Thursday, August 17, 2017

Angels hang above my head

A friend of mine is doing a thing. The six of you should go follow her.

I saw something on Facebook that bothered me this morning. I know, you're shocked.

A friend of mine shared a photo of her in a dress.

TGB wears dresses a lot.

I like a woman in a dress. There's something alluring about them.

Anyway, my friend commented that she was looking for an excuse to wear her dress.

I thought, honey, if people have no shame wearing pajama pants in public, you should wear that fucking dress to go check the fucking mail if the spirit moves you.

A woman wants to wear a dress she should wear the fucking dress.

If your woman wants an excuse to wear a dress take her out to a place where she can show that shit off.

Just make sure she doesn't work the on the night you make the reservations.

Maybe read her work schedule that she keeps on the fridge for you, dumbass.

Really, get off your ass off the couch, walk the ten feet and, read the damn schedule before making any reservations.

Titty sprinkles!



Wednesday, August 16, 2017

Still you're standing on your feet

I'm listening to Billy Joel this morning.

Why?

I was thinking about my dad. Billy's music reminds me of him.

Why?

Because it always reminded him of me and the last gift he gave me was a Billy box set and concert program. The last concert dad went to was Billy. He went because a girl asked him on a date and he said yes because Billy reminded him of me.

Why did Billy Joel remind your dad of you? 

Because I was once in love with a girl who loved Billy. Which, of course, means I heard a lot of him and came to associate Billy with Jen.

Which is funny because dad hated Jen. He thought she was a bad influence.

He was wrong. I was the bad influence. She was a good Christian girl, honor student. Then I got my claws into her and it all went downhill for her.

Then we each pulled our heads out of our asses and grew up some.

Dad still didn't like her much but, then Uncle Charlie died and something changed.

Uncle Charlie had taken to calling me Charlie Brown and Jen the little red haired girl just before he died.

So dad did the same.

Weird the influence big brothers have on their little brothers.

By the time Jen died I believe my dad was downright smitten with her.

In my haze the weeks following her death I kept Billy and Sting on a loop.

Somewhere along the way dad took to hearing Billy and thinking of me.

I loved that.

So when he went to that concert and sent me that box set and program I knew it was his way of saying, I was paying attention. 

He wasn't giving me a gift, he was letting me know that there was this part of me that was now a part of him.

If he were alive, I suspect he would own the entire Frank Turner catalog by now. I know he would have sent TGB something Frank that he'd (hope) think she doesn't already have. I have no doubt we would have dragged him to a show.

Then again, if he were alive I likely never would have left Ohio and dad'd be living in my guest suite.

Life is weird.

Titty sprinkles!


Postscript - My friend Kate and I were chatting about Long Island and she mentioned her affinity for Billy. That lead to a conversation about his music and our mutual affection for him. Kate's one of those people I am always cheering for. Since that conversation, when I hear Billy there is a part of me that thinks of her, too. And then I smile.

Tuesday, August 15, 2017

Aug 15, 2017

After 9/11 I was tempted to re-enlist. My dad asked me not to. So did a few friends.

War seemed inevitable.

So I took my pent up energy, went to NYC and volunteered.

Shortly thereafter, still full of untapped anxiety, I volunteered to be a Guardian Ad Litem in Ohio.

It came up again last night when a dear friend asked me to reach out to another friend who seemed more than a little frustrated and angry about the events in Charlottesville and the prospect of that kind of shit continuing to happen.

On yesterday's post I ranted and raved about punching Nazis. I take none of it back.

But I would be irresponsible if I didn't point out that I was raging in writing. It keeps me sane.

Defend yourself, absolutely. Protect you and those you love, always.

But don't go looking for a fight.

Not a physical one, anyway.

Call them racists, not alt right. Don't give them that cover and correct anyone who does.

Love as passionately as they hate.

Engage in dialogue. Yes, it will frustrate the fuck out of you. Do it anyway.

Look out for the little guy. The one who would be their target of hate and also their target for recruitment. If you know someone marginalized, looking for a tribe of his own, reach out.

Then lean in.

And when all that angst and anger bubbles to the surface look around and find a place you can help. Look for some small way you can make this world a little bit better.

Then do the thing.

Good pep talk.

I love you, awesome nerds!

Titty sprinkles!



Monday, August 14, 2017

Aug 14, 2017

I was on a boat for a few days.

I did not miss the real world.

Kept hoping the two needle dick leaders would blow it into bolivian. They did not.

Needle dicked men are mostly bluster and no follow through. We all knew that going in.

I've said it before and I will say it again, all this racist vitriol from the alt right racists fuckheads is on all of you #45 voters.

While you may not all be racist fuckheads, you are okay with racist fuckery because you all saw and heard the same shit the rest of us did and you decided, yep, I am voting for him anyway!

So fuck you.

I was angry yesterday when I got off the boat and caught up on the news of the last few days.

I am still angry but, I have had time to digest this shit and have come to realize a few things.

There will always be apologists for shitty people. Even now I have friends who are whining that taking down monuments to those who fought on the losing side of a war to protect slavery is an erasure of history.

Fuck you, you dumbfuck.

Love is not nearly enough to fight back with. Sometimes we need to get a little Daenerys Taagareyen on a motherfucker and torch someone for not bending the knee so the others learn.

No I am not advocating violence. I am just fucking pissed off at what is happening to my country.

And this still makes me happy:


Dammit you guys, I was so fucking happy on the boat. It was my favorite non-music cruise ever.

We celebrated TGB's five year cancerfreeversary. We got to tour the galley. Twice. We ate more food than should be allowed. We got to stand on the bow when we pulled into Nassau. We ate at the Chef's Table.

We were so happy an insulated from the fuckery.

We learned that if we buy a house in Nassau for $500k or more we get automatic citizenship.

It is tempting.

Fix your shit, America.

Titty sprinkles!

Wednesday, August 9, 2017

Aug 9, 2017

Dear Disney, go fuck yourself.

That's my reaction to the news that Disney is taking their shit and creating yet another streaming service.

We're going to miss the days when our cable bill was only $180.

Also, one other perk to not having spawn: no annoying little fuckers whining to me that we need Disney.

We are going away today.

Garbage concert tonight.

Cruise tomorrow.

Five years cancer free, bitches!

Not me. The Gorgeous Blonde.

There is a German doctor in Palo Alto I have to email.

We recorded an hour's worth of podcast but, we didn't like it so we're treating it as a dress rehearsal. We'll record a tighter episode when I return. It should be up by next Weds.

In the meantime, here's Noah reading a book I'm in.

Titty sprinkles!



Monday, August 7, 2017

You're welcome, Jason

I would recommend you not read any further if you haven't watched last night's GoT episode (Season 7, eps 4) - Chaos Is a Ladder).

You were warned.

The one downside to the showrunners being past the books is that I no longer am surprised when a main character dies. Because he doesn't.

Golden hand ain't dead, yo.

RR Martin woulda done it. The HBO dudes won't.

They ain't got the stones.

So when the dragon was coming for him we all knew, nah. which is why when he was last seen dropping to the bottom of the lake and all of twitterdumb was aghast, I was all, he ain't dead. Not even close.

Aside from the lack of Martin's ability to make us all go, holy fucking fuckballs I cannot believe the show went there!  Last night was my favorite episode.

Because the dragons were unleashed.

I cheered.

TGB cheered louder.

Then she was disappointed when the dragon didn't turn more Westeros bros into baked goods.

I cannot allow my wife to ever find a dragon or we're all fucked.

Noah is on his way.

We might do some FB live stuff to capture our tomfoolery as we try to get our podcast off the ground.

Titty sprinkles!


Saturday, August 5, 2017

Aug 5, 2017

The sky is dark and scary and there are thunderstorms and rain in the forecast.

And people will still want a boat ride.

I dunno who Sarahah is or why she can't spell her name but, she's learning a lot of useless information about me.

Noah and I had a pretty heavy conversation yesterday about the podcast. He's on board. That's a lot of trust.

He's a good kid. He's a really interesting kid. Well, aside from being from Canada he's interesting.

Canadians are so bland and boring, right?

I can make that joke and not worry because I know Canadians aren't going to say anything mean back to me.

Well, I s'pose that's yer right to feel that way, eh. 

The plan is to setup the equipment Sunday, start recording Monday, post the next week. Or sooner.

We'll be talking about pizza toppings, butt stuff, and maybe some other light topics like shit parental units that leave you with a lifelong sense of self-doubt. #goodtimes.

Normally, I set my alarm for 0700 on weekends to get on the boat. Today I was awake at 0619. Why? Because I was dreaming that TGB was shoving a pillow over my head and I was fighting to LIVE! I ended up waking up flailing about at the air above me as she slept next to me.

Hard to go back to sleep when a murderer is feigning sleep right next to me!

Titty sprinkles!



Friday, August 4, 2017

Aug 4, 2017

The other day I was watching the new Justice League trailer and was not remotely interested until Wonder Woman showed up.

Dear Aaron Sorkin, women eat cheeseburgers, too.

My protege, Noah, suggested we should do a podcast.

I've been pondering the possibilities.

You'll like Noah. He has one of those voices that you hear and think, that dude should be on radio. Probably trying to sell Shamwows or some shit.

I finally came up with an idea I feel pretty passionate about with the 'cast.

Me and Noah. A sort of mini-series podcast. I say mini-series because Noah will be shipping off to boot camp soonish.

Anyway, initially, I want to revolve around Noah and I talking about Noah. There are a lot of parallels in our lives that I think would be really interesting and, frankly, talking about them could help a lot of people.

Shit parental unit, substance abuse, actual abuse, etc. Dealing with it. You know, the good shit.

I want to really get into it. Less as a psychological exercise and more a way of saying, here is this shit that happened to you and it happened to me so, maybe, it happened to lots of people and, maybe, we can help them feel less alone and, maybe, help ourselves in this whole process. 

Okay, maybe it is a psychological exercise of sorts.

Of course, because I am a firm believer that laughter heals, there will be inappropriate jokes.

Anyway, that's my launching point. Where we go from there is entirely up to us.

Titty sprinkles!


Thursday, August 3, 2017

Aug 3, 2017

A couple of days ago I got out of the shower to find the words, I love you written on my mirror through the steam.

It made me smile.

All day.

And it made me sad.

Not heartbreakingly so. Just enough sadness to remind me that I need to lean into this moment of bliss, savor it, appreciate the fuck out of it.

Every time The Gorgeous Blonde reminds me how loved I am my reaction, after smiling, is always to want to tell my dad.

I want to call him and tell him, hey dad, your daughter-in-law did a thing again.

I wouldn't have to tell him what that thing is because whatever that thing is would be incidental. It would be enough to him to know that she makes his son happy.

And he would probably remind me not to fuck it up and then he would tell me to give his mija a hug for him.

That's what nobody ever tells you about losing your hero: you miss him most when you're the happiest.

Titty sprinkles!



Wednesday, August 2, 2017

Aug 2, 2017

I think I should write this in bed just before I drift off. That's when I get all the best ideas.

I never remember the best ideas when I wake.

So instead I am going to write about rapey priests.

TGB made me watch The Keepers last night.

I figured I could get through another documentary about shitty Catholics doing shitty things.

It's a docu-series.

Aw fuck.

Mind you, I had no idea what this thing was about when we started save for a nun and murder.

Halfway through episode one I was kinda bored. Lots of long stares off into the distance, way too fucking long shots of pan shots of scenery.

The first episode was drab, much like Baltimore itself.

It's building a narrative! That's called story telling! 

Yes, she really yelled that at me as I played with my fishing app.

Then episode two started and that old familiar feeling of disgust associated with religion started to rear its head.

Turns out Catholic priests weren't just into raping little boys.

Nope, little girls got it too.

Equal opportunity rapey.

Anyway, all I remember, aside from TGB grabbing the remote so I don't throw it at the tv, was a lot manipulation by men in power to coerce girls into pleasing them and then accusing the same girls of being whores.

Several thoughts ran through my brain.

Teaching children that religious leaders' authority is absolute is fucking horse-shit.

NOT teaching children about their bodies and sex is a fucking sin. Ignorance leaves them so fucking vulnerable to everything from unplanned pregnancy, STDs, and rapey fucking priests.

I am so looking forward to episode three. *eyeroll*



Tuesday, August 1, 2017

Aug 1, 2017

I've been watching a lot of West Wing the last few days.

During this time with #45 I keep thinking, Aaron Sorkin save us, you're the only one who can.

So far he has not gotten the bat signal.

Watching West Wing makes me slip into a sort of depression. I watch an episode or two and lament that a decent POTUS is now a thing of fantasy.

Aren't you all glad I took some time off to depress the hell out of you upon my return?

I didn't take a week off to do anything in particular. I was just sick of it all and this is as close to running away as I could get.

Running away was a lot easier when I was a kid.

When TGB retires I might try to tempt her into moving to a tiny island away from the world and never returning.

No, none of you can come visit.

I should have taken a week (month, year) off from the news.

I'm gonna go watch West Wing and climb under a blanket.