You Spoil Everything

Dear Diary …

Alright look … technology has changed the game in a lotta ways and we all just gotta adapt to it. You can’t necessarily do things the way you’ve always done things. And one such thing is watch television. Because the simple reality is … with DVR and on-demand or whatever … not everybody watches TV at the same time.

Some people might watch it an hour later … some people might watch it a day later. So with that in mind … I pass this message along to you … “SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” When you watch a show … like say “The Walking Dead” … where stuff goes down all the time … You need to STOP immediately running to Facebook and blabbing the details up and down the basketball court.

So of us … meaning “ME” … didn’t watch the episode right away when it was on on Sunday night. I like football … so I was watching that. I also like alcohol … so I was sleepy from enjoy that. I wanne record it and watch it later.

And I’m not asking you for much … I’m going to watch it the next day. You don’t have to zip it for a whole week or anything … not even two days … just ONE … FREAKING … DAY!

I just don’t understand why some people have this immediate urge to overshare every detail of their lives on Facebook. It’s bad enough that I gotta hear about your crappy ex husband or that pus-y boil that’s on your shoulder that you’re not sure if you should pop … now you gotta ruin TV for me too with stupid headlines like “OMG I can’t believe they killed Julio on the Walking Dead!”

And no … there ain’t no Julio on the Walking Dead … and I don’t know if they killed anybody or not because I’m busy trying to live in this ridiculous cone of silence so I can make it to the evening in order to watch this show without having anybody ruin it for me.

And it’s not just Facebook … the internet in general just LOOOVES to spoil things.

And they even do it by saying “SPOILER ALERT: Don’t click here if you don’t wanna know who died on the Walking Dead.” OK one … now you’ve already spoiled it if you say something like that. And two … what do they always do with that “Spoiler Alert” headline that’s supposed to protect you from the details? They put a picture of the character in question as the “here” for the “click here.” Gee I wonder what happened? Idiots.

And furthermore … what’s the point of even writing an article about it? The people who have already seen the show don’t wanna read it, because they already know what happened. And the people who DIDN’T see the show want nothing to do with it because it’s ruining everything!

And screw you Facebook for shoving it in my face … right there on the top of my feed. Trying to ruin everything. And even if you try to ignore the feed … it’s still “Hey … over here! Look down the sidebar to see what’s trending … HAHA gotcha!”

Can’t you all just be quiet for two seconds? Alright maybe a little bit longer … 24 hours … that’s all I’m asking for. You know how they say “Silence is golden?” Yeah … so go be all “golden” and stuff and shut your trap for one day.

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye

My Circus Sideshow

Dear Diary …

Now that I’ve been raising kids for a couple years … I’ve learned one thing above all else … old me is dead. Now I’m not saying it’s necessarily a good thing or a bad thing … it’s just a different thing. Meaning … “Old Me” … the one that played video games for hours, went out drinkin’ and eatin’ all the time, slept till noon … Yeah … he’s dead.

And you could probably argue that ”new me” is a lot better in a lot of ways by not doing those things. And it probably is … though that doesn’t mean I don’t miss old me from time to time (all the time) … I mean every now and then.

The wacky thing about “new me,” is that I’m not just one person.

I’m not just Dad … As far as the children are concerned, I’m a cast of characters … and weird ones too … like the kinds you see at the Circus sideshow …

[[[Circus Music]]
Hurry hurry hurry … step right up! Ladies and gentleman … boys and girls … people of ALL ages … Come with your own eyes and witness the wonder of the world … the freak of the family … … the servant of the shelter … the parent of tiny children!

Yep … welcome to the circus. Cuz I’m not just me … I’m a collection of sideshow characters. For example … I’m The Human Remote Control …

The children tell me “It’s my turn to pick out a show” … and then it’s time for the human remote control to get to work. I stand there, while they just bark orders at me while I scroll through the menus of their crappy little television shows. And they flip their little hands in the air … bossin’ me around …

“Go that way. No … the other way! Go back. I’ll tell you when to stop.”

For the love of God pick out a show!

And my son is the worst, at least my daughter has a pretty good idea of what she wants to watch. I find it … and she watches it.

Meanwhile, he’s three, so the names of things in his head aren’t what they are in real life.

First of all … we start with “I wanna watch Snowflarx!”

Do you know what that is, Diary? That’s Netflix. I figured that out the hard way as he kept yelling about “Snowflarx!” until I got it right. Problem is … once we get to Snowflarx, now he just says things like “I wanna watch ‘The real Mickey Halloween one.’”

And do you know what that is? Me neither! Because I showed him every freakin’ Mickey Halloween thing we had .. and he didn’t want any of those. No idea what he’s talking about. Eventually I just hit play on something and walk away so he can whine about it on his own.

OK … it doesn’t stop there … the cast of characters continues because I am also The Human Menu when it comes to the world of snacks. I will say this … my son is at least cute about it when he starts. Yesterday he says to me …

“Daddy … does we have snacks?”

Well yes, we have snacks.

“Does we have snacks for boys that are healthy?”

Sure … we have snacks for boys that are healthy. What snack do you want? And here’s where it takes a turn …

“What do we have?”

You know what we have! We go thru this conversation five times a day. It’s the same stuff as the last time. But they don’t wanna tell you what they want. They want The Human Menu to rattle them all off so they can shoot you down over and over again.

We have apples. No.

Banana. No

Strawberry. No

Chex mix. No

Pretzles. No

Popcorn. No.

Oh my God just tell me what you want!!!

You know how they say you spend half your life sleeping and pooping? Well I spend the other half just standing in the pantry acting like a menu.

OK finally, above all else, at the end of the day, I’ve learned that I am The Human Garbage Can.

Because once my son finally picked his snack … cheese stick by the way … he sat there with that thing in his sweaty little hand … smooshing it all around while he’s eating it. Cuz kids are disgusting when they eat food.

Finally he gets his fill, and there’s still this slimy little nubbin’ of cheese stick left. To which he looks at, “Ew … That’s asgusting” And promptly tosses it in my lap.

Oh thank you your Royal Highness! Thanks you for bestowing upon me Ye Royal Saliva and Cheese Leavins! So gross he doesn’t wanna touch it … but The Human Garbage Can is here for his disposal.

Yep … “old me” … dead.

R.I.P. Old Me.

Miss you … bunches.

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye

Butt Medicine

Dear Diary …

So … my kid was sick over the weekend. He’s three … so it just stinks all around. I mean, totally ruinin’ my weekend having to take care of his sick little self. But beyond that, I mean OF COURSE as a parent you just hate to watch your little angel have to go thru with all that. While they lay there looking all helpless and miserable … totally reminds you of … well most women would say “reminds you of a grown man,” but whatever ladies you’re mean and you don’t bring us juice when we don’t feel good!

Anyway … back to the kids …

I will say that I am thankful for the fact that, for the most part, kids are troopers when they’re sick (at least my kids are). My son acted pretty normal most of the weekend. Even when his fever was 103 … still his same ridiculous self, bein’ all “blah boo blah” talking my ear off and running around the kitchen all crazy. But as soon as 103 hit 104 … all bets were off.

And that’s where the parental rage kicks in because right at the time that children need their medicine the most … they no longer wanna take it.

“No. I’m fine”

You are one million degrees and you are so worn down, your face looks like it’s melting. You are NOT fine. You need medicine.

“No. I don’t need it. I’m OK”

Look … I know it stinks … but just take the medicine and we can be done. When they’re little kids, it’s ONE TEASPOON for crying out loud. Just this tiny little thing, but man they can drag this torture along for an hour, even though it would take one second to swallow.

“No. No need”

Great. Now I have no choice. Now I gotta be the bad guy. The one that holds you down, shoves medicine in your mouth, probably causes repressed memories that will come out later when you grow up and blame me for everything that’s wrong in your life. But you need medicine, and it has to be done.

Oh but the fun doesn’t stop there, because nobody HAS to take medicine even when it’s stuffed in their mouth, Diary, not when you can just barf it back up onto the living room floor!

Child 2. Parent 0.

Oh and their ain’t no thrown up like post Cheez-Its throw up … WWAHHHH!!!!

OK so now one unscheduled bath later, child still needs medicine. So now we gotta go to DEFCON1 Diary … butt medicine. The dreaded suppository.

Any parents knows what I’m talking about. And if you don’t have kids, but were thinking some day you would, well this is the crap you need to know about that when they need their medicine, and they won’t take their medicine, you gotta [[[[VVVPPPP]]] … butt medicine. And trust me, I don’t wanna do it any more than you wanna get it.

So now my wife is on her way to the store to buy it and I am begging … Please … PLLLEEEASE … Take your medicine. You don’t want what’s about to happen to happen. You can have anything you want … ice cream, candy bars, fruit snacks, a new toy … ANYTHING!

“A new toy? Oh OK … I’ll take it.”


Alright you know what? Fine! I don’t care. It’s worth it, you can have a toy.

Which of course makes my daughter (who’s been watching this whole thing) say … “Well how come Lennon gets a toy, can I….”


Yes … she got a toy too. But you know what? $40 lost in bribes is still better than butt medicine. Put THAT on a bumper sticker!

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

Halloween Catalogs and Fake Outrage

Dear Diary …

Me and Halloween have a long dramatic history. Never liked Halloween. Even as a kid … I cried almost every year. Getting forced into costumes I didn’t wanna be in. Gettin’ dragged around town with a 102 degree fever. I didn’t really even like candy that much, so there wasn’t even THAT to fall back on. I’m probably the only kid in ‘Murica that still had a Halloween candy stash from LAST year when the new Halloween rolled around THIS year.

And of course I grow up and end up in probably the only adult profession on Earth where you still HAVE to dress up for Halloween every year. Sure, other adults do it for fun, but I HAVE to. It’s for work. And I get it … it’s God’s little joke. Ha ha ha.

But I’m evolved now … I’m past all that. OK … I’m NOT past all that. But I at least accept it for what it is and try to move on. And one good thing is now I can at least move on to a new phase of Halloween that I can actually enjoy … my children loving Halloween. That part is fun, because they LOVE Halloween. They talk about their costumes for MONTHS and are so excited once they pick them out.

So I think I’m safe … the demons of sucky Halloweens past can’t get ME no more! And then … the Halloween costume catalogs start showing up in the mail.

So yeah … I HAD two children that picked out their Halloween costumes and were all excited about it … my daughter ready to be a black cat, and my son all geeked out to be Batman … until they see this evil, retched propaganda machine. Oh I’m sorry … “Evil, EXPENSIVE, retched propaganda machine.”

Guess who don’t wanna be a black cat no more? That’s right … now she wants to be a butterfly. And not just any butterfly Diary, but a $160 butterfly from this catelog that has poisoned my home.

But … I thought you wanted to be a black cat? You know all pretty and “meow” … with the $11 we spent at Jo-Ann Fabrics and I don’t need to spend any more money … you wanna be that … right?

“I changed my mind!”

You didn’t change your mind … the evil Halloween Manifesto messed with your mind and made you want to buy things.

Now my son … he still wants to be Batman. So you think … “Phew! Dodged a bullet there!”


He wants to be Batman pictured in the catalog. Not Batman we’re borrowing from a friend for free that fits him perfectly.

“No … I want ‘DIS Batman in cag-glog!” … Yeah … $90 Batman in cag-log of course.

Why I didn’t just BURN that thing the second it touched my mailbox, I have no idea. Stupid Halloween!

OK … moving on Diary …

We need to all just chill out. And I know that seems like an obvious statement, but we just refuse to, and we still let every single thing get us “SO OFFENDED” and we must “PROTEST!” everything. It’s exhausting.

Like last week, people are all mad at the Call of Duty video game … you know … the military shooter game. So they got a new game coming out … and they also have a Twitter account. So from their account … cuz they think it’ll be a fun little promotion … they start Tweeting out fake news headlines that were actually just things that take place in the new video game. And yes, they were about things like war and terrorist attacks. But again … fake things that are happening in the video game.

So we take them in stride, right? Of course not! We fly off the handle … “How DARE you cause PANIC from your fake headlines!!!”

OK … chill out. Now while I may agree it probably wasn’t the best idea to do this, since clearly we over-react about everything … this simple fact does still remain … If you are getting your “news” from the username @CallofDuty on Twitter and you think it’s real … YOU ARE A MORON!!!

How about you spend … oh I don’t know … four seconds checking another source to verify what you read was real or fake before you go flying off the handle?

But no! We don’t do that. Instead, we immediately start blindly posting … “I hereby forbid Facebook from using my pictures and status updates in the future. So says this official-sounding status update thing that I cut and pasted from somebody else.”

Seriously … one second on Google and you’d know that was a hoax.

I know. “Check your facts” is a crazy suggestion.

I say it again … CHILL OUT.

This is why weed is getting legalized in this country … we’re too freakin’ high strung.

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.