Today marked our first official softball practice. I drafted the team this year so I have a pretty good grasp of the personalities on the team. For 3rd and 4th graders it is essential that you have coachable girls. I could care less if we lose every game. If the girls are interested and focused they will get better. And, I hope, they will have fun along the way. Last year was an eye opener when we moved our daughter up, playing a 2nd grader in the 3rd/4th grade league. I took a passive role and watched as she became more and more disinterested due to a coach that put too much emphasis on wins and losses. Should we really be teaching girls to not swing in order to get walks??? Of course not. I will not fall into that trap this year. These girls will learn where the play is. They will learn to throw the ball properly. They will learn wear catch the ball with the glove facing upward. If time permits we can get into the proper ways to chastize an ump, spit correctly and chest bump. I may allow for some bench cheers, but that is debatable. Cheering is for cheerleaders. If you are playing softball I really have no patience for the annoying cheers. There is nothing worse than watching the college softball World Series and hearing 20 somethings cheer from the dugout. Just thinking about it made me throw up in my mouth a bit.
The real test will be co-coaching with a wife who could is straddling the line between loving and hating me. Let's say all is well and there is a close play at the plate. Perhaps our girl is thrown out due to me sending her home from 3rd. That might be grounds for divorce. Maybe I leave a girl in too long on the mound and the next batter hits a game winning home run, Divorce. Maybe I forget the post game donuts. You guessed it. Divorce.
I suppose it could go the other way. Every game is a picture of Rockwellian beauty. Grandparents holding American flags in ragged lawn chairs. Younger siblings having a catch with their dads as they follow the action. The mrs and I hand and hand as we write the line-up card, teach the grand game, and bask in the sunshine. Watching, ever so closely, as our prized pedigree pitches and hits our team to glory.
More realistically it promises to be somewhere in between. Daughter will more than likely rebel at times. You hated having one parent coach you, right? Try two!!! And two parents on the precipice of utter disaster for that matter. She is full of talent though. So I am sure we push her harder than others. That being said, she will have plenty of success. There will certainly be times we scratch our heads. The two times we play our coach from last year should be enlightening. At the draft we laid the ground rules for the upcoming season. We decided each game would have a gentlemen's agreement prior to first pitch. He was one to have girls circle the bases until the pitcher got the ball back. Now, this is 3rd and 4th grade softball. If a ball goes awry in the infield it could take several throws and minutes to harness that ball in the pitchers circle. This is instructional ball. My opinion was work more on fundamentals than embarassing others. Shit, if a girl was on 3rd base and the pitcher had the ball at the mound, 9 out of 10 times she could run home and score safely. Rarer than exposed skin on a Muslim woman to complete a successful throw, catch and tag. I am sure when I tell him there will be 1 base only on overthrows it will be met with resistance. I will remain positive for now. The kids seem great. No one was hurt today. Nobody cried. And for a moment it felt like spring was near.
So, we hope to teach the right way and the wrong way. All the while trying to live our own lives without damaging those in and around them. Baby steps I keep telling myself. Play ball!!!
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Cedar Rapids... a nice place to visit
Last week I raved and raved about Paul Giamatti. In particular, I marveled about his performance in Barney's Version. This week, Ed Helms is securely in the spotlight. As Tim Lippe, an innocent, naive midwestern insurance salesman, Mr. Helms has once again delivered a nuanced effort. Off to save his small company at the annual insurance convention, Lippe veers off track.
Havig never been in an airplane, or in a hotel, or apparently in a rental car ("Sweet" he mutters when he says his temporary ride) Lippe soon finds out trouble is lurking, everywhere. Lippe, along by John C Reilley as (the prototypical loud mouth drunkard) Anne Heche (vixen) and Isiah Whitlock (seasoned pro) find out how cuthroat the insurance biz can be. Double crossing, lying, sexual depravity, and bribery pepper the conventions' Cedar Rapids hotel. Every firm represented kissesChaper President Orin Helgesson (an always reliable Kurtwood Smith) ass in an attempt to capture the prestigious 2 Diamond Award. Lippe's firm has won the past few. Will he be able to bring it back home? Will he be able to stay away from temptations? Can he maintain his integrity?
More a film on the overall theme of whoring oneself, Cedar Rapids is full of good, clean laughter. Reilly is over the top and clearly having fun as Deansie. We have all know the guy. Bigger than life with the best timing for the most inappropriate joke. Heche's Joan is a fiery career gal with devoted family back home. This is her yearly escape. A few days to kickck and forget about the soccer games, romance-less marriage and a life unfilled. "Remember, what happens in Cedar Rapids..." And Isisah Whitlock as Wilkes, brings just the right touch of humor and warmth.
Lippe has never seen anyone like this group. Hell, he even cowers in fear when Whitlock opens the door to let him into their shared suitet. He is on a call home when he declares "A large African Amercian is at my door." Helms, who was much of the reason The Hangover had success, is perfect as Lippe. At times soft and vulnerable, the next smoking crack and getting into fights. Helms is rock steady playing either type. And all along, there are quality laughs.
Good to see everyman as tragic and/or comedic leads. Certainly I can relate far more to Helms bumbling insurance rep than say, Matt Damon's Bourne character. Granted, I am probably more attractive than both, but you get the point. Life is a series of missteps and fuck-ups. I have yet to be in a car chase or jump through a plate glass window. And yes, this might be an indictment on Adjustment Bureau. I like Emily Blunt and I am sure it's a fine and entertaining film. But, do I have to buy into a closet opening a time portal? And why does the bureau have to look like 50's ad men? And they cast John Slattery as a cheap rip off???
I will wait for DVD. Obviously, I like to torture myself with all that is wrong with world. Why suspend disbelief for a while when you can be reminded how much life can hurt??? "Do you know what it's like to fall on the floor, cry your guts out till ya got no more, hey man now you're really living.*"
Special credit to Phil Johnston who wrote a smart, funny script. And director Miquel Arteta keeps the film well paced and tight.
NEW FEATURE
The Suburban Dad Notices:
You, with the ratty sweatpants and stomach hanging over them. Have you just given up? And could you try to do something with your hair? When was the last time you went to a salon? Nails done? Gym? C'mon now!!! You can do better. But wait, that's not what I am mad about. No, cause I look like shit too, so who gives a fuck? No, you are one of those aren't you??? I did not notice at first because I was looking at the hole in your sweats. Plus I assumed you were talking to a friend in line cause you are so fucking loud. Nope, I get it now. You have the bluetooth in ear and we are now all soooo lucky to hear about your kids in college, and dogs illness, and gout. Thanks. I was so hoping I could learn the inner thinking of a deranged stranger this morning. All before 8am. Please do me a favor and talk this loud when you get to the register. Excellent, you did it. Now the barista has asked you 3 times what you want because she doesn't know f your talking to her or your imaginary friend on the phone. Let's hope you order a, oh there it is... 8 pump, double whip venti, soy caramel latte. Time sucking, inconsiderate oxygen taker!!! Indicative to NJ? East coast? Please tell me your kids are fictiouts. Could they have been raised by you and still function effectively, and more important, politely? Next time let's pretend that your time is not more valuable than the hard working baristas that have to deal with people like us (read:you.) Politely stay off the phone for 5 minutes. If, for some reason the call is essential, wait outside until it reaches its conculsion. Then calmly proceed to line. When prompted give the nice barista your order and attention. Would not hurt to say "hello, please, thank you." The $5.00 drink you get does not entitle you to be aloof, rude or pretentious. Every 5 year old in town can buy that drink with their milk money. And they know how to say please and thank you. I am watching you. And as soon as you get off the phone I will say something. Just don't want to interrupt your call, That's rude.
*Song lyrics: Eels
Havig never been in an airplane, or in a hotel, or apparently in a rental car ("Sweet" he mutters when he says his temporary ride) Lippe soon finds out trouble is lurking, everywhere. Lippe, along by John C Reilley as (the prototypical loud mouth drunkard) Anne Heche (vixen) and Isiah Whitlock (seasoned pro) find out how cuthroat the insurance biz can be. Double crossing, lying, sexual depravity, and bribery pepper the conventions' Cedar Rapids hotel. Every firm represented kissesChaper President Orin Helgesson (an always reliable Kurtwood Smith) ass in an attempt to capture the prestigious 2 Diamond Award. Lippe's firm has won the past few. Will he be able to bring it back home? Will he be able to stay away from temptations? Can he maintain his integrity?
More a film on the overall theme of whoring oneself, Cedar Rapids is full of good, clean laughter. Reilly is over the top and clearly having fun as Deansie. We have all know the guy. Bigger than life with the best timing for the most inappropriate joke. Heche's Joan is a fiery career gal with devoted family back home. This is her yearly escape. A few days to kickck and forget about the soccer games, romance-less marriage and a life unfilled. "Remember, what happens in Cedar Rapids..." And Isisah Whitlock as Wilkes, brings just the right touch of humor and warmth.
Lippe has never seen anyone like this group. Hell, he even cowers in fear when Whitlock opens the door to let him into their shared suitet. He is on a call home when he declares "A large African Amercian is at my door." Helms, who was much of the reason The Hangover had success, is perfect as Lippe. At times soft and vulnerable, the next smoking crack and getting into fights. Helms is rock steady playing either type. And all along, there are quality laughs.
Good to see everyman as tragic and/or comedic leads. Certainly I can relate far more to Helms bumbling insurance rep than say, Matt Damon's Bourne character. Granted, I am probably more attractive than both, but you get the point. Life is a series of missteps and fuck-ups. I have yet to be in a car chase or jump through a plate glass window. And yes, this might be an indictment on Adjustment Bureau. I like Emily Blunt and I am sure it's a fine and entertaining film. But, do I have to buy into a closet opening a time portal? And why does the bureau have to look like 50's ad men? And they cast John Slattery as a cheap rip off???
I will wait for DVD. Obviously, I like to torture myself with all that is wrong with world. Why suspend disbelief for a while when you can be reminded how much life can hurt??? "Do you know what it's like to fall on the floor, cry your guts out till ya got no more, hey man now you're really living.*"
Special credit to Phil Johnston who wrote a smart, funny script. And director Miquel Arteta keeps the film well paced and tight.
NEW FEATURE
The Suburban Dad Notices:
You, with the ratty sweatpants and stomach hanging over them. Have you just given up? And could you try to do something with your hair? When was the last time you went to a salon? Nails done? Gym? C'mon now!!! You can do better. But wait, that's not what I am mad about. No, cause I look like shit too, so who gives a fuck? No, you are one of those aren't you??? I did not notice at first because I was looking at the hole in your sweats. Plus I assumed you were talking to a friend in line cause you are so fucking loud. Nope, I get it now. You have the bluetooth in ear and we are now all soooo lucky to hear about your kids in college, and dogs illness, and gout. Thanks. I was so hoping I could learn the inner thinking of a deranged stranger this morning. All before 8am. Please do me a favor and talk this loud when you get to the register. Excellent, you did it. Now the barista has asked you 3 times what you want because she doesn't know f your talking to her or your imaginary friend on the phone. Let's hope you order a, oh there it is... 8 pump, double whip venti, soy caramel latte. Time sucking, inconsiderate oxygen taker!!! Indicative to NJ? East coast? Please tell me your kids are fictiouts. Could they have been raised by you and still function effectively, and more important, politely? Next time let's pretend that your time is not more valuable than the hard working baristas that have to deal with people like us (read:you.) Politely stay off the phone for 5 minutes. If, for some reason the call is essential, wait outside until it reaches its conculsion. Then calmly proceed to line. When prompted give the nice barista your order and attention. Would not hurt to say "hello, please, thank you." The $5.00 drink you get does not entitle you to be aloof, rude or pretentious. Every 5 year old in town can buy that drink with their milk money. And they know how to say please and thank you. I am watching you. And as soon as you get off the phone I will say something. Just don't want to interrupt your call, That's rude.
*Song lyrics: Eels
Friday, March 4, 2011
Guilty Pleasures
Still very much 9.12 in my every day life. The simple basketball pick-up games come into question each time I attempt them. "Are you really going to play hoops? With whom? Where?"
I get it. And sometimes the games will have to go on without me. Or, as was the case last night, I will have to bail after 1 game. A shame really, but only myself to blame. However, my inability to play defense, run the floor, pass effectively and even look like I know what I am doing, is a guilty pleasure. I know my game is weak. I know, after putting the ball down for 15 years or so, I am the world's laziest 2 guard. However, when 5 men are working their fat asses off trying hard to beat their opponents... it is as good as it gets. Nevermind I am one injury away from never playing again. Nevermind I badly injured an ankle a few years back and I never heard the end of it. No fewer than 3 friends tore Achilles tendons within the past few years. It is a calculated risk for sure. But if history has been any indication of present behaviors... I would like to keep playing. Ok, play badly. Least I can make a few shots here and there. And I am all world shit talker.
Music:
Having an 8 year old daughter can be quite enlightening. Although she was never one for fads (save for High School Musical, which she adored for about 2 weeks) she does like new pop music. So, I tend to listen to a bit of Hits 1 on Sirius radio. Since I drive all the time I do hog the radio knob. There is only so much Adult Alternative an 8 year old should listen to. It is a little sad that she can sing along to several Ryan Adams songs, and Chris Isaac, and Lucinda Williams. I mix in the 80's too, which she likes. Thought is was an ode to dad when she downloaded Cutting Crew a few months back. But Hits 1 can be a refreshing change of pace. I know all the Katy Perry and Lady Gaga songs. Not a fan of "Born this Way," but would watch the video on a continuous loop. Lately, she has gotten me into Bruno Mars "Grenade." After his performance at the Grammy's I paid closer attention. He can indeed bring it. Maybe I like the fact that he has a weed arrest/trial pending. I feel that gives him an added credibility. In any event, the song's lyrics are so campy and goofy I am strangely compelled. Truth be told the verses are boring as hell. But when he breaks down the chorus... "Step in front of a train for ya..." I am hooked.
Usher's dance song "DJ's got us falling in love again" has the same effect on me. Earlier in the week we had a brief break from the worst winter ever. I was able to drive downtown with, dare I say, the windows open. I had this song on at a decibel level that might have raised some eyebrows. Hence, guilty pleasure. Realizing someone might see/hear me jamming to this lady tune I quickly turned down the volume and rolled up the windows. Then I promptly went to the salon for a pedi and eyebrow wax.
Justin Townes Earle's "Harlem River Blues" also is on my radar. Bluesy and spiritual all at once, with the the Upper West Side as its muse, Mr. Earle's song is the definition of dichotomy. Again, having been through some tough times in and around the NYC area I might be a bit biased. But I trust you shall not be disappointed when searching it out on the interweb.
Cultural Rants:
Thought it fascinating that BYU dismissed their leading rebounder, Brandon Davies the other day. One week removed from entering the top 5 because it was determined he broke the school's conduct code, and got laid. Now, call me crazy, but BYU done lost its effin mind. I understand they have rules in place. I understand Joseph Smith himself would bitch slap this boy if he were still around. But, can you let your team advance into March and then cut him/have him transfer once the season is over. What now of Jimmer Fredette? Here is arguably the greatest scorer in the college game today now looking at a one and done appearance in the NCAA's. New Mexico came into to Provo last night and laid a beatdown on the Mormons. So, from being on top of the world one minute to being a laughingstock. And, for what? College sophomore wanted a taste. Let's think for a moment if every college in America had that rule. Right, there would be no fucking games. Least this boy was gettin all book smart and stuff. He has a libido at 20? Um, yeah, that's called normal. This is a not an average player on an average team. Davies will be missed for sure. School officials took a legitimate team and made them jokes. Ok, more of a joke. Any school that wants to limit what a young man can do in his personal life IS and always WILL BE kidding itself. OK, it's cool to marry 7 women once you have done your training? Excuse me, I think if you are going to have that kind of responsibility a head start should be a requirement. Thanks for playing BYU. Have fun losing to the 11th Big East seed to get in.
Finally, I saw a headline earlier regarding shopping carts. I would never read the entire article because the headline was something like "72% of carts have fecal matter on them." Now what the hell??? Can that possibly be true? Do people just not wash their hands or am I missing every toddler in creation shitting in carts??? Seriously, we can do better. I swear we are a mere decade away from ending up as some amalgam of current New Delhi and Blade Runner x 10. Countdown to end times starts.... now.
I get it. And sometimes the games will have to go on without me. Or, as was the case last night, I will have to bail after 1 game. A shame really, but only myself to blame. However, my inability to play defense, run the floor, pass effectively and even look like I know what I am doing, is a guilty pleasure. I know my game is weak. I know, after putting the ball down for 15 years or so, I am the world's laziest 2 guard. However, when 5 men are working their fat asses off trying hard to beat their opponents... it is as good as it gets. Nevermind I am one injury away from never playing again. Nevermind I badly injured an ankle a few years back and I never heard the end of it. No fewer than 3 friends tore Achilles tendons within the past few years. It is a calculated risk for sure. But if history has been any indication of present behaviors... I would like to keep playing. Ok, play badly. Least I can make a few shots here and there. And I am all world shit talker.
Music:
Having an 8 year old daughter can be quite enlightening. Although she was never one for fads (save for High School Musical, which she adored for about 2 weeks) she does like new pop music. So, I tend to listen to a bit of Hits 1 on Sirius radio. Since I drive all the time I do hog the radio knob. There is only so much Adult Alternative an 8 year old should listen to. It is a little sad that she can sing along to several Ryan Adams songs, and Chris Isaac, and Lucinda Williams. I mix in the 80's too, which she likes. Thought is was an ode to dad when she downloaded Cutting Crew a few months back. But Hits 1 can be a refreshing change of pace. I know all the Katy Perry and Lady Gaga songs. Not a fan of "Born this Way," but would watch the video on a continuous loop. Lately, she has gotten me into Bruno Mars "Grenade." After his performance at the Grammy's I paid closer attention. He can indeed bring it. Maybe I like the fact that he has a weed arrest/trial pending. I feel that gives him an added credibility. In any event, the song's lyrics are so campy and goofy I am strangely compelled. Truth be told the verses are boring as hell. But when he breaks down the chorus... "Step in front of a train for ya..." I am hooked.
Usher's dance song "DJ's got us falling in love again" has the same effect on me. Earlier in the week we had a brief break from the worst winter ever. I was able to drive downtown with, dare I say, the windows open. I had this song on at a decibel level that might have raised some eyebrows. Hence, guilty pleasure. Realizing someone might see/hear me jamming to this lady tune I quickly turned down the volume and rolled up the windows. Then I promptly went to the salon for a pedi and eyebrow wax.
Justin Townes Earle's "Harlem River Blues" also is on my radar. Bluesy and spiritual all at once, with the the Upper West Side as its muse, Mr. Earle's song is the definition of dichotomy. Again, having been through some tough times in and around the NYC area I might be a bit biased. But I trust you shall not be disappointed when searching it out on the interweb.
Cultural Rants:
Thought it fascinating that BYU dismissed their leading rebounder, Brandon Davies the other day. One week removed from entering the top 5 because it was determined he broke the school's conduct code, and got laid. Now, call me crazy, but BYU done lost its effin mind. I understand they have rules in place. I understand Joseph Smith himself would bitch slap this boy if he were still around. But, can you let your team advance into March and then cut him/have him transfer once the season is over. What now of Jimmer Fredette? Here is arguably the greatest scorer in the college game today now looking at a one and done appearance in the NCAA's. New Mexico came into to Provo last night and laid a beatdown on the Mormons. So, from being on top of the world one minute to being a laughingstock. And, for what? College sophomore wanted a taste. Let's think for a moment if every college in America had that rule. Right, there would be no fucking games. Least this boy was gettin all book smart and stuff. He has a libido at 20? Um, yeah, that's called normal. This is a not an average player on an average team. Davies will be missed for sure. School officials took a legitimate team and made them jokes. Ok, more of a joke. Any school that wants to limit what a young man can do in his personal life IS and always WILL BE kidding itself. OK, it's cool to marry 7 women once you have done your training? Excuse me, I think if you are going to have that kind of responsibility a head start should be a requirement. Thanks for playing BYU. Have fun losing to the 11th Big East seed to get in.
Finally, I saw a headline earlier regarding shopping carts. I would never read the entire article because the headline was something like "72% of carts have fecal matter on them." Now what the hell??? Can that possibly be true? Do people just not wash their hands or am I missing every toddler in creation shitting in carts??? Seriously, we can do better. I swear we are a mere decade away from ending up as some amalgam of current New Delhi and Blade Runner x 10. Countdown to end times starts.... now.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Shameless promotion
Please go to: http://www.mcallcommunity.com/best-of-blogs/2011/nominations/index.php
Nominate the Suburban Dad blog...
in Misfits category of course...
and follow me on twitter should you like... suburbandad23
Nominate the Suburban Dad blog...
in Misfits category of course...
and follow me on twitter should you like... suburbandad23
Days like this
I wish to be working feverishly in the City. I would gladly take meet and greets with clients. Maybe a Guinness lunch at the bar downstairs from our office. The New Jersey days are far more complicated. Had to use the Dunkin Donuts coercion to get N to school on time... dropping the Mrs of at the train on the way. N gets so upset when it gets past 8am and she is not at school. Somehow, she has in her mind that anything after 8am is late. Nevermind the bell rings at 8:15. Then they have prayer, and God Bless America, and classroom prayers and announcements. Learning takes place somewhere around 9am. Somewhere along the way it becomes obvious her teacher has a boyfriend who sends roses. Found out yesterday the principal is out after 2 years too. So, we will have the 3rd principal in 5 years. Not feeling that.
To make matters worse, our pastor flaked out and left the parish a few years back. It was never quite clear what happened. There was a depression sabbatical for a bit... then an effort to come back... then gone. I had driven him a few times back in my limo days. He would take a vacation to Vegas every once in a while. I never suspected anything sinister. You always fear the worst when a Roman Catholic leaves suddenly. Will indictments follow? Will I be asked to contribute more to the legal fund?
I never sensed that though. If anything, I thought Vegas trips were an excuse to gamble, drink and maybe see the misses. It would not have surprised me at all to see him retire, marry some nice woman and move on. Nope. He just vanished. Now, I am told, he has resurfaced at another Jersey parish. Thinking maybe it all makes sense. This town, and in particular that parish, drove him fucking crazy. Got a feeling the principal came to town hearing these people were a bunch of lunatics. That is the only thing I can think as to why she had ZERO personality. I am thinking her approach was to play the stern tyrant. It was the Joe Clarke mantality from day 1. She had the school and its academics first in her mind. She would go after grants and bring technology to each classroom. But absent were any social graces. I would make eye contact with her 4, 5 times a week. Do you think I could get one hello? "Good Morning, how are you?"
Never. And I really don't give a shit. But I am not the straw stirring the drink. The tennis moms, banker's wives, home school crew... they are the ones you need to worry about. And lest we forget the students. Come down on them hard enough, and over time, who will they bitch too? You got it. Those same women who want their ass kissed in the first place. So, you cross them and anger their kids? Last thing they want to hear from their kids at night is anything. Do your work. Tell your folks you love them, without sarcasm, and go to bed. I know when I picked up my daughter yesterday she was THRILLED at the news. And I am told, as classes read the letter in school at the end of the day loud cheers erupted. He who laughs last...
Had to get our 97 Altima serviced. It has the look of white trash, and until today it had the sound too. Some pipe or leak... expect me to know? Then the internet went down for a bit. The dreaded automated service tech call. Brilliant. 45 minutes later it came back up. Just brutal. Now, must brave the elements and walk to garage to pick up the car. Then school pick-up. Homework. 3 dinners. Maybe combat on the basketball court or at home. Will look forward to NYC work tomorrow. Job installations. A beginning and an end.
UPDATE WHITE RABBITS:
It takes some time, but things do come back to me. After creating a White Rabbits station on Pandora, I remembered (2) highlights from Saturday's shows. If you have the time to download/listen to "Rudie Falls" or "Right Where They Left" please do so. Imagine then the tightly constructed beats and the percussion in particular. They are worth your 6 or 7 minutes.
And speaking of Pandora (www.pandora.com)... a truly amazing app. Even if you do not have a smartphone, this is something every computer should have bookmarked. I could probably create a station a day, for the next year, and still find it fascinating. Go ahead and start if you have yet to do so. And everybody's first Pandora station should be the Eels.
I can almost hear the boos through the computer. And did someone just throw a tomato???
To make matters worse, our pastor flaked out and left the parish a few years back. It was never quite clear what happened. There was a depression sabbatical for a bit... then an effort to come back... then gone. I had driven him a few times back in my limo days. He would take a vacation to Vegas every once in a while. I never suspected anything sinister. You always fear the worst when a Roman Catholic leaves suddenly. Will indictments follow? Will I be asked to contribute more to the legal fund?
I never sensed that though. If anything, I thought Vegas trips were an excuse to gamble, drink and maybe see the misses. It would not have surprised me at all to see him retire, marry some nice woman and move on. Nope. He just vanished. Now, I am told, he has resurfaced at another Jersey parish. Thinking maybe it all makes sense. This town, and in particular that parish, drove him fucking crazy. Got a feeling the principal came to town hearing these people were a bunch of lunatics. That is the only thing I can think as to why she had ZERO personality. I am thinking her approach was to play the stern tyrant. It was the Joe Clarke mantality from day 1. She had the school and its academics first in her mind. She would go after grants and bring technology to each classroom. But absent were any social graces. I would make eye contact with her 4, 5 times a week. Do you think I could get one hello? "Good Morning, how are you?"
Never. And I really don't give a shit. But I am not the straw stirring the drink. The tennis moms, banker's wives, home school crew... they are the ones you need to worry about. And lest we forget the students. Come down on them hard enough, and over time, who will they bitch too? You got it. Those same women who want their ass kissed in the first place. So, you cross them and anger their kids? Last thing they want to hear from their kids at night is anything. Do your work. Tell your folks you love them, without sarcasm, and go to bed. I know when I picked up my daughter yesterday she was THRILLED at the news. And I am told, as classes read the letter in school at the end of the day loud cheers erupted. He who laughs last...
Had to get our 97 Altima serviced. It has the look of white trash, and until today it had the sound too. Some pipe or leak... expect me to know? Then the internet went down for a bit. The dreaded automated service tech call. Brilliant. 45 minutes later it came back up. Just brutal. Now, must brave the elements and walk to garage to pick up the car. Then school pick-up. Homework. 3 dinners. Maybe combat on the basketball court or at home. Will look forward to NYC work tomorrow. Job installations. A beginning and an end.
UPDATE WHITE RABBITS:
It takes some time, but things do come back to me. After creating a White Rabbits station on Pandora, I remembered (2) highlights from Saturday's shows. If you have the time to download/listen to "Rudie Falls" or "Right Where They Left" please do so. Imagine then the tightly constructed beats and the percussion in particular. They are worth your 6 or 7 minutes.
And speaking of Pandora (www.pandora.com)... a truly amazing app. Even if you do not have a smartphone, this is something every computer should have bookmarked. I could probably create a station a day, for the next year, and still find it fascinating. Go ahead and start if you have yet to do so. And everybody's first Pandora station should be the Eels.
I can almost hear the boos through the computer. And did someone just throw a tomato???
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Where does the day go?
Startling at times looking back at decisions made that lead one to today. There was a moment I decided to leave the marketing job that was leading me slowly to death. Another, more obvious reason, prompted me to move from Pennsylvania to New Jersey. Some sort of passive aggression turned the tables and transferred financial responsibility from me to the Mrs. Then, I wake up one day and realize in doing that I put myself further in a hole. Not only was I not doing what I wanted... I was also bringing in no money.
So, today, I sit in a meeting about shelving emergencies. I head to a quick site visit on 30th and 1st... hop a subway and meet with a client on 168th and Broadway... settle for the Penn Station 2 slice/Dasani lunch... and race to pickup the little one at a friends house. A blur to say the least.
The next few hours crazier still. First thing I hear on the way home was "Dad, I'm hungry." I just ate, poorly, so I wasn't thinking food at all. Had a brief moment on the train ride home that she might want dinner. Was thinking of possible freezer options. I thought for sure boiling water was going to be involved. Pierogies? Mac and Cheese? Oh, the frozen Perdue nuggets!!! Right on it. Find some organic apple sauce and organic fries to help compensate. "What's that? You want that Root Beer?" Ok, cancel out the organic nonsense. Race to get food going and send a few emails before headed back out to get T from the train. Somewhere I oversee some fraction homework, and get this religion class test.
"The leader of the parish is called what? Various things you can do to help the church are called?" Back from the train it might be time for 2nd dinner. Rarely is there one, uniform dinner. Rarer still a meal at the dining room table. In fact, if we had any discretionary monies the table would be gone. It would be more practitical to make our dining room a hookah lounge. So, there is boiling water, for the adults tonight. Heat up some of mom's leftover sauce she was kind enough to give us last week. Quick salad and pasta will get the adults by. Fix a plate of nachos for the little one while we eat, in front of the tv. There is some college basketball. The fact N seems interested in watching provides a bit of a thrill. An attempt to get an hour together for Survivor falls flat. The ladies have a dust up and my attempts to intervene add fuel to the fire.
Bathtime bonding brings it all together just in time for bed. There are some smiles and all seems ok, for now. But what of tomorrow? Thoughts race back to the beginning...
And it is not that I do not like my work. I can be very effective with clients and possess some skills that CAN be money making. There are always grandiose thoughts. I end up talking to my uptown client, who was a drama major. WE struggle together to do basic math. And my my wanders to how many of us are doing what we want to? How many of us enjoy it?
I look around and see very few. And that is not altogether bad. It comes down to managing time and curbing expectations. I can be effective helping the business and write every day. This is not Italy during the Renaissance. Money will have to be made. We live in one of the most affluent places in America. We have worked and sacrificed to give our daughter every opportunity we may not have had.
And I circle another date on the calendar. April 14th, 2011 @ the Bowery again. It is imperative I see Caveman again. The constant running in place must have these diversions. The Suburban Dad has his work cut out for him. But he is keeping his head held high.
Right, talking in the 3rd person is very Floyd Mayweather. Sorry.
So, today, I sit in a meeting about shelving emergencies. I head to a quick site visit on 30th and 1st... hop a subway and meet with a client on 168th and Broadway... settle for the Penn Station 2 slice/Dasani lunch... and race to pickup the little one at a friends house. A blur to say the least.
The next few hours crazier still. First thing I hear on the way home was "Dad, I'm hungry." I just ate, poorly, so I wasn't thinking food at all. Had a brief moment on the train ride home that she might want dinner. Was thinking of possible freezer options. I thought for sure boiling water was going to be involved. Pierogies? Mac and Cheese? Oh, the frozen Perdue nuggets!!! Right on it. Find some organic apple sauce and organic fries to help compensate. "What's that? You want that Root Beer?" Ok, cancel out the organic nonsense. Race to get food going and send a few emails before headed back out to get T from the train. Somewhere I oversee some fraction homework, and get this religion class test.
"The leader of the parish is called what? Various things you can do to help the church are called?" Back from the train it might be time for 2nd dinner. Rarely is there one, uniform dinner. Rarer still a meal at the dining room table. In fact, if we had any discretionary monies the table would be gone. It would be more practitical to make our dining room a hookah lounge. So, there is boiling water, for the adults tonight. Heat up some of mom's leftover sauce she was kind enough to give us last week. Quick salad and pasta will get the adults by. Fix a plate of nachos for the little one while we eat, in front of the tv. There is some college basketball. The fact N seems interested in watching provides a bit of a thrill. An attempt to get an hour together for Survivor falls flat. The ladies have a dust up and my attempts to intervene add fuel to the fire.
Bathtime bonding brings it all together just in time for bed. There are some smiles and all seems ok, for now. But what of tomorrow? Thoughts race back to the beginning...
And it is not that I do not like my work. I can be very effective with clients and possess some skills that CAN be money making. There are always grandiose thoughts. I end up talking to my uptown client, who was a drama major. WE struggle together to do basic math. And my my wanders to how many of us are doing what we want to? How many of us enjoy it?
I look around and see very few. And that is not altogether bad. It comes down to managing time and curbing expectations. I can be effective helping the business and write every day. This is not Italy during the Renaissance. Money will have to be made. We live in one of the most affluent places in America. We have worked and sacrificed to give our daughter every opportunity we may not have had.
And I circle another date on the calendar. April 14th, 2011 @ the Bowery again. It is imperative I see Caveman again. The constant running in place must have these diversions. The Suburban Dad has his work cut out for him. But he is keeping his head held high.
Right, talking in the 3rd person is very Floyd Mayweather. Sorry.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Costco and Fashion Wrap idea
The bad thing about getting older is just about everything. On Saturday we did a Costco run. I could go into a rant about how crowded it was because Snooki was doing a book signing... but I won't. Ok, maybe a little one. Can you explain to me why you would wait in line to have her sign a book? Bad enough she is published before me, but now I have to see adolescent girls lined up aisle after aisle for her?? Exactly what has she done to garner such attention. She was born in Chile, grew up in NY, turned orange, drank excessively, whored around, and set fashion and my beloved New Jersey back.
Ok, maybe I know too much about her to protest. Or maybe it is rabid jealousy that she is a brand, a household name. I am merely in a household, and that is shaky at best. But more to my point, aging is the worst. So, we had our $350 Costco coupon accumulated over a year of needless Amex purchases. If you enter Costco with "found" money, you are spending all of it. Did we need a 5 pound bag of Pretzel M&M's? How bout a bag of dried Apricots the size of our wall cabinets? Doubtful. Talk to me next year at this time and ask if I have made a dent in that bag. Most of all, we did not need the giant inflatable ball you can ride inside and be pushed around the neighborhood Of course when I get home we must ignore the trunk full of stuff that needs to be put away. No, I will need get this thing working and fast.
The vinyl/plastic ball had probably been in the box for years. It was in a box similar in size to and Ellio's pizza. But once inflated it grew to about 2 stories. To separate it from its own membrane was a struggle itself. It was essential though. And one by one, piece by piece, I had it layed out on our living room floor. It is then I notice the instructions, and one small, flimsy hand pump. This was not what I wanted for my Saturday afternoon.
Minute by minute turned into near an hour. Each component had its own valve... upper and lower. There were decorative stars in the middle that also included its own valve. I thought the force required to get the thing flat was too much. Now I had to force air into these year long, vinyl glued creases to raise the dead. After a while I knew I need not go the gym today so I made it a workout. I had to position one hand on the valve while the other pushed the tiny, frail plastic handle. 10 for the left hand. 10 for the right. Arms above the neck. Arms below the neck. Slowly the ball took form. All the while Syracuse and Georgetown played on without my eyes seeing them. Toward the middle of the process I noticed if I blew this thing up in the house it would never fit through a door to get out. I moved the labor outside and shed my shirt from exhaustion. 10 with the left. 10 with the right. Once, young N peered out the back door and gave encouragement "Looks good dad." There was comfort in knowing that might be the last thing she says to me.
And, as nightime approached there was closure. A fully formed piece of s&*$ was created. Go now, and roll in our snowy, mud filled yard. For the game is over, I am sore and tired, and you have once again prevailed.
And now, I sit at this computer nursing aches and pains from 3 days ago. The basketball last night did not help either. A, because I played for shit. And B, it was full court 4 on 4 with the casting couch of a Cialis ad. Things I could have done freely and without lingering pain a mere 10 years ago now cripple me. At least, in some regards, my brain is still functioning. But when that begins to fail, as some might argue it has. Kindly put me in the garage, start the car, and put my ipod on my head.
Fashion Wrap Hetero Edition:
I think Joan Rivers should put a straight man on one of her Fashion Police Shows. There can be a very easy, efficient way to judge how each of the women look, realistically. I am fairly certain the man would not care who designed the dress. There would be little room for jewelry/accessories talk. Judging could go something like this.
Disaster: Man retreats to couch and falls asleep no where near you (bad comedy he has seen thousands of times before is on tv)
Average: Meal would be prelude for sexual encounter. Maybe some alcohol (ok more than some)
Good: Man would keep dress on woman for 15-30 minutes. It illicits heavy petting.
Excellent: Dress raised but all clothing technically remains on during coitus
I think I am on to something. Consider this my resume.
Ok, maybe I know too much about her to protest. Or maybe it is rabid jealousy that she is a brand, a household name. I am merely in a household, and that is shaky at best. But more to my point, aging is the worst. So, we had our $350 Costco coupon accumulated over a year of needless Amex purchases. If you enter Costco with "found" money, you are spending all of it. Did we need a 5 pound bag of Pretzel M&M's? How bout a bag of dried Apricots the size of our wall cabinets? Doubtful. Talk to me next year at this time and ask if I have made a dent in that bag. Most of all, we did not need the giant inflatable ball you can ride inside and be pushed around the neighborhood Of course when I get home we must ignore the trunk full of stuff that needs to be put away. No, I will need get this thing working and fast.
The vinyl/plastic ball had probably been in the box for years. It was in a box similar in size to and Ellio's pizza. But once inflated it grew to about 2 stories. To separate it from its own membrane was a struggle itself. It was essential though. And one by one, piece by piece, I had it layed out on our living room floor. It is then I notice the instructions, and one small, flimsy hand pump. This was not what I wanted for my Saturday afternoon.
Minute by minute turned into near an hour. Each component had its own valve... upper and lower. There were decorative stars in the middle that also included its own valve. I thought the force required to get the thing flat was too much. Now I had to force air into these year long, vinyl glued creases to raise the dead. After a while I knew I need not go the gym today so I made it a workout. I had to position one hand on the valve while the other pushed the tiny, frail plastic handle. 10 for the left hand. 10 for the right. Arms above the neck. Arms below the neck. Slowly the ball took form. All the while Syracuse and Georgetown played on without my eyes seeing them. Toward the middle of the process I noticed if I blew this thing up in the house it would never fit through a door to get out. I moved the labor outside and shed my shirt from exhaustion. 10 with the left. 10 with the right. Once, young N peered out the back door and gave encouragement "Looks good dad." There was comfort in knowing that might be the last thing she says to me.
And, as nightime approached there was closure. A fully formed piece of s&*$ was created. Go now, and roll in our snowy, mud filled yard. For the game is over, I am sore and tired, and you have once again prevailed.
And now, I sit at this computer nursing aches and pains from 3 days ago. The basketball last night did not help either. A, because I played for shit. And B, it was full court 4 on 4 with the casting couch of a Cialis ad. Things I could have done freely and without lingering pain a mere 10 years ago now cripple me. At least, in some regards, my brain is still functioning. But when that begins to fail, as some might argue it has. Kindly put me in the garage, start the car, and put my ipod on my head.
Fashion Wrap Hetero Edition:
I think Joan Rivers should put a straight man on one of her Fashion Police Shows. There can be a very easy, efficient way to judge how each of the women look, realistically. I am fairly certain the man would not care who designed the dress. There would be little room for jewelry/accessories talk. Judging could go something like this.
Disaster: Man retreats to couch and falls asleep no where near you (bad comedy he has seen thousands of times before is on tv)
Average: Meal would be prelude for sexual encounter. Maybe some alcohol (ok more than some)
Good: Man would keep dress on woman for 15-30 minutes. It illicits heavy petting.
Excellent: Dress raised but all clothing technically remains on during coitus
I think I am on to something. Consider this my resume.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)