My Diseased Mind

April

With the month of April nearly behind us without a single blog post, I should probably go ahead and write something. At the expense of making excuses, I’ve been seriously busy. Since the beginning of March, we have:

1. Purchased a medical billing company, although I’m still currently working my old job as well.

2. Enjoyed my 33rd birthday. Manda totally surprised me with a cake and presents, and then I watched movies with The Boy after gorging on cake. I can’t remember having a better birthday.

3. Cringed over The Boy’s 12th birthday. Pizza. Foosball. Video games. The kid equivalent of a casino.

4. Impregnated Manda. Whoopsie. We’re hoping for a girl this time.

So, yeah, my plate’s been a little full. More soon (hopefully).

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Confirmed: My Dad Watches Porn

Yeah, that’s right. Let that wash over you. Ok, bad choice of words there…

Yesterday, we went to my dad’s house for dinner. As is often the case on such trips, Alien and The Boy went to the bedroom to watch cartoons on TV. For some reason, they ran into some trouble with the TV, and my stepmom asked for my help in resolving it. So far, so good.

At first glance, the TV appeared to be on the wrong input source. After cycling through a few of them, I found what looked to be either the satellite receiver, or the DVD player, but for some reason, the screen was rolling. I was able the make out the word ‘Natural’ on what seemed to be a DVD menu screen, so if anything, they were watching The Natural, and busied myself with the remote. Meanwhile, Manda and my stepmom both started nervously asking me to turn it off, while the kids wondered what the big damn deal was. Finally, I got the point, and turned it off. Later, Manda told me that along with the word ‘Natural’ she also saw the term ‘100%’.

Short story long, I pulled a muscle vomiting last night.

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Dad of the Year

An actual conversation I had with The Boy this week:

The Boy: I don’t think I’m going to play football at school anymore.

M: Good idea.

I don’t know if I gave him great advice or shitty advice. There’s probably no middle ground here.

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Crocodile Mouth

The boy is artistic. He dabbles in a variety of media, from pen on paper, pen on cardboard, clay, various paints, and most recently, Magnetix. It’s not unusual for him to call me into his room to see his newest masterpiece.

So when he told me that he wanted me to see what he had been working on, I wasn’t particularly surprised. I can’t say I was really expecting what he had to show me, though.

Seriously, WTF? He’s 11; is it possible this wasn’t intentional? He called it a crocodile mouth. But why would a stubby penis have a crocodile mouth?

And yeah, that’s a stormtrooper blaster right above the, uh, head. What of it?

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Overheard on December 26th

The day after Christmas, The Boy had this conversation with my cousin. Note that this was just over twenty four hours after my mom, in a fit of what can only be described as shitflinging lunacy, presented him with a present of six throwing stars.

Cousin: What did you get for Christmas?
The Boy: (shows off the throwing stars)
Cousin: Wow, who gave you those?
The Boy: Grandma
Cousin: She did? What else did she give you, a bazooka? Assault rifle? Grenades?
The Boy: Did she tell you?

And with those four words, my son bested my cousin, a recent engineering graduate, in a battle of wit.

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Kindergarten Christmas Programs

Because today was the first day of my Christmas vacation and Manda had to work, I was charged with attending her son’s Christmas program. The conversation went like this:

A: Hey, could you go to Alien’s Christmas program on Friday? It’s during work for me.
M: Sure, that sounds like fun. What time is it?
A: 8:30 in the morning.
M: Khaaaaaaaaaaaaan!

I’m paraphrasing, but you get the gist of it.

So, on my first day of vacation, I got up earlier than I do on workdays so that I could shower and return to the campus that hosted the bulk of my early childhood shame.

While there, it occurred to me that there are 4 kinds of kids in these programs:

1. The Rank & File — These kids are the most plentiful. Much like The Dukes of Hazard, they’re making their way the only way they know how, and that involves singing as quietly as possible while aping the actions of the the teacher assigned to completely shred her dignity in front of the parents.

2. The Performer — These are the kids in the front row who are way too into the experience. They usually take dance classes, and when they grow up, would like to be both a ballerina and a veterinarian. Predominantly female.

3. The Robot — The Robots are given speaking lines, usually because they are among the loudest kids in the class. They speak said lines with a cadence best reserved for 50’s sci fi robots.

4. The Choke Artist — There are usually 1-2 choke artists per program. These kids were also given speaking lines. However, the responsibility has now overwhelmed them, and on the big day, they freeze. Despite thousands of recitations the previous few days, the lines have disappeared from their minds, and nothing but the whirring of video cameras can be heard, recording their shame. The choke artist is also referred to as my favorite.

Also noteworthy was the final skit, in which Alien, being the freakishly tall kid of his class, was the star on their Christmas tree. I noticed a strong similarity between their setup, and an iconic part of our culture:

Fuckin A…

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Overheard at Dinner

The Boy: Hey Dad, what do you think the coolest thing in the world is?
Me: I don’t know, but it probably has something to do with sharks.
The Boy: Uh, why sharks?
Me: Because they’re pretty freakin’ cool.
Me: How about ninjas riding sharks? Ninjas with lightsabers?
The Boy: Whoa! That is pretty cool.

That was the conversational equivalent of a paternity test right there.

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At Least We Know He’s Mine

Tonight, The Boy showed me a picture that he drew on the back of a notebook. Along with this picture, he had a story.

I drew it during history class while Mr. Scott was on the phone. He was talking to his mom’s doctor. She died. Well, she didn’t die; he’s trying to decide whether or not to pull the plug.

Here is the picture in question:

That’s mah boy!

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Overheard On The Way To Soccer Practice

Today The Boy and I spotted a woman jogging while pushing a baby carriage. I had seen her last week, and strangely, the carriage was empty:

M: Hey, see if she’s got a baby in that carriage.
The Boy: Nope, it’s empty.
M: That’s so creepy. I wonder if her baby’s dead.
The Boy slowly turns his head and stares at me.
M: What? I seriously wonder that. Maybe she went crazy after it died.
The Boy: You scare me Dad.
M: (laughing now) Oh sure, like you weren’t thinking it!
M: (more laughing)
M: (laughing again)

Either he’s going to block it all out and is destined for great things, or he’s chopping me up with an axe when he’s 19. There’s really no middle ground here.

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My Asshole Kid

Today, as we left the grocery store:

The Boy: Over the years, I’ve learned a lot about women. Show them the pretty face, and they love you. I’m doing better than you, Dad.

Me: Over quite a few more years, I’ve learned quite a bit more about women. The pretty face will only get you so far. Then comes the crazy.

Note that there was a slight pause between what he said and what I said, as he recovered from a throat punch.

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