Mr. Impossible

We're all over Christmas, am I right? I took the girls to the mall and it seems as if it hasn't ended. No parking, shitty attitudes, people in cars, cutting in front of us, only to have to wait for the traffic to clear in front of them before they can move. I thought we were only allowed to try to kill each other between 12/13 and 12/24.

Did I mention I have super powers? So we go to the play-yard at the mall. A walled-in, rubberized circus where children can actually explode. The girls love running around acting like animals, and I enjoy criticizing the practically absent parenting the other little monsters receive. One little monster was unusually bad. He was about 6 years old and was the perfect illustration of how crappy parenting really makes a difference. I watched in disgust while he tried to order other children around, jump, kick, punch, scream and terrorize the scene. For some reason he hadn't said or done anything to the girls. If he had, I was planning to find his parent and use their body as a stick to beat their child. I continued to stare, attempting to lift him in the air with my Jedi powers. I focussed on the little turd without breaking. Suddenly, he jumped, seemed to lift into the air, then came down appearing to use his face to break his fall. I actually thought for a second, "did I do that?"

He cried for about 7 minutes before his mom strolled out of the store she had been shopping in.

Moulin Rouge without the music

Our neighbor gave us a tin full of cookies. I read the label, "Pepperidge Farm Cream Filled Piroettes - Entertaining Cookies." Excitedly I tore off the top, ripped open one of the separate bags, pulled one out and placed it on the counter. Nothing. So I pulled out another and placed it right next to it on the counter. Know what? Those Goddamn cookies didn't sing one song, dance, or tell any jokes.

No news is good news

Jimmy Nuetron, Boy Genius was on earlier this evening. I wish I was really smart. Like, "my brain kicks your brain's ass smart." You know, the one kid that missed 2 points on their S.A.T.? There's one at every school. I always wished I was gifted. "That boy is gifted," they would say as I strolled past. Writing my first symphony at age 5, rushing for 300 yards every game and graduating from high school at age 14. Gifted. Jimmy Neutron does have an enormous head, I must say. Shit, he's got a great haircut though.

Did I mention I picked up some new jeans today? Man, I look smokin' hot in 'em. I may be Time Magazine's Man of the Year yet.

The Christmas Pussy

Hate to pollute with mush...
For those of you that have asked, the answer is yes. We finally added a new pussy to the family. "Emily D" came home with us on Christmas night. I know, the Christmas kitty, brought out in a Christmas stocking, inspires Christmas nausea. She's incredibly sweet, happy, and incredibly hyper. A good match for the children. The second she got home, she sunk her claws into the couch. "But I bought her a sratch pad." I won't post often regarding "kitty stuff." I'll leave that to Zelda's Mommy and Daddy. Not that I'm criticizing blogs devoted to pets. They're fine, just not me. Anyhoo, Emily was free. My Sister-in-law went on a 3 day mission to find her. And, as with other kitties I've had, introduce them to the kitty box once, and soon after a tiny kitty poop appears in the kitty box. That, every single time, is a remarkable event to me. Even I don't remember where to go to the bathroom in a new place sometimes. Simply incredible.

There's more Hokiday Mush here, including another pic of Emily if interested. Hopefully everyone had a nice weekend. I'm looking for someone to donate a shitload of cash to my family and I so I don't have to go back to work tomorrow.

Please?

Bah Humbug

You Are "All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth"

Gee, if I could onlyHave my two front teeth,Then I could wish you"Merry Christmas." At Christmas, you are a happy soul who's easy to please.You're biggest concern is making those around you smile.

What Christmas Carol Are You?

I Hate Christmas Songs

Are you fucking kidding me?

Would someone please buy this for me for Christmas? It would make me so happy to unwrap it, cover it with explosives, take it to top of the highest building, light the fuse and drop it to watch it explode into tiny pieces as the fragments of what's left land on the hard concrete below just before being run over by large trucks.

Gee, thanks.

What a difference a century makes

Staitistics from 100 years ago: The year was 1904, and

The average life expectancy in the U.S. was 47 years.

Only 14 percent of the homes in the U.S. had a bathtub.

Only 8 percent of the homes had a telephone.

A three-minute call from Denver to New York City cost eleven dollars.

There were only 8,000 cars in the U.S., and only 144 miles of pavedroads.

Alabama, Mississippi, Iowa, and Tennessee

were each more heavily populated than California.

With a mere 1.4 million residents,

California was onlythe 21st most populous state in the Union.

The tallest structure in the world was the Eiffel Tower.

The average wage in the U.S. was 22 cents an hour.

The average U.S. worker made between $200 and $400 per year.

A competent accountant could expect to earn

$2000 per year, a dentist$2,500 per year, a veterinarian

between $1,500 and$4,000 per year,

and a mechanical engineer about $5,000 per year.

More than 95 percent of all births in the U.S. took place at home.

Ninety percent of all U.S. physicians had no college education.Instead, they attended medical schools, many of which were condemned

in the press and by the government as "substandard."

Sugar cost four cents a pound. Eggs were fourteen cents a dozen.

Coffee was fifteen cents a pound.

Most women only washed their hair once a month,

and used borax or eggyolks for shampoo.

Canada passed a law prohibiting poor people

from entering the country for any reason.

The five leading causes of death in the U.S. were:

1. Pneumonia and influenza

2. Tuberculosis

3. Diarrhea

4. Heart disease

The American flag had 45 stars. Arizona, Oklahoma, New Mexico,

Hawaii,and Alaska hadn't been admitted to the Union yet.

The population of Las Vegas, Nevada, was 30!!!

Crossword puzzles, canned beer, and iced tea hadn’t been invented.

There was no Mother's Day or Father's Day.

Two of 10 U.S adults couldn't read or write.

Only 6 percent of all Americans had graduated high school.

Marijuana, heroin, and morphine were

all available over the counter at corner drugstores.

According to one pharmacist,

"Heroin clears the complexion, gives buoyancy to the mind, regulates the stomach and bowels, and is, in fact, the perfect guardian of health."

Eighteen percent of households in the U.S. had at

least one full-time servant or domestic.

There were only about 230 reported murders in the entire U.S.

See... Things don't change too much in a century.

Don't stop believing

Ready okay! (God the cheerleaders rubbed the wrong way commencing every single cheer with that and a gleeful clap of the hands)

Can't we just go back now? The shopping, holiday cheer, mind-numbing Christmas music, fighting for parking, getting cut off. By the way, the term "holiday cheer" is not defined by its original intent to explain how good we are to each other this time of year. Truly, seriously, I'm ready for next week.

Worker bees and the drone and grind of every day. Buzz buzz.

Cha-Cha-Cha CHIA

Just stop. Everyone. Honestly, has it come to this?

I saw a guy in a mall parking lot, scratch that, a senior citizen in a mall parking lot today aquire what, in his mind, was the find of the century, A parking spot right in front. Problem: The spot was roughly half a spot. A gigantic blue dumpster, the big ass ones, the ones you can fit an entire small country's belongings in, was stationed in half the spot. He managed to position himself and his Oldsmobile, (funny, the name of his car has "old" in it) between said big ass blue dumpster and a Ford F150. He got into the spot, but was unable to open his door on either side. He sat there, in his car, trapped in the best parking spot in the mall parking lot. I pulled into a newly vacated spot, three cars away, hopped out and walked past his car. "You doin' okay in there?" I asked. He turned and said something that blew me away. "Yeah, I'm just waitin' until this guy in the truck gets back and leaves so I can open my door."

Um... Yeah, good thinkin' Pops.

In case you're wondering, he was there when I got back to my car.

Turning Japanese

It turns out I may never need to post again... Y'all, (first time I ever used the term y'all in my entire life) are a hoot to listen to? Okay, read. Like I'm a fly on my own private wall. Too funny.

By the way... Godzilla died in the first movie.

I can hardly wait to hear what I'm gonna say next.

Cops and Robbers

Has anyone other than me seen the show The Wire on H.B.O.? I won't bore with the details. It's just really really good and I have no one to talk to about it. :(

Love it love it love it. 'Course, if you haven't seen it, the season is over.

Pick of the Litter

"I met this girl yesterday, and she had the best pussy...

I was talking about her cat, people. Please, keep your minds out of the gutter.

That cat was the best fuck I ever had."

-Steve Martin

I had finally had it. Besides, a new kitty will add furry goodness to the family right? We buy the kitty box, kitty litter to fill the kitty box, the poop scoop, a scratching pad so the little rodent won't scratch up the furniture, even a Godddamn kitty collar. Everthing was set. All that was left was the kitty. We took a trip to the Humane Society and pet some kitties. I ask about picking a kitty. "Adopting a kitty will be $80, you'll need to fill out an application, pay the fee, wait a few days for the kitty to be fixed, have everyone in the family come down here to spend time with the kitty, while we observe you, then, if we decide the placement fits, you can take your new kitty home with you." Holy shit, I didn't come down here to adopt a child, can I just have a cat? Appartently, it doesn't work that way. So ta' hell with that, we'll go to Petco.

The "cat woman" at Petco, a volunteer that takes care of the cats for a kitty adoption agency, has a secret. When you ask about the kitties, she'll convince anyone she has the finest felines in town. "They're fixed, have all thier shots, are Advantaged, well-cared for and happy." Great, we'll take one. Her secret: she doesn't really want any of them to leave. "Okay, well you'll need to fill out this 3-page application, handle the kitty, wait a few days for us to call you, and if (when) we don't call, you should just go to the Humane Society. However, if everything goes well, and, based on your application we decide to allow placement, the kitty will be $95.".

To add frosting to the frustration cake, I found this.

I'm back to filling out a credit app, or sitting in a job interview. Trying to convince the "God of the moment" I'm worthy. When did everything change and why wasn't I notified? I think I'll just go buy a child on the black market and call it our new kitty. Maybe name it fluffy.

Bidding Starts at $150

Hokiday Movies

Never shot my eye out, but got my tongue stuck to a few metallic surfaces.

Your Christmas is Most Like: A Christmas Story

Loving, fun, and totally crazy.Don't shoot your eye out!

What Movie Is Your Christmas Most Like?

Happy Hokidays

"A Christmas Carol" aired this evening on Cartoon Network. Yes, I was watching with my kids. It was, of course a different version; animated, Mr. Scrooge was played by none other than near-sighted, squinty-eyed Mr. Magoo. The last time I saw Mr. Clumsy Guy Magoo speaking to inanimate objects was approximately 1975. Never liked him much. He was the first cartoon on immedietely following our National Anthem. There were only three channels back then kids, and cartoons were only on for about 6 hours on Saturday mornings. I know, and I walked uphill both ways to school and had to defend myself against attacking bears with my loose leaf binder.

So there I am, watching Mr. Magoo, my six-year-old snuggled up under my arm, and my three-year-old laying smack dab on top of me. For about 30 minutes, Mr. Magoo as Ebinezer Scrooge was just perfect, and so was everything else.

Vacationing in my brian

I don't feel *right*.

When I was a little kid, I was running on the docks even though my parents told me not to, (I lived in the Virgin Islands) and I slipped and fell off. I hit my head on the gaurd beam before I landed in the water. Split my head wide open. Not too long after, I was riding on the back of a horse with my brother and fell off. I hit the corner of a tree stump with my head before I landed on the ground. Split my head wide open, went into a coma. (Note to self: The Virgin Islands is not a safe place for children) A few years later, I was riding my bike and for no reason whatsoever, had my head over the handle bars and was looking down at my front tire. I looked up and hit a parked car with my face. Went to the hospital. Not too long after, I was riding my bike, popped a quick wheelie to get over the bump at the entrance to my driveway. My front tire detached from the bike and I fell. I landed on my face on the driveway. Went to the hospital. (Note to self: Maybe I wasn't safe as a child.)

I'm goin' nowhere, but I'm gauranteed to be late.

I don't feel *right*.

Oh Nooooooo

I just sent an e-mail to quite possibly the most important customer I have. (Like $250K annually)

I opened the e-mail with, "Happy Hokidays!"

Pressed send, but had just enough time to read the typo. I am such a jack ass.

Listening to the voices

Been spending way too much time in my head lately.

When a circumstance where a decision regarding the direction of my day arises, like, "hmmm, I wonder if I should call that customer back right away or just leave the thankless bastard hanging for a few hours?" I reach into the inner depths of my tiny brain and ask myself one question.

"What would Jack do in a situation like this?"

Steers me down the right path every single time.

The taste of a new generation

I came as ice, I came as a whore,

I came as a vice that came too short.

I have sat on many occasions sipping an ice cold Coca-Cola, and on almost as many occasions a genius will comment, "you know, mechanics pour Coke on engine blocks to clean all that nasty grease off." I nod, graciously thank them and guzzle the can until every single drop of that precious liquid is depleted.

My engine block must be really fuckin' clean.

Other people's lives seem more interesting cause they aint mine

As I was still attempting to shake off the "she'll never see it coming" crap, (previous post) I hung out with my peeps. My peeps being the other 150.000 drivers also traveling 3 to 5 miles per hour on the expressway. I did my best to hide the nugget I secretly worked on in the left nostril and listened to mindless, I mean talk radio. "Wouldn't it be great if you would never have to deal with depression and every day you woke up happy?" The commercial drooled out into the airways. Holy shit! Did I just hear that correctly? Could she have truly just spewed that out of her well paid lips? I listened on, and yes, yes she did. Gee, that would be so great! And everyone would love me, finally! I was actually hoping they would expedite the procedure to simply cut out the region of my brain responsible for sadness or depression.

Geez, I'm still workin' through deep, intensive bouts with complacency.

Just like an Ass

Every day as I head home from "the field," as we professional sales pigs refer to it, I drive by a gigantic billboard. This big ass monstrosity offends my wittle little ego every time I see it. It reads: She'll Never See It Coming. Diamonds are Forever. And just why, I ask my imaginary friend riding shotgun, wouldn't she see it coming? Have I become such an inconsiderate thoughtless ass that my lovely wife couldn't even fathom receiving an elegant, expensive gift from your's truly for the holiday? "Oh My God Darek! I always thought you were such an asshole, I never saw this coming... Especially from you, you self-absorbed, cheap, void of a romantic thread in your being turd... This completely changes my entire perception of you."

Maybe I'm being a little sensative. After all, I have had my eye on a genuine diamondele necklace lately.

born slippy

Ants in my house have found a new refuge, the dishwasher. I've eluded in a past post to the knowledge I have aquired from some fine moviemaking that insects, including ants, talk; and hold jobs, go to bars, have social lives. The group contracted to wake up early to make the trip to the dishwasher, or as I now refer to it, Antie Auschwitz, arrive at the job site exclaiming, "Boy! Look at all this food. It's right here on the floor. Hey Joe, canubelievit? Call in the colony. We're gonna need more workers."

Hate to admit it, but I rather enjoy playing insect God and deciding when it's time for them to take a long winter's nap. Holy Shit, come to think of it, according to the previous quiz, I guess the dictatorial shoe fits.

Not the Leader I Had Hoped to be.

What Famous Leader Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

Ramble On

We posses a toothbrush caddy. 4 toothbrushes; two adult, two children, the kind shaped as super heroes or cartoon animals, and 2 tubes of toothpaste; one adult, one children's. I think the kid's paste is flavored grape bubblegum. The "caddy" has four slots. I am intensely compelled to insure they are orderly. The first slot is for the adult toothbrushes, the next for the adult toothpaste, the next for the kid's toothbrushes, leaving the last slot for the kid's toothpaste.

I lay all my clothes out the night before in the order I will put them on the next day. If I'm going to the gym before work, there's two sets of clothes layed out in the order I will use them.

I am really happy when our drinking glasses in the cupboard are in even numbers in their respective incredibly straight rows.

What in the hell is wrong with me? Someone make it stop.

And she said WHAT?

I have this new customer I call on. She's a restaurant manager for the Radisson at Knott's Berry Farm, or is it Knott's Theme Park? Very nice woman; but she's a blinker. She always has a warm disposition - polite, nice smile, and she blinks. I'm not talking about the blink required by the human eyelid to keep our peepers clean and healthy. It's like a wink, but with both eyes. And she blinks her little winky-winky timed precisely when she says something nice or charming. I know this because she tilts her head to one side like a dog when it hears a strange, high-pitched sound, or she shrugs her shoulders slightly... Then she blinks. "Cute little-wittle phrase," blink, "Oh, thank you," mother-fucking blinky-wink. I really wanna slug her in the face.

I had this referee in little league. Every single call the guy made was done with a giant, warm smile on his face. "Strike three, your OUT!" Smiling the entire Goddamn time.

What the hell is wrong with these people? Blinky-wink, BIG SMILE, "Batter, take your base."

I'm gonna start blinking back.

All of You

Feeling a little gushy. Apologies in advance. I've spoken here about my deteriorated faith in people. It may be why I have almost no real friends. (Do your kids count?) Then I was introduced to Blogspot and I found you.

Without beating around the bush, (always hated that term, what in the hell does it mean anyway?) I would like to reach out, God, this is getting cheesy, and say, I REALLY enjoy reading what you guys, and gals are up to. I like reading about you, and I like reading about how you respond to me. I feel like I have a group of friends in this 'lil ol lap top.

Thanks for being there.

(Group Hug)

Jack, get your hand off my ass.

No sign of stopping

That "plant-like thing" is still growing.

In My Head (III)

This may not be interesting to anyone but me, but for some odd reason I'm spending a little too much time in my head today. A few other pointless facts about your's truly:

1) When I was a kid, I used to think that I was the son of the God of the Ocean, Neptune; I had the power to change the tides and speak with sea animals.
2) I secretly hope to hone the Jedi skill of lifting things, like my X-wing Fighter, into the air.
3) I may never drink alcohol again.
4) One important lesson I learned from my parents: No matter how fucked up things get, ALWAYS love your children.
5) I wish I knew everything there is to know about great, classic literature without having to read it all.
6) I would like to have a job that made people fear me. Then they would meet me and say things like, "boy, for a guy in his position, he's really pretty cool."
7) I attempt to make daily tasks more efficient. All the time. ie: This morning I managed to make different breakfasts for each of my daughters at the same time through a series of steps I will improve tomorrow that provided quicker, same time delivery of each.

That's all I, and probably you, can stomach right now.

In My Head (II)

Occasionally, like any other red-blooded human being, I do something stupid and clumsy. I'll smack my head on an open cabinet. It's fairly common because I don't always look where I'm going. When I do, in the instant that follows the infraction, I'll pound on the cabinet, open and slam it a few times, just to insure that Goddamn thing thinks twice before hitting my head next time.

In My Head

Sometimes I play inane games with myself and inanimate objects. Take today as an example. I stepped out of my car and reached into the back seat to grab my coat to take it inside with me. The angle I chose to reach it was between seats and almost painful to reach through, but I was so close to my coat. I could slightly feel the fabric with my fingertips, but couldn't quite reach it. At that moment, I vowed, even if it took all day and quite possibly, a fractured arm, I would reach that coat. I pushed and strained at the poor angle I had originally chosen, inch by inch, until finally, I achieved my goal. I put my coat on, which is quite snappy if I do say so myself, and triumphantly sauntered into the house. Victory was mine. I am a winner.

Yeah, OK.

Painfully obvious

Watching "The Kids Next Door" with the girls... There's a villian on the show named Count Spanks-a-lot. They used to call me that in elememtary school. It still hurts.

I am so sorry

Leaving Las Vegas

So I’m driving up the freeway on my way to Mom’s house today. Incidentally, I take the kids up to see Mom just about every weekend. I don’t ever really feel like gathering up the kids to make the thirty-five minute drive, but honestly, it always feels like the right thing to do. I’ll never feel like I didn’t spend enough time with her or like I didn’t help her out as much as I could have.

As I’m driving, I’m wearing this long-sleeved T-shirt under my other shirt, and the sleeves are a little short. What I do to compensate for the lack of length, (I’ve heard something before about over-compensating for a lack of length, I prefer to under-compensate for my lack of length) is, I take my hands, grab hold of the sleeves from the inside, and pull. (if it were only that simple) I perform the “pull,” and grasp the steering wheel with the end of each sleeve in hand. I suddenly appear as if I have no hands. And I’m driving.

It never seems like anyone turns to the side to nod hello, or make eye contact, or anything. I always feel a little strange when I’m a few feet from someone, and I don’t acknowledge his or her presence, even in a car. Maybe people are afraid these days; all the psychotic drivers n’ all. Today, driving for a few minutes as if I had no hands, was different. Eight drivers passing or being passed did double-takes on my handless appearance. One swerved a little.
I guess the point is, if you ever need someone to notice, if you need a little “extra” attention, just drive your car looking like you have no hands. They’ll take notice, I promise.

Say it again

Not exactly sure what it is about this band, but Modest Mouse stirs my insides.

“Your heart felt good it was drippin pitch and made of wood
And your hands and knees felt cold and wet on the grass to me
Outside naked, shiverin looking blue, from the cold sunlight that's reflected off the moon”

Goddammit, I love those guys.

It's never going to be the same

The television was on in the background. The reason for specifically pointing out the fact it was on, in the background, is relative to its content. “The Hollywood Insider,” or “Entertainment Tonight,” or “Some Shit About Hollywood Personalities We Common Folk Should Have No Business Knowing, or Caring to Know,” was audible… And meaningless, as always. I heard the question: (To Jennifer Anniston) “Did your husband know that you walked in your sleep before he married you?” Stop. Rewind. Did she really ask that question? As if it were a potential deal-breaker. I’m certain that if Brad would have known that Jen walked in her sleep, the nuptials would have never been exchanged.

When, how, why, and HOW (I know I said it twice), did this kind of dribble-drabble, bullshit, without-a-point crap ever become important?

I’m just sayin’

Lame, I know... But useful.

Hey! I'm not sure if this is a big deal to any of you, but a law passed that mandated each person be granted a free credit report once a year from the "big three" credit reporting agencies. Maybe it's been law for awhile, but now it's so easy. Here's the link. You can get your's in a matter of minutes. I've never really looked at mine. I just printed out all three reports and there's shit in there I think I participated in during a black out. (Not electrical, synaptical)

That's my P.S.A. for the day. Hope someone cares...

Or not, whatever. (Right Jack?)

As life gets longer awful feels softer

Holy shit I should be working right now. Quotes, e-mails, proposals, orders to input.

Home office in the beginning: Dude, it’s gonna be so cool. Hangin’ out at home, with the kids, at my house, T.V. on, in my underwear, DUDE! How great is THAT going to be? Home office after almost a year: Wake up, there’s your desk, (office is in the bedroom) you really should get something done. Watching T.V. – a tiny voice from unknown location, “darek, you really need to be working, your HOME OFFICE is right over here!” Huh? (double-take) “Home office,” as it turns out, especially in the same place I sleep, or try to sleep while I think about work because it's roughly 6 feet from where I lay every night, is not so cool.

I challenge the home office by NOT WORKING, sitting right here, in the mix, not quoting, e-mailing, inputting orders. Home office, I challenge you! Shit, I’m gonna be up late tonight. And my customers: “Darek, why were you working on my quote at 11:40 last night?” Fucking e-mail time stamp.

That’s not why I’m posting. I’m home while the wife is out falling in love with Sondre Lerche all over again I’m sure. In fact, go to her blog in a few hours and I’m certain you’ll have the pleasure of reading all about her little Nordic Love God, Sondre. “He is soooo brilliant. He’s soooo charming. I just LOVE him!” (as she looks in my direction) “Uh, in a maternal way.” Anyhoo, she went with her brother and his wife. Hmmmm… We’re like one happy little blogging family. Hell we even have the family blog. I broke the rules and put a picture of the girls on the previous post. “But that’s what our family blog is for.” It is, I just couldn’t help it.
Back to thinking about work, artfully procrastinating with other activities. Um, got anything you need me to do?

Hope Julie gets home and shows ME her love, but not in a maternal way of course. ;)