-31T22:14:00.002-04:00

Your wise quote is: "Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months" by Oscar Wilde.You are a very sarcastic person with a sharp tongue. You may not be the one always talking, but your mind is nevertheless critizing. You tend to have a cynical view on life itself and be somewhat withdrawn with who you really are. Society now is in your eyes corrupted and you wonder how the world will survive. And people are in your mind very ignorant and blind to the reality.

What wise quote fits you?(pics) UPDATED
brought to you by Quizilla

I feel so... cheap

2005-05-24T21:39:00.000-04:00

Well, today I succumbed and installed Tiger on my laptop. I know I know, but darn it all if Circe's song wasn't just soooo silky as it called me to the rocks [or in this case possible VPN issues and network incompatibilities]. Curse you Apple your blinky, twirly widgets!... your "oooo" factor. Heh, when all is said and done will I truly be happier? Some hole fulfilled? Time will tell. Indeed it will. In the meantime, I'm gonna go shop Amazon through a 2" square on my desktop. F'n-A.

Today, I am tired.

2005-05-21T13:52:00.000-04:00

Michael J.

2005-05-16T21:46:00.000-04:00

So we're creeping up on June and as usual my thoughts turn again to Michael. He'll be 38 on the 17th, and it will be just over a year and a half since his disappearance. I wonder where he is, how he is... if he is. I think about what my dad will be going through, and how much it pains to live with someone gone. Someone missing. There's nothing more we can do. We continue to wait; to whatever end. Perhaps none. As always, I keep up hope for a good day, and that happy call from my dad. Until then, I'll have a smile on the 17th hoping he's having a happy birthday at least. Cheers, you dick. Come home soon.

From the department of... "huh"

2005-05-16T17:26:00.000-04:00

A California company has figured out how to use two simple materials -- water and salt -- to create a solution that wipes out single-celled organisms, and which appears to speed healing of burns, wounds and diabetic ulcers.

The solution looks, smells and tastes like water, but carries an ion imbalance that makes short work of bacteria, viruses and even hard-to-kill spores.

Developed by Oculus Innovative Sciences in Petaluma, the super-oxygenated water is claimed to be as effective a disinfectant as chlorine bleach, but is harmless to people, animals and plants. If accidentally ingested by a child, the likely impact is a bad case of clean teeth. More

Ok, so I, like um, took an IQ test

2005-05-06T20:52:00.000-04:00

The Classic IQ Test

What's Your IQ?

Congratulations, Mark!
Your IQ score is 137

This number is based on a scientific formula that compares how many questions you answered correctly on the Classic IQ Test relative to others.

Your Intellectual Type is Word Warrior. This means you have exceptional verbal skills. You can easily make sense of complex issues and take an unusually creative approach to solving problems. Your strengths also make you a visionary. Even without trying you're able to come up with lots of new and creative ideas. And that's just a small part of what we know about you from your test results.

Find out more in your personalized 15-page IQ Report. It's ready right now! [i bet]

Reminder

2005-05-06T20:46:00.000-04:00

To be nobody but myself - in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make me somebody else - means to fight the hardest battle any human can fight, and never stop fighting.

~ee cummings

Indeed

2005-05-03T17:34:00.000-04:00

What obsolete skill are you?
You are 'juggling'. Jugglers, tumblers, and other street performers were a very popular sort of entertainment once, before movies and talkies and online quizzes supplanted them.

You like to put on a show for people, and they like to watch. You are friendly and well-liked, particularly for your sense of humor, although you sometimes play with people's heads. You are frequently the center of attention, and you like it that way. However, you have to realize that the world does not revolve around you. Furthermore, you have to learn that your light-hearted antics are not appropriate to all situations. Your problem is that juggling has been obsolete for a long time.

What obsolete skill are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Boob Tube [I couldn't resist]

2005-05-03T12:31:00.000-04:00

With TVGuide now 52 years old, and in rapid decline in new subscriptions and recurring base, who does this cultual icon turn to when they need to stir the pot? Who, oh who could be the new jewel of marketers and advertisers looking to cash in on the biggest audience since, well, men? Hmmmmmm. That's right. You guessed it.

Oops

2005-05-03T12:18:00.000-04:00

http://news.zdnet.com/2100-1009_22-5692534.html?tag=nl.e589

Quick Janice, bring me the voodoo curse...STAT!

2005-04-29T10:17:00.000-04:00

You know, I realize IT is a hard gig, and I wouldn't want to spend a nanosecond in the shoes of one of those fine men and women.

*but*

WHY THE FUCK DOESN'T SHIT EVER... EVER... WORK WHEN THEY'VE JUST SPENT THE LAST 2 HOURS WITH YOUR MACHINE MAKING... "IMPROVEMENTS???"

DAMN Gina.

[we now return to mellow sounds and hot coffee]

It's the little things

2005-04-28T14:09:00.000-04:00

So finally, my office mate and I are kicking our environment into high gear. Today, I blessed our humble [second] home with the Z-box, my Zenith 19" color TV circa 1983. Yep, still works. Next comes his complete set of Atari 2600 will the full catalog of choice 8 bit joy; one cartridge at a time. Let's raise our cups of Zarex to regression.

And we don't riot in the streets why again?

2005-04-28T10:08:00.000-04:00

Exxon Mobil profit pumped by prices
The oil company says 1Q profit soared, propelled by a sharp spurt in prices.

NEW YORK (Reuters) - Exxon Mobil Corp., the world's largest public oil company, posted a larger quarterly profit on high oil prices Thursday, but the results fell short of Wall Street expectations.

Net income in the first quarter rose to $7.86 billion, or $1.22 a share, from $5.44 billion, or 83 cents a share, in the year earlier period.

Excluding a gain from the sale of a stake in Chinese oil refiner Sinopec, Exxon reported a profit of $1.15 per share, below expectations of $1.20 per share calculated by Reuters Estimates.

Revenue in the quarter rose 21 percent from year earlier to $82.05 billion, but sales were down from the fourth quarter of last year -- snapping a string of seven straight quarters of sequential revenue growth for the oil company. Exxon posted $83.4 billion in revenue in the 2004 fourth-quarter.

Oil and gas production in the first quarter fell 5 percent from a year earlier.

Oh wait, um waiter, check please

2005-04-27T23:54:00.000-04:00

We have a winner.Top this, I dare you.

AIGA :: Ain't designin grand?

2005-04-27T23:24:00.000-04:00

the AIGA has launched round 2 of it's archives.

Huh

2005-04-27T23:05:00.000-04:00

Fear not my friends, art is indeed not dead. It just lives in the forest when you're not around. Genius

Here kitty kitty kitty

2005-04-27T22:45:00.000-04:00

Hey, how the hell would you spell the sound you use to call a cat??? I really think it's un-spellable. Truly I do.

A good ole Blog for CB

2005-04-27T12:55:00.000-04:00

Yep, as the universe would have it, motivation and necessity collide and another Blog is born. Spoooky just ain't the word.