Holy Shit, my kid is going to be the death of me one of these days….
Last week Mini-Me had a book fair at his school, so being the Uber-Dad that I am, when he asked me to please come, I told him I would.
All you parents have been to one of these things, haven’t you? The school decides to sell books to kids, and the kids are all gung-ho about it not because they love to read, but because they get to miss class for 30 minutes.
So, I showed up and Mini-Me, bless his heart, came running over to me with a big proud grin on his face and gave me a big hug. I wonder how many more years I am going to get that kind of reaction from him. Probably not too many.
Anyway, the greeting I received almost made the whole trip worthwhile.
Actually, things were going swimmingly at first. We picked out a new Goosebumps book to buy, which is fine by me since I am the designated story-reader every night and I swear by all that is holy if I have to read Skippyjon Jones one more fucking time I think I am going to kill someone.
Anyway, as we were standing there, browsing the books on the big, oak library shelves, my son decided that it would be a dandy idea to throw his body against one of the shelves and lean into it. Just to test a theory he had on Momentum, I guess.
Now here’s the rub. Because the book fair was held in the gym, these shelves were on wheels, and therefore perhaps didn’t have the solid footing that they would have had if they had been place firmly on terra firma.
Regardless, my son should NOT have decided to lean into it.
Anyway, I was looking down at the book in my hand, when suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the world start to move.
I looked up to see, to my horror, that this huge honkin’ bookshelf was beginning to teeter over!
Being the take charge man of action that I am, I dropped what I was holding and tried to grab the monstrosity before it reached its tipping point.
Wanna know how THAT went?
Here’s a hint. Did you ever see one of those lame comedies where some bumbling idiot walks into a library and tips over a shelf, and it knocks into another shelf, which hits another, and then, like a set of dominos, the entire library crashes into each other biggety bam? Scenes like that in the movies usually end with the pissed off librarian yelling “GET OUUUUUT!”
Yeah, well that’s basically what happened next.
The fucking crash was DEAFENING, as the bookshelves collided together and hit the floor.
Seriously, it was a disaster area. Tattered and bent Juny B Jones and Spongebob covers the floor like confetti.
Kids started screaming. Mothers started screaming. I’m pretty sure I started screaming.
After the dust settled, I turned around in horror to see about 200 pissed off adults all looking at me like I was Satan incarnate.
That’s when I realized that every damn person there thought that I was the one who knocked over the bookshelves.
What is a father to do? I was VERY tempted to point to the fat kid in the corner who was laughing at me, and yell out, “Hey, it wasn’t me! It was that little shit over there!”, but in the end, I took my dirty stares like a man. After all, Mini-Me was near tears himself and I wasn’t about to give him up.
I’m selfish, but not THAT selfish.
I wonder if my invitation to be the class parent to take the kids to see The Nutcracker next month is gonna be revoked?
P.S. Sorry for no posting last week. Broken record, I know. My excuse this time is that I had the week off, and as you all know: No Workie, No Bloggy.
P.P.S. Thanks to all of you who have been helping me test my blog to see if we can fix the issue that some people are having.
Because if anyone can do it, By God, I’m gonna try!
My dentist told me that because I grind my teeth at night that I need to wear a bite plate.
I’ve been TRYING to wear the damnable contraption for a few nights now, but the thing hurts like the dickens. It’s nowhere NEAR comfortable enough for me to try to wear for the entire night and get a decent night’s sleep.
The pain of wearing this thing all night would be the equivalent of hiring someone to stand over me while I’m sleeping and periodically punch me in the balls every few hours.
Actually, that sounds mildly better than having this fucking horse bridle strapped inside my mouth all night.
I keep telling my dentist that it’s hurting me, so he keeps telling me to come back in, and then he makes some inconsequential ‘adjustment’ to it, and tells me to try it again.
And again. And again.
Seriously, I’ve been to the dentist 9 times in the past 2 weeks. I don’t see my SON that often! A few more visits and I think it will be safe to say that my dentist and I are officially dating.
At least he’s a good kisser.
What I want to know is….. does anyone else out there have to wear one of these things? And if so, is YOURS comfortable?
Because MY dentist told me that ultimately this thing should be “refreshing” (his words) when I pop it in.
And right now, it’s the farthest fucking thing from “refreshing” as it CAN be…
Everyone knows that I have this sick fascination with Saturday Night Live, right?
I've talked about this before. I'm not sure why, but I just cannot bring myself to ever miss an episode. I haven't missed one in about 10 years now.
The weird thing is, I'm really not sure why. 99% of the time that I finish watching it, I think to myself, "Self, you just wasted 90 minutes of your damn time"
Sure, more often than not the show sucks donkey testes, but sometimes, just sometimes, they do something like this that gives me a good chuckle.
As you may have heard, Lorne Micheals dumped about half of the old cast this year, and recruited a few complete newbies. The black guy below (who's name I keep forgetting and who's name I am too lazy to look up) is one of them. From what i can tell, all he pretty much does is a Denzel Washington impression. Seriously.... that's all they keep doing with him on the show.
Well, I finally broke down and got my son a pair of gerbils over the weekend.
That statement in itself is absolutely ASTOUNDING to me, since Friz has sworn since the beginning of time that Hell would freeze over before we ever had something that looks like a rat in our house as a pet.
Ah, but Mini-Me can be quite persuasive when he looks at you with those big brown doe eyes and that little cherub face….
So, defying all logic, Friz came to me last week and told me that we should let Mini-Me pick out some gerbils for his birthday.
Now, I know absolutely NOTHING about gerbils. ALL I KNEW was that I wanted 2 boys, because from what I learned in 9th grade Biology, that should pretty much nix any chance that I would have to deal with gerbil babies.
So, my son was on cloud 9 when we got to the pet store. When the clerk showed us the gerbils he had in stock, we saw that they had 7 black gerbils, and 1 white one.
Of course my son HAD to have the white one.
The problem was that the white one was female.
So, being the intellectual giant that I am, I quickly formulated a new ingenious strategy.
“Ok, let’s just get 2 girls then”, I said.
After all, I’ve seen plenty of movies where 2 girls get it on, and in NOT ONE OF THEM have I ever seen any babies as a result.
In the end, we welcomed 2 new additions to the Slyde home…..
I have to admit, the little girls are pretty cute, and fun to play with. In fact, everything was going swimmingly until this past Monday, when I heard my son start screaming from his room.
When I got there, THIS is what I saw:
Yup, apparently Lightning grew up on the wrong side of the tracks, because now, after having these things for 5 days, we are the proud owners of FOUR FUCKING NEW BABY GERBILS!
Needless to say, I was none too fucking happy. I spoke to the pet store and they said that as long as we take care of the little guys for 4 weeks while the mother nurses them, they will gladly take the pups off our hands.
But meanwhile, I sit in front of the cage every night like an expectant father, cringing every time one of the little guys looks like he’s in trouble. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gently nudged one of them back into their house after their misguided mommy carried them somewhere in the cage, and then promptly forgot about them to scamper off for a few hours running herself silly in the gerbil wheel.
Anyway, so far so good on the baby-rearing front. All 4 babies seem to be doing ok, and happily peep and chirp the night away.
First off, sorry for leaving you for over a week, after I specifically told all you sexy people that I wouldn't leave you like that again. But, I had a good reason, you see. My father was visiting me from sunny Florida for the last two weeks, and real life kinda went out the window for a bit.
But now he's gone, and I'm back to delight you.
Anyhoo, if the start of this post didn't grab you, then I don't know what will.
I was dared to do something different this year at a friend's Halloween party, and not just come as my usual undead/zombie/Jason/monster kinda thing.
Something a bit more ballsy.
Never let it be said that I don't have balls.
So, I decided to do what EVERY red-blooded American lad does when he's told to man up.....
I dressed like a girl.
Aren't I a treat to the eyes?
The frightening thing about my killer looks is that, try as I might to make myself look foolish, no matter what I do, I continue to be one sexy bitch.
Behold: This pic shows the shocking evidence of some drunk dude trying to have his way with me:
Friz wasn't going to stand for anyone laying their paws on her gorgeous man, so she clung to me all night:
I must say, shaving my legs was quite the experience. It took MUCH longer than I thought it would, but when it was over, I must admit that it felt kinda nice. I don't think I ever want the hair to come back in. Maybe I'll just go the "Full Monty" and treat myself to a bikini wax.
And don't even get me STARTED on wearing makeup! Friz was pissed when I got disappointed that she didn't have any eyeliner or makeup in any "hooker" colors... I just assumed all you chicks had that shit stashed somewhere. Anyway, as she applied my eyeliner, she told me that most girls would KILL for my eyelashes.
Here's me giving my coquettish "who me?" look.
Isn't that just DEAD sexy?
Feel free to make that your new wallpaper. No one can blame you.
Anyway, I will try my darnedest to get back to a regular schedule, and to get back to reading all your blogs, which I have not done for 2 weeks now.
And anyone looking for a good time Saturday night, give me a ring. I'm easy.