Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Spackle

Afternoon/evening. I didnt get around to putting these together of the last few days. But I polished this off today as a good old-fashioned random-stuff post. Go nuts.

- Monday morning I saw an episode of Arthur that deals with an issue that these days is all over kids TV - that being how kids deal with single parents who date. As is popular on this sort of show the kid involved tries to stop his mother splitting up with a man he likes. They hadn't been dating long at all - but he liked him. So he does the old "but you invited me...didn't you?" trick by conning both people to show up at a dinner. At which point it is explained to him (and ergo to any kids at home going through a similar Mom's-humping-the-neighborhood-bachelors situation) that they didn't actually want to be together any more. Fair enough and pretty formulaic stuff. But then for some odd reason the writers of the episode threw in a completely unnecessary and very creep twist that takes a sunny cartoon down a grim, Silent Witness cul-de-sac. That being the man shows up at his school to pick up the boy because "we're friends just like your mother and I are." It all started to feel very much like a cross between The Shack and the movie Saw.

- I hope you all can join with me in congratulating my son on achieving the public status of a Shit Volcano. And well done especially for not only getting it on EVERY item of clothing that we were both wearing, but also in the car. Bravo. Of course I feel I should mention that this happened right as I was getting him out of the car at my daughter's school to pick her up. I'd let the little bugger loose in the car - which is something he enjoys an enormous amount. I just wasn't aware how excited it could get him. Actually he tried to throw himself upside down over a seat and evidently knocked some monkey fudge loose. But being the helpful little sod that he is he'd scooted back over the seat - grabbed the Emergency Spare Clothes - and had already started prying off his soiled pants when I noticed him lying down on the floor of the car behind me. Like an idiot I didn't tell him to hold it - but jumped out of the car to climb in the side door. At which point he'd made a nice shit-smear down the back of his legs and across the carpet almost as wide as the smile on his helpful little face. Lucky for him that not only do I keep a pile of Emergency Spare Clothes, but also some cloths and and a shammy in case we encounter a wet playground (which is now our new euphemism for Shitcident). As it was exactly the moment that I had to go in and get my daughter I had no choice but to quickly clean him up as best as I could, redress him and then nonchalantly walk into a school with shit on the both of us. It's not every day that you realize that you have to walk through a hallway filled with people to a school office to ask 'can my daughter leave early - I'm afraid we're covered in shit so can't wait until home time." But that's what I did. Because I am a hero. So while I lost DILF points that day I did progress to Dad level 17 for dealing with it with such grace and humor.

- I went to a local camping/outdoors store today to see if they had any snow boots on sale for my son. They didn't. I also had to pick up some mink-oil for my own boots to weatherproof them - and wondered if vegetarians (the ethical/moral variety, at least) think that sort of thing is the more evil end of the animal-slaughtering industry. Shrugging that off my son and I wandered through the store looking at the other stuff in there for a while. At some point I saw a pair of denim pants that had a fish image sewn onto them. Which my son thought was phenomenal. He got all giddy and loud and started yelling, "FISH PANTS!" whilst pointing toward them. Unfortunately my son sometimes confuses how to say the word fish. That combined with his aggressive cold made what he was saying sound entirely like something else. Unfortunately for me I had to take the time to explain to a female-employee why my son was screaming, "BITCH PANTS!!!" excitedly in her general direction.

- Speaking of which he also gets me vegetables from the garden. Then he tells me it's snack time. I have to eat an inordinate amount of tiny tomatoes whle he rubs carrots and celery in ranch dressing. He likes to make smiles/frowns with stuff now - like this.


But better than that - he's started eating tomatoes. But carrots will NEVER be swallowed.....


- My son has started doing nice things for his sister. It's weirdly altruistic and generous. Well - to a cynical, slefish tit like me it is anyway. It's a bit like how - once your kids have some competency to make pictures or crafts - they start making millions of them for relatives/teachers/the mailman/people who walk their dogs past the house. He's made a bunch of pictures for his sister. And today he picked a whole bunch of leaves for her. The thing is when he gives them to her he calls them, "happy pictures" or - in this case - "happy leaves." Because he hopes/thinks they will make her happy. Nice work.




- I recently re-encountered an astounding thing - that being the "baby mind reader." I could blather on about how mental this man appears to be and how astounding it is that this lunacy made it to television. Honestly - it's insane. But then I remembered that Charlie Brooker had dealt with how despicable and insane this all is.. Seriously  - watch this (headphones on so no-one else can hear how demented it is) and lament at how astoundingly dangerous some people are.

- Over the weekend I witnessed a man - who very much thought he was probably the coolest man in the area - blasting Gloria Estefan from a Ford F350. And I mean loudly rocking the hell out to it. And as weird as that is I have complete and total respect for how much he didn't give a toss at all about how weird that was. Then this morning at the grocery store I watched a guy struggle with shoving a baby-carrier into a Honda Civic. I was parked next to him in my big, fat Dodge Minivan. And yet despite the vast luxury and room inside it and the clear ease I had in getting my kid, an 8 foot long plank of wood, groceries, a dog and a big pile of stuff to donate to the Salvation Army he still managed to make a wisecrack about how he just could never bring himself to drive a Minivan. "No offense man - but if I ever bought a minivan then I'd be admitting I've given up on life!" He said this without a hint of irony as Taylor Swift blurted out of his car. Seriously - if you have such a weak ego that you can't buy a minivan when you have kids then you need to figure out what is wrong with you. Because that's the sort of attitude that says women should only really use pink tools, and that truly women should be driving side-saddle. A minivan doesn't emasculate you. It doesn't mean anything. It's just a car. One that you can fit 8 people, and a ton of shit into at that. But I didn't joke back about that. Instead I said in a very clear I'm-An-Englishman accent, "Nah mate - we live in central NY. We've already given up on life." Then I got in my old-lady wagon, blurted Virago's jaggedy-screaming song "Je" and watched as he still couldn't quite stretch the seat-belt through the back of his daughter's car-seat. See - the minivan has nothing to do with how fucking ace I am.....


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