Tuesday, January 5, 2016

Being pretty's my only crime

The sun came out yesterday and I spent a good part of the day outside. I like that shit.

Then I came inside and took down our Christmas decorations as TGB camped out no the couch all sickly. I hate when she gets sick.

I try not to be a typical guy - trying to fix everything when she says something is wrong - but it's especially frustrating when she's sick. She's miserable and I am helpless to do a fucking thing. I think that helpless feeling harkens back to the cancer and the futile feeling of being able to do fuck all but hope the doctor paid attention in class. I hate feeling helpless. I prefer her yelling at me that she can do the thing or that she just needs me to listen while she vents or whatever else rather than me just watching her suffer.

I guess that means I love my wife. Feelings. Euw, gross.

One year ago yesterday this girl came home. Feelings. Gross.
Oohh, oohh, oohh I got a pin roller yesterday! A marble one because I am a fancy bitch! Dough will be made today. Maybe bread sticks. Pretzels for TGB. She likes that shit.

It's weird, but I feel a little relieved that the other two teams in Oakland and St. Louis filed to move to LA. It hurts the Chargers chances. They belong in San Diego. Yesterday I was bummed, I think today I am over the initial sadness of it (the real root of all my feels in this post) just trying to figure out what comes next. My father-in-law wants me to become a Packers fan. My dad became one when the Rams/Raiders left LA.

They're the only team in the league I know won't ever move, dad said.

Yellow and green are fucking hideous, I said. In my head.

Maybe I've told you this story before, maybe not...

I was actually watching a Chargers game when my dad died. It was a Sunday night game and I specifically turned my phone off so no one would bother me while I watched. I figured if it was an emergency, they could call back. If someone died, my answering the phone wasn't going to change things.

We were getting our asses stomped in the first half. Down 17 in the snow in Denver. The second half we mounted one of the biggest comebacks in franchise history. Normally that is when I would call dad and talk about the game. It was late on the east coast, where I was, so I just went to bed. Turned on my phone in the AM and my voicemail was full, my text messages were full and my phone was ringing non-stop. My sister gave me the news.

Dad died while I was watching the Chargers game.

I just realized that the drive to Miami that day was my first ever trip into that city. Flew back to LA that morning. He died on his way back from a bar where he'd been watching the Packers play.

There is no real point to this story. It just popped into my head.

Titty sprinkles, or whatever.



If you look closely you can see me in the audience. Probably not, but maybe. I had no idea they were filming when I got there. I would have worn something sexier.