Pump Dumpers


Dear Diary …

There are some criminals in this world where it’s blatantly obvious. Murderer? Criminal. Thief? Criminal.

Then … there are those that are getting away with things that should be a crime, but they aren’t, and that’s about to change here in Zackmerica. And today, I’m talking about you … Pump Dumpers.

Wait … Pump Dumpers?

I’m sure you’re thinking to yourself, “King Zack … what the heck is that?”

Well I’ll tell ya …

A Pump Dumper is a dastardly individual who drive up to a gas pump. Fills their car with gas. And then leaves it there while they go inside to whatever the heck they feel like for as long as they feel like.

They just dump their car right at the pump without any kind of thought or concern for anyone else that may wanna get gas. Pump Dumpers.

And in Zackmerica … They are getting a direct line to jail. Do not pass “Go.” Do not collect $200. You just go right to prison you filthy scofflaw.

How have these people become so blind to the world around them, that they don’t even notice what a serious offense this is?

Oh but I’m just running in to use the bathroom and get a drink.. It’ll just take a minute.

Don’t care. Pull you car up into a parking space and get out of the way!

If you were inside at the register and you were done paying for something, would you just stand there for five minutes and block everybody waiting behind you?

Who knows, maybe you would because you’re a filthy Pump Dumper, but I’d like to think that you wouldn’t. Same rules apply here. Get outta the way! This ain’t that hard.

OK … moving on Diary …

We have so many great technological advancements in this world, and yet at the same time, there are so many things that make me think, “This is 2017 … how is this not fixed by now?”

My son is sick this week. So he had to go to the doctor and get a strep test. This is 2017 … how is it that the strep test still consists of trying to jam a stick down his mouth to swab his entire throat? There’s gotta be a better way!

And furthermore … This is 2017 … Why does the medicine he has to take still have to taste so awful? Oh it’s bubble gum! Yeah … mixed with awful!

Now I gotta spend 10 days begging him to choke down this disgusting pink sludge. Science can make a hamburger out of vegetables that tastes like actual beef … and yet they can’t make this medicine taste less horrible?

And speaking of medicine … I can’t get this kid to take the liquid version of things like Tylenol. So I gotta get the chewable version.

Answer me this … why do I have to give him two pills? Do you know how hard it is to get a stubborn sick 5 year old to take even one of them? So can’t you just jam all the medicine into that one? Of course you can! You just don’t … and THAT’S what I don’t understand.

It’s not that hard people … we should have these things figured out by now!

Till next time Diary … I say … goodbye.

Ducking Autocorrect

Dear Diary …

Look … I get it. Your kids look up to you as their parents, and deep down they respect and love you, but on a day-to-day basis … you are merely there to serve them. They don’t care about you. You’re just that human that brings them snacks, replaces batteries in their toys, and cleans up all the messes they leave all over the place.

And the television? Yeah. You don’t own that. Your shows are boring. All of them.

Pay no mind to the fact that every kid’s show is categorically awful and annoying. Doesn’t matter. That is all that is to play on the television. And I mean ALL.

And I know this because here’s what happens … I’ll be sitting in the living room, watching some God awful show about nothing … or even worse some YouTube video of annoying people playing video games … and then I realize, “Wait a minute. None of the kids are in the room anymore, and I’ve been sitting here by myself for 10 minutes watching this garbage.”

So I turn it off.

And immediately, what happens? A tiny voice rings out from upstairs …

“Hey … who turned off my show?”

You’re not even in here! Why am I being subjected to your awful shows if you’re not even around??

I’ll tell you why … because I’m The Help. The Help doesn’t need to watch television. The Help should be getting snacks or building LEGO sets or something. The Help don’t got no “me time.” Silly peasant! TV belongs to them … it doesn’t belong to me.

Moving on Diary … we are now to the point where we all have these really fancy (and expensive) smart phones with all these great features … high quality cameras, facial recognition, voice activated robots that obey our commands. And yet despite all these features and all this money being spent … autocorrect is still a giant pile of crap.

You mean to tell me that these phones can practically read our minds, and yet they still think there’s a human on earth that was actually trying to type the word “ducking?” You gotta be ducking kidding me!

Sometimes I don’t think autocorrect is even trying. For example … every morning when I set up the K92 Mornin’ Thang live video feed, I type “Mornin’ Thang” in the description, and autocorrect immediately changes it by adding an “A” and leaving me with “Mornin’ a Thang.” Mornin’ a Thang? What am I, some stereotypical Italian chef who’s “a-makin’ a spicy meatball a-here on the Mornin’ a Thang?”

Give me a break autocorrect! And help me understand why autocorrect will be halfway decent when typing a normal word, but the second you start with a capital letter, it’s like it forgets any semblance of proper spelling and grammar.

“Robot can’t understand with capital letter. Assumes you are spelling some weird first name of your random Russian friend Clovonski or something.”

Listen here smart phone people … iPhone, Droid, or whatever … at this point just give us gigantic batteries and a halfway decent autocorrect. That’s all we really ducking want in the first place!

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye

Evil Child Mind Control

Dear Diary …

I can tell you this much … If I ever lose my mind, it will be caused by the children. I think I can keep it together for pretty much everything else, but those tiny little monsters will eventually be the thing that leaves me curled up in the closet in my guest bedroom, hugging my knees and muttering, “Can’t sleep, kids’ll eat me. Can’t sleep, kids’ll eat me.”

My son is a master of mind torture. Diary … this weekend I spent five hours trying to get him to clean up his LEGOs. And just like with any kid chore, it wasn’t a five hour chore, it was a 20 minute chore that they manage to drag out for five hours while they whine and complain about having to do it.

“I need help … I can’t do it all by myself … it’s too hard!”

You had no problem messing it up by yourself, so remind me again why it’s my responsibility to help you? My kids are thrilled to remind me every time, “oh that’s not MY mess, I don’t need to clean it up,” but apparently those rules don’t apply to Dad … aka … “The Help.”

Oh and let’s not forget this … From the second they wake up, until the second you finally get them to go to sleep, children have a seemingly endless supply of energy … unless you ask them to do a chore. Suddenly … their legs are broken. Wobbly and weaker than a newborn baby horse.

“But Daddy … I’m sooooo tired. I can’t move my legs.”

Of course, if the sound of the ice cream man happened to appear, they’d be sprinting down the street faster than Usain Bolt, but in the meantime … “I don’t know how to walk anymore.”

And they always know how to win … just keep fighting and whining until you either lose your mind and help them, or simply run out of time in the day. We had a party to go to at 5 o’clock … and darnit I ain’t missing no party. I didn’t leave my LEGOs all over the living room floor … I ain’t being punished!

See … this is why it should be socially acceptable to leave a 5 year old locked in a house all by himself. Curse you societal rules of good parenting!

OK … moving on Diary … The Secret One-Sided Conversation. Why do people do this?

Oh I’m sorry … let me explain.

Let’s say you’re me, and you’re laying in bed next to somebody … who for the purposes of this discussion we will call, “My Wife” … And while she’s laying there and looking at something on her phone she’ll say, “Oh wow … I can’t believe that.”

[[[[SILENCE]]]]

And that’s it. That’s the end of the Secret One-Sided Conversation.

BELIEVE WHAT, WOMAN???

If you’re gonna throw that out there, I should not be obligated to go through the ridiculous formality of, “What can’t you believe?” Just out with it!!!

Or this …

Looking on your phone … “HAHAHA … That’s funny.”

[[[[SILENCE]]]]

WHAT IS FUNNY????

WHERE IS THE OTHER SIDE OF THIS CONVERSATION?!?!?!?

Would ya just spit it out, please? Or just … oh I don’t know … say it to yourself in your head if you ain’t gonna let me in on it!

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

Your Kid’s Favorite Snack


Dear Diary …

Right now I’m going to make a correct prediction about EVERYONE’S child. I don’t need to know any other information about them, other than the fact that they are a kid. And with just that one nugget of information, I will correctly predict their favorite snack.

That’s right … the Great Zackini … will use my magical psychic powers to correctly guess your child’s favorite snack.

And here it is … their favorite snack is … A new box of anything.

Doesn’t matter what the actual snack is … When you come home from the store and it’s a new box, or bag, or carton of [insert snack here] … that’s the one your kids wants. Doesn’t matter that you have a box of the exact same snack that’s already opened in your pantry. They don’t want that one any more. They want the new one.

An OPENED box? That’s peasant food. I want the NEW snack!

See … My prediction was correct, wasn’t it?

Adios half eaten box of Cheezits … cuz there’s a new box and that one has Spiderman on it. So now like a dodo, you gotta try to sneak the old Cheezits into the new box to trick that little heathen into eating them.

BY the way … I should add that I go to the store at least five times a week. It often feels like every single day.

And despite that … you know what my son said to me this weekend?

“Daddy … you should go to the store more often to buy me things.”

Well thank you for the advice My Lord. Your wish is my command!

Really what I’ve learned above all else is that I’m just the help. And it doesn’t stop at the groceries. The other job I’m so lucky to have been given … and this is from the entire family … wife included … is IT Dad.

If anything technology-related is broken, it’s time to call IT Dad to let him know that he better fix it right away. And everybody always comes with the same garbage excuse of “I don’t understand all that technology stuff … you’re so much better at it than me.”

Oh get out of here with those lies!! You just say that because dealing with computer problems stinks and you don’t wanna do it.

And here’s the rub in my house … you know what my wife went to college for? Computer Information Systems. IT Wife!

“Oh but the technology is all different now.”

Well how do you think I figure it out? I spend hours Googling things and watching YouTube videos … that’s how!

And the children … as usual are the unreasonable of bosses.

If the internet is down. It is Dad’s fault. I have no control over it, and yet if their precious iPad doesn’t work, I am to be held personally responsible. You might as well blame me for when it’s raining, because I have about as much control over that as I do the internet.

IT Dad. Worst job ever. No pay, long hours, and you’re never allowed to quit. Have a nice day!

Til next time Diary … I say .. goodbye

The Summer of Activities


Dear Diary …

School is out and summer is here. And that means the children are here. All the time.

Every day. All day. Just here. Staring at you and demanding to be entertained.

That is what I’ve learned since having kids … To them “Summer Vacation” to them means that you are to plan activities for them from the second they wake up until the second they go to sleep. Every day. All the time.

They are on their own personal Carnival Cruise, and you the parent, are the activity director. And no, you don’t get paid for your job. In fact, your job actually COSTS you money because many of the activities that your tiny clients demand involve the spending of money. YOUR money.

Diary … I’m gonna be honest … my kids have been on summer vacation for about five days now … and I’m almost out of ideas already. I’m terrified!

There’s just too many hours in the day!

And like I said … they demand activity for ALL of them. You’re gonna take me to the zoo? Fine. But what are we gonna do when we get home?

AHHHH!!!!

On Friday both my kids had TWO play dates … plus I ended up feeding all their friends, letting them roast marshmallows, and play, and hang out. And yet the second I walk down the stairs in the morning. “Gee … I’d really like a play date today.”

AHHHHHH!!!!!

Diary … I’m not gonna make it. And I’m gonna go broke in the process.

And here’s another thing Diary … the worst is when you make plans for your kids and then the other people involved cancel the plans. Oh forget it … you’re dead.

Because YOUR boss … the children … they don’t care that it’s not your fault that plans were canceled. As far as they’re concerned … it IS your fault. And what are you going to do to fill that hole in the schedule.

I don’t tell my kids any plans anymore. Because EVERY time I do … some other parent breaks the plans and then I’m in one that gets in trouble. And I don’t wanna be in trouble.

I just want it to be fall. Hurry up fall!!!

Till next time Diary, I say goodbye.

Kid Versions of Everything

Dear Diary …

Look … I like kids.

OK wait … I don’t really like kids.

Look … I like MY kids.

OK wait … Sometimes I don’t really like my kids either.

But seriously … kids aren’t that bad.  They got the innocence of youth, they have a fun spirit, they’re more enjoyable than most adults.  That part is definitely true.

That said … I absolutely cannot stand that every show on television is being ruined by children.  Specifically … kid versions of everything.

Dancing With the Stars Junior, Chopped Junior, Master Chef Junior, Kids BBQ Championship, Kids Baking Championship … blah blah blah.  The list goes on for way too long.

Especially with the cooking shows.

Now Diary … you know me … I’m a foodie.  OK I’m actually a grade-A food snob, but the point is … I love food and chefs and cooking shows and things like that.  But I want to watch great chefs making great food, not an 11 year old trying to make a dang casserole.

There’s a reason why 11 year olds don’t run restaurants … they’re food ain’t good enough!

So why do I wanna sit there and watch a bunch of booger eaters make mediocre food???

About the only thing I do enjoy is getting to watch the hypocrite judges taste the food.  Cuz here we have a bunch of snooty chefs, that when they’re on a regular version of the show, they sit there and they nitpick the entire dish … “Oh your meal was spectacular, buuuuut you left off ONE fleck of salt so, yeah, we’re gonna have to go ahead and send you home.”

Karma gets ‘em on the kid versions, cuz they can’t be mean and make all the kids cry, cuz then they look like jerks and they wouldn’t get another job on TV to save their lives.  So now they gotta eat an overcooked piece of steak that’s tougher than shoe leather and they go “Mmmm … your flavor ideas were sooo creative to try to put cake frosting on this!”

BAHAHAHA!!!  Take that sucka!

Kids … you can be anything you want when you grow up.  OK … that’s not true either but that’s what people say.

The point is … you can be whatever it is you’re gonna be … LATER … I don’t wanna watch you fumble thru it now.

Till next time Diary, I say, goodbye.

Are My Kids Evil?


Dear Diary …

I had a ton of yard work to do this weekend … it’s just that time of year where all of a sudden you go from the brown, dead nothingness of winter to the lush greenery that is spring. And while the growing of new life is nice and all, it also means lots of yard work on the weekends.

So there I was … I’m talking all of it … mowing, weed whacking, fertilizing, bush trimming, pressure washing. You name it … I’m doing it. Eight hours straight.

Meanwhile my two kids are in the front yard. Sitting and waiting for the ice cream man. That’s it. Just having a nice, relaxing Sunday where not only do they have nothing to do, they will have dessert delivered directly to their face. They’re almost set up in a way where the ice cream man can drive by and throw ice cream into their mouths without even moving.

And Diary as you know … sitting around doing nothing builds up a mean hunger, so my son comes up to me and asks for a snack. Since I’m busy, and also covered in the mud and guts of a day of yard work, I ask my daughter to go in and get him a sneak.

“Ugh … but I just sat DOWN!!!”

[SILENCE]

Yeah I’m being quiet here on purpose.

Little bit more …

[SILENCE]

Child … have you seen me for the past 8 hours? You see what I’ve been doing, right? I’m like a one man lawn care company here. And you’re gonna tell me, “oh a I just sat down?”

Furthermore, “just sat down” is the EXACT time the two of you usually ask ME for snacks. So now you know how it feels!!!

Second … would go in there and get your brother a snack before I lose my mind!?!?!!

Diary … sometimes I just don’t know. Am I raising good kids?

They feel like good kids a lot of the time, but then other times … I don’t think they care one bit about any other person on earth. Unless that person has gum and they want a piece.

All they care about is their food and their iPad … specifically their YouTube channels. That’s all they wanna watch. They don’t care about anything else. They don’t use any of the games. They just wanna watch YouTube channels.

And not even MY YouTube channel, the one that would actually make Daddy money.

So really what I’m asking here … Is it a kid thing that they eventually grow out of? Or are my kids just evil?

Till next time Diary … I say goodbye.

Those Are My Snacks

Dear Diary …
I do the grocery shopping for the family.  That’s fine.  I do most of the cooking.  So I should be the one getting the ingredients.
I’m also good at saving money.  That’s another big reason.  Send my wife to the grocery store and we’ll spend $75 on four apples and a box of crackers.  I’m not sure how that even works, but whatever … I do the shopping and it’s a non-issue.
Now to be clear … *I* make the trip to the store, *I* pick out the items, and *I* pay for them with money that *I* earn at work.
So when I come home with a can of Pringles that my son asked me to get for him … and I eat a couple … why am I hearing …
“Daddy … don’t eat those.  Those are MINE!”
Excuse me?
The Pringles that I drove to the store for … pulled off the shelf with my own hands .. and then paid for with MY money … those belong to you???
I don’t think so!
At the risk of sounding like a cliche´ dad from a comedy movie … You live in MY house and you eat MY food that I pay for with MY money!  I own you, child!
I merely give you permission to eat my morsels.  And if I wanna eat me a Pringle … I’m gonna eat me a Pringle!!
Snacks don’t belong to you.  Snacks belong to me.
OK … moving on Diary … speaking of ingrates …
We keep a bunch of random snacks in our office.  They’re for … well .. when you’re hungry.  They’re snacks.  Duh.
Well we have numerous co-workers who … much a like a rat looking for a piece of cheese at the end of the maze … Use our collection of snacks as said piece of cheese that they are looking for.  Naturally they don’t ever contribute to the bounty of snacks, but instead just use it as their own personal Old Country Buffet when we aren’t around.
You know what?  Whatever.  It’s not that big a deal, but then I hear this from one of them …
“Ugh … you guys only have crunchy peanut butter?  I hate crunchy peanut butter!”
Oh YOU hate crunchy peanut butter?  The free crunchy peanut butter that you mooch off of us?
You don’t like it?  BUY SOME CREAMY YOU INGRATE!!!!
I don’t understand people and the level of things they will complain about.  Here’s a true story from a friend of mine in the radio business …
His radio station did a contest where somebody could win a seven day Caribbean cruise.  FREE.
So they select a winner, and when he contacts her, the FIRST thing she said was …
“Well I’m gonna have to take off work!  What am I supposed to do?”
Shut up and go on the cruise.  That’s what you’re supposed to do.
I’m very sorry we have inconvenienced you with this free trip to paradise.  Please accept my deepest apologies for doing such a horrible thing to you, ya ingrate.
Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

Nobody Has Your Back

Dear Diary …

Nobody has your back.  I hate to say it, but that’s the way you should probably always live your life.  That’s not to say that there aren’t people in your life that have your back … most of the time … but there is no way that you can guarantee 100% that somebody else will ALWAYS have your back.  So you just need to be prepared.

Take, for example, my wife.  If you asked me … “Does your wife have your back?” … I’d say yes.  But then there are times like the other day when I decide to make a sandwich for lunch.

So I go into the fridge, pull out the container of lunch meat, and start making a sandwich.

[[SNIFF]] [[SNIFF]] … something doesn’t seem quite right.  It’s one of those times where it isn’t blatantly obvious that the lunch meat is bad … but it just … seems … odd.

It’s probably fine, but I don’t know about you, but “probably fine” is NOT how I like to describe something I’m going to eat.  Not worth the risk.  So I toss it in the trash.

My wife sees me do this and says, “Yeah I was going to make a sandwich earlier, but I thought that lunch meat seemed a little off, so I didn’t use it.”

OK fine … but why did you put it back in the refrigerator for me to potentially eat?  What makes you think I wanna play “Diarrhea Roulette” with questionable lunch meat?

See?  Didn’t have my back!  Had to watch out for myself and thankfully avoided a potential disastrous situation.

OK … moving on Diary … it’s great being a kid.  I look at my kids and see them so happy and carefree all the time.  Which of course is because they ain’t got no job or bills to worry about, plus they act like there is an endless supply of everything they want, and it’s available at all times.

My daughter had her birthday party a couple weeks ago, and we got pizza for the kids.  Now these are little kids, so we didn’t get a ton of pizza, because they don’t eat a ton of pizza.  What I didn’t take into consideration though, is that thought they may not EAT a ton of pizza, but they definitely DROP a ton of pizza.

Furthermore … kids just think the laws of physics don’t apply to them.  How many times you watch a kid crawl under a table, and then just stand up and bash their head on the thing?  And they never learn.  Like the rules of science just don’t apply to them.

“Oh my head!”

Yeah … no kidding.  Don’t go standing up under tables you doofus.

And of course, what do they do? Turn around and do it again.

“Oh my head!”

No sympathy for you!

Anyway … at the party the kids basically say, “I can take a flimsy paper plate with some food on it, and then just wing it all over the place with my hands and nothing will POSSIBLY happen to the slidey piece of pizza sitting on top of this plate.”

Oh wait … It falls on the ground?  SHOCKER!!!

“I need another piece of pizza.”

OK … fine … here you go.

Next  kid … same exact thing.

“I need another piece of pizza too.”

Uhhh … we don’t have an endless supply of pizza, ya rugrats.

So I did what any good parent would do … I pretended to get them another slice of pizza, and then just gave them the slice of dirt pizza that they dropped on the ground in the first place.

Hey … I’d expect nothing less if my kid was at somebody else’s house flinging pizza all over the place.  [[[BLOW]]]  Blow it off … here’s your pizza kid.

My son eats boogers. He gonna be picky about a little fleck of dirt on a pizza?  I think not.

Till next time Diary … I say … goodbye.

You Don’t Get to Unplug


Dear Diary …

I was on vacation recently. And I feel like I need to point that out, since none of my coworkers seemed to notice when they were blown’ me up all week asking me to do stuff. Actually, I stand corrected, they DID know I was on vacation, because everybody started their request with the same phrase … “I know you’re on vacation, buuuuut …”

Now let me be clear … I’m not here to complain about that. I get it. Just because I’m not in the office, that doesn’t mean all work life stuff automatically disappears. And furthermore, I’m here to kick some butt, and in order to do that, you can’t be laying around and binge-watching “This Is Us” for a week, you gotta have the Eye of the Tiger and be willing to put in the work.

(Then you wantch “This Is Us”)

But here’s the rub …

When my coworkers go on vacation … I can only guess that they’ve taken a trip to Mars or something for the week, cuz they are GONE. Even if there is an emergency at work that requires their immediate attention that nobody else can take care of … you got better luck trying to teach your grandma how to use Snapchat than you do getting a hold of one of these people.

And when they come back, those jerks are all, “Oh sorry I didn’t get back to you. I was on vacation and I just totally unplugged.”

NO! You don’t get to unplug for the week!!!

I didn’t get to unplug for the week when you’re up my butt asking for stuff, so you can’t go play Margaritaville without at least being available if we need you. Sorry … you might not like it … but that’s the way it is. Don’t wanna do it? Then go get a useless job somewhere else where people don’t even notice if you’re gone.

So since I’m talking about my week off … notice I’m not really calling it a “vacation” since I didn’t go anywhere. Part of the reason I took the time off is because my wife had to go out of town to see family, and somebody had to watch the children. And since there’s ain’t really no babysitters available at four in the morning, I gotta play Stay At Home Dad for a few days.

And here’s the angle most exhausting thing about taking care of children … you never get credit for doing anything with them. Ever.

On Friday my daughter got to go to a birthday party with all her friends, and they got to see a movie. Then she came home and we baked cookies, made ice cream sandwiches, and did all sorts of activities. Then on Saturday during the day she went to a friend’s house for a play date. I then picked her up from there and took her to another friend’s house for dinner so all the kids could play together there.

I mean … we are talking a tornado of fun all crammed into two days.

So when I wake up Sunday morning and come downstairs, what do you think is the first thing out of her mouth?

“Daddy are we going to do anything fun today? I wanna DO something today.”

You know what we’re gonna do today? Sit. That’s what we’re going to do today.

And I don’t know about you … actually I don’t even care about you … Daddy thinks that sounds like a TON of fun.

“But I want to DO something.”

What???? What are we gonna do? We just did EVERYTHING for the last two days … there ain’t no more things to do. We did ‘em all!! Now go play Minecraft for like 8 hours and give me a freakin’ BREAK.

No credit with these kids. Ever.

I bet I could take ‘em to Disney World for a week and the day we get home they’d be all, “I’m bored … what are we gonna to today?”

And the answer’s the same … Sit. [[Mouse voice]] HAHA kids … Mickey loves a good sit!

Till next time Diary … I say … goodbye.