Category: What’s wrong with you?

Stay At Home Moms Are Weird

Dear Diary …

Stay at home Moms. OK … before anything else, let me stand on the highest mountain and shout your praises for all the things that you do. But also … you guys are weird. Because yeah … you do ALL these amazing things day in and day out with your children, which leads me to the question … “Why?” I spend like one afternoon with my kids and I’m about ready to lose my mind.

Stay at home Moms … and I mean this as a compliment … you guys are mutants. The fact that you can handle these little rascals … you’re like the X-Men … you’re just bigger, better, and stronger than we are. How do you not kill ‘em? Or at the very least … How do you not spiral down into some sort of wine-induced fog by 3 pm every day just to make the screeching go away?

I was on vacation last week … Every two seconds with these kids … they want something.

“I want Cheeze-Its”

OK … fine. Here’s your Cheez-Its.

Sit back down. Two seconds later the other one …

“Can I have some Goldfish?”

AHHHH!!!! Why didn’t you mention that when I was in the kitchen?

“I forgot?”

Oh bologna you forgot! Fine … here’s your Goldfish. Alright …

Anybody else have anything they want before I sit down? No? … OK … Good.

[[aaahhhh]]

::SNIFF SNIFF::

AHH … poop! Here we go!

No clue how you do it. For me … staying at home makes me actually look forward to going to work. YOUR work IS home … there’s no escape!

Weirdoes … the whole lot of ya. Thoroughly important gifts from God. But still weird ones.

OK … moving on Diary …

Here’s a segment I like to call, “Things We Should Be Better At.”

When you look at it as a whole, this world really is an amazing place. Look at how far we’ve come as a people in the past hundred years. Heck … the past 20 years. I mean 20 years ago we weren’t pooping in a hole in the ground like we were a hundred years ago, but still … the internet? Hello! That said, there are still glaring problems that to me … given how far we’ve come … shouldn’t happen any more.

For example … why in our cars does there still exist a place between the front seats that is just big enough to have things like your cell phone … bloop … just fall right in? And this place is also small enough that it’s impossible to get your hand in to get the things out! This random little black hole doesn’t need to be there … serves no purpose … so why is it still there? We can plug up that hole? Shoot … bring back bench seating in cars … problem solved.

Here’s another thing we should be better at … I mean we got the technology to send back pictures of the planet Pluto in HD, but I still can’t take a shower and run a sprinkler at the same time in my house?

Look … I get it when … you know … indoor plumbing was new and stuff and we had just upgraded from using a wash basin, but you mean to tell me they can’t run enough water into my house so I can do those two things at the same time?

Failing … that’s what we’re doing here. Fix it … that’s what needs to happen.

Till next time Diary, I say … goodbye.

Fire All Driver’s Ed Teachers

Dear Diary …

Alright … no more being nice. I think we finally gotta take some drastic measures here. I think it’s time to demand the firing of every Driver’s Ed teacher in Virginia. All of ’em. Pack your things and get out. OK that’s probably a LITTLE too extreme, but I’m at my wits end, and I don’t know what to do about this state’s obsession with hanging out in the left lane on the highway.

And it’s just Virginia. Diary … I drove 1500 miles over my vacation … Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Maryland … and NONE of those places had people just toolin’ along on the left lane. Then I cross into Virginia … everyone’s just camped out there … DONGA DONGA DONGA DONG.

So clearly, it’s a Virginia thing. So that’s why I’m lashing out at driver’s ed teachers, because I feel like SOMEBODY taught you people to drive this way. It’s the only explanation I have. I just know that change needs to happen.

Hey … I’ll admit it … I’m not from here, but I like it here. I say that I’ll “holler at you” when I’m “fixin’ to” do something. Now I won’t “cut on the lights” … never gonna happen … but I do get all excited when they’re “walkin’ to the South, out of Roanoke” in Wagon Wheel. That’s cool.

So I’m here … as your friend … STOP IT! I don’t care if Mr. Dingleberry your driver’s ed teacher told you to it, don’t do it anymore. You look ridiculous to the rest of the county, and you’re making me drive bad. Because now I’m forced to pass your oblivious, slow-moving butt on the right … and I don’t wanna have to do that. I don’t know who you think you’re impressing by hanging out there, so just get outta the way … please!

OK … moving on Diary … As a parent of small children, I feel like I need to educate other people on something about these tiny little bundles of … uhhh … joy? Is that what people say?

Anyway … here’s something you can’t do when talking to small children … you cannot tell them they’re gonna get to do things WAY in the future. They have tiny little skulls and tiny little brains … they can’t process durations of time, and they have NO patience to wait for anything.

My son is three … and while visiting his Grandma, she tells him “Lennon … we’re going to go the Thomas the Train amusement park … when you come back next year.”

Oh and I should add that she does this right as we’re leaving. Gives him the tease, then shuts the door to the car and says goodbye. Why would you do this to me? Now I’m driving 700 miles with a three old in the backseat screaming that he wants to go ride the trains right now.

He doesn’t understand “next year.” You need to talk to small children like you would to a dog. You would never say to your dog “Oh moosh moosh … do you want a cookie … next week?”

Tiny children have about the same grasp on the concept of time. Things either happen right now … or never. Shut the door and leave me with that. I’m starting to think maybe she did it on purpose? You’re thinking that too, aren’t ya?

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

Bouncy House Purgatory

Dear Diary …

We’re at that time of the year where there’s a lot of events going on … fun events with cool things to do, eat, and drink. And these events are, of course, always trying to do things to get you to come to them. That makes total sense. But with that in mind, I have a message for all of these events … and I think I speak for parents everywhere … Stop having bouncy houses at your events. We hate them!

I know you mean well when you do it, and you think “We’ll have a kids’ zone and it’ll have a bouncy house. Kids love bouncy houses!”

Yes … kids do love bouncy houses. That’s the problem … they love bouncy houses way too much.

So when you have them at your event … yeah you know all those other cool things you have going on? Well we parents don’t get to do any of them because we are trapped in bouncy house purgatory all day long.

I mean … have you ever in your life seen a child happily leave a bouncy house?

WAAAHHHHHHH!!!! BOUNCY HOUUUUUUUUSEEEEE!!!!!

Yeah … that’s more like it.

Cuz no child says, “Sure thing Mom and Dad, I’d love to stand next to you and do nothing while you enjoy the beer tent.”

Children don’t care about our happiness. We are just old fossils with wallets that can take them to bouncy houses and buy them ice creams.

“Oh it’s so sweet to see the innocence and happiness of a child.” Sure … of course they’re happy … Cuz that’s the only thing they care about. Your happiness? Pfffft … Take me to the bouncy house and shut your old mouth old man! Real easy to be happy when all you care about is you.

OK … Moving on Diary … Speaking of this time of year, it’s also a time where lots of people go on vacation. That’s awesome that we live in a county where many of us are able to do that. And if you are one of the lucky ones, I encourage you to do one thing when you go on vacation … Actually go and be on vacation. Cuz all you’re doing right now is posting on social media about your vacation.

“Waking up at the condo” … Here’s a picture.

“Breakfast on the porch” … Here’s a picture.

“Having a drink” … Here’s a picture.

I don’t know why these people feel like they gotta prove something to the rest of us.

Here’s a crazy idea … just sit there and actually enjoy your vacation. Because when all you’re doing now is excessively posting about your vacation, you’re not actually experiencing anything. And furthermore, you do realize that all you’re doing is rubbing it in to everybody you know who isn’t on vacation, right? Not to mention the fact that you’re freely advertising, “Hey really far away from home right now in case you wanna steal our television!”

Look vacationer … We already put up with two months of you counting down, 47 days till the beach … Now you’re gone, and we still have to hear about it! Shut it down and actually enjoy yourself.

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye

Lazy Brain and Double Standards

Dear Diary …

As we all make our way through this world, there are so many challenges and obstacles to overcome. People … opportunities … shoot even just bad luck. And as if all of those things aren’t hard enough, then you gotta deal with your biggest enemy of them all … yourself. Specifically … your brain.

Man … why your brain gotta do you like that? You work so hard to overcome all these other things … and you’d think your own brain would be Team You, but that dastardly veiny little thing is the worst!

For example … Diary … as I write in you write now … You know what I wanna do? Not this! All my brain says is … “I’m tired. I’m hungry. I wanna do something else.”

Now … at 5am … when I was busy with all sorts of other things … My brain was all gung-ho “Hey … I wanna write in the Anger Diary! MHAHAHAAHH!!!”

It always wants to do something else. I bring up 5am, because that’s the time my brain really wants to go to the gym. Can’t go then, but later in the day, when I’m done with work and can actually go to the gym …

“I’m tired. I’m hungry. I wanna do something else.”

I tell you what … I think my brain is messing with me at 5am because it KNOWS I can’t go to the gym them. It doesn’t REALLY wanna go to the gym, it just toys with my emotions at a time that it knows it can get away with it.”

Cuz guess what? On Saturday at 5am … “I’m tired. I’m hungry. I wanna do something else.”

You little jerk!

Oh and forget being on a diet … your brain starts off all “Yeah … we can totally do this. Mind over matter!”

Then as soon as he gets the chance “Mmmm … potato chip … Potato chip … Om nom nom!”

Mind over matter. We all need to start rootin’ for matter, cuz mind is screwin’ us over!

OK … moving on Diary …

Double standards … You know, where one rule is applied to one group of people, but is then different for another group … Yeah, they’re wrong for the most part.

I mean, like, I as a man think it’s crap that a woman can pretty much do whatever she wants if the man in her relationship has “wronged” her. Key his car, burn his stuff, trash his reputation. It’s all fair game. And not only is it OK … there’s songs written about it that make people lots of money.

Oh but flip that around and man does all those things to his girlfriend … Hello prison!

It goes both ways though. Women … you should be furious at the double standard that men can hook up with as many chicks as they want … and they’re a stud. YOU do that … Everybody says you got herpes. Totally unfair!

That said … some double standards are OK.

Like when you’re a parent and dealing with kids … You’re totally allowed to pull that “Do as I say, not as I do” card. Like the other day, my son wanted his iPad. Well guess what … It wasn’t iPad time. And pay no attention to the fact that I was using an iPad while I was telling him this. Rule don’t count for Daddy. I paid my dues. And I paid for iPads. So step off!

Another time double standards are OK are with words. I know they’re just words, but when crafted together, they can become very powerful. That’s why I think it’s important to have double standards with them. Like … women can say certain words, while men absolutely should not say the same words.

“I sleep naked.”

When a woman says that … Bravo sister! Girl power! You are cute!

A man? Ewww. Like your whole house to me is a motel bedspread. No thank you!

Here’s another one …

“I just love children.”

Yeah … I don’t need to elaborate there.

“Spoon me.”

No self-respecting man on Earth would say “spoon me.” So yeah … sometimes a double standard is perfectly OK.

Till next time Diary, I say … goodbye.

 

Fart Broadcasters

Dear Diary …

It’s time we all band together and fight back against a very evil group of people. They’re bullies … they think they’re better than us … and they cause unwanted drama and conflict. They are a group of people I call “The Fart Broadcasters.”

Look man … fartin’ ain’t ideal, but it happens. Medical fact of life. And the last thing you need when you unfortunately have to drop one is some holier than thou know-it-all shouting “Ewww … who farted? Gross!”

Why you gotta call attention to it by attempting to publicly shame somebody? I mean … correct me if I’m wrong … but you ain’t perfect. So why do you think it’s OK to call out the imperfections of somebody else?

If you’re hair is all jacked up and ugly, you don’t hear me yelling “Ewww … who has nasty hair? Gross!”

And don’t give me this … “Oh well you can just hold it in!”

Yeah … well you can also just not leave the house lookin’ all ugly with your jacked up hair either, can ya?

Plus … hold in a fart and you might explode. Nothin’ happens if you hold in bad har.

OK … that analogy doesn’t make any sense, but you get my point … there’s no need for you to be a Fart Broadcaster. The farter is embarrassed enough that they did it in the first place, no need for you to pile on with your terrible fart play-by-play analysis of the whole situation.

And listen here Fart Broadcaster, if you do it … I can promise you this … there WILL be a time that something happens to you that makes you look less than perfect … you’ll have a stinky burp or a dangly booger or a leaky zit … and I will be the first person to broadcast to the world … So get ready!

OK … moving on Diary …

Summertime is officially here, and many of us will be lucky enough to go on a vacation. A lot of people will go to the beach, which is great. I like the beach. OK … I actually like “near the beach and not actually ON the beach,” but that’s still the beach.

Anyway … here’s my one thing about the beach … When you go there you do beachy things. One such thing is to rent a bicycle. Most of us haven’t ridden a bike since we were 12, but apparently we go to the beach and we think, “Yeah I’m gonna ride a BIKE!”

That’s fine. My only problem is, why they gotta give you the biggest, dorkiest bike you’ve ever seen in your life? Big dumb wheels, long dorky handlebar … they’re ridiculous. When you were 12 you wouldn’t be caught dead riding that thing, now you’re tooling around the beach in your big ol’ dorkmobile with pedals.

Dornga-dornga-dorng … I’m at the beach! And the biggest kick in the gut … you’re payin’ for that! Usually a lot!

I mean … they might as well put a basket and a flag on them, give you a helmet, and let you ride around like the town weirdo. And actually … they do usually have baskets and flags on them, so that’s not really even a joke.

And really Diary … I don’t know who I’m even pleading to here … the bike companies to not rent these things … or the people on vacation not to buy them. Either way, it’s wrong and it needs to stop. Friends don’t let friends ride dork bikes!

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

2015 Graduation Manifesto

Dear Diary …

Here we are … at the time of year when many of the young minions of Zackmerica make that fateful walk down the aisle away from childhood and into young adulthood. Graduation season is here. And notice that I don’t say “Dads and Grads Season” … cuz as a father … Father’s Day gets the shaft as it is compared to Mother’s Day, and I re-FUSE to let you lump me and all the other Dads in with grads just because it happens to rhyme. But that’s for a different Anger Diary … back to the graduates.

Because another thing you see this time of year is different celebrities giving graduation speeches at colleges and high schools throughout the county. And since nobody’s offering me these speaking gigs … I’m gonna just do it here.

For the record I’m not angling for an invitation to speak … I don’t really like leaving the house … so don’t offer. Also … I’m gonna be the one that tells the truth … the cold hard truth … so your school probably wouldn’t like the dose of reality I’d give you anyway. Plus … I’d hate it if only one lucky school got my wisdom, and I would deprive all the other schools. So if I give it to you here, then EVERY school gets it.

So without further ado, here’s my advice to graduating seniors everywhere … DON’T LEAVE!!!! The world is a terrible place where they make you do responsible things and fun goes to die! OK first I should probably … breathe. Second … I should probably clarify before we go any further … that advice applies to college. High school? Adios suckas! You’re on to bigger and better things. Forget that place!

I mean … high school was FINE … but college … I don’t wanna bum you out or nothin’, but those are the best years of your life. It’s all downhill from there baby!

I mean … yeah … you get to do all these exciting things in your life like get married, have kids, have a career, blah blah blah. But college really is this glorious time where you have minimal responsibility mixed with just the right amount of independence that allows you to play video games 7 hours a day, as well as two or three solid nights a week of beer pong. All while not really being bothered by anyone.

And your metabolism? Oh my God, I might miss that more than anything. Come home from a night of fun .. eat a calzone at three o’clock in the morning … wake up at noon … do it all again the next day. Now I inhale the smell of a calzone … “Oh that acid is gonna give me heartburn!” And not just the heartburn, let’s not forget the general fatitude that it’s going to cause on my Dad Bod at the same time. College … you can eat calzones three times a day and you look exactly the same. Adulthood … you know what you get? Diabetes.

The other thing that college has that you’re never gonna have again is immediate access to a social circle with a seemingly endless supply of new friends and love interests. College was that time where I felt like you met new people ALL the time. Some of ‘em became lifelong friends, others just became topless friends that you saw once or twice and then can’t even remember their names today. Yeah … that all gone.

Now you to go places like “work” … and then you go home. So the friends you got … that’s all you got. Now I’m not saying it’s IMPOSSIBLE to meet new people, but they aren’t just layin’ around all over the place like they used to. Now you gotta actually make an effort and say things like “Hello … Perhaps we should hang out socially some time? That would be lovely.”

And later you have kids …. forget it. Now you only hang out with the parents of kids that your kids are friends with. So you barely even like these people, but you have no choice because your little booger eaters are on the same soccer team, and they have a trampoline in their backyard and your kid wants to jump on it. So now your conversations are even worse, “Oh and what do you do for work?’ “Oh that’s nice … um … OK that’s all I got.” That’s what your life becomes.

Now I know what you’re thinking … “This is terrible advice!”

But it’s not. This is what the real world is like kiddoes. And the reason I tell you this is not to scare you, but to make you realize that you don’t need to be in such a darn hurry to grow up. I hear it all the time from these college kids “Oh I can’t wait to get out of here … I’m so done with college.”

Oh you precious … precious little … IDIOT! You have no idea what you’re leaving right now … stop trying to leave it so quickly! You got your whole stinkin’ life to grow up … sit back and enjoy the awesomeness that is your time right now and you can deal with the rest of it later. That, my friends, is your REAL graduation advice.

Till next time Diary .. I say … Goodbye.

Facebook the Sewer

Dear Diary …

Facebook is an amazing thing. It has revolutionized the way we communicate, and really has helped make the world become a better place. Oh who am I kidding? It’s a sewer! Like straight from the sewage treatment plant, festering full of every human germ of the world, and all the horrible things we say and do. It’s terrible!

Diary … I don’t even like talking to people, but Facebook has made even ME long for the days when all we did was talk face to actual human face, and not on some cesspool of a website that has become this place for everybody to spend all day whining and complaining about every little thing in their life.

And the biggest problem I have, is that it’s made people feel WAY too important. They think they’re like, Kings and Queens of their own little Kingdom … lording over their flock of dedicated Facebook friends.

Acting all important … like we’re all sooooo privileged to hear about your daily whining about your sinus infection, or about how one of Logan’s teachers was mean to him, or how it’s 32 days till your big beach trip.

Look … it’s fine if that’s the stuff you wanna post. I don’t care. The problem is that you THINK I care. That’s what always drives me nuts when I see this message …

“Just a did a big Facebook purge on my friends list. Congrats on making the cut.”

You know what? When I see that message, I’m actually BUMMED that I made the cut. And what are all of us supposed to say … those of us that made this magical cut?

“Oh thank you Lord of the Facebook for allowing me to still see your posts about how you wish it was Friday already and how you only got 3 hours of sleep last night. Rejoice to thee that I can be one of your chosen ones!”

Need I remind you that there’s only one true King … ME. King Zack. Nobody else.

So go ahead and post your little insignificant things. Just remember that’s exactly what they are … insignificant.

OK … moving on Diary …

The warm weather is finally creeping in, and soon we’ll be smack dab in the middle of the hot days of the summer time. So with that in mind, I offer everyone a piece of advice … especially men.

When inevitably somebody comes to your door … pizza guy, FedEx person, random kid selling coupon books for his school … can you please do us all a favor and put a shirt on before you open the door?

What sane person answers a door shirtless?

Immediately the whole normal balance of society and social interaction is thrown off. You have no shirt on!

I know you might be hot … but human beings put shirts on before they answer the door. Especially for strangers!

I really do feel for delivery people … the stuff they have to see .. stuff they don’t even wanna see … stuff they can’t un-see. Why are you doing this to them?

And they must be amazingly strong individuals, because how is it that we don’t hear more stories in the news like “Longtime pizza delivery guy decides he can’t take it anymore and stabs his own eyes out?”

I don’t care what anybody does in the privacy of their own home. Sit around shirtless … smoke weed … marry a goat … whatever. As long as it don’t affect me, then I don’t care. But when you cross that plane … the doorway of your house … that’s the threshhold to the outside world and society. Put a dang shirt on!

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

Build-a-Bear Hell

Dear Diary …

I’m all about making this world a better place. So this is a teaching moment. Cuz you are doing it wrong, and I’m gonna teach you how to stop doing that. And this time … you mean well … but you’re screwing it up … so I’m gonna help you.

See … cuz … I have kids. And most of you that I’m trying to help … you don’t have kids. And you’re buying things for my kids … which I’m totally appreciative of … but you’re buying them the complete wrong things. I thank you for your generosity, but I’d also like it if your generosity didn’t turn into a big fat headache for me.

So … here’s the three things that you non-kid havers shouldn’t be buying for kids …

1) Anything loud or messy.

This is pretty self explanatory. Musical instruments, moon sand, Play Dough … ugh Play Dough. That’s the one you think “Oh I LOVED Play Dough as a kid!” … I stupidly thought that myself when I bought my daughter the Play Dough Burger Maker, and was then tortured with all that dried up nastiness stuck in the fibers of my carpet. And then I thought about, all my memories of Play Dough as a kid come from like … one experience. And then I figured out why … I played with the Play Dough Burger Maker one time, and then my parents threw that monstrosity in the garbage and I never used it again.

2) Things that take batteries.

You know me, Diary. I have a long-documented hate of toys that require batteries because they use to many of them and they die too quickly. No batteries!

… and this is the big one …

3) Gift cards.

Now I know what you non-kid havers are thinking “That doesn’t make any sense. A gift card is PERFECT because then they kid can get exactly what they want!”

Yeah well … you’re wrong.

Because the first thing a gift card does is make the child hate every single toy they currently own.

My daughter has too much stuff as it is … and on her birthday she got even more stuff. So now she really she NEEDS nothing. Problem is, somebody gave her a Build-a-Bear gift card. So now that’s all her little brain was focused on … “When do I get to go to Build-a-Bear to use my gift card?”

I’m still cleaning up the carnage of your birthday party. You’re surrounded by an orgy of toys … hundreds of dollars of toys. This should be enough for you!

“Yeah … but when do I get to go to Build a Bear to use my gift card?”

And then the extra problem … Non-kid haver says “Oh they can get anything they want” … Yeah well I can guarantee you this … whatever they want costs more than whatever you gave them.

$20 to Build-a-Bear … That’s like giving somebody a $100 gift card good toward the purchase of … oh … an entire house. $20 gets you nothin’. It might as well say “Guaranteed headache for Daddy” on it instead of gift card.

Look … I applaud these people for coming up with amazingly successful businesses … but when they depart this Earth, I confess that at least part of me hopes they end up in a place where they get attached to one of those giant Build a Bear tubes, and they gotta put their mouth on that tube, and then all that stuffing just BRRRMMMP right into their insides with that machine. And all the while with that awful loud Build-a-Bear music blaring into their skulls.

Diary … they sell underwear there. For bears!

Poor kids in Africa don’t have food, meanwhile we buy underwear for stuffed animals with our Build-a-Bear gift cards. ‘Murica!!!!

Oh and let’s not forget … you got a gift card for my one kid. But I got two kids … and my son is three … so the explanation “Well you don’ get anything because you don’t have a gift card of your own.” Yeah … that’s never gonna work.

So now I gotta buy him something. And he’s in full sensory overload in this explosion toys and goodies. Practically foaming at the mouth. And they’re too stinkin’ nice there! He picks out a bear, fills it, brushes it’s hair … because, yes, they have beauty stations … and then completely changes his mind as we’re going to pay.

“Oh that’s OK sir … We’re happy to accommodate your child whenever he changes his mind.”

Don’t do that! Now he’s just gonna think he can change his mind for the rest of his life … at the register, in the parking lot, at home the next day. No!

You’re like the grandparents of stores. Mommy and Daddy try to do the right thing, get the kids to eat his vegetables, and then you just fill ‘em full of candy when we aren’t looking.

You see what your gift card does to us? Now I’ve got a sobbing child, writhing around on the floor of Build-a-Bear. Happy Birthday!

Till next time Diary, I say goodbye.

No Hustle

Dear Diary …

We’re all in this together, right? The world is a crazy place. So if we don’t have each other’s backs … we’re screwed! Right?

It seems like the obvious answer to these questions is “yes … we’re all in this together,” but if we are, then why are so many of you showing no hustle when it comes to a green arrow?

You know … green arrow … at a traffic light. The quickest of the traffic lights. So when that thing turns green … you gotta punch it Margaret and show me some hustle so we can all make it thru this stinkin’ light together!

And this seems like common sense, but all last week I’m just trapped behind … slow … and … steady … take … my … time. C’mon man … I wanna get thru this light too! Move it!

Nobody hustles anymore … for anything.

At work … doo bee doo bee doo … doin’ my job … as slow as possible.

Crossing the street … walkin’ reaaaal … sloowwwwww

Pick up the pace slackers! You don’t have to move all crazy, but we’re on this Earth for a limited about of time, I don’t wanna spend my precious time waiting for your meatball sub legs to walk across the street. Hustle!

OK … moving on Diary …

I’m pretty sure every kid on Earth has the same thought about their parents … That they’re idiots. They all think we’re just dumb, oblivious humanoids that were only put on this Earth to make rules and mow the lawn.

I know that’s what my kids think … that I’m some fool that falls for their little games.

Like my son … he’s three … and he thinks he’s tricking me into giving him milk at times he’s not supposed to ask for milk.

Cuz what he does is he doesn’t directly ask for milk … he just says …

“Hey what’s in da refrigerator?”

I don’t know, what’s in there?

“Is it milk? You got milk in there?”

Yes … there’s milk in there.

“Is it cow’s milk? You got cow’s milk in there?”

Fine … here’s your milk. But don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing here.

My daughter takes a different approach … like when she wants a snack and it’s not snack time …

“Hey Daddy!”

Yes?

[[[[Mumble mumble Cheez-Its?]]]]

What was that?

[[[[Mumble mumble Cheez-Its?]]]]

Yeah … I hear Cheez-Its in there. And she just points her little finger at the box. [[[Mumble mumble Cheez-Its?]]

Fine … here’s your Cheez-Its. But again … let me be clear … you ain’t tricking me into this. I’m giving you these things because I choose to give them to you. Not because you’ve … [[robot voice]] tricked … humanoid … robot … Dad … again.

I might be dumb, but I ain’t THAT dumb!

Of course, when you think about it, they are getting exactly what they want at the time they aren’t supposed to have it, so [[[robot voice]] Maybe … I … am … the … idiot.

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye

In Search of “The One”

Dear Diary …

Throughout my life, I am forever in search of “the one.” And I don’t mean, “Oh that’s the love of my life, she’s ‘The One.’” I’m pretty sure I figured that one out already. Or really it’s my wife because SHE was lucky enough to find ME … Clearly “The one.” [[RIMSHOT]]

Kidding!

Anyway … this is more like that Morpheus dude’s quest in the movie “The Matrix” where he’s trying to find the chosen One to save the world. Except mine is not a hunt to find the savior, my hunt is to always find “The One” who’s ruining it for the rest of us.

This came to me while I was scrambling thru rush hour traffic on Friday afternoon to fight my way thru a jam-packed grocery store. Why? Because my daughter had a little performance thingie at her school and my wife and I realize “Oh crap … we gotta bring her flowers.” Yep … cuz I don’t know if you knew this or not Diary, but if you don’t bring your kid flowers and gifts to any and every assembly and performance and every little thing they do, you are the worst parents alive. Cuz everybody else’s parents do it. So unless you want a miserable, crying child at the end of the night, you gotta do it to.

And while I moved thru the crowds like a football game had just ended, I thought to myself, “Who’s ‘The One’ who did this?”

Because back in the day, this didn’t happen. When I was a kid, you did your little band recital, or chorus song, or dance routine or whatever, and then you went home. That was it.

But then one day “The One” ruined everything by spoiling their kid with gifts. And then somebody else’s kid saw that kid, and they were sad. And that parent felt guilty. So they next time, they got them stuff. And then everybody got suckered into doing the same thing. All thanks to “The One.”

Look … let me be clear … I like doing things for my kids and making them happy, but I wanna do it because I wanna do it, or because they actually earned it. Instead, I’m doing it because I’m afraid I’m gonna look like that schmuck who DIDN’T do it.

And it’s never-ending, there’s always some parent doing it wrong and becoming “The One” that makes things more of a pain for the rest of us. Like when I have to fight with my daughter over the yogurt she brings to school.

“Well blah blah’s parents [[By the way, Blah blah’s name has been changed to protect blah blah’s feelings]] Well blah blah’s parents pack her the yogurt with the Oreo cookies on top.”

“Yeah well blah blah’s parents obviously don’t care about nutrition, so too bad!”

Blah blah’s parents … being “The One” and making us all look bad cuz we don’t put candy in our yogurt.

We as parents all need to band together with an agreement of solidarity that our kids get nothin’. I mean … everybody wins here. We save money, and our kids aren’t spoiled little monsters.

But the problem is that MOST of us will agree to the pact, but there will always be “The One” that goes against us and makes us all look bad, because they’re the people that say things like, “Oh well my kids ALWAYS come first.”

You know what? I’m gonna blow your mind right here … my kids don’t always come first. Nor do they deserve to always come first. Sure I love them and will do anything for them, but some nights, they come like 6th or 7th. Shoot … I’m going out of town for a night away … just me and the wife on Friday, and I can promise you that the kids are gonna come about 23rd, right behind, “I hope this hotel has comfortable pillows.” (Oh yeah … and hopefully the kids are OK too.)

Just an observation here, but in my experience the person who says “Well my kids come first,” is almost always the same person on Facebook who’s life is a never-ending stream of drama and complaining … The school’s out to get me, my man cheated, my boss is a jerk … All with the capper of “Well I told them that my babies always come first no matter what.”

Hey .. I’m not saying “Don’t love your kids and be there for them,” I just saying … there MIGHT be a connection here.

Till next time Diary, I say … goodbye