My wife blogged our trip to California pretty well, so instead of going into all of that, I will just regale you with the tale of my little kidney stone and its travels through my body on the night we returned to Utah.
First of all, I am slightly annoyed because I endure impressive amounts of pain on a regular basis but never obtain convincing visual proof of the events. I almost cut my thumb off at work with a sawzall but instead just smashed it really bad (but just the fingernail turned black) and now I have a 3mm kidney stone in a cup but when you take a picture of these things they don't compare with Sculpin's ice-skating mishap photos.
So anyway, we drove all day across Nevada. When we got to Wendover my back was starting to bother me but I figured: I drove this far and I can drive the rest of the way. We got home about 10 pm and the kids had school and I had work in the morning, so we just got everyone in bed. It seemed like business as usual.
Somewhere between 2 and 2:30 am I rolled over in bed and my back was killing me. I kept rolling around, trying to find a comfortable position but that position did not exist. When I couldn't get back to sleep, I quickly became frustrated. I already knew that within the next few hours I was supposed to dig a trench by hand for work. I couldn't beleive that sitting in a car could damage by back like that and the pain was bad enough that I was worried that I would need back surgery to fix the problem. Back surgery would keep me from doing both of my jobs for quite some time. I was upset. I also felt like I was going to puke.
My wife kept trying to tell me to go to the doctor, but I don't like doctors. I just asked her for a heat-pad. She has one that she heats up in the microwave. She got it for me and I laid on it and was able to fall asleep for an indefinite amount of time. But when I woke up, the pain in my back was still waiting for me. I went into the bathroom and looked at my back in the mirror. The heating pad had been hot enough that my skin was burned red and I had a blister forming.
I got back into bed and flopped around until it was time for me to wake for work (5:30). I asked my wife to call my boss and tell him that she was taking me to the emergency room.
I find it funny that nurses always seem upset that I haven't had any significant health problems in the past 18 years. They act like I'm lying or they just look at me like I'm a freak. But when I told the nurse my syptoms she guessed it was a kidney stone right away. She said people come through the doors with a sudden onset of extreme back-pain, then pass the stone and walk out like nothing had happened.
Compared to the back surgery I was imagining while flopping around in bed I became optimistic. I said, "That sounds good to me. Let's do that."
The nurse laughed at me and declared, "You are the happiest kidney-stone patient I have ever seen."
She checked my pee to see if it had blood in it (it did) and then she gave me a shot of morphine. She said, "Some people say morphine makes their chest feel restricted and makes it hard for them to breathe so be ready."
I said, "Yeah... it does kind of feel like someone is choking you. It's strange that some people take this stuff for fun."
The nurse said, "You can always tell the people who do from the ones that don't."
If you haven't been to the emergency room before, I will tell you that they have this scale from 1 to 10 with a happy face assigned to the number 1 and a sad, crying face assigned to number 10 and then various faces to the numbers inbetween.
She asked me what level of pain I was experiencing when I arrived at the hospital. I told her I was probably a number 6, which is the circle face is frowning a little and looks like he's just starting to sweat.
The nurse said, "Hmmm. Most of the people who come in with a kidney stone say number 10. There's a chance that you already passed the stone before you came to the hospital... or else you're really tough."
I said, "I hope I already passed it. But I like to think I'm pretty tough, too." It turns out that I am tough. They did a cat-scan and said the stone hadn't reached my bladder yet but that it was small enough that I could go home to pass it.
While we were waiting for those results, my wife and kids came into my room to see me. I felt bad that my kids had to wait there for four hours. We looked at the pain chart and decided that each of us was a number four: Where the happy face just has a straight line for a mouth. I personally think that the scale should be extended to 15 where 15 is a happy face with his mouth wide open in a scream and blood is coming out of the ears and an eyeball is hanging from its socket. But that would probably just cater more to the crybabies.
My wife said that lots of people were coming into the emergency room screaming and wailing, pitching unconvincing fits like little kids. My advice to people is to expect to wait around awhile even after you get to the hospital. Crying isn't going to make you better any faster.
My wife told my kids, "Thank your father for making your vacation one day longer." and then we left. We picked up some prescriptions and went home. They told me it was likely that I wouldn't return to work that week, and if the stone didn't pass after a couple of days then to come in to see a urologist and he would help me get it out.
I started imagining my week. I still had annoying back pain and I was groggy from the pills but I was still thinking I could write on my blog, write some short stories maybe go see The Watchmen during the day while my wife was at work and the kids were in school.
But then I peed the stone out a few hours later and I went back to work the next day. And I think every kidney stone quarterback thinks the same thing when they see it come out: That little thing caused all this trouble?
They say I can take the stone in and have it analyzed. I haven't done it because I know those people want money every time you talk to them, but I'm guessing my stone is made 50% of Dr. Pepper, 10% Pepsi, and 40% snakes, snails, puppydog tails and other miscellaneous matter.
When we got to the hospital my wife said, "Well, now you'll get to see what a woman goes through when she gives birth." But when I passed the stone later that evening she said, "Hey! I'm glad you're better but I don't think you got to experience childbirth."
I said, "Yeah. That wasn't too bad. I don't know what you girls are always crying about."
It's hard to feel special for passing a kidney stone, because after you've done it you find out that everyone and their dog has had kidney stones and they all want to tell you their stories.
Tune in tomorrow for the story of the popcorn kernel that refused to be flossed away!
Monday, March 23, 2009
Sunday, March 08, 2009
Know Your Mofo And More
Let's call today's mofo Drago. He's from a slum town in Indiana. He's my same age and tried marraige for a year or two but it didn't work out. He was able to work simultaneous shifts as a firefighter for the city and a steel mill and had a pretty good thing going. He had A LOT of paid time off (over two months per year), money in the bank and he was also good friends with an older man at the steel mill. He soon became smitten with his friends daughter and the three of them were almost like a family.
After a few years of dating, Drago's girlfriend told him she wanted to plan a ski weekend in North Carolina with some of their friends. Drago's response was like, "Skiing? North Carolina?" but he sighed and was like, "Whatever, Babe." He could barely remember how to ski and wasn't too thrilled about the craggy mountains of North Carolina but he told his girlfriend he would make the most of it.
So they went and when he got to the snowy mountain and went sailing through the trees he got a strange feeling and admitted to the girl that the weekend had completely changed his life. He had found his new purpose in life. He checked around and found that Utah had some of the best skiing the world had to offer. He spent winter after winter here in Utah. But, if anything, it only made his hunger worse.
Just a few years ago the economy was not so bad as it is today and he realized how easy it is to get a job in Utah and share a house with others who have devoted their lives to sliding down mountains.
He told his girlfriend he was moving to Utah. It was something he had to do. She said she would come with him. But when he loaded all of his stuff into boxed and his boxes into his truck he found that she hadn't packed anything. She told him she couldn't move to Utah. He just told her, "You ended this, not me." And he drove to Utah.
He's one of the mofos that comes to the Waffle House on the weekends. He tells us crazy stories about his experience as a firefighter and an EMT. He told us how they were attending to one guy who had all kinds of stuff messed up on his insides. They were loading him into the ambulance when a deadly blast of diarreah came out and all the life left the man's face. They were convinced that he was dead and not coming back but they were required by law to perform CPR. He says it was horrible because when they would press on the man's chest, more of his guts would come gushing out of his orifices.
He said one time they had discovered a dead body in a bathtub but it had sat for days and became so bloated that the bathtub had to be cut into pieces to remove the body. It was a pretty gruesome mess but the real twist came when they realized the deceased was an old fire marshall they used to work with. They remembered him as a tall, thin man and not as someone who was so big that a bathtub could not contain him.
He said one time they were dealing with a burning building and he needed to get a window open for some reason. They were on an upper floor and he couldn't just smash the window because people were entering and exiting the building several floors below and he didn't want to shower them with broken glass and debris. He was wearing all of his fire garb and struggled to get the window open. He was still in a frenzy when another fire fighter came up behind him and motioned to his feet. There was nothing he could do but sigh and curse when he realized he'd been stomping on a barbecued human body while he'd been fighting with the window.
The stories he tells are pretty rough but I figure it's good for him to get them out of his system. He gets a season pass to Snowbird every year and spends the warm months hiking through all of Utah's scenic parks. He says that moving furniture feels like a vacation for him. Yesterday he shared some girlscout cookies with me and asked if I'd like to go hiking with him in Zions or Canyonlands this summer.
Speaking of dead bodies, I've been working the last couple of weeks at a facility where they perform nearly all of the autopsies for the state of Utah. It's actually been a pretty good job aside from the occassional smells. Every once in a while they get what they call a "stinker." It's not the worst smell ever but it seems worse when you know that it comes from a dead person.
It seems like it would be a depressing place to work day in and day out. We tried to make jokes about the place to keep our spirits up but everything comes out seeming inappropriate. It is strange, though, to see an endless stream of trucks and vans rolling in with lifeless bodies.
I go back to the indian reservation in California every spring and the past three springs each included a funeral. It was bumming me out. This week I'm driving out to California with Rogi (of Cow Country fame) for my brother's wedding.
I'm excited about this. I never expected my brother to actually get married. I'm happy for him. It also makes me feel like I'm driving out there to witness a beginning rather than an ending. I'll put up some pictures later.
After a few years of dating, Drago's girlfriend told him she wanted to plan a ski weekend in North Carolina with some of their friends. Drago's response was like, "Skiing? North Carolina?" but he sighed and was like, "Whatever, Babe." He could barely remember how to ski and wasn't too thrilled about the craggy mountains of North Carolina but he told his girlfriend he would make the most of it.
So they went and when he got to the snowy mountain and went sailing through the trees he got a strange feeling and admitted to the girl that the weekend had completely changed his life. He had found his new purpose in life. He checked around and found that Utah had some of the best skiing the world had to offer. He spent winter after winter here in Utah. But, if anything, it only made his hunger worse.
Just a few years ago the economy was not so bad as it is today and he realized how easy it is to get a job in Utah and share a house with others who have devoted their lives to sliding down mountains.
He told his girlfriend he was moving to Utah. It was something he had to do. She said she would come with him. But when he loaded all of his stuff into boxed and his boxes into his truck he found that she hadn't packed anything. She told him she couldn't move to Utah. He just told her, "You ended this, not me." And he drove to Utah.
He's one of the mofos that comes to the Waffle House on the weekends. He tells us crazy stories about his experience as a firefighter and an EMT. He told us how they were attending to one guy who had all kinds of stuff messed up on his insides. They were loading him into the ambulance when a deadly blast of diarreah came out and all the life left the man's face. They were convinced that he was dead and not coming back but they were required by law to perform CPR. He says it was horrible because when they would press on the man's chest, more of his guts would come gushing out of his orifices.
He said one time they had discovered a dead body in a bathtub but it had sat for days and became so bloated that the bathtub had to be cut into pieces to remove the body. It was a pretty gruesome mess but the real twist came when they realized the deceased was an old fire marshall they used to work with. They remembered him as a tall, thin man and not as someone who was so big that a bathtub could not contain him.
He said one time they were dealing with a burning building and he needed to get a window open for some reason. They were on an upper floor and he couldn't just smash the window because people were entering and exiting the building several floors below and he didn't want to shower them with broken glass and debris. He was wearing all of his fire garb and struggled to get the window open. He was still in a frenzy when another fire fighter came up behind him and motioned to his feet. There was nothing he could do but sigh and curse when he realized he'd been stomping on a barbecued human body while he'd been fighting with the window.
The stories he tells are pretty rough but I figure it's good for him to get them out of his system. He gets a season pass to Snowbird every year and spends the warm months hiking through all of Utah's scenic parks. He says that moving furniture feels like a vacation for him. Yesterday he shared some girlscout cookies with me and asked if I'd like to go hiking with him in Zions or Canyonlands this summer.
Speaking of dead bodies, I've been working the last couple of weeks at a facility where they perform nearly all of the autopsies for the state of Utah. It's actually been a pretty good job aside from the occassional smells. Every once in a while they get what they call a "stinker." It's not the worst smell ever but it seems worse when you know that it comes from a dead person.
It seems like it would be a depressing place to work day in and day out. We tried to make jokes about the place to keep our spirits up but everything comes out seeming inappropriate. It is strange, though, to see an endless stream of trucks and vans rolling in with lifeless bodies.
I go back to the indian reservation in California every spring and the past three springs each included a funeral. It was bumming me out. This week I'm driving out to California with Rogi (of Cow Country fame) for my brother's wedding.
I'm excited about this. I never expected my brother to actually get married. I'm happy for him. It also makes me feel like I'm driving out there to witness a beginning rather than an ending. I'll put up some pictures later.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Besides, You Ain't Got Nothin' Better To Do And I'm Bored
This family is all about hair-brained schemes. We come up with crazy ideas and pursue them. Sometimes we win, sometimes we lose. We have a big hair-brained scheme in mind but we can't act on it unless we can come up with a fat wad of money and the economy suffers a mild recovery.
So I told my wife, "We should get super serious about saving a bunch of money. We should buckle down for as long as we can stand it. If we can't stand it, then we can binge with whatever money we actually saved."
My wife agreed so we started brain-storming ideas on where we could save money. It turns out that all I do is work. The only place I can possibly save money is to not eat out so much, but that is hard to do when you work anywhere from 8 to 22 hours in a day. My wife said lamely, "I guess I could stop using paper plates, but that means we'll have more dirty dishes that I won't have time to wash." We buy everything on sale. We get DVDs from the library. We go out to see a movie about every six months.
It's funny that we sat down to think of ways to save money but only came to the conclusion that we need to spend money and have some fun for once.
So I told my wife, "We should get super serious about saving a bunch of money. We should buckle down for as long as we can stand it. If we can't stand it, then we can binge with whatever money we actually saved."
My wife agreed so we started brain-storming ideas on where we could save money. It turns out that all I do is work. The only place I can possibly save money is to not eat out so much, but that is hard to do when you work anywhere from 8 to 22 hours in a day. My wife said lamely, "I guess I could stop using paper plates, but that means we'll have more dirty dishes that I won't have time to wash." We buy everything on sale. We get DVDs from the library. We go out to see a movie about every six months.
It's funny that we sat down to think of ways to save money but only came to the conclusion that we need to spend money and have some fun for once.
Friday, February 13, 2009
When Will I Meet My Fate? Baby I'm A Man And I Was Born To Hate
We were driving through our neigborhood looking at houses.
Me: "When we get divorced I'll probably rent one of these apartments."
My Wife: "Why?"
Me: "So I can stay close to the kids. They aren't much to look at but I'm sure they're cheap and I can live there with a younger, skinnier, prettier version of you and pay off my bills."
My Wife: "It sounds like you've really been thinking about this. How can you even think these things? Even if you're joking?"
Me: "I'm a man. That's what men do, isn't it?"
Now that I type it, it sounds REALLY mean. But I assure you that it was quite funny. Don't let my wife's crying eyes dissuade you. She cries about everything you know.
Me: "When we get divorced I'll probably rent one of these apartments."
My Wife: "Why?"
Me: "So I can stay close to the kids. They aren't much to look at but I'm sure they're cheap and I can live there with a younger, skinnier, prettier version of you and pay off my bills."
My Wife: "It sounds like you've really been thinking about this. How can you even think these things? Even if you're joking?"
Me: "I'm a man. That's what men do, isn't it?"
Now that I type it, it sounds REALLY mean. But I assure you that it was quite funny. Don't let my wife's crying eyes dissuade you. She cries about everything you know.
All Us Boys On Deathrow, We're Just Waiting For a Pardon
I'm lucky enough to be working a lot of overtime, so I haven't been around much. But Jonah stayed home on Monday with a fever so I took a day off. It was nice because I had plenty of one-on-one time with my other kids when they were his age, but this is the first time that it was just me and Jonah. His daytime personality is much happier than his nighttime personality.
I've heard good things about the show "Super Why!" on PBS so when I saw it was on TV I paid attention. It didn't make a very good first impression though and here is why:
There is a group of kids and a pig and the pig starts feeling sad and says, "You're all human and I'm a pig. I feel different and it makes me sad."
And I'm sure they did this just so they could talk about a story, "Well here is a story about a Little Mermaid who also felt like she was different..."
They didn't say, "Hey! You're a pig! You've got that curly-Q tail and you get to roll around in poop and you taste delicious!"
Suddenly they were just IN the story, talking to a little mermaid, but they never seemed to get to the part where she sold her soul to the sea witch for a chance to be human just to watch her prince marry another woman and pass the opportunity to regain her soul by murdering him and instead choosing to cast her human form into the ocean where is dissolves into air or foam or something... and by a stroke of luck, as a spirit in limbo, she is given the chance to regain her soul so she can get into heaven after she does good deeds for 300 years or so, all so that the kids can turn to the pig and say, "See... if you feel different and sad just commit suicide and maybe you can go to heaven one day."
I guess they don't tell you the end of the story because they want kids to read it for themselves.
Last weekend I was supposed to go snowboarding the mofos from the furniture store but I was too tired and I missed my family so we went and saw that movie "Coraline." I enjoyed it. It was very strange. I thought there would be more music in it but I will settle for the one song that They Might Be Giants contributed. I don't care if this is a spoiler. Anyone who takes their kids to see Coraline should be prepared to see gigantic naked bouncing old-lady puppet boobs. There. I said it. Coraline did a better job of delivering their message than Super Why: Be happy with what you have.
Business at the furniture store has been pretty slow. I heard one of the mofos talking on his cell phone, "I used your credit card at the furniture store so don't be surprised when you get a bill in the mail..."
When he hung up, I said, "Did you steal your girlfriends credit card and go on a shopping spree again?"
He said, "No. That was my wife. With our discount we can get $30 headphones for $4. So I used our credit card to get some and I didn't want my wife to freak out when we got an extra bill at the end of the month."
I said, "Why didn't you just pay cash for them?"
He said, "I don't have any money. These are tough times. But I did do 90-days-same-as-cash."
I said, "You only have 90 days to come up with $4? You'd better get your butt to work."
At my daytime job, I did some work at a military facility. It was out in the middle of nowhere so I had to go to the store on the base for lunch. I thought I would just get a drink and a candy bar but they were hard to find. I had to walk down a 30 foot aisle with alcohol of all kinds on both sides and I finally found a box of Almond Snickers, Watchamacallit, Skittles, and Red Vines tucked away on an end cap.
I went to pay and right next to the cash register was a magazine rack. It had an upper-section and a lower-section. The upper-section was nothing but pornography. Lots and lots of pornography. And the lower section was only magazines like Mens Journal and Guns and Ammo. There were actually a lot of girls in line behind me and it felt awkward being so close to the stockpile o' porn.
I told my coworker that it was weird that they have miles of hard liquor but you can't find a 3 Musketeers to save your life. He said the military bases are the only places in Utah where you can buy a keg of beer - if you're military.
The whole thing made me feel sad for the troops. The message of the store seemed to be: "Don't dream about a life off of this base, just get drunk and look at boobs when you're feeling down."
The last couple of weeks, I've been working in a frozen vegetable warehouse in Ogden. There are welders from Tennessee flashing blue lightning and spraying orange sparks everywhere and everything is made of stainless steel aside from the cement floor. So we set up our tristands and bandsaws and pipe-threaders with their oil guns and get to work builing something from Super Mario World. After lunch we come back and the workers have spilled peas all over the floor and a river of peas rushes through our work area and looks like the everglades from the sky.
Everyday is an adventure. What will it be? Brussel sprouts? Corn? Carrots? Mixed vegetables? And then someone drives through the everglades with a giant scissor lift and it just looks like a crappy warehouse again.
I've heard good things about the show "Super Why!" on PBS so when I saw it was on TV I paid attention. It didn't make a very good first impression though and here is why:
There is a group of kids and a pig and the pig starts feeling sad and says, "You're all human and I'm a pig. I feel different and it makes me sad."
And I'm sure they did this just so they could talk about a story, "Well here is a story about a Little Mermaid who also felt like she was different..."
They didn't say, "Hey! You're a pig! You've got that curly-Q tail and you get to roll around in poop and you taste delicious!"
Suddenly they were just IN the story, talking to a little mermaid, but they never seemed to get to the part where she sold her soul to the sea witch for a chance to be human just to watch her prince marry another woman and pass the opportunity to regain her soul by murdering him and instead choosing to cast her human form into the ocean where is dissolves into air or foam or something... and by a stroke of luck, as a spirit in limbo, she is given the chance to regain her soul so she can get into heaven after she does good deeds for 300 years or so, all so that the kids can turn to the pig and say, "See... if you feel different and sad just commit suicide and maybe you can go to heaven one day."
I guess they don't tell you the end of the story because they want kids to read it for themselves.
Last weekend I was supposed to go snowboarding the mofos from the furniture store but I was too tired and I missed my family so we went and saw that movie "Coraline." I enjoyed it. It was very strange. I thought there would be more music in it but I will settle for the one song that They Might Be Giants contributed. I don't care if this is a spoiler. Anyone who takes their kids to see Coraline should be prepared to see gigantic naked bouncing old-lady puppet boobs. There. I said it. Coraline did a better job of delivering their message than Super Why: Be happy with what you have.
Business at the furniture store has been pretty slow. I heard one of the mofos talking on his cell phone, "I used your credit card at the furniture store so don't be surprised when you get a bill in the mail..."
When he hung up, I said, "Did you steal your girlfriends credit card and go on a shopping spree again?"
He said, "No. That was my wife. With our discount we can get $30 headphones for $4. So I used our credit card to get some and I didn't want my wife to freak out when we got an extra bill at the end of the month."
I said, "Why didn't you just pay cash for them?"
He said, "I don't have any money. These are tough times. But I did do 90-days-same-as-cash."
I said, "You only have 90 days to come up with $4? You'd better get your butt to work."
At my daytime job, I did some work at a military facility. It was out in the middle of nowhere so I had to go to the store on the base for lunch. I thought I would just get a drink and a candy bar but they were hard to find. I had to walk down a 30 foot aisle with alcohol of all kinds on both sides and I finally found a box of Almond Snickers, Watchamacallit, Skittles, and Red Vines tucked away on an end cap.
I went to pay and right next to the cash register was a magazine rack. It had an upper-section and a lower-section. The upper-section was nothing but pornography. Lots and lots of pornography. And the lower section was only magazines like Mens Journal and Guns and Ammo. There were actually a lot of girls in line behind me and it felt awkward being so close to the stockpile o' porn.
I told my coworker that it was weird that they have miles of hard liquor but you can't find a 3 Musketeers to save your life. He said the military bases are the only places in Utah where you can buy a keg of beer - if you're military.
The whole thing made me feel sad for the troops. The message of the store seemed to be: "Don't dream about a life off of this base, just get drunk and look at boobs when you're feeling down."
The last couple of weeks, I've been working in a frozen vegetable warehouse in Ogden. There are welders from Tennessee flashing blue lightning and spraying orange sparks everywhere and everything is made of stainless steel aside from the cement floor. So we set up our tristands and bandsaws and pipe-threaders with their oil guns and get to work builing something from Super Mario World. After lunch we come back and the workers have spilled peas all over the floor and a river of peas rushes through our work area and looks like the everglades from the sky.
Everyday is an adventure. What will it be? Brussel sprouts? Corn? Carrots? Mixed vegetables? And then someone drives through the everglades with a giant scissor lift and it just looks like a crappy warehouse again.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Sick Of This American Life, And I've Learned The Value Of Human Sacrifice
Funny mormon girl featured on this weeks episode of "This American Life" on NPR. She has a book called "New York Regional Mormon Singles Halloween Dance" coming out this year.
Monday, January 05, 2009
Don't Think Sorry Is Easily Said
C: "Hey Emmett, could you hand me a..."
Me: "This wrench?"
C: "Yes. Exactly. You read my mind."
J: "Was it like staring at a blank piece of paper, Emmett?"
Me: "It was actually more like reading a Dr. Suess book."
C: "Screw you, Emmett! Well... I can't be mad at you for that. That was pretty funny."
Me: "This wrench?"
C: "Yes. Exactly. You read my mind."
J: "Was it like staring at a blank piece of paper, Emmett?"
Me: "It was actually more like reading a Dr. Suess book."
C: "Screw you, Emmett! Well... I can't be mad at you for that. That was pretty funny."
Sunday, January 04, 2009
I know that you would like, like to change me, make me soft unto your voice like a baby
I can't decide what to tell the kids when we talk about the existence of Santa Claus. They have their own theories. And I don't want to end up twisting my explanations into something ridiculous like Christmas movies that say stuff like, "Santa is a symbol of the spirit of Christmas and Christmas spirit is certainly real..." That would be going to an abstract place where a 5 year old couldn't be expected to follow.
I really hate liars and it is hard for me to hold the truth from my kids. But I also can't justify telling my kids, "The world is built on lies. Every year you get older you will see more and more evidence that the world and people-in-general are horrible. We don't have a solution for everything and often we don't even try to solve important problems. We have a lifestyle dependent on looking the other way while terrible things happen and most people aren't worth knowing."
That's cynical. I would rather let them believe in magic. They deserve to know that there is a vein of gold running through the craggy mountain.
One day, I was studying for a test for the daytime job. My daughter asked me, "What are you reading?"
I said, "I'm reading about magnets. There are lines that move out of one end of the magnet and into the other end. They're invisible but if you pour metal filings over them they will show you the shape of the lines."
My daughter stopped me abruptly, "Wait a minute... invisible is REAL?"
It blew her mind. It made me smile. Invisible is magic. Electricity is magic. Aliens are magic. The stuff in a telescope or microscope is magic. Magic is real. Curiousity is alive. Fascination is alive. I don't feel like I have the right to kill it. Maybe next year I'll tell the oldest kid the harsh truth.
When I worked at the desk job, I got in trouble at a meeting with upper-management because they lowered the education requirements and the pay-scale for the new people they were hiring and I asked them if they thought that was the best way to get quality employees. I gave some playful examples of new-hire behavior to support my doubt. I got more than one lecture about how my question was absolutely inappropriate and it even lowered my score on my yearly evaluation months later. The usually callous policy-enforcers were VERY concerned that I may have hurt someone's feelings by asking such a question. They told me I needed to think about the impact my actions might have on the feelings of people around me.
I still think I was right to do what I did and wouldn't change it. However, I've noticed that when I tell one friend about the quirky behavior of another of my friends, they are usually quick to jump to the conclusion that my quirky friend is kind of a freak. I can sit there and say, "No. My friend is cool" till I'm blue in the face but it's too late and all they can think of is the one behavior or event that puts them in the freak category.
I must say I'm a little disappointed that people could care less about a million redeeming qualities and focus on one out-of-the-ordinary thing that might put them in an unfavorable light. Take the 18-yr-old mofo for example: One time I told another friend that he has never had a girlfriend and he's a bit clueless of how to get anything started with a girl. Now the other friend seems to think the 18-yr-old has the social skills of a thawed out caveman. Mofo isn't a leper, he's just never found someone like that before. Now I see the impact of what I've said but I don't feel like I've done anything wrong. I have the ability to see the good in someone despite a perceived minor flaw. What's everyone else's problem?
I went bowling with the mofos yesterday. We're thinking about starting a league team.
My wife bought me something expensive and unnecessary for Christmas. I returned it. But later, when she's awake, I'll tell her I appreciate that she thought I deserved to be rewarded that way. I'll say, "I love you, too."
I started listening to the howstuffworks podcast. It's good.
My kids play hilarious games. Today they were playing a game called rock-paper-scissors-SWORD! I asked them, "Does sword just beat everything?" They said, "No. Axe does." One day I walked into the room and my two youngest kids were lying on the floor, twitching around. I asked them, "Are you guys okay?" They said, "Yes. We're just playing a game. It's called Monkeys-Who-Fall-Down-And-Get-Hurt."
We're taking the kids to a BBC Walking-With-Dinosaurs event in Salt Lake. We watch the short commercials with the giant dinosaurs walking around the arena. We can't figure out if they are puppets or robots or what. Maybe they are actual creatures from that movie "Billy and the Clone-a-saurus."
There is a lot to do and life is short.
I really hate liars and it is hard for me to hold the truth from my kids. But I also can't justify telling my kids, "The world is built on lies. Every year you get older you will see more and more evidence that the world and people-in-general are horrible. We don't have a solution for everything and often we don't even try to solve important problems. We have a lifestyle dependent on looking the other way while terrible things happen and most people aren't worth knowing."
That's cynical. I would rather let them believe in magic. They deserve to know that there is a vein of gold running through the craggy mountain.
One day, I was studying for a test for the daytime job. My daughter asked me, "What are you reading?"
I said, "I'm reading about magnets. There are lines that move out of one end of the magnet and into the other end. They're invisible but if you pour metal filings over them they will show you the shape of the lines."
My daughter stopped me abruptly, "Wait a minute... invisible is REAL?"
It blew her mind. It made me smile. Invisible is magic. Electricity is magic. Aliens are magic. The stuff in a telescope or microscope is magic. Magic is real. Curiousity is alive. Fascination is alive. I don't feel like I have the right to kill it. Maybe next year I'll tell the oldest kid the harsh truth.
When I worked at the desk job, I got in trouble at a meeting with upper-management because they lowered the education requirements and the pay-scale for the new people they were hiring and I asked them if they thought that was the best way to get quality employees. I gave some playful examples of new-hire behavior to support my doubt. I got more than one lecture about how my question was absolutely inappropriate and it even lowered my score on my yearly evaluation months later. The usually callous policy-enforcers were VERY concerned that I may have hurt someone's feelings by asking such a question. They told me I needed to think about the impact my actions might have on the feelings of people around me.
I still think I was right to do what I did and wouldn't change it. However, I've noticed that when I tell one friend about the quirky behavior of another of my friends, they are usually quick to jump to the conclusion that my quirky friend is kind of a freak. I can sit there and say, "No. My friend is cool" till I'm blue in the face but it's too late and all they can think of is the one behavior or event that puts them in the freak category.
I must say I'm a little disappointed that people could care less about a million redeeming qualities and focus on one out-of-the-ordinary thing that might put them in an unfavorable light. Take the 18-yr-old mofo for example: One time I told another friend that he has never had a girlfriend and he's a bit clueless of how to get anything started with a girl. Now the other friend seems to think the 18-yr-old has the social skills of a thawed out caveman. Mofo isn't a leper, he's just never found someone like that before. Now I see the impact of what I've said but I don't feel like I've done anything wrong. I have the ability to see the good in someone despite a perceived minor flaw. What's everyone else's problem?
I went bowling with the mofos yesterday. We're thinking about starting a league team.
My wife bought me something expensive and unnecessary for Christmas. I returned it. But later, when she's awake, I'll tell her I appreciate that she thought I deserved to be rewarded that way. I'll say, "I love you, too."
I started listening to the howstuffworks podcast. It's good.
My kids play hilarious games. Today they were playing a game called rock-paper-scissors-SWORD! I asked them, "Does sword just beat everything?" They said, "No. Axe does." One day I walked into the room and my two youngest kids were lying on the floor, twitching around. I asked them, "Are you guys okay?" They said, "Yes. We're just playing a game. It's called Monkeys-Who-Fall-Down-And-Get-Hurt."
We're taking the kids to a BBC Walking-With-Dinosaurs event in Salt Lake. We watch the short commercials with the giant dinosaurs walking around the arena. We can't figure out if they are puppets or robots or what. Maybe they are actual creatures from that movie "Billy and the Clone-a-saurus."
There is a lot to do and life is short.
Saturday, January 03, 2009
Yes I Love Technology But Not As Much As You, You See
The holidays have come and gone so I figured it was time I did a post about my holidays.
Here is an actual conversation I had regarding New Years Eve:
Mofo: "Emmett, how was your New Years Eve?"
Me: "I was home with my wife and kids and I fell asleep on the couch. Then my wife woke me up and yelled, It's midnight! Happy New Year! and then I fell asleep again. Pretty cool."
It seems like I had a list of things that I learned during 2008 that I was going to talk about but I must have misplaced that list at the moment. Maybe I'll remember later.
My wife and I did see the movie "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" and here is my review of the that movie:
It's pretty much like Forrest Gump except the music isn't as good and everybody dies. It isn't a timeless movie. In fact, the movie beats you over the head with the notion that life is short, love is unsatisfying and bad things happen constantly.
Also, when you go to see this movie you will be surprised that so many people are in the theater on a Tuesday night and the girl next to you will take off her shoes and put her sweaty toe-jam feet in front of you. She also has a big cup of salt that she dumps on her popcorn so be careful not to mistake the cup as your drink because she's going to keep it in your common cupholder.
I got some cool toys for Christmas. I was happy about it. And it seems like I've seen a lot of my family lately, so thanks to them. I do have some video of Olivia and I doing a musical number in front of a fireplace in a mountain retreat and also a video of Ethan, who got up in front of my wife's extended family to do an impromptu rendition of "Disturbed's" song "Down With The Sickness" directly after my wife's aunt gave a long talk about her trip to Tibet and showed us prayer flags and rattles and stressed the importance of man's worldwide desire to communicate with God ("I want you to think about that," she said), but tonight I wanted to write instead of messing around with computer crap so you will have to wait for the videos, too.
My favorite Christmas moment of 2008 is probably when my wife was in the bathroom and I was wasting time before we went to sleep and there was some cheesy christmas movie on TV starring "Slater" (from Save By The Bell) and Melissa Joan Hart. In the movie, Melissa Joan Hart feels like a loser so she kidnaps Slater so she can show her parents that she has the perfect boyfriend and is therefore, not a loser. And at the end of the movie he decides that he doesn't mind being kidnapped and he dumps his rich, pretty fiance to spend his life with the crazy girl. Just like you'd expect to happen in real life.
Anyway, I was killing time and my wife came in the room and she said, "PLEASE... tell me that I'm prettier than Melissa Joan Hart. You don't have to say I'm prettier than anyone else... just Melissa Joan Hart, because frankly, I don't know what anyone sees in her."
I said, "No problem. You are way prettier than Melissa Joan Hart. Now you tell me that I'm better-looking than Slater."
She said, "You are better-looking than Slater."
I said, "I don't actually care if I'm better-looking than Slater, I just wanted to see if you would lie to me about it."
She said, "Well, there aren't many people in the world that are cuter than Slater."
Merry Christmas to all.
Here is an actual conversation I had regarding New Years Eve:
Mofo: "Emmett, how was your New Years Eve?"
Me: "I was home with my wife and kids and I fell asleep on the couch. Then my wife woke me up and yelled, It's midnight! Happy New Year! and then I fell asleep again. Pretty cool."
It seems like I had a list of things that I learned during 2008 that I was going to talk about but I must have misplaced that list at the moment. Maybe I'll remember later.
My wife and I did see the movie "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" and here is my review of the that movie:
It's pretty much like Forrest Gump except the music isn't as good and everybody dies. It isn't a timeless movie. In fact, the movie beats you over the head with the notion that life is short, love is unsatisfying and bad things happen constantly.
Also, when you go to see this movie you will be surprised that so many people are in the theater on a Tuesday night and the girl next to you will take off her shoes and put her sweaty toe-jam feet in front of you. She also has a big cup of salt that she dumps on her popcorn so be careful not to mistake the cup as your drink because she's going to keep it in your common cupholder.
I got some cool toys for Christmas. I was happy about it. And it seems like I've seen a lot of my family lately, so thanks to them. I do have some video of Olivia and I doing a musical number in front of a fireplace in a mountain retreat and also a video of Ethan, who got up in front of my wife's extended family to do an impromptu rendition of "Disturbed's" song "Down With The Sickness" directly after my wife's aunt gave a long talk about her trip to Tibet and showed us prayer flags and rattles and stressed the importance of man's worldwide desire to communicate with God ("I want you to think about that," she said), but tonight I wanted to write instead of messing around with computer crap so you will have to wait for the videos, too.
My favorite Christmas moment of 2008 is probably when my wife was in the bathroom and I was wasting time before we went to sleep and there was some cheesy christmas movie on TV starring "Slater" (from Save By The Bell) and Melissa Joan Hart. In the movie, Melissa Joan Hart feels like a loser so she kidnaps Slater so she can show her parents that she has the perfect boyfriend and is therefore, not a loser. And at the end of the movie he decides that he doesn't mind being kidnapped and he dumps his rich, pretty fiance to spend his life with the crazy girl. Just like you'd expect to happen in real life.
Anyway, I was killing time and my wife came in the room and she said, "PLEASE... tell me that I'm prettier than Melissa Joan Hart. You don't have to say I'm prettier than anyone else... just Melissa Joan Hart, because frankly, I don't know what anyone sees in her."
I said, "No problem. You are way prettier than Melissa Joan Hart. Now you tell me that I'm better-looking than Slater."
She said, "You are better-looking than Slater."
I said, "I don't actually care if I'm better-looking than Slater, I just wanted to see if you would lie to me about it."
She said, "Well, there aren't many people in the world that are cuter than Slater."
Merry Christmas to all.
Sunday, December 07, 2008
Asphinctersayswhat?
Lately the mofos I work with have been entertaining themselves with some text-line that sends you jokes. You can either text them to request a certain kind of joke or you can ask them any random question and they will give you a goofy answer.
The 20 year old kid that I still call the "18-yr-old" whom I hang out with showed it to me. He sent in the question, "What is the angle of the dangle?"
And the jokesters responded, "The angle of the dangle is directly related to the booty of the cutie or the heat of the meat."
Some of the other mofos were asking all sorts of crazy questions like, "I am a 40 year old man who dresses like a clown to lure children into my van to be molested, what can I do to be more successful?" (I believe the response was something to the effect of "If you call your local police department, they may be able to better answer your question.")
And then the 18 year-old showed me a whole bunch of jokes that he had received from the jokesters. Practically all of them were extremely racist. Mostly about black people. For instance, one of the jokes asked, "What's the difference between a black guy and a park bench?" And the answer was, "A park bench can support a family."
There were plenty of really bad jokes, mostly aimed towards black people and mexicans. The 18-yr-old told one of the jokes to a big black dude that works with us. I believe it was this joke: "What do you call a barn full of black people?" Answer: "Antique farm equipment."
I was some distance away working with this big tongan dude. The black guy drove over and was pretty upset. He said, "Did you hear the jokes they're telling over there? Doesn't that offend you as a black person?"
I think the tongan guy agreed that the joke was offensive but he just said, "I'm not black. I'm tongan."
The black guy said, "You're with me. That's messed up!"
The tongan guy said, "I'M NOT BLACK!"
I said, "Yeah, all of those jokes are stupid."
The black guy said, "That's right, my native brother!"
Later on, the 18-yr-old came over and said, "I just asked them for a joke about native americans. I didn't say 'Indians' because I figured they would send me something about camels and people with towels on their heads."
Then his phone notified him that he had received the text from the joke-line. I asked, "So what joke did they send you?"
He said, "It's the same joke about the park bench except they replaced 'black guy' with 'native american.'"
I said, "I'm sorry to disappoint you but it's hard for me to be offended when I know they're just recycling jokes. You can put anything in there... What's the difference between a forklift driver and a park bench... what's the difference between a taxi driver and a park bench... it just sort of loses the sting. You should send in the question: Why the hell do you send out all this racist bullcrap and how can you be located for a skull-bashing?"
He reassured me, "Don't worry. I'll find you a good joke about Indians."
The 20 year old kid that I still call the "18-yr-old" whom I hang out with showed it to me. He sent in the question, "What is the angle of the dangle?"
And the jokesters responded, "The angle of the dangle is directly related to the booty of the cutie or the heat of the meat."
Some of the other mofos were asking all sorts of crazy questions like, "I am a 40 year old man who dresses like a clown to lure children into my van to be molested, what can I do to be more successful?" (I believe the response was something to the effect of "If you call your local police department, they may be able to better answer your question.")
And then the 18 year-old showed me a whole bunch of jokes that he had received from the jokesters. Practically all of them were extremely racist. Mostly about black people. For instance, one of the jokes asked, "What's the difference between a black guy and a park bench?" And the answer was, "A park bench can support a family."
There were plenty of really bad jokes, mostly aimed towards black people and mexicans. The 18-yr-old told one of the jokes to a big black dude that works with us. I believe it was this joke: "What do you call a barn full of black people?" Answer: "Antique farm equipment."
I was some distance away working with this big tongan dude. The black guy drove over and was pretty upset. He said, "Did you hear the jokes they're telling over there? Doesn't that offend you as a black person?"
I think the tongan guy agreed that the joke was offensive but he just said, "I'm not black. I'm tongan."
The black guy said, "You're with me. That's messed up!"
The tongan guy said, "I'M NOT BLACK!"
I said, "Yeah, all of those jokes are stupid."
The black guy said, "That's right, my native brother!"
Later on, the 18-yr-old came over and said, "I just asked them for a joke about native americans. I didn't say 'Indians' because I figured they would send me something about camels and people with towels on their heads."
Then his phone notified him that he had received the text from the joke-line. I asked, "So what joke did they send you?"
He said, "It's the same joke about the park bench except they replaced 'black guy' with 'native american.'"
I said, "I'm sorry to disappoint you but it's hard for me to be offended when I know they're just recycling jokes. You can put anything in there... What's the difference between a forklift driver and a park bench... what's the difference between a taxi driver and a park bench... it just sort of loses the sting. You should send in the question: Why the hell do you send out all this racist bullcrap and how can you be located for a skull-bashing?"
He reassured me, "Don't worry. I'll find you a good joke about Indians."
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Well It Could've Been Should've Been Worse Than You Would Ever Know
"Hey, I forgot my keys inside. Do you want to drive to the gas station?"
"Okay, but I know you like super-clean cars and my car is filthy so you need to mentally prepare yourself for that before you get in."
"Yeah, that's alright."
...INSIDE THE CAR...
"Geez, this car IS filthy."
"I told you what to expect before you got in."
"I didn't think it would be this bad. Look how thick the dust on the dashboard is."
"You need to assume the worst when I give you a warning like that. HEY! Stop rubbing your fingers around in my dust. You're making it look like crap."
"Okay, but I know you like super-clean cars and my car is filthy so you need to mentally prepare yourself for that before you get in."
"Yeah, that's alright."
...INSIDE THE CAR...
"Geez, this car IS filthy."
"I told you what to expect before you got in."
"I didn't think it would be this bad. Look how thick the dust on the dashboard is."
"You need to assume the worst when I give you a warning like that. HEY! Stop rubbing your fingers around in my dust. You're making it look like crap."
Friday, November 21, 2008
Sugar Plum Fairy Came And Hit The Streets
The other day, my wife and I were talking about how it doesn't seem like we know many people who get into Christmas.
My wife said, "I like that you like Christmas so much."
I said, "Mm hmm."
She said, "No. I mean it. If I had to tell someone all of the reasons I liked you, I would tell them that one of the reasons is that you like Christmas so much."
Okay.
So I came home that night, while the house was quiet and asleep. I crawled into bed and put my arms around her. I put my mouth close to her ear and I whispered, "I don't mean to get you all turned on... but I listened to Christmas music in the car while I was driving to work AND on the way home."
Then she said, "I don't mean to get you all turned on... but I did my workout video tonight and now my body hurts all over."
I said, "Yeah, baby. That's doin' things for me."
Then we fell asleep.
The guy who owns the furniture company also owns some potato farms in Idaho, so every year my Christmas bonus includes a 50 pound box of potatos. Every year I say, "Alright, let's try really hard to eat all of these potatos before they go bad." And then we don't even finish half of them before they turn into plants. Needlesstosay, my wife is never impressed when I bring home the big case of spuds.
So tonight when I got home, I went in the room where she was sleeping. I kissed her on the forehead and said, "50 pounds of potatos, baby!" And then I crept out as quiet as I came in.
My wife said, "I like that you like Christmas so much."
I said, "Mm hmm."
She said, "No. I mean it. If I had to tell someone all of the reasons I liked you, I would tell them that one of the reasons is that you like Christmas so much."
Okay.
So I came home that night, while the house was quiet and asleep. I crawled into bed and put my arms around her. I put my mouth close to her ear and I whispered, "I don't mean to get you all turned on... but I listened to Christmas music in the car while I was driving to work AND on the way home."
Then she said, "I don't mean to get you all turned on... but I did my workout video tonight and now my body hurts all over."
I said, "Yeah, baby. That's doin' things for me."
Then we fell asleep.
The guy who owns the furniture company also owns some potato farms in Idaho, so every year my Christmas bonus includes a 50 pound box of potatos. Every year I say, "Alright, let's try really hard to eat all of these potatos before they go bad." And then we don't even finish half of them before they turn into plants. Needlesstosay, my wife is never impressed when I bring home the big case of spuds.
So tonight when I got home, I went in the room where she was sleeping. I kissed her on the forehead and said, "50 pounds of potatos, baby!" And then I crept out as quiet as I came in.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Let's Just Sit Here Until Our Worries Seem Far Away
"Does it smell like cookies to you?"
"Or fresh baked bread."
"Mmm. Yeah."
"I think it's a good sign that we're really tired and really hungry when we start to think forklift exhaust smells delicious."
"Or fresh baked bread."
"Mmm. Yeah."
"I think it's a good sign that we're really tired and really hungry when we start to think forklift exhaust smells delicious."
Saturday, November 15, 2008
And They Read Newsweek Instead Of Nothing!
We have a tough time finding other kids in the neigborhood for our kids to play with and the ones that live nearby are mostly girls. But we tell our kids to play with any nice kids they can find.
Ethan had been playing a lot with a kid from the trailer park but that kid has moved away. One day, our kids were riding bikes and scooters in front of our house and suddenly a cute little girl showed up across the street with a scooter and her and Ethan spent the afternoon racing eachother up and down the block on opposite sides of the street.
I thought it was cool. I thought, "This is kind of thing lonely adults dream about. Why can't some cute girl show up across the street and spend the afternoon racing scooters with me? That never happens." And kids are somewhat oblivious and don't think of things that way. They don't see any magic in it. It's also possible that those kinds of things DO happen to adults but they are too self-involved to realize it. Or that it really does work out perfectly except that girl has knobby too-long-of toes.
When they were done racing the girl came over to talk to us. Ethan said that he knew her from school. He liked her because he knew that she likes lizards and he is lizard-crazy right now. Ethan likes lizards so much right now that it makes him seem a little weird. But while we were all talking and having fun, the girl told us she wanted to go to her house and get her cat so she could show it to us. And I thought, "Good, she's weird too."
After she came back with the cat, I asked her if she really liked lizards. She said she did. She wanted a pet igauna. I told her that Ethan had a salamander but that it was dead. I told her he also had a bearded dragon but it had just died a few days earlier. I told her she could see the dead baby bearded dragon if she didn't think it was gross, because his little body was still in a paper bag on our counter waiting for us to bury it.
So my wife noticed that a cute little girl was out in front of our house and she came out and asked, "What are you guys doing."
And I admitted, "We're showing her the dead baby bearded dragon."
My wife shook her head but couldn't say anything in protest because she knew what kind of man she married.
Later on, I told Ethan he should invite her back over to ride scooters sometime. A couple days later he said that he asked her. She told him there was a 60% chance that she would. She came over that day. Our kids had been outside riding their bikes and I looked out the window and saw the girl and a woman talking to our kids.
I told my wife, "I think that girl's mom is coming over to check us out. You better get out there and make nice."
We talked to the lady. She was going through a nasty divorce and she was a little edgy. My wife said, "Ethan is our oldest kid and that 3 year old is our youngest."
And the lady got a little spazzy and said, "This girl is my youngest. But I might have another one. I'll probably get married again soon."
She said it frantically, like we were already convinced that she would never get married again.
The little girl seemed embarrassed that her mom was there. She said, "Mom, what are you doing here?"
I smiled and said, "Your mom is just making sure that we're not kidnappers."
And her mom shot me an icy stare. I don't think she liked that I said that. After that day, the little girl has never come back to play but I see her sometimes when I pick my son up from school and she still waves to me.
There are two other girls we hang out with sometimes. The older one is named Parker and she is in Ethan's class. Her little sister was in Olivia's kindergarten class. Olivia has gone to two sleepovers with the girls. That's right. My kindergartener gets invited to third grade sleepovers. She's ahead of the pack.
The girls don't have a car and they have to walk everywhere. Their dad is our mailman. They tell us that their mother has to go to the dance club and dance. She has to dance all day. She has to keep dancing and dancing until midnight. So we don't know for sure what she does. But the girls told me she also works at 7/11 and that they can get all the free weiners they want. The parents are getting divorced but they are living together until it all goes through.
When I picked Olivia up from a sleepover at their house, I noticed a lack of furniture. They had a couch, a TV, an Xbox, a dining room table completely covered in some boardgame with castles and catapults. And that was ALL of the furniture. No pictures on the walls or anything.
The school let the kids out early one day and I had to get off work early to go get them. My kids wanted to stay and play on the playground and Parker and her sister stayed and played, too.
I asked them what they wanted to be for Halloween. The little girl said she wanted to be a "rich person" and Parker said she wanted to be a Rock Star or a Ninja. But when Halloween rolled around a few weeks later, Parker wore bloody hospital scrubs and her little sister was a pirate. The costumes looked like they had been thrown out from a second-hand store.
When my kids got thirsty and wanted to leave the playground, Parker whined and wanted us to stay. She said that they were going to stay at the park until her dad got off work. I asked, "When is that?"
She said, "5:15."
I looked at my cell phone. It wasn't even two o'clock. I invited them to come over to our house. They played on our teeter-totter and tire swing. They played Mario Kart against eachother. I showed Parker how to play the drums. Her dad dropped off the mail while they were here but we didn't take the girls home for another hour or two.
Our daughter gives us the inside information on the girls. They couldn't get the Halloween costumes they wanted because their dad is saving money for something. They never have any food in their house, because their dad is saving money for something. But they have a garden and if they are hungry they are supposed to go in the backyard and dig for carrots. Sometimes they dig and dig but they can't find any carrots.
When our daughter told us that story about them, my wife turned to me and said, "They are growing up the same way you grew up when you were their age."
Poor. Their clothes all look too small and their hair is never brushed.
It makes you wonder what to do. We see their parents around pretty often but they won't look us in the eye or say hello or anything. I suppose I could be a big A-hole and let them know I think they are crappy parents and just give the guy money or food, or give food directly to the girls... or maybe I should be more subtle and just sneak into the backyard and hide fresh carrots back there all through the winter.
What do you do?
A while ago, my wife wanted to get to know their parents since our kids were having sleepovers. We went to a fair at the elementary school. I had to leave early to go to work. My wife said, "I kept seeing Parker's mom but I was shy about going up and talking to her. Then we were both eating dinner and we were sitting close together on the grass and I was about to talk to her but then some lady wearing high-heels and fishnet stockings showed up and Parker's mom went running over to hang out with her."
I said, "Hey. Don't put down women who wear fishnet stockings and high heels. I would still respect you if you wore fishnet stockings and high heels.... but maybe not if you wore them to a fair at an elementary school. That IS kind of strange."
Yesterday, Ethan had a paperback dictionary that the school had given him. He said, "This book has the word 'lizard' in it." He flipped open to the first few pages. He said, "Alligator should be right around here." Then he said, "This book also has the words 'naked' and 'sex' in it."
My wife got mad and said, "You can't have that book if those are the kinds of words you're going to look up."
He said, "I didn't look them up. Parker did. When we were at school."
When I picked up my kids from school the other day, we we're walking towards our house and some little kid around Ethan's age yelled at me, "Hey. Do you have any weed?"
I said, "I have lots of weeds in my yard at my house. Do you want to come pick them?"
He said, "No. The weed that you smoke."
I asked, "The weed that YOU smoke?"
He yelled, "The weed that YOU smoke!"
We were walking away from eachother and I yelled back, "The weed that YOU smoke?"
He yelled, "You're dad smokes weed!"
I wanted to yell, "You need to get back in school because you don't know anything!" but that was the moment I realized I was having a The-weed-that-you-smoke- shouting match across a schoolyard full of kids. So I just let the conversation die.
Ethan had been playing a lot with a kid from the trailer park but that kid has moved away. One day, our kids were riding bikes and scooters in front of our house and suddenly a cute little girl showed up across the street with a scooter and her and Ethan spent the afternoon racing eachother up and down the block on opposite sides of the street.
I thought it was cool. I thought, "This is kind of thing lonely adults dream about. Why can't some cute girl show up across the street and spend the afternoon racing scooters with me? That never happens." And kids are somewhat oblivious and don't think of things that way. They don't see any magic in it. It's also possible that those kinds of things DO happen to adults but they are too self-involved to realize it. Or that it really does work out perfectly except that girl has knobby too-long-of toes.
When they were done racing the girl came over to talk to us. Ethan said that he knew her from school. He liked her because he knew that she likes lizards and he is lizard-crazy right now. Ethan likes lizards so much right now that it makes him seem a little weird. But while we were all talking and having fun, the girl told us she wanted to go to her house and get her cat so she could show it to us. And I thought, "Good, she's weird too."
After she came back with the cat, I asked her if she really liked lizards. She said she did. She wanted a pet igauna. I told her that Ethan had a salamander but that it was dead. I told her he also had a bearded dragon but it had just died a few days earlier. I told her she could see the dead baby bearded dragon if she didn't think it was gross, because his little body was still in a paper bag on our counter waiting for us to bury it.
So my wife noticed that a cute little girl was out in front of our house and she came out and asked, "What are you guys doing."
And I admitted, "We're showing her the dead baby bearded dragon."
My wife shook her head but couldn't say anything in protest because she knew what kind of man she married.
Later on, I told Ethan he should invite her back over to ride scooters sometime. A couple days later he said that he asked her. She told him there was a 60% chance that she would. She came over that day. Our kids had been outside riding their bikes and I looked out the window and saw the girl and a woman talking to our kids.
I told my wife, "I think that girl's mom is coming over to check us out. You better get out there and make nice."
We talked to the lady. She was going through a nasty divorce and she was a little edgy. My wife said, "Ethan is our oldest kid and that 3 year old is our youngest."
And the lady got a little spazzy and said, "This girl is my youngest. But I might have another one. I'll probably get married again soon."
She said it frantically, like we were already convinced that she would never get married again.
The little girl seemed embarrassed that her mom was there. She said, "Mom, what are you doing here?"
I smiled and said, "Your mom is just making sure that we're not kidnappers."
And her mom shot me an icy stare. I don't think she liked that I said that. After that day, the little girl has never come back to play but I see her sometimes when I pick my son up from school and she still waves to me.
There are two other girls we hang out with sometimes. The older one is named Parker and she is in Ethan's class. Her little sister was in Olivia's kindergarten class. Olivia has gone to two sleepovers with the girls. That's right. My kindergartener gets invited to third grade sleepovers. She's ahead of the pack.
The girls don't have a car and they have to walk everywhere. Their dad is our mailman. They tell us that their mother has to go to the dance club and dance. She has to dance all day. She has to keep dancing and dancing until midnight. So we don't know for sure what she does. But the girls told me she also works at 7/11 and that they can get all the free weiners they want. The parents are getting divorced but they are living together until it all goes through.
When I picked Olivia up from a sleepover at their house, I noticed a lack of furniture. They had a couch, a TV, an Xbox, a dining room table completely covered in some boardgame with castles and catapults. And that was ALL of the furniture. No pictures on the walls or anything.
The school let the kids out early one day and I had to get off work early to go get them. My kids wanted to stay and play on the playground and Parker and her sister stayed and played, too.
I asked them what they wanted to be for Halloween. The little girl said she wanted to be a "rich person" and Parker said she wanted to be a Rock Star or a Ninja. But when Halloween rolled around a few weeks later, Parker wore bloody hospital scrubs and her little sister was a pirate. The costumes looked like they had been thrown out from a second-hand store.
When my kids got thirsty and wanted to leave the playground, Parker whined and wanted us to stay. She said that they were going to stay at the park until her dad got off work. I asked, "When is that?"
She said, "5:15."
I looked at my cell phone. It wasn't even two o'clock. I invited them to come over to our house. They played on our teeter-totter and tire swing. They played Mario Kart against eachother. I showed Parker how to play the drums. Her dad dropped off the mail while they were here but we didn't take the girls home for another hour or two.
Our daughter gives us the inside information on the girls. They couldn't get the Halloween costumes they wanted because their dad is saving money for something. They never have any food in their house, because their dad is saving money for something. But they have a garden and if they are hungry they are supposed to go in the backyard and dig for carrots. Sometimes they dig and dig but they can't find any carrots.
When our daughter told us that story about them, my wife turned to me and said, "They are growing up the same way you grew up when you were their age."
Poor. Their clothes all look too small and their hair is never brushed.
It makes you wonder what to do. We see their parents around pretty often but they won't look us in the eye or say hello or anything. I suppose I could be a big A-hole and let them know I think they are crappy parents and just give the guy money or food, or give food directly to the girls... or maybe I should be more subtle and just sneak into the backyard and hide fresh carrots back there all through the winter.
What do you do?
A while ago, my wife wanted to get to know their parents since our kids were having sleepovers. We went to a fair at the elementary school. I had to leave early to go to work. My wife said, "I kept seeing Parker's mom but I was shy about going up and talking to her. Then we were both eating dinner and we were sitting close together on the grass and I was about to talk to her but then some lady wearing high-heels and fishnet stockings showed up and Parker's mom went running over to hang out with her."
I said, "Hey. Don't put down women who wear fishnet stockings and high heels. I would still respect you if you wore fishnet stockings and high heels.... but maybe not if you wore them to a fair at an elementary school. That IS kind of strange."
Yesterday, Ethan had a paperback dictionary that the school had given him. He said, "This book has the word 'lizard' in it." He flipped open to the first few pages. He said, "Alligator should be right around here." Then he said, "This book also has the words 'naked' and 'sex' in it."
My wife got mad and said, "You can't have that book if those are the kinds of words you're going to look up."
He said, "I didn't look them up. Parker did. When we were at school."
When I picked up my kids from school the other day, we we're walking towards our house and some little kid around Ethan's age yelled at me, "Hey. Do you have any weed?"
I said, "I have lots of weeds in my yard at my house. Do you want to come pick them?"
He said, "No. The weed that you smoke."
I asked, "The weed that YOU smoke?"
He yelled, "The weed that YOU smoke!"
We were walking away from eachother and I yelled back, "The weed that YOU smoke?"
He yelled, "You're dad smokes weed!"
I wanted to yell, "You need to get back in school because you don't know anything!" but that was the moment I realized I was having a The-weed-that-you-smoke- shouting match across a schoolyard full of kids. So I just let the conversation die.
It's Just A Sound Going Through Your Head
I was eating some Frosted Flakes watching TV with my family and a commercial came on for Hannah Montana. They said, "Come watch Hannah Montana from the very beginning!" and then Hannah Montana came strutting out on stage singing, "I'm just like you!"
From which point I ad libbed the rest of the lyrics for my wife:
"My dad is a crappy one-hit-wonder country singer
and we're desperate to stay famous
so he took me to Disney to exploit me
and now I'm Hannah Montana
but I think I could make more money
selling records on my own
but I can't get out of my contract
because Disney owns me
I'M JUST LIKE YOU!"
My wife spent Halloween at the school with our kids. At the end of the day, I asked her if there were any kids with cool costumes. She said, "Not really. There were a ton of girls dressed as Hannah Montana."
I asked, "How could you tell they were dressed as Hannah Montana?"
She said, "They were all wearing blond wigs and they were wearing microphone headsets."
I said, "Maybe they were dressed up as blond telemarketers."
She said, "A lot of them had shirts that said Hannah Montana on them."
But I still don't think that offers any further differentiation from telemarketers.
From which point I ad libbed the rest of the lyrics for my wife:
"My dad is a crappy one-hit-wonder country singer
and we're desperate to stay famous
so he took me to Disney to exploit me
and now I'm Hannah Montana
but I think I could make more money
selling records on my own
but I can't get out of my contract
because Disney owns me
I'M JUST LIKE YOU!"
My wife spent Halloween at the school with our kids. At the end of the day, I asked her if there were any kids with cool costumes. She said, "Not really. There were a ton of girls dressed as Hannah Montana."
I asked, "How could you tell they were dressed as Hannah Montana?"
She said, "They were all wearing blond wigs and they were wearing microphone headsets."
I said, "Maybe they were dressed up as blond telemarketers."
She said, "A lot of them had shirts that said Hannah Montana on them."
But I still don't think that offers any further differentiation from telemarketers.
Sunday, November 09, 2008
It can live in your body for years before it ravages your brain
I've had a funeral to attend every winter for the past three winters and I was completely prepared to make a desperate public plea for everyone I know to simply stay alive this winter. I was prepared to beg. It doesn't sound like much to ask and I could really use one winter funeral free.
But last weekend my wife's grandmother died and we went to her funeral on Thursday so that kind of changes things. Now I'm thinking... if you think there's a chance that your going to give up the ghost next year, maybe you could just expire this year for my benefit so winter 2009-10 can be funeral free. Thanks.
Actually, the funeral was pretty pleasant and involved throwing snowballs at eachother in the cemetery on a sunny day. The sorrow has more to do with never seeing someone again and realizing that there are horrible days lying in all of our futures like landmines. Sooner or later it's boom, boom, booyah!
If Indiana Jones and The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull had anything of interest to offer then maybe it was that line where the old guy says, "We seem to have reached the age where life stops giving us things and starts taking them away."
The guy in the movie was old. I didn't expect 30 years to be that age.
Plus, I got a haircut before the funeral. I thought it looked fine but if you want an honest opinion you have to get it from the mofos at work. One of them told me, "Your new haircut makes you look like a middle-aged mother of two named Opel."
Is there anything more beautiful than honesty?
But last weekend my wife's grandmother died and we went to her funeral on Thursday so that kind of changes things. Now I'm thinking... if you think there's a chance that your going to give up the ghost next year, maybe you could just expire this year for my benefit so winter 2009-10 can be funeral free. Thanks.
Actually, the funeral was pretty pleasant and involved throwing snowballs at eachother in the cemetery on a sunny day. The sorrow has more to do with never seeing someone again and realizing that there are horrible days lying in all of our futures like landmines. Sooner or later it's boom, boom, booyah!
If Indiana Jones and The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull had anything of interest to offer then maybe it was that line where the old guy says, "We seem to have reached the age where life stops giving us things and starts taking them away."
The guy in the movie was old. I didn't expect 30 years to be that age.
Plus, I got a haircut before the funeral. I thought it looked fine but if you want an honest opinion you have to get it from the mofos at work. One of them told me, "Your new haircut makes you look like a middle-aged mother of two named Opel."
Is there anything more beautiful than honesty?
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Give Yourself A Handshake Cuz Everything Is Not Yet Lost
Awhile ago I was talking to one of my bosses at my daytime job. He told me that he had been in the Navy for many years and had only started working with "The Brotherhood" a couple years ago.
He said, "My wife is pretty upset with me because I've been working 70 to 80 hours per week for the last two years. She wants me at home more often."
I could relate to him because I get lectured the same way by my well-wishers about working too many hours. I said, "So why do you work so much?"
He said, "Because I.... I need to.... I have to show...." Then he sighed and said, "It's not easy being loved, Emmett."
He meant that he was trying to show everyone in the trade how amazing and invaluable his knowledge and experience was. He wanted to prove how hard he was willing to work. To prove that he always goes the extra mile. Did I mention we all called him "Spider-Monkey" because he spazzed out on a daily basis over how much work we were getting done?
I tried to give him the same advice that everyone tries to give me, "Sometimes you have to love yourself. The only pat on the back you get will probably be from you."
I think I felt just as bad for myself in that moment as he felt for himself. He only seemed to realize it as he said it. We are a couple of well-meaning but remorseful clods.
I sat down tonight to regale you all with one tale or another but ended up reading a bunch of the old posts that I wrote. I found it highly entertaining so I thought I'd take a moment to pat myself on the back. Cheers to me!
He said, "My wife is pretty upset with me because I've been working 70 to 80 hours per week for the last two years. She wants me at home more often."
I could relate to him because I get lectured the same way by my well-wishers about working too many hours. I said, "So why do you work so much?"
He said, "Because I.... I need to.... I have to show...." Then he sighed and said, "It's not easy being loved, Emmett."
He meant that he was trying to show everyone in the trade how amazing and invaluable his knowledge and experience was. He wanted to prove how hard he was willing to work. To prove that he always goes the extra mile. Did I mention we all called him "Spider-Monkey" because he spazzed out on a daily basis over how much work we were getting done?
I tried to give him the same advice that everyone tries to give me, "Sometimes you have to love yourself. The only pat on the back you get will probably be from you."
I think I felt just as bad for myself in that moment as he felt for himself. He only seemed to realize it as he said it. We are a couple of well-meaning but remorseful clods.
I sat down tonight to regale you all with one tale or another but ended up reading a bunch of the old posts that I wrote. I found it highly entertaining so I thought I'd take a moment to pat myself on the back. Cheers to me!
Friday, October 24, 2008
One Love, One Heart
I was eating pancakes with a bunch of mofos and one of them was saying how another of our coworkers never comes to work anymore because his wife makes a lot of money.
I said, "It would be nice to have a sugar mama."
A big black guy at our table said, "What did you say about Obama?"
I said, "I didn't say Obama. I said Barack O'Sugarmama. Are you going to vote for that guy?"
He said, "No. I don't know."
I asked, "You're going to vote for McCain? Really?"
He said, "I don't know. I don't know much about politics."
I said, "But you don't naturally trust a black man to look out for you more than a white man?"
He said, "No. It's not a race thing. Race has nothing to do with it."
A polynesian guy said to me, "Dude, you're hella-racist."
I said, "You tell me why an Indian would trust a white guy."
A group of mexicans nodded approval at that comment.
The black guy said, "Are you a hater? You're a hater."
I looked the black guy in the eye and hollered, "Sock!" and I pretended to hit the white guy sitting next to me in the face with my fist.
I've hung out with the white guy before, but just to make sure, I said, "You know I'm half white... and my wife is white... don't you?"
I find that a good way to pass a long work shift is to mess with people. These guys didn't like me knockin' on white folks. So what have we learned?
Nothing brings people of all races together like an entry-level warehouse job.
AND
The good thing about being in the majority is that everyone has a white person they know and love.
I said, "It would be nice to have a sugar mama."
A big black guy at our table said, "What did you say about Obama?"
I said, "I didn't say Obama. I said Barack O'Sugarmama. Are you going to vote for that guy?"
He said, "No. I don't know."
I asked, "You're going to vote for McCain? Really?"
He said, "I don't know. I don't know much about politics."
I said, "But you don't naturally trust a black man to look out for you more than a white man?"
He said, "No. It's not a race thing. Race has nothing to do with it."
A polynesian guy said to me, "Dude, you're hella-racist."
I said, "You tell me why an Indian would trust a white guy."
A group of mexicans nodded approval at that comment.
The black guy said, "Are you a hater? You're a hater."
I looked the black guy in the eye and hollered, "Sock!" and I pretended to hit the white guy sitting next to me in the face with my fist.
I've hung out with the white guy before, but just to make sure, I said, "You know I'm half white... and my wife is white... don't you?"
I find that a good way to pass a long work shift is to mess with people. These guys didn't like me knockin' on white folks. So what have we learned?
Nothing brings people of all races together like an entry-level warehouse job.
AND
The good thing about being in the majority is that everyone has a white person they know and love.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Proud Papa
I was talking to my 5 YEAR OLD DAUGHTER...
Me: "So who do you want to be president?"
Her: "Barack Obama."
Me: "Are you sure you wouldn't rather have Barney?"
Her: "Who's Barney?"
Has anyone seen ANY McCain stickers on cars or signs in yards? I asked my wife, "Where do you think you have to go to see a McCain sign in someone's yard?"
She said, "Provo."
Me: "So who do you want to be president?"
Her: "Barack Obama."
Me: "Are you sure you wouldn't rather have Barney?"
Her: "Who's Barney?"
Has anyone seen ANY McCain stickers on cars or signs in yards? I asked my wife, "Where do you think you have to go to see a McCain sign in someone's yard?"
She said, "Provo."
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