7/22/2005 - A Leo Roars

So my 38th birthday is near and I'm thinking, where did the 80s and 90s go? Yeah I hear all the younger people saying who cares, the 80s gave us bad music (I love it) and parachute pants (I hated them), and the 90's gave us angst and a president who enjoyed being served in the white house with his pants down (My hero). And wow! Now in the new millennium we have Fiddy Cent on the top of the charts (I hate rap), low rider jeans with thongs peeking out (I love it), and a president whose only aim has been to clean up the unfinished business his father left behind during his term in office (great job George W....you moron).

But enough pissing and moaning. I figure why not embrace and celebrate another year of life no matter who listens to what music, who wears what clothes, or who's in the white house and is he keeping his pants on or not? We're all unique individuals with differing tastes and characteristics, varying opinions and staunch views. So go ahead and deafen yourself by amping up the bass in your ride, pull that thong up higher so I can fantasize about where it's lodged, and vote for whomever the hell you desire. Come Tuesday I'm going to blow out 38 candles, frustrate my wife again because I always know what gift she's gotten for me, get a buzz eating pop rocks while drinking coke, break dance to RUN DMC in my parachute pants with all the zippers undone, and let another year go by without voting because it doesn't really matter to me who's in the white house now that Clinton and Monica are gone.

I can't wait for 2006.

7/20/2005 - Conspriacy Theory

7/20/2005 - Infestations

Atom size pests linger on my shoulders nibbling away the layers of my skin, eating away like some dermatic disease. They sit there all day long as if they own the very flesh on which they feed. No matter what I do there isn't a cure for the itching and burning they infest upon me, I stand in the shower until the hot runs cold and still they will not die. I scrub away maniacally causing my outer shell to redden and crack, and I peel like a sunburnt northerner on his first vacation in the tropics. My affliction is lifelong, I do not remember a time without this existence in my life, nor can I forget the day they swarmed like a plague and made their home within my being. They loudly bicker like children on a playground, shouting curses and throwing blames until the entire horde is frenzied mad by their own insanity; there is no consideration for the body they inhabit, no account for the havoc they wreak. From time to time I hear whispers like the soft grating of nails on a board, incoherent suggestions seeping forth from black molasses pits in the center of my mind, crawling along my nerves until I shiver in below zero atmospheres of ice cold longing. My dreams have slowly and ungracefully morphed into nightmares of hellish insomnia, plagues unseen since Egypt forcing their will and way into every crevice, ceaseless oozing from every pore, uncautioned, uncaring, unfeeling, undoing.

No sleep to dream, I'm wide awake.  

7/16/2005 - Coming of Age

So my 12 year old daughter comes up to me and asks if her friend K. (a boy) can go to the movies with us today. I said, "Isn't that cheating since you already have a boyfriend?" She says, "Oh I broke up with him, he never returned my calls."  "Oh" I say, " well I guess K. can go." 

Since my daughter has hit the prepubescent stage, as much as I don't like to think about it, eventually I knew she would be interested in the opposite sex, and I've spent some time thinking about things I would say to the young men that would eventually make their way into her world. A few examples are:

"Hello I'm E's (my daughter) father. You like my tattoos? I got them in prison, and I don't mind going back."

"Have you heard about the new concealed weapon law? I sure am glad they allow it now. I just love this new leather holster and the .45 that goes in it. Why, just the other day at the shooting range I hit the bullseye on every shot."

"I know you're only 12 years old but do you have a job? 'Cause if your hanging out with my daughter, you gotta pay."

"So tell me, have you ever heard of Jeffery Dahmer? I think the guy was pretty cool myself."

Well, K. came in and wouldn't ya know it, I said none of the above. I introduced myself and we made small talk. We all went out to eat first, and I asked him if he had money for lunch and the movie and he said "Plenty, I mow yards" which was a good first step because I mowed yards when I was his age. I told him we'd pay for lunch and he said "Thank you" which was even better because I had no sense of manners at 12. He was respectful, courteous, and seemed like an all around good kid. However I drew the line when we got back to the house and my daughter wanted the two of them to go to her room upstairs and watch a movie. She accepted my decision without any problem. I might not like that we've moved into this phase of her life, but I love the fact I still get to say what goes and what doesn't. At least for a few more years I can watch out for her.

All in all it wasn't so bad. I figure it's a good beginning in learning a new stage of being a father. More often than not I reminisce when staring at her baby pictures on the walls, and it's conflicting to want your children to grow up, but I am glad she's becoming a young woman. I just didn't think it would happen so fast.

Before K. left for home I asked him about his height. I figure it won't hurt to start researching casket websites before things get too serious.

7/16/2005 - Weekly Tirade's