Category Archives: I’m all over the map

I Wanna Know

Someone recently very kindly pointed out to me that blogs occasionally contain some personal information about the author and their daily lives. This voyeuristic quality apparently makes it fun to quietly watch them go about their business while getting a peek into their brain.

This of course was a nice but passive aggressive way to let me know that me and my life are not at all present in the things I write.

Sure, occasionally I like to fume over the mindless jaywalker who stepped into oncoming traffic while I was on the road or reveal the horrifying incident at the Chipotle that took place only hours after my young son learned that ladies did in fact have vaginas instead of wieners but for the most part I leave my day-to-day happenings at the doormat when I step over the WordPress threshold.

After so many years of working diligently to not be vulnerable, needy or a pain in somebody elses ass, I’d almost forgotten how brilliant it is to see a person write something stripped down and bare enough that it makes them look completely human.

I’m not exactly sure when vulnerability and truth fell so out of fashion in my mind but there are days when all this autonomous droning about impersonal subjects and flaunting my “independence” gets tedious.

To exert so much energy in opposition to what I really feel at times is exhausting. It’s a struggle that results in exactly what I don’t want.

More isolation.Less warmth.

Since I am slow to absorb the most basic changes in routine, I’ll need to marinate in this sea of change for a few hours before I can produce a worthwhile post on the terrible new development of vagrants shitting in my garage.

Seriously. It’s either a guy without access to indoor plumbing, an urban Yeti or a bear that’s escaped from the zoo.

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Filed under a screw loose, adversity, am I doing anything right?, Back to basics, bad writing about nothing, buffoonery, crap shack, crazy ramblings, do this for me, do you really have the time to read about my life, don't destroy my dreams, don't take a crap in my garage please, excuses, foul language in preschool, getting it together, good smells bad smells, hidden grammar errors and bad writing, hole in my life, I can't spell, I can't end a story OR a blog post, I complain too much, I enjoy being inferior, i like to pretend, I need to get an original thought, I run fast, i said it was uncategorizable, I'm a hack, I'm a jerk!, I'm all over the map, make it more personal

We’re Making Plans For Nigel

 

At some point I’m going to get a phone call from various defunct 80’s bands demanding some sort of restitution for all the titles I’ve stolen after a morning listening to Sirius XM’s First Wave.

I like to use the drive back from drop off to think about what needs to be done during the day and to formulate a plan of attack for whatever bizarre circumstances or unforseen disasters will fall in my lap thanks to my smallest child.

You see, despite the best laid plans and extensive help from all the most expensive professionals he still has some issues that prevent him from being ready for prime time.

Like the Saturday Night Live players but with less parody and more physical pratfalls.

So here I am, the grown up, struggling to hack my way through the thick brush surrounding the path back to normality for this kid.

Never have I been so confounded by another human being.

I lie in wait for the ramifications of each decision I’ve made on his behalf  dreading the large casualty laden explosion that is clearly imminent. Nothing is clear-cut and never have the stakes been so high.

Imagine if laid before you are a deck of a thousand cards and you must pick five or six to determine the path that someone takes at various important crossroads in their life.

Now take a look at the possible outcomes.

Steven Hawking or the Unibomber.

Churchill or Mussolini.

Yes, perhaps I’m exaggerating his potential but his propensity for extremes is legendary and being in his service for these long five years has taken its toll on the staff here.

It would be accurate to say we live in fear.

Fear of the next step.

Fear that the wrong choice will cause everything to go up in flames (don’t laugh, it’s happened)

Usually I have these things set up far in advance of the actual decision-making event but I happen to be in the middle of a long period of wait and see fence-sitting that’s really starting to hurt my ass.

And so, as I perch here and think about making plans for Nigel I’m still frozen with doubt and remorse over things I’ve not even done yet.

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Filed under adhd, am I doing anything right?, average is so much easier, bad parenting, behavior problems in kids, better skills, boys with serious attitude, can I have a normal day, crazy ramblings, delinquints, difficult child, difficult kids, discipline, failure, fight or flight response, foul language in preschool, four year old love, getting it together, here we go, I have 3, I have HOW many kids?, I'm not as effective in a bad situation as I thought I would be, I'm all over the map, il duce is five, It's embarassing when you suck at something, keep the expectations low okay?, kids, kids and parenting, kids that don't fit the mold, kids that like cursewords, kids with warped minds, kindergarten options

Fantasy Dinner Parties, Crowd Control & Answers to Elly’s Burning Questions

My dinner party wouldn't look like this.

Todays nugget should probably be approached with some caution because as with many other subjects my half-truths and little to no real knowledge can be slightly irritating.

It should be said that I’ve only ever thrown one real dinner party and it was a group affair where I spent most of the time drunk, standing in front of a perpetually rotating frozen margarita machine (which was my contribution) and neglecting my hostess duties.

A few hours later as I grew restless and came very close to passing out I decided it was better that I just give up and let the whole mess run it’s course without me.

In the past few days I had two friends of mine mention fantasy dining situations with the rich & famous so I started dreaming up various case scenarios for my pretend celebrity soirees and the zany hijinks that would ensue when the glitterati & I got together over finger foods and cocktails.

The door would swing open and there would be Stewart Copeland circa 1984 with his mop of disheveled hair, his matching shorts and tube socks. Hey! He brought a bottle of wine and his snare drum. Later I will complain that he spent a majority of the party on my low-lying coffee table pretending it was a drum riser and banging on my new Calphalon cookware with his drumsticks. We’d be understanding though,  because after all it’s Stewart.

Because we are treading in the realm of the completely fabricated & delusional by importing the younger version of SC I’d take the opportunity to invite the legendary but currently dead Marlon Brando cause you know he’d fly his private jet  straight from an all night party on his Tahitian island and land it in the middle of your street before falling down the stairs and into the road. Of course he’d be drunk and barely functional but still charming and he’d roll all over the newly set table  crushing the carefully prepared appetizers and spilling everyone’s drink.

Then he’d hack an orange into quarter slices and shove them playfully into his mouth before chasing us through our tomato garden and collapsing into a lifeless heap. Bravo Marlon! Bravo! Wait, Marlon?

Much to the shock of my friends and contemporaries I’d also invite the worlds newest über celebrity Robert Pattinson. Not because his bone structure instantly blinds mere mortals but because he can teach us all something about post traumatic stress disorder, emergency measures and crowd control. FEMA could learn a thing or two from this guy.

I once found myself vulnerable and helpless in an angry group of thousands that whipped itself into a manic state and actually BROKE A BONE in my arm  so it was with morbid curiosity and real genuine horror that I watched   television footage of this freshly famous young kid being continually swallowed up by voracious screaming groups of wildly excited fans.

Now granted my mob experience didn’t involve being surrounded by besotted fourteen year old girls trying to kill me with their love but mine DID have full-grown hairy men sporting body tattoos and thrashing  about in a rain-soaked rock concert  frenzy attempting to shred anything and everything in their path. Including me.

The guy would  be great for tips on how to answer the same insipid questions day after day as the years dragged on without getting angry or looking pained, which would be great for all the married couples there.  He’d win over the rest of the dinner guests with his rakish good looks and quiet English warmth but then there would be the inevitable drunken cougar who’d read Twilight one too many times who would have to be removed by the two bodyguards loitering nearby.

 So as you can see, my party didn’t have 50 Cent or Neil Patrick Harris Like Elly and Shawn but since this was a hopeless pursuit of an imaginary gathering I don’t see any problems here.

The  threat of the slow collapse of this post under its own weight is growing more imminent so I shall get right to the questions asked of me by my beloved Uke playing Elly.

1. How many tennis balls can you fit in your mouth?

I actually put this to the test and I can say with absolute certainty that I can fit exactly 1/2 of the tennis ball into my maw before it locks up and starts cramping.

2. Do you have a recurring doodle you always scribble in meetings?

Why yes I do. Drew it on everything and it changed suddenly from male to female without any warning one day while discussing something of great importance in a “meeting”. I’ll try to find one of the scrappy bits of paper if I still have it.

3. If you could have any pet what would it be and what would you name it?

I’d like a turtle and his name would be Hooper. Like  the Richard Dreyfus character from Jaws.

4. Do these shoes make my feel look ginormous?

It depends on who is asking this question. If it is a woman I muster my most sincere face and say absolutely not. If it is a man I tell him he has abnormally large feet AND hands because you know what they say about the size of a man’s feet.

5. Can you put your foot on your own head?

Easy peasy. I will go one step further here and tell you that I used to be able to hook both of my legs behind my head contortionist style. I would have made a great exotic dancer.

6. What’s your favorite acronym?

What does it say about me that I went directly to google and found the acronym name generator? Worse? I couldn’t think of a name or phrase to plug into it so it could generate a cool acronym for me. It says ” never again will you struggle coming up with a catchy acronym or  title for your project!” Not only did I struggle, but I failed.

7. If you could be a character from a John Hughes film who would you be?

Samantha Baker from 16 Candles.

8. If you were a food item would you rather be packaged in shrink-wrap or tin can?

Tin can. Because sardines OBVIOUSLY.

I've got a endless supply of oranges and lots of spare time.

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Filed under celebrities hate idiots, dinner parties with pretend people, elly asks the questions, FEMA, Henry Rollins made those guys break my arm, I should stop inviting Robert Pattinson to fake dinners, I'm all over the map, marlon brando i wish you were alive, rock concerts and wild crowds, Stewart Copeland owes me new pots, why you don't whip a drunk crowd into a frenzy