Blog of the day-
What you thought it was an idol threat?
Addaboy "A good friend bails you out of jail. Your best friend is sitting in the cell with you going, 'that was awesome!'"
Hahaha! Straight from his profile ya just gotta like this one. He took down his pics dammit(Boo!)but I have a photographic memory where cute guys are concerned and this one is 2 thumbs up. Addaboy was one of my first blogging addictions, anybody that gets as much ass as he does belongs at the top of my list hehehe! I need to get his recipe for dragging straight guys out of the closet.. he has to have set some kind of deflowering record. At any rate - he is brilliantly funny, and well worth the read.
Happy Halloween!!
I love scary movies.. not slasher, entrails all over type movies - but the classic nail biter style scary. When I was a kid we had a Saturday afternoon show here in Detroit called "Sir Graves Ghastly", I watched this show religiously. He was sort of a "Count Chocula" style host, and they played scary movies.. the cool ones, The Mummy, The werewolf - you know, the golden oldies.. and no I don't care if I am dating myself here.
My Mother made me keep her old hope chest in my room, and after seeing Dracula I once stabbed the contents of that chest repeatedly with a vary large very sharp knife, I think her Dolly suffered multiple stab wounds.. along with her wedding gown and a shitton of 50's couture that she had stored away after she married.. sorry Mom. No, she doesn't know.
Halloween has always been my favorite, and I always made my kids costumes.. some of them were really a riot. Christopher was always my favorite crash dummy hehehe. At age 2 Christopher looked exactly like a Cabbage Patch Kid, so it was a no brainer to run to the corner market and grab 3 large heads of cabbage and some twine, stringing it to him till he was covered in the smelly stuff, turning the leaves up around his head.. it was PERFECT!
When he was 12, Edward scissors Hands was his favorite character.. and as luck would have it Christophers hair was sort of long and shaggy then so it was again a perfect choice. Once sprayed black and spikey, clown white and black shadowing - some latex scars and a dash of fake blood here n there, I strung real scissors to a pair of black leather gloves.. and Voila! Now.. there was one small glitch. Nobody (me) ever considered that the poor boy may have to pee. The consummate perfectionist, he was afraid his chest strings would get messed up - so he held it for more than 4 hours while trick or treating! What a man.
When Tiffany was 10 she was cat woman. He Aunt sacrificed her black leather coat and I made a costume that was a perfect knock off of the one Michelle Pfeiffer wore, complete with Dominatrix Whip (Don't ask haha) Everything was great till she cracked it on a friend.
Halloween for me has always been fun, time for good friends, time with my kids.. the things that count.
Happy Halloween!
Saturday, October 29, 2005
Missing your 15 minutes of fame.
I went to check my stat counter because unless I am loosing my mind my Blog hits went through the roof and I was clueless as to why. E-mails popping in from a lot of really sweet people, I had to rule out anything evil perpetrated by my X. After hopping a couple links.. OK hahaha it took me a while but I finally found the source of my sudden popularity!
Dan Renzi of How was your day, Dan?
One of my favorite reads gave me a really sweet nod. I'm truly humbled.
It made me think about what I look for in my reading.. Sometimes it is people who make me think. Dan is definitely one of those guys. I love wit with a twist, Dan is always seamless. I find the insight this guy has at such a young age really remarkable, and yes of course he is obviously a hunk hehe.
It's people who take me there, guys like Damon, at Naked City Boys, who mixes life's experiences with hot details, and for however long your visiting, you are propelled into his world, whether it's what he had to say that day or the sight of him doing what he enjoys - putting that dirty grin on guys faces, I never leave his page without a smile. The fact that he and his mate Hunter, of Not that Boy, are both scantlessly hot and exacting their just revenge on the world in the best form possible - being happy, makes it all the better.. Rock on boys!
I can't write about everyone in one sitting.. my attention span isn't that great LOL! So instead I think each week till I hit the end I will give ya one from my list of "Notable People", which I will also be updating.
At any rate - welcome to my world new readers! Pull up a chair, grab a coffee or a stiff drink and prepare to be dazzled with my inane ability to make the same mistake a thousand times.
Squished Cat
It occurred to me this morning when I was chatting with "J", that my relationship with my X reminds me very much of one of those cute pictures you see of the child squeezing the cat -
Usually the cat looks like he is on the brink of death - or ready to scratch the kids eyes out, - or sometimes he has wiggled his way out to the point he is upside down and being squeezed nearly in half (ouch) or sometimes he just looks humiliated, no matter what it is clear he wants to get away.. but that child has big plans for him and even if he manages to wiggle free that child will turn over Heaven and Earth to find that cat and squeeze him again.
The cat would be perfectly content to simply visit with the silly child from time to time, but that is never enough for the kid.
My daughter is going through a tough time right now. She is learning about heartbreak for the first time, breaking up with the first boy she ever gave her heart to. They were together for 10 months - which was 9 months and 30 days too long as far as I am concerned. But then I am her Dad and no boy will ever meet my standards.
But this one was particularly disturbing, as he mirrored far too many of my X's behaviors, often holding on to her with guilt and manipulation. I have seen this recur in the relationships of my other kids as well at times and it makes me wonder if I did the right thing at all by staying with my X for as long as I did. I didn't do a very good job of setting an example.
Even now - I am trying so hard to make this OK, - trying to salvage at least a friendship with my X.. but it leaves the door open to so many other things that it makes my head swim sometimes. It is hard to play by the rules when the other party keeps trying to rewrite them.
I have always looked at her as this tragic figure, who loves but does not know how to express it without squeezing you in half. I want so much to believe that all the insane chaotic behavior is her way of showing she cares in some weird twisted way. It's like she was born without a natural mechanism for simply saying I love you. Some argue that I am giving her too much credit, that I am in denial and can't accept what is obviously the truth.. she is just mean and twisted.
She has been dogging my poor daughter for 2 weeks now, shadowing her every move. She blows up my phone with details of supposed plans of my daughter's to meet her X - or re-attach to him, and it is quite frankly just wearing me out. My daughter thinks it is just my X's arcane way of trying to plant herself back into my life, and says my X doesn't care at all what is happening with her - it is all just a ploy.
Maybe she is right, but why do I pray so much that she is wrong, what is it in me that needs to believe my X is not that dreadful a person? Maybe it is just too hard for me to accept that I spent half a lifetime living with a monster.
This morning I woke to a fierce banging on my window, it was my X - demanding I buzz her in. Another 20 minutes of her ranting on about the fact I am blind to everything my daughter is "up too", and I am ordering her out of my apartment.
Sometimes, no matter how desperately you want things to work out, to JUST be alright, they never really will be. You would think given my vast experience with crazy, I would have learned that often crazy is forever.
Sometimes the cat really needs to just run the fuck away.
I went to check my stat counter because unless I am loosing my mind my Blog hits went through the roof and I was clueless as to why. E-mails popping in from a lot of really sweet people, I had to rule out anything evil perpetrated by my X. After hopping a couple links.. OK hahaha it took me a while but I finally found the source of my sudden popularity!
Dan Renzi of How was your day, Dan?
One of my favorite reads gave me a really sweet nod. I'm truly humbled.
It made me think about what I look for in my reading.. Sometimes it is people who make me think. Dan is definitely one of those guys. I love wit with a twist, Dan is always seamless. I find the insight this guy has at such a young age really remarkable, and yes of course he is obviously a hunk hehe.
It's people who take me there, guys like Damon, at Naked City Boys, who mixes life's experiences with hot details, and for however long your visiting, you are propelled into his world, whether it's what he had to say that day or the sight of him doing what he enjoys - putting that dirty grin on guys faces, I never leave his page without a smile. The fact that he and his mate Hunter, of Not that Boy, are both scantlessly hot and exacting their just revenge on the world in the best form possible - being happy, makes it all the better.. Rock on boys!
I can't write about everyone in one sitting.. my attention span isn't that great LOL! So instead I think each week till I hit the end I will give ya one from my list of "Notable People", which I will also be updating.
At any rate - welcome to my world new readers! Pull up a chair, grab a coffee or a stiff drink and prepare to be dazzled with my inane ability to make the same mistake a thousand times.
Squished Cat
It occurred to me this morning when I was chatting with "J", that my relationship with my X reminds me very much of one of those cute pictures you see of the child squeezing the cat -
Usually the cat looks like he is on the brink of death - or ready to scratch the kids eyes out, - or sometimes he has wiggled his way out to the point he is upside down and being squeezed nearly in half (ouch) or sometimes he just looks humiliated, no matter what it is clear he wants to get away.. but that child has big plans for him and even if he manages to wiggle free that child will turn over Heaven and Earth to find that cat and squeeze him again.
The cat would be perfectly content to simply visit with the silly child from time to time, but that is never enough for the kid.
My daughter is going through a tough time right now. She is learning about heartbreak for the first time, breaking up with the first boy she ever gave her heart to. They were together for 10 months - which was 9 months and 30 days too long as far as I am concerned. But then I am her Dad and no boy will ever meet my standards.
But this one was particularly disturbing, as he mirrored far too many of my X's behaviors, often holding on to her with guilt and manipulation. I have seen this recur in the relationships of my other kids as well at times and it makes me wonder if I did the right thing at all by staying with my X for as long as I did. I didn't do a very good job of setting an example.
Even now - I am trying so hard to make this OK, - trying to salvage at least a friendship with my X.. but it leaves the door open to so many other things that it makes my head swim sometimes. It is hard to play by the rules when the other party keeps trying to rewrite them.
I have always looked at her as this tragic figure, who loves but does not know how to express it without squeezing you in half. I want so much to believe that all the insane chaotic behavior is her way of showing she cares in some weird twisted way. It's like she was born without a natural mechanism for simply saying I love you. Some argue that I am giving her too much credit, that I am in denial and can't accept what is obviously the truth.. she is just mean and twisted.
She has been dogging my poor daughter for 2 weeks now, shadowing her every move. She blows up my phone with details of supposed plans of my daughter's to meet her X - or re-attach to him, and it is quite frankly just wearing me out. My daughter thinks it is just my X's arcane way of trying to plant herself back into my life, and says my X doesn't care at all what is happening with her - it is all just a ploy.
Maybe she is right, but why do I pray so much that she is wrong, what is it in me that needs to believe my X is not that dreadful a person? Maybe it is just too hard for me to accept that I spent half a lifetime living with a monster.
This morning I woke to a fierce banging on my window, it was my X - demanding I buzz her in. Another 20 minutes of her ranting on about the fact I am blind to everything my daughter is "up too", and I am ordering her out of my apartment.
Sometimes, no matter how desperately you want things to work out, to JUST be alright, they never really will be. You would think given my vast experience with crazy, I would have learned that often crazy is forever.
Sometimes the cat really needs to just run the fuck away.
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Time
Sometimes.. when it all got too heavy, as a child I went to a place in my head, crawling up on the veranda of a huge old house in the middle of a field of tall grass and wildflowers. No matter where I was - sitting watching my mother knock back the valium with a tall glass of vodka - or listening to her and my father fight, It took me out of the frey to a place none of it could touch me.
That veranda got a lot of use over the years. I still go there.
I've talked about my suicide attempt(s) here before. Despair is a powerful moment, and when your in it, it can sweep you away. When I was a kid I always looked as suicide as a cowards way out, at 15 when my friend Danny killed himself in the garage of his mother's house, I was furious. How could he just give it all away? I never thought about the pain he must have been in inside. I wouldn't understand that for years.
What Danny didn't believe was that life could change, and that no matter how dark and desperate things get, there is always hope that tomorrow could change everything. Years later, I almost forgot that too. I lost my way to that house. It is hard to grasp sometimes, when what you see is your world crashing in around you.. the weight of things seems so great your heart will burst if you have to endure another minute.
Looking back now - I know what Danny felt, that despair.. I still feel it from time to time. Suicide is the end of hope for all time. The insidious thing about it is that you don't know when someone has given up hope. More often than not they conceal it well.
Life turns on a dime sometimes, and it may often take everything you have to hold on.. but if you do remarkable things can happen.
Sometimes.. when it all got too heavy, as a child I went to a place in my head, crawling up on the veranda of a huge old house in the middle of a field of tall grass and wildflowers. No matter where I was - sitting watching my mother knock back the valium with a tall glass of vodka - or listening to her and my father fight, It took me out of the frey to a place none of it could touch me.
That veranda got a lot of use over the years. I still go there.
I've talked about my suicide attempt(s) here before. Despair is a powerful moment, and when your in it, it can sweep you away. When I was a kid I always looked as suicide as a cowards way out, at 15 when my friend Danny killed himself in the garage of his mother's house, I was furious. How could he just give it all away? I never thought about the pain he must have been in inside. I wouldn't understand that for years.
What Danny didn't believe was that life could change, and that no matter how dark and desperate things get, there is always hope that tomorrow could change everything. Years later, I almost forgot that too. I lost my way to that house. It is hard to grasp sometimes, when what you see is your world crashing in around you.. the weight of things seems so great your heart will burst if you have to endure another minute.
Looking back now - I know what Danny felt, that despair.. I still feel it from time to time. Suicide is the end of hope for all time. The insidious thing about it is that you don't know when someone has given up hope. More often than not they conceal it well.
Life turns on a dime sometimes, and it may often take everything you have to hold on.. but if you do remarkable things can happen.
Saturday, October 22, 2005
BANG. 45
I love you guys.. you know who you are. I spent the first night of my birthday weekend good and smashed. No not because I was turning 45.. just checked the mirror that painting in the attic is still doing it's job hahah! Nnnooooo!! I was happily buzzing along down the left turn lane past the row of parked traffic to my right, when suddenly Evil Birthday Wreckerman (EBW) who is in his huge assed OJ sinister rolling roadblock (Ford Bronco) decides to make a last second pit stop at the party store and hooks a left from the right lane in front of me.
Given the fact he has done so not 20 feet in front of me and I am at a good 30 mile an hour roll I nailed him good, even after having locked up my wheels tires burning all the way (My ABS has been out since my X tried killing me) I SO HATE the sound of two vehicles connecting. He hobbles off to his destination (the party store) and I grind my poor smashed Exploder to a halt behind him.. I got out - took one look at my truck and the best I could come up with was "What the FUCK were you thinking???!!!" His reply "Come an man, you know you were coming too fast" I'm like oh hell no.
I then did what any REALLY upset queer does, having just pulled the full coverage off his beloved bright red baby, sat down back against a lightpole and cried. At this point EBW is worried - "Are you alright man?" he was clearly feeling the weight of his evil misdeed.. (as if) We trade info while the cops are coming which I have to tell you in the Detroit burbs during rush hour is a lot like waiting for stupidity to be cured.
I get back in my crumpled chariot - which now makes an utterly dreadful racket due to the new location of the bumper.. wrapped snugly around the right front tire. Then the tears really pour. I know it is really dumb but I love my truck, maybe because like me it has been beaten like no other and crawled back from the edge of oblivion..(This thing had survived three rollovers) maybe because of the blood sweat and tears I had in it, reviving it to put it back on the road. Maybe it's because it was all I had left when I rolled away from my X, almost like it was forged just for that job. Maybe it's because every guy I have ever dated hates it.. it is apparently de-classe to drive domestic. Or it could be the reality that I really did not need this.
So I rolled it into a parking space facing the field across from it's normal spot - poor baby didn't do anything but I just could not handle looking at it. I then toddled over to the local "I have wrecked my truck and had a REALLY really bad day" place, and proceded to get completely blitzed on Long Island Iced Teas. Somewhere along the line I took my last valium, and then came home and started drunk dialing the sparkly people while drinking pucker fuckers. OK I called my crunch because really, who else would listen to a drunken homo cry in his pucker fuckers?
I woke up the next day looking positively scary - quick shower and dark glasses, off to face the last few days of 44 quietly, it was a big year.
I cut a deal on a used Range Rover through a friend of mine,although I won't get it till next month. Oh I am still fixing my baby.. I can't just let it go, not like this. But it will take time and money - and I can barter my painting services against the price of the Rover. Ironically he is the same one that sold me the Exploder.. Maybe I should have the Pope sprinkle it with holy water before I drive it? Yeah that'll work.
Straight guys have been saying strange things to me all week.
There has to be some atrological anomaly taking place right now. I am back at my friends shop as of Monday, bailing him out on a custom finish. His guys are really the coolest, all supposedly straight but his painter, a married twinkish guy of 26, flirts with me like no other. "I missed seeing your hot ass here all the time" "Scott you have to quit wearing those jeans I won't get anything done" These are things every straight guy says right? Seriously, straight guys really are SO GAY!
The next day, the subject of my birthday came up.. my buddy can never keep his mouth shut, his other painter tells me that the 20 year old porter thought I was 25, hahaha - give that boy a FAT raise! And glasses. Wierder still,last night at the gym, the new trainer comes up and gets on the elliptical next to mine and says "Hello and how is Mr. Pitt this evening?" Funny how life strokes your ego when you least expect it... and probably most need it. Although that last one got me very flustered, the only other place I have ever been hit with a line like that was online, having already been approached twice in public as a result of my online shenanigans - I blushed and waited for the other shoe to drop - it never did.
I've heard other bloggers write about being approached publicly, and I always wondered what my reaction would be, thought for a second last night I was about to find out... I don't think I handled it very well, he followed me from point to point through my workout and at one point I was so distracted I actually forgot what year Jaguar Satan just acquired. But hey my head didn't explode, and truthfully it doesn't matter. Some strengths I am building have nothing to do with the gym.
I am apparently also the master of disheveled dating.. I have managed to make dates with 2 actors, both hot, both sweet and both here at the same time. This was not supposed to happen - how the hell did I know they were both in the same production!Gah!
Then if all of this wasn't too much already for my feeble mind to keep up on, there is an affair of the heart brewing on the other side of the continent with sweet "J", who is trapped in the middle of nowhere, and "P" has been hitting me up as fast as I can dodge him. His timing is as usual flawless, he crooks his finger and I always come running.. not this time. Once again running before he can run from me.
Dear gawd, I am the runaway boyfriend.
I love you guys.. you know who you are. I spent the first night of my birthday weekend good and smashed. No not because I was turning 45.. just checked the mirror that painting in the attic is still doing it's job hahah! Nnnooooo!! I was happily buzzing along down the left turn lane past the row of parked traffic to my right, when suddenly Evil Birthday Wreckerman (EBW) who is in his huge assed OJ sinister rolling roadblock (Ford Bronco) decides to make a last second pit stop at the party store and hooks a left from the right lane in front of me.
Given the fact he has done so not 20 feet in front of me and I am at a good 30 mile an hour roll I nailed him good, even after having locked up my wheels tires burning all the way (My ABS has been out since my X tried killing me) I SO HATE the sound of two vehicles connecting. He hobbles off to his destination (the party store) and I grind my poor smashed Exploder to a halt behind him.. I got out - took one look at my truck and the best I could come up with was "What the FUCK were you thinking???!!!" His reply "Come an man, you know you were coming too fast" I'm like oh hell no.
I then did what any REALLY upset queer does, having just pulled the full coverage off his beloved bright red baby, sat down back against a lightpole and cried. At this point EBW is worried - "Are you alright man?" he was clearly feeling the weight of his evil misdeed.. (as if) We trade info while the cops are coming which I have to tell you in the Detroit burbs during rush hour is a lot like waiting for stupidity to be cured.
I get back in my crumpled chariot - which now makes an utterly dreadful racket due to the new location of the bumper.. wrapped snugly around the right front tire. Then the tears really pour. I know it is really dumb but I love my truck, maybe because like me it has been beaten like no other and crawled back from the edge of oblivion..(This thing had survived three rollovers) maybe because of the blood sweat and tears I had in it, reviving it to put it back on the road. Maybe it's because it was all I had left when I rolled away from my X, almost like it was forged just for that job. Maybe it's because every guy I have ever dated hates it.. it is apparently de-classe to drive domestic. Or it could be the reality that I really did not need this.
So I rolled it into a parking space facing the field across from it's normal spot - poor baby didn't do anything but I just could not handle looking at it. I then toddled over to the local "I have wrecked my truck and had a REALLY really bad day" place, and proceded to get completely blitzed on Long Island Iced Teas. Somewhere along the line I took my last valium, and then came home and started drunk dialing the sparkly people while drinking pucker fuckers. OK I called my crunch because really, who else would listen to a drunken homo cry in his pucker fuckers?
I woke up the next day looking positively scary - quick shower and dark glasses, off to face the last few days of 44 quietly, it was a big year.
I cut a deal on a used Range Rover through a friend of mine,although I won't get it till next month. Oh I am still fixing my baby.. I can't just let it go, not like this. But it will take time and money - and I can barter my painting services against the price of the Rover. Ironically he is the same one that sold me the Exploder.. Maybe I should have the Pope sprinkle it with holy water before I drive it? Yeah that'll work.
Straight guys have been saying strange things to me all week.
There has to be some atrological anomaly taking place right now. I am back at my friends shop as of Monday, bailing him out on a custom finish. His guys are really the coolest, all supposedly straight but his painter, a married twinkish guy of 26, flirts with me like no other. "I missed seeing your hot ass here all the time" "Scott you have to quit wearing those jeans I won't get anything done" These are things every straight guy says right? Seriously, straight guys really are SO GAY!
The next day, the subject of my birthday came up.. my buddy can never keep his mouth shut, his other painter tells me that the 20 year old porter thought I was 25, hahaha - give that boy a FAT raise! And glasses. Wierder still,last night at the gym, the new trainer comes up and gets on the elliptical next to mine and says "Hello and how is Mr. Pitt this evening?" Funny how life strokes your ego when you least expect it... and probably most need it. Although that last one got me very flustered, the only other place I have ever been hit with a line like that was online, having already been approached twice in public as a result of my online shenanigans - I blushed and waited for the other shoe to drop - it never did.
I've heard other bloggers write about being approached publicly, and I always wondered what my reaction would be, thought for a second last night I was about to find out... I don't think I handled it very well, he followed me from point to point through my workout and at one point I was so distracted I actually forgot what year Jaguar Satan just acquired. But hey my head didn't explode, and truthfully it doesn't matter. Some strengths I am building have nothing to do with the gym.
I am apparently also the master of disheveled dating.. I have managed to make dates with 2 actors, both hot, both sweet and both here at the same time. This was not supposed to happen - how the hell did I know they were both in the same production!Gah!
Then if all of this wasn't too much already for my feeble mind to keep up on, there is an affair of the heart brewing on the other side of the continent with sweet "J", who is trapped in the middle of nowhere, and "P" has been hitting me up as fast as I can dodge him. His timing is as usual flawless, he crooks his finger and I always come running.. not this time. Once again running before he can run from me.
Dear gawd, I am the runaway boyfriend.
Monday, October 03, 2005
23 Years of shit eating grins..
Happy Birthday Christopher!!
My youngest son is 23 today.. this one never fails to make me smile. Memories of him at the age of 5, he looked like a blond haired Cambodian, spindly little legs and arms with a little pot belly, every icecream he ate would be trailing down his belly and into his underwear. What seems to stick for me most, this boy had amazing comic timing, and the deepest raspy voice I have ever heard eek out of a five year old. Huge brown eyes that seemed to smile at you even when he was cross.. which was almost never.
In his Kindergarten play, he was a prairie creature. I had worked with him for weeks on his lines - he laughed at me every night, said it was a dumb play and there was no way he was going to do it. I of course explained that the universe would grind to a halt if he didn't do his part.. he laughed at me. *sigh*
So the day of the play comes along and he stands there on stage, silently grinning ear to ear, staring straight at me arms folded in defiance.. motionless. I gesture to him with my hands to speak - adding the evil shaking finger routine that NEVER works, he starts to mimic me - laughing all the while. I make a choking motion - as if to feign that if he does not do his part I will of course choke him - he gets a shit eating grin on his face and mimics that as well, for a second faking near death - adding a full body wreathing death.. and now he is giggling and snorting so hard, his 2 buddies next to him are no longer doing their parts but watching the two of us in the gesture battle.. this spreads down the row of prairie creatures like wildfire.. he has the entire audience roaring as well, although for a second they had no idea why, outside the sheer caustic laughter that Christopher was caught up in, that seemed to be taking over the scene. In seconds - their eyes followed his to me, and caught me doing the choking thing, at which point when Christopher sees that they have flat out busted me - he points at me - and the next thing I know he is literally rolling on the stage in laughter.... Seriously - at this point I was in tears I was laughing so hard.. luckily so was the audience. I worship this kid.. That was actually the highlight of the play that year - even his teacher gave it 2 thumbs up.
A scrapper with "David Spade" humor and a bull headed, determined, nature that even makes me cringe. Right from the start this one had to be different, in kindergarten he insisted that since I cut his older brother Ryan's hair in mini blinds - (lol shuddup) that he HAD to have the "Batman" insignia shaved into the sides of his head.. well - his hair was so blonde in order for it to show up I had to color it in with marker! Hahhaha!
He was positively beaming when he got to school that day, my job as super cool Dad was done. Then I got a call at work from the principal, asking that I please NEVER color his head again.. seems the rest of the class thought it was cool too and decided to try it out themselves.. oof.
This one was my sidekick through many a side job, one summer, he couldn't have been more than 6, I was doing a 66 T-bird- going hard custom for a European tour, shaved door handles & locks, yadda yadda yadda - he sat beside me the whole time, sneaking the used sand paper and sanding down an old bike frame that had been sitting on the side of the garage for years. The kid had that thing looking like a Delorean - there wasn't a fleck of paint or rust anywhere.
When we went to paint it I ordered him his own little respirator, hung the bike from a tree, put my paint gun in his hand and picked him up so he could reach it to paint it- Porsche Red. Of course once he went in to clean up I finished it in a little.. I took him to Toys R Us and he picked out a Zebra skin seat and pads, chopper style hand grips, and mud tires.. this bike cost me a fortune, but the look on his face was worth every cent.
This one.. always pushing the envelope, setting things on fire, you know the usual kid stuff. The little league games with ice fights in the hotel rooms at the away games, his 93 Probe that used to throw up a smoke screen that James Bond would have envied, the occasional "mooning" of the wretched neighbor lady across the street.. and the most disgusting farts in human history, visited on the unsuspecting house guests (his 6 buddies)- touching off wrestling matches that destroyed 2 livingroom sets and a fortune in crystal by the time he graduated..
At 23, still beside me.. he's been working out with me at the gym the past few weeks, getting over a split with a girl he was with for the past 3 years, one who was WAY too much like the gal that married dear old Dad. Still the same tenacity - the same wry humor, and thanks to the protein shakes - farts that have exceeded the state's safe allowable methane limits. He is intent to catch up to me, and I have no doubt he will. When I look at him, listen to him.. I am somehow reassured that I really did do it right.
When he hugs me goodbye every night I am sure I did.
So Happy Birthday son, I am so proud to be your Dad.
Happy Birthday Christopher!!
My youngest son is 23 today.. this one never fails to make me smile. Memories of him at the age of 5, he looked like a blond haired Cambodian, spindly little legs and arms with a little pot belly, every icecream he ate would be trailing down his belly and into his underwear. What seems to stick for me most, this boy had amazing comic timing, and the deepest raspy voice I have ever heard eek out of a five year old. Huge brown eyes that seemed to smile at you even when he was cross.. which was almost never.
In his Kindergarten play, he was a prairie creature. I had worked with him for weeks on his lines - he laughed at me every night, said it was a dumb play and there was no way he was going to do it. I of course explained that the universe would grind to a halt if he didn't do his part.. he laughed at me. *sigh*
So the day of the play comes along and he stands there on stage, silently grinning ear to ear, staring straight at me arms folded in defiance.. motionless. I gesture to him with my hands to speak - adding the evil shaking finger routine that NEVER works, he starts to mimic me - laughing all the while. I make a choking motion - as if to feign that if he does not do his part I will of course choke him - he gets a shit eating grin on his face and mimics that as well, for a second faking near death - adding a full body wreathing death.. and now he is giggling and snorting so hard, his 2 buddies next to him are no longer doing their parts but watching the two of us in the gesture battle.. this spreads down the row of prairie creatures like wildfire.. he has the entire audience roaring as well, although for a second they had no idea why, outside the sheer caustic laughter that Christopher was caught up in, that seemed to be taking over the scene. In seconds - their eyes followed his to me, and caught me doing the choking thing, at which point when Christopher sees that they have flat out busted me - he points at me - and the next thing I know he is literally rolling on the stage in laughter.... Seriously - at this point I was in tears I was laughing so hard.. luckily so was the audience. I worship this kid.. That was actually the highlight of the play that year - even his teacher gave it 2 thumbs up.
A scrapper with "David Spade" humor and a bull headed, determined, nature that even makes me cringe. Right from the start this one had to be different, in kindergarten he insisted that since I cut his older brother Ryan's hair in mini blinds - (lol shuddup) that he HAD to have the "Batman" insignia shaved into the sides of his head.. well - his hair was so blonde in order for it to show up I had to color it in with marker! Hahhaha!
He was positively beaming when he got to school that day, my job as super cool Dad was done. Then I got a call at work from the principal, asking that I please NEVER color his head again.. seems the rest of the class thought it was cool too and decided to try it out themselves.. oof.
This one was my sidekick through many a side job, one summer, he couldn't have been more than 6, I was doing a 66 T-bird- going hard custom for a European tour, shaved door handles & locks, yadda yadda yadda - he sat beside me the whole time, sneaking the used sand paper and sanding down an old bike frame that had been sitting on the side of the garage for years. The kid had that thing looking like a Delorean - there wasn't a fleck of paint or rust anywhere.
When we went to paint it I ordered him his own little respirator, hung the bike from a tree, put my paint gun in his hand and picked him up so he could reach it to paint it- Porsche Red. Of course once he went in to clean up I finished it in a little.. I took him to Toys R Us and he picked out a Zebra skin seat and pads, chopper style hand grips, and mud tires.. this bike cost me a fortune, but the look on his face was worth every cent.
This one.. always pushing the envelope, setting things on fire, you know the usual kid stuff. The little league games with ice fights in the hotel rooms at the away games, his 93 Probe that used to throw up a smoke screen that James Bond would have envied, the occasional "mooning" of the wretched neighbor lady across the street.. and the most disgusting farts in human history, visited on the unsuspecting house guests (his 6 buddies)- touching off wrestling matches that destroyed 2 livingroom sets and a fortune in crystal by the time he graduated..
At 23, still beside me.. he's been working out with me at the gym the past few weeks, getting over a split with a girl he was with for the past 3 years, one who was WAY too much like the gal that married dear old Dad. Still the same tenacity - the same wry humor, and thanks to the protein shakes - farts that have exceeded the state's safe allowable methane limits. He is intent to catch up to me, and I have no doubt he will. When I look at him, listen to him.. I am somehow reassured that I really did do it right.
When he hugs me goodbye every night I am sure I did.
So Happy Birthday son, I am so proud to be your Dad.
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