So here’s the big news for this week . . . I’m moving. Like, tomorrow. Yeah, so, I hope you enjoyed the photos from my front yard last week because that won’t be my front yard tomorrow. Not too far. About 10 miles from where I am now and in a shittier neighborhood, but better circumstances by a long shot.
You are about to find out why. As a sort of a disclaimer, some of the things I will mention in here are of a very serious nature, and I do of course take them very seriously. Please read ahead with the comedic attitude with which I have intended it and the way I have chosen to look at it. Because, seriously, if I took it the way I should I’d probably leap in front of a train.
I’m kind of a chicken shit, so it would probably be a parked train, but it’s the thought that counts. Right? Read the rest . . .
I saw it, every one of you that read my post the other day saw it, Emo-Boy cashier at the convenience store saw it . . . everyone but my father saw it.
My mother’s dance of happiness in the kitchen the other night was not in vain. Friday morning they awoke to a wet kitchen floor and a warm refrigerator. It could take no more and apparently was ready to give me the satisfaction of putting a final chapter on this saga. The refrigerator was dead and it was going to stay that way this time. Luckily it went out with some class and simply defrosted onto the floor, because my father paid no mind to the story I relayed to him from a good friend of mine who had lost an entire family of close relatives to a house fire that was ignited by a faulty refrigerator. That wouldn’t happen to him because he’s too smart for that. Read the rest . . .
I teased you just a bit with a hint of what was to come but unfortunately the story seems to have come to a stall. The beginning of it is funny, and the ending has some great potential as well, it’s just . . . well, it’s dad.
You see, I was on the back porch of my parent’s house around 8:30 last night and my mother yelled out the window. “Eric, get your father, something is wrong with the refrigerator!”
I yelled back up, ” . . . and you’re looking to make it worse?!”
Surfing through my AT&T account last night on the web, I was looking for a way to change my calling plan a bit. For one thing, I’d noticed that my bill had been about $25 a month more the last couple of months than it had been for the previous 1+ years. I was also in search of an alternate “minutes” plan or something that would help out with the extraordinary increase in minutes that we’ve been using lately.
I’ve had a 700 minute a month plan that I shared with my son, Tiger, since I got the phones for us and up until now that has been more than plenty. In fact, I had pretty close to 5000 minutes stored up in the rollover minutes because we mostly texted. Then Tiger’s girlfriend happened. And we fried 700 minutes in the first 4 days of the billing cycle. Thank God for the rollovers. Read the rest . . .
I seriously considered not writing this post at all because you have to be growing weary of the “dad” stories, so I asked some of my regulars if they were getting tired of it. The responses I got were positive so I decided to go for it. My favorite response was from Tom (AKA: Zippy if you also read through the comments to my posts).
“That shit is like boobies and pussy. You never get tired of looking at it and you always want more!”
I’ve wandered across a few different topics in the last couple of weeks and I think it’s time to go back to one that I’ve talked about before. That’s right, kids! It’s the return of . . .
If you need to catch up on the individual of which I speak, check out this and this and this. The man is . . . special, what can I say.
Suddenly and without any warning, Father announced that he was getting rid of his DSL internet service and Direct TV and switching to cable for both. It’s sudden because well, nobody knew he was even thinking about it because it was something that pretty much every member of the family suggested he do pretty much since . . . the beginning of time, but we didn’t know what we were talking about and it was nothing but a waste of money and they just rip you off, so we were summarily dismissed. Read the rest . . .
I watch my 16 year old, Tiger, head out to do his 16 year old things and it makes me think, “Damn, I hope he gets as lucky as I did and manages to live through the retarded years.” People complain about the internet and video games and cell phones and all the conveniences our kids have now. “All he does is sit in the house and play that damn game all day!” They say.
Enjoy it people. You know where your kids are and what they are doing. Yes, they are still retarded and probably doomed to stay that way, but at least they are contained. We were less fortunate. We actually had to leave the house to express our inner retard, and it was frequently life threatening. I don’t know how any of us survived our teenage years, or our early 20’s for that matter. Read the rest . . .
Ok, so I only kind of stole it. I mean, it’s HALF mine.
Since I started doing this blogging thing, I have scoured I have no friggin’ idea how many blogs looking to others for ideas and techniques and tips and really, a whole hell of a lot of entertainment. I have read posts that caused me to laugh until I cried and I’ve read others that just damn near made me cry. There is SO much good material out there that I’m a bit overwhelmed as to how I’ll ever manage to make my tiny little glimmer of light shine enough to even think about standing out in this crowd of incredibly intelligent, incredibly funny and incredibly touching people. Read the rest . . .