Burning in a lake of fire

It finally feels like summer is kicking in for me. I haven't been doing much blogging but I've been out enjoying life now and again. For instance, we took our kids to Lagoon (Utah's sufficient arcade/zoo/theme park/roller coaster park/waterslide/historic site and purveyor of pioneer history). The furniture store gave us free tickets but we weren't going to go because we thought it would be torture standing in lines in crazy heat watching our kids have all the fun. But at the last minute we went anyhow and we all had a good time. So much fun, the kids all pitched a fit and cried the whole way home when we made them leave. For being a local gig, Lagoon is pretty impressive. It has decent rides with a lot of quiet areas tucked around. We went and found a quiet place to hang out in Pioneer Village and didn't see a soul around. When we bought some corn-on-the-cob we ate it while watching a family playing make-shift baseball in a small field of grass. I've decided I like Lagoon. It's a lot more relaxed than DisneyHell and all those others.

I've been dying to get back to Flaming Gorge and I missed my chance at the 4th of July because I thought my dad was coming to visit (he didn't), so we headed out there for the 24th of July, Utah's "Pioneer Day," a celebration of mormon's thinking they finally found a place where they wouldn't be run out of town. It's pretty much just a second 4th of July with more girls than usual walking around in bonnets.

I called up my old friend Geppetto to see if we could stay at his house. He said we could and that he also had full access to a Lotus Elise. And I had thought my trip would be cool because I was vacationing in Chaco sandals with a back up pair of Tevas.



I told my wife how I would love to move back to the Gorge. She said MAYBE should would consider moving to Vernal. What the...? Don't even compare the two. They are a world apart.

I have always felt like a superstar at the gorge. I am on familiar terms with all the local business owners, sheriffs, bishop and other members of the faculty. I show up and people hug and kiss me. They tell me they love me. Everyone wants to meet my kids and know how my family is doing. Every spot has a memory tied to it. I know as much about the dam as nearly any tour guide. I get invited to fish with river guides for free. I helped the Forest Service fix up the Swett Ranch. Like Butch Cassidy, I've been to Brown's Park 1.5 million times. I've caught frogs and snakes along the Green River. I've rafted to the islands and camped on them at night. I've sat at the top of the Cart Creek bridge in the moonlight. I've stared down and rappelled into more of those canyons than I can name. I know what many of the trails look like by mountain bike and cross country skis. I've watched the Kokanee salmon head up Sheepcreek Bay to spawn and die on more than one occassion. The list goes on and on...

My wife thinks all of that is nice, if those are your priorities in life. The real problem is... if she lived in Flaming Gorge she couldn't go to Target everyday. She couldn't buy 5 pairs of shoes and then return 4. It just isn't realistic.

I also got to go to Mustang Ridge and jump off the cliffs. This picture is of my favorite cliff in the world.



This picture was taken several years ago. That cliff no longer exists. It was smashed off the face of the earth. So now I have to settle for jumping off the next highest cliff. It's still fun and gets your blood pumping pretty good. I haven't been to the gorge since our latest kid was born and then we were in drought for years before that and these cliffs became SUPER high with the low water levels, so it's been a LOOOONG time since I've had this chance. Everyone says there are strict new rules about cliff jumping, something like you can't jump off anything over 12 feet high, but I think I should be grandfathered into higher cliff jumping rights because I've been doing it all my life. And those laws are only in place so big pussies don't have to make excuses for not jumping anyway.

I told my wife that as long as I am physically able to haul my carcass to the top of the cliffs and toss it off, I will continue to do so. She's glad the tallest cliff is gone.

It's been a good week.

I am a snake head eating the head on the opposite side

My son has a way with words. I hope that he gets it from me because it makes me laugh.

Ethan: "Here Olivia, I'll take the trash out of your monkey's ear."

(Translation: "I will remove the pricetag from your stuffed animal.")

So what if you can see the darker side of me

I've had an ongoing struggle with that 18 yr old guy from work. He tells me I'm the only person he can stand to be around. He says, "I'm an asshole, but this is the NICE me at work. I'm worse when I'm not here."

I tell him that he's an angry loner. And he says, "What's wrong with Angry Loners?"

And I say, "Well... they're angry. And they're loners..."

One night he pulled out a light-up keychain and said, "Check this thing out. It's cool."

I said, "Where did you get that?"

He said, "Walmart. Lastnight. At 3am."

I said, "Why were you at Walmart at 3 am?"

He said, "Because my life sucks. There is nothing to do." Later he explained it this way, "I'm 18 and I can't do anything except go to strip clubs." He is actually trying to spend his time doing worthwhile things but he can't figure anything out in that falls in that category. He doesn't want to spend all his time drinking like his friends and he already quit playing World of Warcraft.

I told him, "You really need to ask that girl out from the restaurant we go to for lunch."

Did I mention he hates girls? And kids? And pretty much everyone? But he especially hates girls. And kids. He sees them as financial death and endless nagging. It's hard to pose an argument against that. But he seems to be incapable of seeing an upside to hanging out with girls.

He asked, "Why would I want to do that?"

I said, "I don't know. Because you hang out at Walmart at 3 am FOR FUN. If you asked her out, she might at least hang out at Walmart with you."

I told him, "You two kind of look alike and they say people are often attracted to other people who have similar traits." I said, "You're both tall and skinny, you have the same kind of nose, you both seem to like wearing baseball hats..." (the girl has to wear a work hat)

He said, "We both have the same size of boobs."

I said, "So what about boobs?"

He said, "If a girl doesn't have boobs its like having sex with a man."

I said, "Don't worry about boobs. At some point in time, EVERY girl asks her boyfriend if he likes her boob-size. When she asks you that, you just say HERE ARE SOME PAMPHLETS YOU CAN READ ABOUT BREAST AUGMENTATION."

I told him that having a cool personality is much more important than boobs. He was just using boobs as an excuse. And I knew I was breaking through his shell when he asked me how much boob surgery costs. I told him that he should just ask her if she has seen "Clerks II" (one of his favorite movies) and if the answer was YES then he should ask her out.

But then he sprang back at me... "Why would people be attracted themselves? Would YOU want to have sex with someone who looked just like you?"

And I reminded him about that "Silence of the Lambs/Clerks II" line:

"I'd F*** me. I'd F*** me hard."

But then I told him that my features are much too masculine for me to ever pitch woo to my own twin.

Anyway. I'm still trying to get him to ask a girl out. So he won't be so angry. And alone.

Pnutz

I saw this on someone else's blog and thought it was worth copying.

Would you hold it against me?

I've been painting the ceiling at a big house all week. There is a girl who lives in the house who looks 16 but she's actually 21 and trying to become a nurse. I pretty much haven't talked to her at all until today...

Me: "Hey, if you were a booger I would pick you first."

Girl: "..."

Me: "Have you heard that line before?"

Girl: "No."

Me: "Is it doing anything for you?"

Girl: "Mmmm, not really."

Me: "A guy at work told me about that line lastnight. He said it works EVERY TIME."

Girl: "It's funny..."

Me: "Yeah. It actually sounds like a line that would work a lot better on a guy than a girl. I bet a guy would like that line. You should try it. But, then again, maybe not because that guy was giving me questionable advice on how to pick up girls."

Girl: "Like what?"

Me: "Well, he also told me it's best to pick up drunk girls. He said if you go up to a girl who's been drinking and ask her, 'what's your name?' and she answers, 'Huh?' then she's good to go. It might be good advice. I don't know. I probably wouldn't recommend doing that."



And just for all those people who freak out about it, YES! I TOLD HER I WAS MARRIED... but only after I used the line on her because I wanted her response to be genuine.

Use this advice at your own risk.

THE BLOG ISN'T LETTING ME LEAVE TITLES FOR SOME REASON. STUPID BLOG.

Lastweek I went to lunch with one of my fellow painters. The cashier asked me for a name so they could call me when my food was ready. I gave her the name Chase. She said, "What?" And as loudly and clearly as I could, I said Chase again. I watched her write it down: S-H-A-N-C-E. I don't think I have a speech impediment but I could be wrong.

I explained to the guy I was with that I give my last name, Chase, because it causes all sorts of problems when I try to leave my first name, Emmett.

Pretty soon, I heard an old man behind the counter calling a customer to come get their lunch. He yelled, "Shawn-say! SHAWN-SAY!"

I asked him, "Is it possible that that food is for Chase?"

The old man (who I believe was the owner of the restaurant) glared at the girl behind the cash register. He said, "Damn you, you had me over here thinking I was looking for a woman!"

I sure am glad I didn't try to give them my first name. I would probably be better off to revert to my teen-aged ways and leave names like Iceman, Uncle Fester or Monkmeyer.

Once I was in a fancy store and tried to leave the name Iacocca on a whim. Then the lady asked me to spell it and totally busted me. It's quite unconvincing when someone asks you to spell your name and you respond, "I...um...A...uh...C........I think."

I mentioned earlier that I have to do testing for a job I'm trying to get. I probably don't need to study but I am anyway because I want the job. After doing some studying I've found that I still rock at algebra. I do find little things that I never seemed to have learned before, like how to turn a repeating decimal into a fraction. So that's good.

The other part of the test is Reading Comprehension. I have to say that there isn't really a way to study Reading Comprehension. And, in my opinion, the questions they ask don't actually test your comprehension, rather, they test your ability to feign interest and hang on every word of a boring, boring story.

Here's an example:

Pretend I have just told you a long, tedious anecdote about a week I spent at my Aunt Alice's farmhouse last summer. Now answer these questions...


Q. What were the names of the four kittens living in the barn?
A. Ruffles, Whiskers, Socks and Puff Catty. Okay, that was an easy one.

Q. On what night were the cats fed fresh entrails?
A. Tuesday nights, because Aunt Alice makes fresh kidney pie to serve at the local VFW hall every Wednesday. Duh!

Q. What brand of tractor does uncle Remis use on the farm?
A. Trick question. Uncle Remis only uses mules.

Q. What day did Uncle Remis plan to harvest his crop?
A. Normally, it would be under September's full moon BUT THIS YEAR Mars would be in the night sky two days previous on the same weekend Remis Jr. would be in town, plus Uncle Remis was due for surgery on his bunyon on the night of the full moon, so the answer is... September 12.

What? You didn't absorb all of those details in the 5 minutes you were allotted to read about the most exciting week of my life? You don't care?!?! Sir, if this were the 1800's I would challenge you to pistols at dawn!

So boring. They could try to spice it up a little...

What satanic cult did Aunt Alice regularly attend?
Which visitor slept with the farmer's daughter?
Which organ did the farmer remove as punishment?

Reading Comprehension is more like a test of tolerance and one's ability to pretend to care.

Glistening white, triangular tooth, open up a can of tomato juice

I can't afford a monstrous playground for the kids to put in the backyard, but on the 4th of July we did buy them a tire swing to hang from our apricot tree. The ropes that came with the swing were short, so I bought an extra 12 feet of rope so we could hang the swing from a high branch.

When I got the swing all put together we had one of those rare moments where my wife is impressed with my abilities as a dude.

She asked, "Where did you learn how to tie these knots?"

And I got to give a manly response, "That's a rock climbing knot."

The sweet, innocent Utah-girl in my wife goaded her to ask, "You didn't learn that knot in the Boy Scouts?"

And I got to give the super-manly response, "No. I got kicked out of the Cub Scouts when I was a kid, remember?"

They said it was because I missed too many den meetings but I like to believe they kicked me out because I looked sooooooooooo bad.

I like what you've done with the place

We were painting an office building the other day:

Adam (my brother-in-law): "Have you been in the bathroom here? It's awesome."

Me: "Really? What's so great about it?"

Adam: "They have a toilet plunger and a can of air freshener... anything you can think of. They thought of everything."

Me: "Either that or they've just learned from experience."

So the people have spoken. Why is it so hard to find a stainless steel or jewel-encrusted plunger THAT WORKS?

Give me convenience or give me death

I am really sick of working all the time. My feet hurt. My neck hurts. I lay down anytime and anywhere that I can. Even in public.

It was Ethan's 7th birthday the other day. We bought him a Tiger Salamander whom he named Zonk. Don't even try to call it a lizard because Ethan will be quick to tell you that Zonk is an amphibian. Just like he goes around correcting his family on other daily misconceptions: "Mummies are NOT covered in Band Aids; they are covered in gauze."

We also took the kids downtown to the Kids Discovery Museum. That place totally sucks. There is nothing notably educational in the entire place. It's kind of like a big place you can take your kids to play with someone elses toys. The coolest thing in the entire place was a book that told you how to make paper airplanes. I'm sure that's a skill teachers love their students to possess. Not only that, but I sat down and it took me ten minutes to make one of the airplanes, because how would you write down the instructions to folding a paper airplane? I don't think any kid in the place could have done it. The best part of the museum was the first 5 seconds we were there when I actually thought there might be SOMETHING interesting inside. I was wrong. The second best thing about the museum was that there were plenty of places for me to lay down my weary body. The worst the about the museum: Kids. The second worse thing about the museum: Their parents.

We had to go through the entire museum, just to give it a fair chance that there might be something cool inside, and it took a long time. After that, we went to the mall food-court to get some lunch. When we were leaving the food-court I opened the door by pushing it with my back. Then I held it open with my back while I pulled our stroller through and then I held it so the rest of my family could come through. While I was holding the door open with my back, some lady wanted to go in through the door and she put her hand on the door while she waited.

When my family was out, I let the door go and walked away with my family. But the lady who had her hand on the door looked at me and spat, "YOU'RE WELCOME."

Apparently I only need to hold the door open for my family to leave a building for people to think I'm a jerk. When she said it, I thought of how satisfying it would feel to backhand her across the face. But I think that was just my impulse as a very tired person. Instead I walked off without any response and I told my wife, "I don't think I can be around people today."

Noting exciting has happened at work. A few different people told me stories about how money from their dead grandpas has ripped their families apart on account of people's willingness to get stupid and stubborn over money, so my earlier advice for people to get rich by waiting for their wealthy relatives to die may have been given in haste.

Maybe we should think of things like this:

The other night at work, one of the mofos came over to the table and said, "Wow! I put my dollar in that Coke machine and it gave me a Coke and then it gave me my dollar back."

One of the other mofos said, "I put my money in that machine earlier and it kept it and didn't give me a drink."

I said, "Uh oh. That Coke machine must run on KARMA. It gives you drinks and money based on what kind of a person you are."

And the second mofo said, "Damn! So that's why it took my money."

But he wasn't playing along with the joke. He said it as though he REALLY deserved to have his money taken.

Sometimes its not so easy to be the Teacher's Pet

The other day we decided to turn the beds in the boy's room back into bunk beds. We couldn't find two of the wooden dowels we needed so we headed to the local Big Box hardware store to buy a long, round stick so I could cut some new ones.

After we bought the wooden rod, we went nextdoor to the Big Box book store because I have a job thingy coming up where I have to take a timed algebra test and I wanted to buy a workbook so I could practice my math speed.

As we were heading out of the store we were walking past the tables in the center aisle where the bookstore puts all of the books they recommend to browsing customers.

I said, "I like this book. I like this book. I like this one. I like this one..." And I was tapping each of the books with the stick as if it was a 40 inch magic wand.

My wife snapped at me, "Would you knock it off? Put that stick away!"

Barely acknowledging her existence, I said, "No. Pointing at things with sticks is fun. I'm starting to think that the main reason that people become teachers is just so they can point at things with sticks."

At that moment, an old man who was looking at books on the table in front of me started busting up with laughter. I looked at him and realized he was laughing at my wife and I. It's one of those moments where you want to bow and say, "Thank you, thank you. I'm weird and annoying ALL OF THE TIME."

But if it wasn't for that old man then I wouldn't have realized I was being funny and I wouldn't have typed this. And it's important. Because a lot of my friends teach classes. And if they haven't felt the joy of pointing at things with sticks then they have been missing out in life and the emptiness might have continued forever, had I not said anything.

Laser pointers are so gay. Stick with the classics.

Wakey, Wakey

This is why it isn't fun to wake me up in the morning. It's the price my wife pays for staying home all summer.

This morning my wife tried to wake me up. I told her I wouldn't get out of bed until I knew which house I was painting today. She went and called her dad on the phone and then she came back to get me.

Eleanor: "I know where you're painting today...

...

...

Okay, Pop!"

Me: "Okay, Mop!"

Eleanor: "Did you just call me Mop?"

Me: "Did you just call me Pop?"

Eleanor: "I was saying you should POP out of bed."

Me: "I was saying you should go MOP the kitchen..."

Brother from another mother

Doing this painting job in the daytime has given me time to hang out with my wife's little brothers. It's nice to hang out in a crowd that isn't going to accuse me of being immature.

At lunch the other day I was asking her brother, Eric, if he was saving any money this summer. I asked, "...Or are you spending it all on your X-Box?"

Eric said, "I haven't really saved any money. But me and Adam (the younger brother) bought our X-Box TOGETHER. And he actually paid for most of it."

And this line of questioning brought the details of their financial situation to light. I recapped the situation to Eric, "...So Adam paid for MOST of the X-Box, buys ALL of your games, puts MOST of the gas in the car you share AND has MORE money in the bank than you?"

Eric stared at me but didn't respond. I continued, "And he gave you his tomato so you could put it on your sandwich and then you COMPLAINED about it ("There's KETCHUP on this tomato!"). You should be ashamed. Taking advantage of your little brother."

It probably doesn't read funny but Adam had several bursts of laughter over the next couple of minutes over that conversation. A small reward for being generous. Later that night, my wife was talking to her sister. Her sister is debating whether or not she would like to marry her boyfriend. The sister said, "There are just a lot of weird things about my boyfriend. Sometimes he embarrasses me."

To which my adoring wife responded, "LOOK WHO I MARRIED."

My wife told me that Eric jumped into the conversation at that point, saying, "I'm glad you married Emmett." And then he related the "tomato" story to her. Apparently he likes it when people keep him in check.

My wife's cousin also paints with us. He is entertaining. He's one of THOSE kids. For instance, we were leaving the restaurant and we all got refills on our drinks. I guess there is some new health code where they just give you a whole new cup instead of refilling the one you already have. Adam told the cousin, Daniel, "Take the straw out of your old drink and put it in your new drink."

Daniel became defensive, "Duh, Adam! I'm not stupid... oh shoot! I just accidentally threw my straw away." He threw the straw away WHILE he said it. It's funny hanging out with him.

I've been calling Daniel "Pig-Pen," because he wears the same clothes to work everyday and the clothes are completely saturated with drywall dust. Daniel sat on the black leather seats in my car for two seconds and then stood up again the seat was almost completely white. At lunch today, daniel coughed and a giant cloud of white dust billowed up from his shoulder. I just said, "See. You're Pig-Pen."

Yesterday morning, the shop that sells us all of our paint was having a free breakfast for all of the contractors they sell to. For some reason my father-in-law really wanted me to go so I had to wake up an hour earlier than usual to eat with the crew.

While we were eating, Daniel dropped his toast. He said, "Whoa. That's weird. I just dropped my toast facedown on my lap and it didn't even get any jam on my pants."

I said, "That's because your pants are so dusty that it's impossible for them to get any dirtier. You dropped your toast on them and all you did was get the jam dirty."

Maybe it's only funny to me. That's okay.

Where it's too cold to swim and too hot to ski

Here is a glimpse of our lazy Sunday.

It's always funny until someone gets hurt... Here is a good example of my annoying laugh. I don't even notice until I hear myself on camera.

Why use a wagon when you have a perfectly good sled handy?



My wife thought she was taking a picture of me. Nope. It's a movie.

All I can say is that my life is pretty plain

This blogging thing was a lot easier when I got paid to be bored out of my skull on the internet all day and all week.

It's summer now. Which means the grass is tall and green and my cherry tree is full of bugs and birds. Summer also means that my wife, who works for the local school district, gets laid off for the season. Having a wife who was made redundant means that I get to double my pleasure by working two jobs. I wake up, paint in the morning, move furniture at night, then I fall asleep. Then I do it all again. And again. So I just finished a long week of nonstop work and the first thing my family tells me when I'm finally home for a few minutes is that the computer is broken.

Don't expect much from the blog because it will be like this for months. This also means that I'll have very little time to take trivial things and rant about them like there is some profound meaning to it all. I expect most of my posts will just be a review of my week. But maybe not, because one of the most difficult things for me to do is tell you the difference between yesterday and the day before. It's all a blur.

At work, the basketball hoop is busted so we can't play. There was a guy at work that bragged about being an undefeated chess player and a chess club alumni and tried to force everyone into a game so he could school them. Then he challenged me to a game. I haven't played chess in over ten years and he beat me fast with a move that I accused him of learning from a book. Then I beat him by modifying his move a little. He said I was lucky so we played again and I totally gave his king an atomic wedgie. He got so mad that I beat him again that he got up and stormed out of the room. While he was walking away, I cleaned up the chess board and yelled at him, "I'd better not hear you telling people you're undefeated anymore!" He didn't talk to me for a few days.

Then I played foosball and I've won more games than I've lost but it's not the same without basketball. Without basketball, I realize how pointless the job is and I'm working on switching employment soon. But one endless source of entertainment is that one guy, Zack Morris with a Lobotomy.

Chad (of Jamming With Chad fame) came up to me and said, "Did I tell you about my idea for a reality television show? It could be about this entire warehouse and all the crazy stuff that happens here but mostly it would just be to follow around Zack Morris with a Lobotomy all day."

I said, "The thing is, that show would be really funny for a few episodes but after a while it would just get depressing. It would get to the point where everyone is sitting around thinking CAN'T THIS GUY EVER WIN? Just like in real life."

One story I forgot to tell about him was how he once overheard the bosses talking about pornography. They told him that if you started looking at internet pornography you would end up online for a long period of time. He told them he didn't understand why and that he didn't believe them.

Feeling secure in his mormon righteousness, he came back to work a few days later and admitted to the bosses, "You guys were right. I went on the internet and did a search for pornography and I ended up looking at it for 3 hours!"

The mofos gave him a hard time about it, "3 hours? Geez, Zack! Why didn't you just touch yourself and get it over with?"

Zack said, "I don't do that. That's sick."

The mofos went on, "I can't believe you wasted 3 HOURS looking at porn."

And in a poorly worded attempt to tell the crowd how he finally turned off the computer in disgust, he said, "I looked at it for 3 hours but then some gay stuff came up and I got off on that."

Laugh. Riot.

He also had another of many fender benders in his car. One of the mofos asked him, "Did you SPRAY PAINT the grill of your car, Zack?"

Zack's response, "Yes. But it's not noticable."

And Zack is practically a Jedi so the mofo went off mumbling to himself, "Then why did I ask?" Everytime Zack has a fender bender, he starts the story by saying, "I have the WORST luck."

The funniest thing I saw all week was when that mofo who likes to listen to police scanners (let's call him Escobar) was giving Zack a bunch of crap because Zack lied on a recent job application. Zack wants more out of life and has been applying for a lot of other jobs. Zack applied for a position at a retail store but he has been frustrated by the lack of interviews he's received considering how many places he's applied. So at this particular store, Zack wrote on his application that he holds a 4-year degree in Computer Science. Of course the store called him up and interviewed him right away and he was forced to do a lot of back-paddling and finally admit that he only took a couple of computer courses in high school and that he does not have a 4-year degree. I don't believe a second interview will be forthcoming.

So in the process of razzing Zack about lying about his education, Escobar breaks into a full on imitation of Zack in a job interview. In my opinion, the hieght of the performance was when he said, "Would you like to hear about my accomplishments? Good! Get ready for an ear-full because I never shut the f*** up!"

It's probably funnier if you know the guys and if you are aware of how often people unsuccessfully beg Zack to shut up. I would love to hear someone use that line in an actual interview though. I felt bad laughing so hard right in front of Zack at his expense. But he's a good sport about it. And he doesn't ever shut up. And he lied on his application.

One night, I came home from work and I pulled my car into my driveway. I liked the song that was playing so I listened to the end of the song. It was a good CD so I listened to the next couple of songs as well. I saw my neighbors dogs in the next yard and I saw the owner lurking around in the shadows but I didn't think anything of it.

When I got out of my car to go to the house my neighbor started yelling at me at the top of her lungs. "What kind of a person would listen to their music outside my bedroom window at 1 a.m.! Why would you do that!"

If it was daytime, the conversation would have been MUCH different. This lady has NEVER talked to me but she did come over at yell at my sister the first month we moved into the new house.

Since it was the dead of night, I just said, "I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was bothering you." I don't have a subwoofer in my car or anything and I certainly don't know where her bedroom is located but I wasn't about to start that conversation with her.

But the batty lady just kept yelling, "I have to be awake in 3 hours and now I'm wide awake!"

I said, "Sorry." Again. For good measure. I get the feeling she was wide awake well before I got home and that she was bored. Very. Bored. And I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And it was very difficult for me to resist the temptation of pointing out the irony that she was in the darkness of her backyard screaming at me AS LOUD AS SHE COULD about what a jerk I am for not respecting people who are trying to sleep.

At this point my ears still weren't dripping blood, so she continued, "But why would I expect YOU to notice. YOU don't even notice when your own dog is barking!" For the record, her dogs are twice as loud as my dog. When I hear my dog bark, I go outside to tell her to quiet down but I don't tell her to quiet down when weirdos and mexicans are climbing around on my back fence. That's her job as a dog. I regret nothing.

I could tell that the neighbor was not interested in making peace and I have a strict policy of not arguing with people unless some good can come of it. This lady obviously just wanted an audience and nothing I could say would ever appease her. So I walked away and went to bed with her out in the night, still yelling at me.

I started painting with my in-laws as a daytime job. Painting houses for wealthy people. My father-in-law is easy on me as a boss. It's been good so far. It made me feel better about life. I went to work to find the richies eating bagles and cream cheese for breakfast just like I eat. They have the same chairs in their kitchen as we do. Their boys have the same bunk beds that our boys have. And my kids are better than their kids.

These people try to be super-parents. Almost to a smothering extent. The kids go to private school, they take swimming, piano AND guitar lessons. Even though school is out, their parents make them have two hours of "school" everyday. But every solitary second that the kids can get away, they go and play video games.

One of the boys was supposed to be reading for "school" but his mother told him to go practice the guitar. His father came in and lost his cool. He yelled at his son, "What are you doing! You're supposed to be reading! This is your future! YOUR FUTURE!" But the dad can loosen up. He came out and played tennis on their Nintendo Wii for a little while. Until he ended up punching his 6-yr-old daughter in the face and giving her a gushing nose-bleed.

There is stuff about U.S. presidents everywhere in the house. I was getting the boy's bedroom ready for paint and he had a strange assortment of videos on his dresser, including "Great Generals of the South." I asked the 8-yr-old, "Have you watched this movie? Great Generals of the South?" And he looked at me as if I was the craziest person alive. "No."

The mother is odd. Overall, she's a mormon-stepford-mom but she really is a pretty nice lady. Obviously a trophy wife but she still has a good head on her shoulders. I met her briefly on my first day of work in her house. She saw me on the second day of work. I thought she was going to ignore me but she suddenly turned and said, "Hi. Are you behaving?"

Am I behaving?

A million answers ran through my mind and all of them seemed inappropriate. That's the kind of question I might expect to hear at a parole hearing but it was very strange as an ice breaker with a professional acquaintance. I just said, "Yes."

I told my brother about it at lunch and he laughed. He said, "When we go back you can tell her you ate all your brocolli all by yourself."

My daughter also had a dance recital this week:



I was busy working so I couldn't go, but I went to the rehearsal and that was pretty good. It's kind of fun to watch them do it with the mistakes and then have the instructors say, "Do it again."

This time they had a boy dancer with a solo performance. He's a boy. A dancing boy. So in contrast to ballerina girls in wispy dresses that don't conceal their nipples, the boy was wearing a loose spandex suit of black with red slash marks all over it. Like he had been clawed by a giant animal. He did an aggressive dance to a classic song, "In the hall of the mountain king." But classical music is sissy so they toughened it up by playing it on buzzy guitars.

None of the dancers are perfect. Most of the time you feel like you could dance as good as they, but you're probably wrong. Anyway, I believe the best way to describe the boy's dance would be: COURAGEOUS.

I like these recitals though. I've been watching girls I have never met give their all in these dance recitals for two years now. I feel like I know them but they would probably yell at me "Get away, Creep!" if I ever tried to talk to them if I bumped into them at Target. Oh well.

So I finally got a day off today. I fixed the computer and took things easy. It was nice not to have any obligations for a few hours. We played with the kids for a long time in the backyard. I posted some videos on Youtube but they are slow at "processing" them so I can enter them here.

I'll put them up later. When next we meet.

Vocabulary Builder

I was putting away the dishes when my daughter came up and said, "Hey, there's my water bottle. All clean and shinerized."

She's better at making up words than most politicians.

I can see the way you shake and shiver

I think it's high time I did a post about the cartoon "Scooby Doo." But it won't be the same old tired things where we talk about Shaggy being a doobie-puffing hippie or about Fred and Daphne constantly running off to the broom closet.

This isn't what my post is about but I still have a suspicion that the cartoon was started as an imitation of Nancy Drew. Red-haired Daphne and her preppy football-star boyfriend. Velma in the wings with her helmet-hair, glasses and baggy sweater to remind you just how pretty Nancy...er, Daphne is. And then Shaggy and Scooby for comic relief. I have no evidence to support this allegation but I feel like I'm on the right track. One other thing I find funny is that in the very first episode of Scooby Doo (we own the DVDs) the gang is trying to break into a museum after hours. Fred pulls a 30 foot ladder from the back of the van so Shaggy can climb it. When the ladder falls short, Fred uses a car jack to lift the ladder another couple of feet. When Shaggy is still well below the window he is trying to enter, Daphne assures the gang, "Don't worry, Shaggy is the swingingest guy in gym class." Suggesting that Shaggy is some kind of acrobatic marvel. I don't think they followed up on that at all throughout the rest of the series.

I was going to make this more of a personal post. And I will start by saying that a large part of my life has revolved around going to school and then coming home and watching cartoons while eating a bowl of cereal. People who know me well are aware that this is how I came to like the "Disney's Gummi Bears" cartoon and a great admirer of Princess Calla. How can you not like a princess who doesn't want to be a princess and would rather spend her time jumping off of castle walls into haystacks or venturing out on a rainy day to experience what peasant life is all about? She was deeply hurt when Sunny Gummi wouldn't pour a bucket of sugary pink sludge over her head to prove they were best friends and just to prove their friendship she poured the sludge over the head of the Gummi Bear instead.

Anywho... while I was in college I would regularly come home from morning classes, work around all of the garbage Sam refused to put into the garbage can and put myself in front of the Scooby Doo show with a mixing bowl full of cereal.

As you may have figured out by now, I have never much enjoyed school and I would get mildly depressed at how school seemed to be a never-ending experience. I wanted to believe that this is a world that rewards creativity and hard work so everyday while watching cartoons I would tell myself, "Somewhere out there is a man who drew the images for Scooby Doo. He was part of a big project that has been successful for more years than I have been alive and now his life is probably easy as a reward for a job well done."

I didn't guess that the animators of Scooby Doo were filthy rich but I figured they probably still receive checks that probably afford them a humble life where they are free to pursue their interests. I really wanted that to be the case.

Coincidence or not, my wife has a very close friend whose father was an animator for Hanna Barbera and spent years of his life drawing pictures for the Scooby Doo show.

But it turns out the man's life is not easy. The only people who make money off those shows, apparently, have names ending in Hanna and Barbera. When I met him he was struggling with his own printing business. Without getting into all of the gory details, I will tell you he is paranoid, rash and deceptive to an unhealthy extent. And for all the harm he caused for his own family, I still dwell on it that I saw him as a false symbol of hope.

I really wish his life was easy. But that's not the world we live in. I guess the good news is that, where ever you may be, Gary Coleman may be working as a security guard. Maybe you can get an autograph.

Last Throws

Here is a postcard that Minnow's mother sent me via Minnow that corresponds to my "Columbus was a big pud" theme. Thanks. We thought it was funny and we keep on our refrigerator.

Talking too loud again

Me, talking to a coworker: "Even when we're the only ones here it still takes these guys 20 minutes to get us our food. They shouldn't be allowed to use the word 'Express' in their name. It would make a lot more sense to call this place 'Panda Eventually.'"

At that point the guy behind the counter broke into our conversation,
"I'll be with you guys in just a moment."

I said, "I think all of those years of playing the drums and guitars and loud music and warehouse work has affected my ears. I thought I was saying that quietly."

My wife and I took our kids to the park the other night. We have 3 kids but we ended up pushing 6 kids on the swings because the tiny strangers asked us so nicely ("I NEED A PUSH!" "PUSH ME" and "HIGHER!") and all of the other parents were busy lounging around on the picnic tables behind us not worrying about whether or not their kids could get the swings moving.

One of the kids told me, "I want you to push me high enough to kick those trees." I pushed him high enough to the point I could tell he would never kick the trees without putting himself in danger and I told him I wouldn't push him any higher. Then he yelled, "I believe I can fly!" and he jumped out of the swing and crumpled on the ground (it would have been funny if I hadn't already watched him do it 5 times before). Then while he was lying on the ground he turned to me and said, "You shouldn't have pushed me so high."

One of the kids told my wife, "My dad used to be a feef (thief) but now he's a good guy." Interesting and good to know.

I complained to my wife about the other parent's unwillingness to push their kids in the swings, probably a little too loudly, but a part of me thinks its good for them to hear. I went to the park to play with MY kids. I also told my wife, "... and I was going to say something to that kid about the way he was picking his nose and eating his boogers but I didn't want to crush his little spirit."

Sometimes I worry my soul is dead but moments where I'm courteous like that lead me to believe otherwise. But maybe not, because I was still thinking it. Booger-eater!

False Start

I've been trying to content myself with dead-end jobs until all of my kids are in school but I guess I'm stubborn or something and my wife and I have been trying to devise a plan where I can get job training during "normal" daytime hours.

We don't make much money so we are worried about paying for ONE kid in daycare. We were hoping our daughter might be able to get into a state-run half-day daycare program that is held in the room nextdoor to where my wife currently works. You are supposed to be poor for your kids to qualify but they make exceptions and give preference to people who work in the building. My wife says the vice principal of the school has her daughter enrolled there, so why not us?

Getting our daughter into the program is our first choice so my wife has been going nuts trying to make the arrangements and today she had an interview with the people.

They were not impressed with our situation. They kind of have a sarcastic "You call yourself the bottom rung...?" attitude. They ran through some quick tests with our daughter and told us that she "aced" them all, but they said it as if it was a bad thing.

They prodded my wife, "Do you have ANY concerns about her?" Is she retarded or violent? Does she set things on fire? They asked her, "Has she (at least) been abused?"

And my wife had to give them the bad news, "No. Our daughter is a happy, intelligent little girl who just needs a place to go for half a day for one year.

Are you sure? You've never pulled her arm too hard? You've never "accidentally" nudged her into a doorknob or anything? Please... give us something to work with here.

I suppose I could lay into my daughter with the ugly stick if it means getting free daycare out of the deal. I suppose I could stand to be more irresponsible and less reliable at work. When you are good at your job the bosses just give you the crap-work anyway while the good-for-nothing people stand around scratching their butts. That seems to be true everywhere.

Even though the daycare program expects that you make a maximum of $24K they also expect your children to have health insurance. I assume in the form of Medicade. Those people laughed in our faces, too. We did find out that our kids easily qualify for state-run health insurance, so that's a plus.

We don't have a final verdict on whether our daughter will get in or not. The only reason she would get in is because my wife works in the next room. They said they would send us a letter in a month or so to let us know.

I didn't type this to play on your sympathies. It's just bizarre to me that these programs only benefit people who are in a deep rut and plan to stay there while people who work hard, take care of their kids and try to better themselves get laughed at.

There's always next year.