Oh! Sorry! I blacked out there when you were strumming my pain with your presence
So after all the scraped knees and tiresome lectures coming from mom about getting holes in my new pants, I finally finagled my way around the barricades that were holding me back from my true potential and managed to procure a raise out of my job. Good news, right? Thing was, I was THIS close from calling in that day. When I arose from bed that morning I had this insidious pain just lurking right out of my stomach and I knew if I just waltzed right into to work with my head held high, 10 minutes into my shift I’d be running back home with explosive diarrhea and vomiting, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. There were only two distinct possibilities as to why this was all happening to me.
First, I immediately sought out to point blame at my baby for getting me sick. Oh am I going too far for you? He’s done it before, and on purpose I might add. Listen, he’s perfectly comfortable in his own skin that he can just sit there and shit his pants, scream at you for a cookie and give you a cold for your birthday present wrapped in a shit filled diaper like it’s nothing, and everyone just sort of stands there and coos at him for some reason. However, I’m on to his little game. You have to look past the facades to see what he’s really doing you know? TRUST ME, HE KNOWS WHATS UP! I should know. He’s just an empirical reflection of myself, only he’s got more rock star in him than I do (because, you know he throws up all the time and gets chicks just for hanging out and being naked). He’s a smart boy. Genius I tell ya! He even knows his abc’s AND the entire guns n’ roses discography to say the least. So what’s to say he doesn’t know what he’s doing hmm? I suppose he attributes this to an early life viewing of John Hughes‘ “baby‘s day out” which is, I’d say, about as good a reason as there is to be a little Stewie Griffrin, right? Nah I’m just playing. My kid isn’t REALLY that mischievous. Sheesh.
ANYWAY, his mom called me that morning complaining to me that he was up all night with her, which sort of scratches his name off my list, seeing that he was a little preoccupied trying to piss his mom off instead. So I just left it with option numero dose. The brats I had the night before (Yuk!). Worth it? Eh. My glutes haven’t forgiven me yet if that says anything…SO…yeah, Good times were had!
So since we’re on the subject I suppose I should make it official to the cyberspace world that Jax is officially a walker now! Go ahead... Clap. It’s safe here. It’s kind of funny though because he hasn’t quite mastered it yet. He reminds me sort of what I imagined all the zombies from the book World War Z to look like when trying to imitate the humans. You really have to keep your eye on him too because he’s a quick little skiddle. Time to bust out the leash! Haha. Just playing…You know I’ve been thinking a lot about this too: Kids learn to walk before they learn to comprehend things, like how it feels to get hit by a car or what it’s going to take to find mommy in this gigantic parking lot, and yet assholes just blithely comment on this like it’s their fucking right. “Don’t put that kid on a leash. He’s not a dog!” Hey, guess what asshole? He’s not a dog, but I’ve got kind of a lot to keep track of over here! So firstly, and secondly, go fuck yourself. You know what’s dangerous? Coming up to strangers and telling them how to raise their kids, ESPECIALLY if they’re just doing something harmless that protects said kid. You know what? You should maybe get that tubby wife of yours to put YOU on a leash so you don’t wind up getting punched in the face for sticking your nose in other people’s business asshat. Your feet would remember you better if you just backed the fuck off.
Anyway, my kid doesn‘t need one of these, and as such, he’s never been on a leash, so this isn’t a gripe from personal experience. It’s just one of those things I’ve seen happen and it’s fucking infuriating. That person is a parent, their life is over and they’re trying to navigate this drunk midget with no grasp of English or the physical world through the fucking mall without some Freddie Mercury looking mother fucker attempting to lure them in with their freshly innovated bubblegum flavored vodka and windowless van. Give ‘em a fucking break, man. Christ.
Anyway there’s a lot hanging out under the large umbrella of ‘things to do this weekend’ that I need to plan for right now. Tomorrow? Work, as per usual. Sunday? Hiking Mt. Pilchuck or go to the fair. Monday? It’s looking like hanging out with my grandparents on the beaches of Kingston. This all really spells out Good time if ask me. Tonight I’m jamming with my friend and writing some songs. Might meet up with some friends and grab a beer? I don’t know though. We’ve seen their sweat asses a billion times, so we may just stay home and save money. I don’t know yet. My baby’s first birthday is coming up. It’s going to be spaced themed. Cool, right? Ahh I’m done with this bullshit now. Have a good weekend and lets hippity poppit next week, eh? I left the meat loaf in the oven so make sure you take it out at 6pm? Okay? Helloooo?! Are you listening to me?!
First, I immediately sought out to point blame at my baby for getting me sick. Oh am I going too far for you? He’s done it before, and on purpose I might add. Listen, he’s perfectly comfortable in his own skin that he can just sit there and shit his pants, scream at you for a cookie and give you a cold for your birthday present wrapped in a shit filled diaper like it’s nothing, and everyone just sort of stands there and coos at him for some reason. However, I’m on to his little game. You have to look past the facades to see what he’s really doing you know? TRUST ME, HE KNOWS WHATS UP! I should know. He’s just an empirical reflection of myself, only he’s got more rock star in him than I do (because, you know he throws up all the time and gets chicks just for hanging out and being naked). He’s a smart boy. Genius I tell ya! He even knows his abc’s AND the entire guns n’ roses discography to say the least. So what’s to say he doesn’t know what he’s doing hmm? I suppose he attributes this to an early life viewing of John Hughes‘ “baby‘s day out” which is, I’d say, about as good a reason as there is to be a little Stewie Griffrin, right? Nah I’m just playing. My kid isn’t REALLY that mischievous. Sheesh.
ANYWAY, his mom called me that morning complaining to me that he was up all night with her, which sort of scratches his name off my list, seeing that he was a little preoccupied trying to piss his mom off instead. So I just left it with option numero dose. The brats I had the night before (Yuk!). Worth it? Eh. My glutes haven’t forgiven me yet if that says anything…SO…yeah, Good times were had!
So since we’re on the subject I suppose I should make it official to the cyberspace world that Jax is officially a walker now! Go ahead... Clap. It’s safe here. It’s kind of funny though because he hasn’t quite mastered it yet. He reminds me sort of what I imagined all the zombies from the book World War Z to look like when trying to imitate the humans. You really have to keep your eye on him too because he’s a quick little skiddle. Time to bust out the leash! Haha. Just playing…You know I’ve been thinking a lot about this too: Kids learn to walk before they learn to comprehend things, like how it feels to get hit by a car or what it’s going to take to find mommy in this gigantic parking lot, and yet assholes just blithely comment on this like it’s their fucking right. “Don’t put that kid on a leash. He’s not a dog!” Hey, guess what asshole? He’s not a dog, but I’ve got kind of a lot to keep track of over here! So firstly, and secondly, go fuck yourself. You know what’s dangerous? Coming up to strangers and telling them how to raise their kids, ESPECIALLY if they’re just doing something harmless that protects said kid. You know what? You should maybe get that tubby wife of yours to put YOU on a leash so you don’t wind up getting punched in the face for sticking your nose in other people’s business asshat. Your feet would remember you better if you just backed the fuck off.
Anyway, my kid doesn‘t need one of these, and as such, he’s never been on a leash, so this isn’t a gripe from personal experience. It’s just one of those things I’ve seen happen and it’s fucking infuriating. That person is a parent, their life is over and they’re trying to navigate this drunk midget with no grasp of English or the physical world through the fucking mall without some Freddie Mercury looking mother fucker attempting to lure them in with their freshly innovated bubblegum flavored vodka and windowless van. Give ‘em a fucking break, man. Christ.
Anyway there’s a lot hanging out under the large umbrella of ‘things to do this weekend’ that I need to plan for right now. Tomorrow? Work, as per usual. Sunday? Hiking Mt. Pilchuck or go to the fair. Monday? It’s looking like hanging out with my grandparents on the beaches of Kingston. This all really spells out Good time if ask me. Tonight I’m jamming with my friend and writing some songs. Might meet up with some friends and grab a beer? I don’t know though. We’ve seen their sweat asses a billion times, so we may just stay home and save money. I don’t know yet. My baby’s first birthday is coming up. It’s going to be spaced themed. Cool, right? Ahh I’m done with this bullshit now. Have a good weekend and lets hippity poppit next week, eh? I left the meat loaf in the oven so make sure you take it out at 6pm? Okay? Helloooo?! Are you listening to me?!