My Perfect Day

People measure “perfection” differently.  A major league pitcher probably thinks perfection is throwing a perfect game.  27 up and 27 down.  A professional hockey goalie may think perfection is shutting out the opponent.  Michelangelo may have considered perfection to be his work in the Sistine Chapel.  Maybe Mozart’s Requiem was his idea of perfection.  Hell maybe a lawyer who wins a big verdict for his best client considers that to be perfection.  Who knows?  Like I said, I believe everyone has their own view or measure of perfection.

Mine is simple . . . my wife’s bagel sandwiches.  Pizza.  Sex.  Zebra Cakes.  Cable television and a night alone at home with no wife and no kids.  Give me these things and I’m happy.  Give me this and I’ll have achieved the PERFECT DAY!

The funny thing is I’ve gotten real close before.  I’ve had the wife and kids out of the house and have had pizza, Zebra Cakes and plenty of cable TV, but obviously no bagel sandwiches and no sex.  And I’ve had the bagel sandwiches and the sex and the cable television and even the pizza and Zebra Cakes, and yet I had to share the house with my wife and kids.  I have been oh so close before and yet never all the way there.

Enter Sunday, May 2^nd –

This is literally the ONLY weekend day where we have no travel soccer game or baseball game scheduled.   This won’t happen again for weeks.  AND, my wife has made plans to take the boys to her friend’s house for dinner.  AND, BOTH BOYS have spent Saturday night elsewhere, so I’m ALREADY starting the day with no kids at home.  It’s now or never.  I spring “Operation Quest for Perfection” into action.

7:30 AM – I am woken up by an overly excited 62-pound puppy who wants to go out.  This is too early to wake my wife for sex.  She’ll never go for it.  Not this early.  She is at best mildly attracted to me after a nice night out and several glasses of wine.  At 7:30 AM on Sunday she flat-out despises me.  Too early.  But I need to get this dog out of here before he wakes her up, so I head downstairs to take care of the dog. 

8:15 AM – Still too early. 

8:35 AM – Still too early.  My wife is scary mean in the morning.  Don’t want to mess this up. 

8:50 AM – There’s literally nothing on TV.  I think time maybe standing still.  The dog is humping one of the couch pillows and I’m getting mildly aroused.  I can’t wait any longer.

8:55 AM – I enter the dragon’s lair.  This could all go bad in a hurry with just one wrong move.  Basically I have 100 different options on how to play this and 99 of them will result in NO SEX.  She’s not moving.  She’s still asleep.  She looks happy.  Damn.  I’ll wait another 10 minutes.

9:05 AM – I’m back.  I’m going in.  No turning back now.  Not sure when the kids will be home, but no doubt my dad won’t keep my youngest for too long, and the oldest is just next door.  He could be ringing the bell any minute now.  I sneak back under the covers and slowly start to massage her.  I’m going to wake her up slowly.  Bring her around.  It’s working.  IT’S ACTUALLY WORKING!!  SEX!!!!!!

9:16 AM – Done with sex.  Wait.  No.  Hold on.  What?  Was that 11 minutes?  11 minutes total?  From start to finish?  Oh God.

9:25 AM – I’m off to 7-Eleven to get coffee.  My wife is heading down to make bagel sandwiches.  I’m off to a GREAT START!!  Two down.

10:00 AM – Just got an e-mail from the baseball coach saying practice today is cancelled.  This day is only getting better.  I’m in a zone.  I can’t be stopped.   

12:00-2:00 PM – A trip to the batting cages with my youngest, a run to the local grocery store and a walk with the dog.  Just plugging away at some errands.  No problem.  Bought a box of Zebra Cakes so I’m all set for tonight.  I’m so close I can taste it.

2:30 PM – My wife and oldest son are bickering about homework.  She’s threatening to leave him home if he doesn’t finish it.  UNACCEPTABLE!!!  Forced into action . . . did some on-line research of the central nervous system.   Wow didn’t realize how much this thing controlled.  Also didn’t realize how many sites had info on the central nervous system, and how long it would take me to find the right answers.  I both love and hate the internet.

3:00 PM – Wife is starting to round up the troops.  She’s getting ready to leave.  I’ve got the Domino’s pizza guy on speed dial, and at least three more innings of the Cubs game left to watch.  The God’s are blessing me today.

3:10 PM – Shit fucking sandwich!!!!!!!!!!  My wife’s friend just called and canceled.  Something about a sick kid. 

3:12 PM – NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My perfect day is officially over before 3:30 PM. 

Maybe there’s another category altogether . . . people who have come close to perfection, but just missed.  It would be the major league pitcher who gives up a bloop hit with two outs in the 9^th.  It would be the hockey goalie who gives up a cheap goal between his legs with time expiring.  It would be Michelangelo running out of blue paint.

That’s me.  The guy with no blue paint.

Operation Quest for Perfection lives on.

Random Thoughts

I have too many things on my mind today.  So I’ve decided to break the blog up into a series of mini-blogs.

1.  Major League Baseball Wimps

Is there any sport out there that is as detrimental to a players’ health as baseball?  I swear most of these guys can barely run the 90 feet from home plate to first base without pulling a groin muscle or tearing a knee ligament or spraining an ankle.  Now I understand that the ridiculously long baseball season is a grind, but still, we’re talking about young, supposedly fit professional athletes who catch and throw a ball on beautifully manicured fields.  I think they should be able to do it without spending too much time on the DL.  A hockey player can take a puck or a stick to the face, and make his next shift.  A baseball player can barely turn the 6-4-3 double play without dislocating his elbow.  Then again, we are talking about a sport where Rickey Henderson once missed several games because of frost-bite . . . in August.

2.  Watching Porn By Myself

So I’ve decided that I’m done watching porn with my wife.  It just isn’t worth it.  She doesn’t like it, and it just doesn’t “do anything” for her.  Worse yet, her constant critique of EVERYTHING winds up ruining it for me.  And it’s not even the acting that she’s bitching about, but rather all the inconsistencies with “real life.”  We’ll be watching a scene between a teacher and a student and she’ll fire off “Well if this is supposed to be a classroom why is there a leather recliner in the corner?”  Or she’ll say “If this is supposed to be a husband and wife having sex in their bedroom why are their bunk beds in there with Sponge Bob sheets?”  Or worse yet, “If this is supposed to be a scene between a construction worker and a house wife why are his nails manicured?  A real construction worker wouldn’t have nails like that.”  I’m done.  She’s ruining porn for me.

3.  Jack

Spring soccer is officially in full swing, and I just had the following conversation with my 7-year old:

Jack – “Dad I need a new soccer ball.  This one doesn’t work anymore.”

Me – “Why, does it need to be filled with air?”

Jack – “No it’s fine.  It’s just old so I can’t kick it anymore.”

This reminds me that I need to do a follow-up blog on the funny stuff kids say.  I swear as they get older the stuff they say is even funnier.

4.  Breakfast Desserts

I’ve finally figured out why I love breakfast so much . . . it’s basically the only meal of the day where you can get away with eating stuff that would pass for dessert.  Chocolate frosted donuts, no problem.  Cinnamon swirl waffles, you bet.  Coco Puffs, absolutely.  Chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream on top, of course.  Any other meal and NONE of this stuff passes.  Lunch is sandwiches or a hearty soup or a salad or an individual pizza.  Dinner is lasagna or pork chops or salmon or cheeseburgers.  If you asked for whipped cream on top of any of your dinner meals your mother would tell you “absolutely not!”  Ask for a powder sugar shaker and she’d probably scold you.  But breakfast . . . well anything goes.  You can pretty much order a Hersey’s bar at breakfast and get away with it.  I love it.

5.   Life doesn’t Get Any Better Than This

So I’ve decided that the hardest thing about being a little league coach is convincing the kids that life is great at their age and that if their biggest problem is striking out or booting a ground ball, well then life is pretty good.  Now I recognize that everything is relative, and that at their age striking out or booting a  ground ball in front of their pals IS A BIG DEAL, but in the grand scheme of things it’s so infinitesimal that  they should be able to shake it off in about four seconds.  However I don’t know how to explain this to them.  I’d like to have the ability to grab them and say “Look dude, I know you just struck out with the bases loaded, but you’re 11, and you have your whole life in front of you.  You’re only getting stronger and better looking.  You still have your sexual prime to look forward to.  You still have college fraternity parties to look forward to.  And speaking of college, you still have college co-eds to look forward to.  You still have years leaving rent free with your parents to look forward to.  You have no credit card debt.  You think striking out is bad?  Listen I’m almost 40.  I’m unemployed.  The only place I’m growing hair is my back.  Every time I eat an Oreo cookie I gain three pounds.  I can only have sex with one woman for the rest of my life and getting her to agree to have sex with me is a real challenge.  So buck the fuck up and get back out there with a smile on your face!”  But I don’t think they’d fully understand or appreciate that speech.

Those are my random thoughts for today.

Sex-Ed Q and A

Sometimes things just fall right into your lap.  The stars and planets align, and everything just works out perfectly.  Now typically this is not the case in my life.  If I’m in a rush, I’ll get every red light, and a long freight train to boot.  If I’ve got the perfect evening planned, something will come along and screw it up.  “Murphy’s Law” could very well have been written specifically for me.  If I ever write my autobiography I’m going to call it “Head Winds . . . Always In Them.” 

However, as the old saying goes. . . “Even the sun shines on a dog’s ass every so often.”  And this week I’m the dog and the sun is shining brightly.

As I sat down the other day to draft a new blog I was hit with a classic case of writers’ block.  Wasn’t sure what to blog about.  After all, with the exception of juggling some pre-season little league games and a few travel soccer practices, I have a whole lot of nothing going on in my life.  But then I remembered that my 5^th grader just started his week of sex-ed classes . . . Houston, we have ignition.

Better yet, the school is sending out a list of all the questions asked by the students during the week as a way of keeping the parents informed of what’s going on and what’s being discussed in sex-ed class.  Frankly, this cannot be an easy week for the school district (though I’m not sure they’re helping themselves by having the gym teacher handle the sex-ed responsibilities . . . it seems that they could have found someone better to give the bird’s and bee’s talk than the dude who’s picking the dodge ball teams), but they are doing their best to keep order in the classroom and keep the parents up to speed on things.

Anyway, a list of sex-ed questions is being e-mailed home every day . . . Houston, we have lift off.

So I’ve patiently waited each day for the school to send the daily questions, and then I’ve picked a couple of the best ones from each day.  Well, today is Friday, so without further ado, here are my favorite questions asked by my son’s 5^th grade class, and the answers that I WOULD GIVE . . . which I suspect are different than the answers the gym teacher gave:

Q – When you get your period, does it hurt?

A – Listen, this obviously isn’t my area of expertise, so I can’t say for sure whether this hurts, but I do know that for about six days every month my wife is a raging bitch.  And on a side note, for you guys out there, contrary to popular belief, your wife is NOT more likely to give you a blow job during this week.  You’re better off just leaving her alone.  And WHATEVER YOU DO . . . don’t suggest that “you’re letting her off easy by JUST asking for a blow job.”  I mean, I’ve heard that this is a bad idea.  Wouldn’t know for sure myself.  I’m just saying. . . .

Q – What happens if the sperm doesn’t get to the egg?

A – What’s that old saying . . . “if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.”

Q – What is a wet dream?

A – Let’s see, Elle McPherson, Cindy Crawford, Pam Anderson, and Katie Couric.  I know.  I know.  Katie Couric.  More like Katie Couric during her stint on The Today Show.  Whatever.  Shut up.

Q – Do boys get erections when they’re aroused?

A – Yes.  And they get them when the wind blows from the opposite direction.  And they get them when the sun rises and sets.  And they get them when they’re thinking about erections and they get them when they’re not thinking about erections.  Basically you spend most of your life walking around with an erection.  Good luck.

Q – What are breasts?

A – Fun bags.  God’s gift to man.  Something you reach for constantly.  Something you stare at all the time.  Mounds of mouth-watering flesh that defy gravity.  All of the above.

Q – What is the youngest age you can get pregnant?

A – 18 FELLAS!!!  She’s gotta be 18!!!!  I can’t stress this enough!!!!!

Q – When you are young can you see what kind of an adult you’ll be?

A – Yes.  Just look at your parents.  And if your dad just happens to be a guy who only shaves once a week, doesn’t have a job, eats a lot of Double Stuffed Oreos, swears at the TV when the Cubs are on and laughs at himself while he’s typing on his computer . . . well . . . I’m sorry.  Unfortunately there’s no do-over.  You’re fucked.

Q – How does the sperm get into the girl’s body?

A – Well kid, with a little bit of luck and a lot of wine. 

I wish this sex-ed class was longer than a week!

Date Night

I think marriage is hard.  In fact like most things in life, you need to work at it if you want it to be successful.  Just because you marry the man or woman of your dreams doesn’t necessarily guarantee you a successful marriage.  If you don’t spend the time working on or maintaining the relationship, it probably will go South in a hurry. 

Now I’m certainly not about to give anyone marital advice, after all I’m still shocked that my wife agreed to marry me in the first place, and I’m even more surprised that she’s STILL married to me almost 15 years later.  But I can say with a fair amount of certainty that it’s easy to take one another for granted, and if you don’t slow down and focus on just the two of you every so often, you’re probably not going to have the kind of marriage that you had planned on having when you first got married. 

Which brings me to date night.  This is how my wife and I focus on the relationship.  This is our one night a week to get together without the kids to have fun.  It’s a date.  However, just like EVERYTHING ELSE, date night itself has become something we need to work at, and I’m not even talking about babysitting as we typically can find a reliable babysitter.

Right off the bat there are the plans themselves.  What are we going to do, and where are we going to go?  Frankly I enjoy the “good old days” when we could just grab a burger and a movie (in high school this was a GREAT date night).  My wife on the other hand typically wants to do something else.  Now we’ve done the concert at Ravinia where we pack a nice picnic basket of food and wine and camp out on the lawn as we listen to wonderful music.  Oh we’ve done that.  Did that a number of years ago when the Manhattan Transfer was playing and I got drunk and attempted to pick a fight with two German speaking people who were sprawled out on a blanket in front of us.  My wife just recently lifted my Ravinia ban.

We’ve done the fancy restaurant thing, but that usually ends with me at the Burger King drive through at 11:30 at night (this is also where I go after most weddings).  And we’ve done the big themed party thing for date night.  This is actually the worst . . . when another party or event has been planned on Saturday night.  I have to sacrifice “my date night” to attend someone else’s party.  Just the worst.  I once had to attend a Toga Party (that’s right, a Toga Party) on Saturday night.  I started bitching and moaning about that on the Wednesday before the party.  Wound up wrapping myself up in my son’s Star Wars bed sheets out of protest. 

Now assuming we can agree on a location for date night, we then have to figure out whether we’re going to go alone, or whether we’re going to invite friends to join us.  This decision is usually harder than the decision on where we’re going to go.  On most nights I’m 50/50 on whether I want my wife to join me, let alone another couple, but she loves having people join us so typically we find ourselves debating on which couple might want to join us.  For me the decision process is simple . . . is the woman good looking, and is the guy at least mildly funny?  If I can get at least one “yes” then I’ll probably green light them, and if I can get two “yes’s” well then chances are we’ll be seeing this couple more often than not.  And if we get two “no’s,” well my wife is smart enough not to even nominate that couple for date night.  Those people get Christmas cards, not date night invites.

Of course things don’t necessarily get any easier once date night actually starts.  There are a plethora of decisions to make.  First of all, how drunk should I try to get my wife?  She’s going to throw back a few cocktails regardless, but do I push for a few extra drinks, do I order dessert so that she can have another glass of wine, or do I just bring her home with a nice buzz?  This is important as obviously the drunker she is the better chance I have of getting lucky later, and yet there’s a fine line between “feeling good and liking me” and, well, just passing out.  I have yet to figure out where that line is, but I have tripped over this line many times and it can kill date night faster than bad food or a bad movie or bad conversation. 

And speaking of conversation, if we are out with another couple, especially one that we don’t know as well (this does happen from time to time) how far should I push the envelope?  Do I give them the “real me,” or do I hold back a bit?  Do I openly talk about my desire to end the evening with a blow job or do I talk about my kids?   Do I talk about the great looking tits two tables away from us or do I just talk about the little league team that I’m helping coach?  By the way, often times this decision is simply based on whether or not I want to have this couple join us again for date night in the future. . . I can pretty much single-handedly submarine our chances of getting together with another couple by giving them the “real me.”

Add to that being out of work.  Now it’s even harder to schedule date night, as my wife insists we only go places where we have gift cards to use.  And how do you go out with another couple if you’re paying with a gift card?  That just looks tacky.  Suffice it to say that between scheduling issues, deciding on what to do, finding a couple to go out with us and finding a restaurant that won’t break the bank, date night is quickly becoming a real pain in the ass.

The Baby Talk

I think most kids have a certain sense of entitlement.  They believe that they should get certain things just because.  Whether it’s a new pair of baseball pants or a new video game or a pack of baseball trading cards or a new Nerf gun, I think kids just feel like they are owed this stuff.  And my kids are no different.  Rarely does a week go by when they’re not asking for something new.  Typically these conversations start after they see some new toy or game advertised on TV or after their friend brings something new and cool to school, but my wife and I are bombarded with “Hey dad, I need the new Nerf Blaster,” or “Hey mom, I just gotta have the new iTouch,” on a weekly basis.

Now we’ve given them the “financial responsibility” talk, as well as the “things in moderation” talk, and it all seems to be falling on deaf ears.  They are 11 and 7 after all.  So my wife and I have simply started to combat this barrage of requests with our own requests.  Conversations between us and our boys now go like this, “Dad, I want the new Mario Brother’s game for Wii.”  “Good for you, I want a Ferrari.”  Or “Mom, I just have to have a new Blackhawks jersey.”  “Great, I just have to have a million dollars.”  I think they’re starting to get the point because they’re slowly but surely asking for less, but they still ask for stuff from time to time.

In fact recently I overheard my youngest son ask my wife for an iTunes gift card so that he could download new apps on his iTouch and I heard my wife counter it with “Well, I want a baby.”

Whoa.  Hold on.  Wait a minute.  That’s not funny.  Is it time to have another “baby talk?” 

My wife and I have “baby talks” about once every couple years.  These talks typically happen after one of my wife’s friends give birth or after someone moves into the neighborhood with a newborn (the more I think about it, the more I see the similarities between my kids wanting new stuff and my wife wanting a new baby . . . I’m wondering if I can combat my wife’s baby request in the same way I combat my kids’ requests . . . “Honey, I want a new baby.” “Fantastic, I want a blow job three times a week”). 

Now, I know my wife would like to have another baby, and I know she’d really like to have a daughter, and frankly having three kids is something she and I talked about when we first got married.  I think she wanted four kids and I wanted two.  We were both willing to meet in the middle and compromise at three. 

However time seems to fly by and what sounded like a good plan 10 years ago is now a far less realistic plan.  When my wife and I first started having kids we were in our late 20’s, now we’re both a year away from turning 40.  Our young family is not so young anymore, as our “baby Jack” is about to celebrate his 8^th birthday in 10 days.  Though there are plenty of couples who have kids later in life I think my wife and I have forgotten what it’s like to be “young parents.”  The sleepless nights and the diapers and the bottles and the colic are things of the past.  We’ve moved on to travel soccer games and 5^th grade sex ed classes.  The Telletubbies and Barney have been replaced by Hanna Montana and Star Wars the Clone Wars.

However, in anticipation of yet another “baby talk,” I have decided to list the “pros” and “cons” of having a 3^rd child.  After all I owe it to my wife to really give this a fair shake.

So lets start with the pros:

Sex.  And not just sex.  But sex with HER COMING AFTER ME!  As in I could just lay back and relax, and let the hunter become the hunted.  Hell, just for shits and giggles I may say “no” once or twice and make her work for it.  I’m getting excited just thinking about it.

Blog material.  Can you imagine me with a newborn?  It would be a train wreck.  Heck the nine months of pregnancy would provide me with plenty of good blog topics.  Lactating breasts . . . you don’t think I could blog about that?  Really? 

Built-in babysitting.  Our 11-year old is already starting to do a little bit of “light duty” babysitting for us when we go out, so by the time this third child came into the world, we’d have great built-in babysitting.  This cannot be overlooked.  This is huge as I’ll need to get away from the baby as much as possible.

Now the cons:

Sex.  Yes believe it or not this is BOTH a pro and a con.  Getting her pregnant is a pro, but once she’s pregnant, and once she’s past that first trimester sex becomes a bit of a con.  It’s just sex with a pregnant chick.  That’s all it is.  There’s nothing beautiful about it.  It’s wrong and uncomfortable. 

We have another boy.  I’ve already got two boys.  They’re great.  I love them.  But I’ve already got two boys.  I don’t really need another one.

We have a girl.  Well for all the “pros” associated with having a baby girl, here is the one “con” that keeps getting in the way.  And frankly it’s the ONLY one that I just can’t get out of my mind . . . all girls fuck.  That’s it.  That’s all I have against having a girl.  But it’s fact, and while I appreciate that fact as a guy who likes girls, I’m not a big fan of that fact as a DAD OF A DAUGHTER!!!

I think the cons far surpass the pros, but I have to be ready to make my case because my wife doesn’t argue fair.  She either has a strategy laid out for an ambush (although I won’t be caught off-guard now), or she just says something I can’t argue with – “Because I really want/need one.”

And I guess she’s entitled.  Hey, if I cave on the NERF guns, iTouch and pretty much everything the boys “need,” I’ll probably cave on this, too.  The good news for me is that she likes her sleep . . . so if I pretend to actually weigh the pros and cons for long enough, I’m thinking she’ll come to her senses and I won’t end up looking like the bad guy.

Finding Myself

I think everyone has probably used the term “just need to find myself” at least once in life.  It seems like this phrase is used more by young adults who are graduating college and yet aren’t ready to join the “real world.”  So they sell their parents on funding some six-week trip to Europe or some four-week road trip across the United States so that they can “find themselves.” 

Now, I never took one of these trips mainly because I think my parents realized that I was “so lost” and so incapable of “finding myself” that they simply weren’t going to be tricked into footing the bill for some bullshit trip that was going to result in nothing but a bunch of credit card bills for my dad.

However, thanks to my unemployment, which is now in full swing, I have had a chance to “find myself” a bit.  Just not necessarily in the traditional sense of the phrase. 

For instance:

I now know that I can only go three days in a row eating the same cereal.  Coco Puffs – three days.  Honey Nut Cheerios – three days (and I was choking it down on the 3^rd day).  Frosted Mini Wheats – three days (actually I’m on day #2 today, but I can say with a fair amount of certainty that tomorrow will be the last day for Mini Wheats before I need to make a switch).  Now frankly I could do Lucky Charms for more than three days, however I have found that Lucky Charms gives me the runs something fierce.  Like nothing I’ve seen before.  I don’t know what it is, but I’m sprinting to the bathroom 20 minutes after finishing my bowl of Lucky Charms.  It’s quite amazing, and I’m assuming the main culprit is the mini marshmallows which seem to stay crunchy and hard no matter how long you leave them in milk.  I don’t know what ingredient they’re putting in those marshmallows but it not only gives them an impenetrable force field, but it’s tearing up my stomach lining.  But I can eat Lucky Charms more than three days in a row.

I’ve found that my dog has more energy than any child I’ve dealt with or any dog I’ve owned in the past.  I am running out of ways to tire this dog out.  Long walks are a joke to him.  He could walk from here to South Bend and back again and not be tired.  There is no raw hide bone big enough to tire him out (though I have found that the real marrow bones that you can buy in the butcher’s section at your local grocery store causes him to vomit violently soon after finishing them – basically I have found both my kryptonite and his – Lucky Charms for me and marrow bones for him – huh, go figure).  And my arm tires out a lot faster than he tires out from playing ball.  The dog is driving me nuts.

I have found that 3:30 rolls around a lot faster than I had anticipated.  I drop the kids off at school around 8:30, and it feels like they’re walking through the door again just moments later.  Time apparently is different when you’re at home.  Seven hours at work feels like a lifetime.  You struggle badly to get through seven hours at work, but at home seven hours is over in a short amount of time.  Basically the time continuum is different depending on whether you’re stuck at work with clients breathing down your neck or all alone at home with a pizza and an afternoon Cubs game on TV.

And speaking of time, I have found that things like video games and porn and TV are not as much fun when you can spend all day on it.  When your schedule is crazy busy, and when work is kicking your ass, that’s when you want to have some free time to goof around.  Finding 30 minutes to relax on the couch is awesome when life is going 100 miles per hour.  Sitting down and playing a few video games is a luxury you cherish when you barely have enough time to sit down to eat dinner, but when you have six or seven hours a day, five days a week catching 30 minutes of Tommy Boy on TV or playing a few games of NHL on XBOX isn’t really that much fun.  Actually, I’ve found that too much free time is a buzz kill.

And I’ve also found that there’s no afternoon quickies to be had.  I’m home alone and not once has my wife burst through the door ready to have sex.  Heck, we were both home together one day last week and she barely came out of the home office.  This is not at all how I envisioned it.  I can’t tell you how many times I sat at work and assumed that if I were just at home with my wife I’d be having an afternoon quickie.  Wow, was I wrong.  This is not how the scenario plays out in my porn videos.

So you see, I didn’t need to spend six weeks backpacking through Europe and I didn’t need to take a road trip down Route 66 to find myself.  All I needed was a pink slip.

Looking for Work

Well, week #2 of unemployment.  Actually it’s really week #3, but since I spent the first “real” week in Florida trying to figure out how to comfortably sleep on a pull-out couch, I don’t count that week.  And speaking of that infamous pull-out couch, it seems to me that  the reason pull out  couches are so damn uncomfortable is because they are made specifically for guests, and you NEVER want your overnight guest to get too comfortable.  Whether it’s an in-law or an old college pal or your wife’s best girlfriend from high school, you never want them getting comfortable to the point where they’ll want to stay for more than a handful of days.  I think the pull-out couch industry knows this, and they’ve actually developed a product that is designed to accommodate guests, but not too well.  It’s the perfect product.  Accommodating, but not really.

Anyway it’s Monday and I’m again sitting in front of the computer looking for people to send resumes to, and responding to those who have already received them.  As of now there’s not a whole lot of interest from those people I’ve already reached out to, but I’m hopeful that will change soon.  The people I have heard back from seem confident that the economy is in fact turning around, and it should just be a matter of time before companies start hiring again.  I certainly hope they’re right.

In the meantime, though, I thought I’d take matters into my own hands.  Maybe it’s time I found my own job.  After all my resume right now is a smorgasbord of “stuff.”  I’ve got advertising and marketing experience on there.  I’ve got project management experience on there.  I’ve got sales experience on there.  I’ve got writing experience on there, and while I have to imagine that this broad depth of career experience is a benefit and not a hindrance, I also suspect that it may just be too broad.  I’m not sure anyone would know exactly what it is that I’m looking for if they were reading my resume.

So maybe the thing to do is to figure out what it is that I really want to do.  If nothing else, at least I’ll be able to develop a resume that is much more focused on one or two particular jobs or industries.  I have to help me help me.  It’s go time.  It’s time to find me a job.

So lets start at the top:

#1 – Professional baseball.  Specifically 2^nd base for the Chicago Cubs.  Listen I know I’m on the verge of 40, and I know my baseball career never got past the Northbrook house league, but I’m telling you I think I could do it.  Their current 2^nd baseman is Mike Fontenot.  Now Fontenot is making $430,000 this year.  He has almost no power and almost no speed.  He’s never going to win a gold glove.  He’s about as mediocre a 2^nd baseman as there is.  I can do that.  I can do mediocre.  Now I may not be capable of hitting .260, which is pretty much what Fontenot will end up hitting, but then again I’ll do it for $130,000. 

#2 – Franchise owner.  Ideally I’d be an owner of a fast food franchise as I’m confident I know A LOT about this particular industry having spent the better part of the last 20+ years at fast food restaurants,  however unfortunately this takes a lot of up-front money which is something I don’t have right now.  I did however find a couple of relatively cheap franchises that I could buy, my favorite being the Lube-N-Go franchise.  Lube-N-Go is a mobile oil changing service that I could buy into right now for $10k.  For $10k I’d get a Lube-N-Go truck and all the necessary tools and products to get my Lube-N-Go service up and running.  Now listen I actually have a better chance of succeeding at 2^nd base for the Cubs than I do at changing oil (years ago I tried to fill up the windshield washer fluid in my dad’s car and mistakenly put the washer fluid into the radiator – not good), but I LOVE the Lube-N-Go name.  I could have SO MUCH FUN WITH THIS that I’m actually thinking about paying the $10k just to get the Lube-N-Go truck so that I can park it outside my house.  Lube-N-Go . . . are you kidding me?  This is genius.  I want to drive around Northbrook in my Lube-N-Go truck.  I’m picking my kids up from school in this.  I’m taking my Lube-N-Go truck on date night with my wife.  Frankly I just like saying Lube-N-Go. 

#3 – Video game reviewer (please note, I was going to say porn site reviewer as actually I would be MUCH better at this, but I am trying to embarrass my wife LESS in my blogs).  I could do this job and I could do it well.  And better yet, I could do it from home.  I’ll play the video games, and then I’ll write a review.  What’s so hard about that?  And in fact my average audience would be slightly immature and a little goofy which would be perfect for me and my writing. 

Quick side note. . . if video game reviewer is not available, I could be a pizza reviewer, a fast food restaurant reviewer, or a movie reviewer (though not horror movie reviewer – saw the original Halloween when I was a kid . . . that shit  fucked me up for good . . . I still sleep with a night light because of that movie . . . I fear three things in life, #1 – the Dunkin Donut franchise going out of business, #2 – losing the ability to have sex, #3 – Michael Myers). 

That’s all I have so far.  But again, it’s really just Week #2.

The Routine is M.I.A.

Boston Red Sox 3^rd baseman Wade Boggs would eat chicken before every game.  He’d also take exactly 150 ground balls during infield practice, and would enter the batting cage at exactly 5:17.  Chicago Cubs relief pitcher Turk Wendell would brush his teeth in between innings and he always jumped over the baseline when running to and from the dugout.  Chicago Bulls great Michael Jordan always wore his North Carolina Tar heels shorts under his Bulls shorts. 

Now while this may be nothing more than great examples of athletes being superstitious, I’d argue that this is as much about routines than anything else.  I think most professional athletes are obsessively compulsive about their routines.  And you know why. . . because a good routine can keep you going.  It can keep you sane.  It can give you purpose.  A good routine can get you through the day.

Which is why I’m so lost at the moment.  My daily routine has been shot down.  My routine is M.I.A.

Granted it’s not like my old routine was something worth bragging about.  It wasn’t.  But damnit it was MY ROUTINE!

It usually started at 6:00 AM when I’d drive myself to the YMCA to work out.  Now I won’t lie, sometimes those “work outs” were nothing more than me sitting in the steam shower.  And that would only last until some nude guy would walk in there and strike up a conversation.  I don’t want to talk to people when they’re fully clothed, so I sure as shit don’t want to talk to some guy whose hairy balls are just a few feet away from me. 

From there I would head to Dunkin Donuts and order my usual #2.  From there I’d drive in to work.  I’d check e-mails (responding only to those that were urgent or had porn attached).  Checked voice mail (responding only to those that were urgent or were from someone who may later e-mail me porn), and then got to work.  At some point I’d have to fight off the advances of one of my coworkers who was quite fond of me (the same coworker whose husband wanted to beat me up because she had told him that I was hitting on her – I know – this all sounds made up – it’s not – totally true – like I said, it’s not a routine that I was bragging about).  For lunch I’d either take some clients out or I’d join coworkers at a local restaurant.  Later in the afternoon I’d have to kiss up to my production manager, often times by offering him a date with my sister in order to get sufficient manpower assigned to my jobs (he had unfortunately met my sister at my mother-in-law’s wake a few months ago and wanted nothing more than a date with her – and he talked about it constantly – in detail – in gross detail – he by the way was married with two children . . . I know. . . trust me I know. . . spent four years there. . . four long years) and then I’d make final client phone calls and send a few final e-mails before heading out for the day.

It was a twisted, strange, ugly routine, but it was mine, and I had it working like a well-oiled machine.  In fact, frankly if it weren’t for the routine I would NEVER have survived working there for four years.

Now believe it or not, even though I no longer have the weirdness and corruption in my life, I am literally lost.  I have too much free time on my hands (boy never thought I’d say that . . . that’s like me saying “those boobs are too big”) and no set routine to help me manage that time.

I now wake up and get the kids to school.  This could sadly be the highlight of the day as it not only offers me a little bit of a challenge, but also gives me something to look forward to, which, of course, is an empty house.  Then again, once I come home to that empty house I have little else going on.  I make some coffee, pour myself a bowl of cereal (the Honey Nut Cheerios lasted all of three days . . . I just can’t do it anymore . . . replaced it with Lucky Charms and Coco Puffs) and read the sports page.  Take the dog on a long walk.  Pray that there’s an e-mail or two waiting for me.  Send out some resumes (though my available contacts are dwindling . . . I’ve pretty much already reached out to all those people who might actually help me get a job . . . at this point I’m sending out resumes to people who once helped my neighbor’s cousin’s friend get a job six years ago), and then sit around thinking about blogs or arranging carpools to and from soccer and baseball practice.  I hit the YMCA at some point (less nude dudes in the steam shower after about 9:00 AM – good), and then wait for the kids to get home.

This is what I have now.  This is the routine.  Yesterday I went to the hardware store to buy a new light bulb and I found myself talking to one of the employees about the various types of light bulbs.  It was a 10 minute conversation.  About light bulbs. 

You know, the Talking Heads once wrote:

And you may find yourself living in a shotgun shack.  And you may find yourself in another part of the world.  And you may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile.  And you may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife.  And you may ask yourself – Well. . . . How did I get here?

Yep . . . . . . pretty much every day now.

In Trouble Again

More and more I find myself giving my boys advice like “stay young” and “enjoy your youth” and “just have fun being a kid.”  I know this probably makes me sound a little old, and I’m sure neither of my kids really appreciates this advice, but I still can’t stop myself from offering this advice whenever the opportunity presents itself.

Of course my boys (especially my 11-year old) want nothing more than to be older.  Not a week goes by where one of them isn’t bemoaning the fact that they’re not old enough to drive, or to see an R-rated movie, or go on a date, and so on.  The last thing they want to do right now is “stay young.” 

And I think a lot of that has to do with getting in trouble.  No one likes getting in trouble, and yet when you’re a kid you pretty much feel like you’re in trouble all the time.  I think kids figure that as soon as they’re adults no one is yelling at you or catching you doing something you shouldn’t be doing.  I really think kids think that you’re “in the clear” once you’re an adult. 

Unfortunately this is simply not the case, and I think maybe subconsciously this is one of the reasons that I continue to preach “staying young.”  I’m an adult.  Hell I’m approaching my 40^th birthday, and I’m constantly in trouble, and I’m constantly getting caught doing things that I shouldn’t be doing.

For instance take the time my wife caught me peeing in the utility sink in the laundry room.  Now this was simply because I was in the middle of a big hockey game on XBOX and didn’t want to run upstairs to pee, but nonetheless I got caught and my wife read me the riot act.  Frankly I’m shocked she caught me.  I was in the laundry room peeing in the utility sink.  The laundry room.  The utility sink.  I didn’t think my wife knew we had either a laundry room OR a utility sink. 

Or take the time my wife passed out in the bathroom and I took pictures of her on the floor.  I even framed it so that I showed her relationship to the toilet (Annie Liebovitz eat your heart out).  Showed them to her the next day and I got in trouble.

There was the time my wife caught me motioning for my son to check out the well endowed woman sitting at the table across from us.  It was only because she was wearing a see-through top and had either been blessed by the good Lord or had one of the best plastic surgeons around, but nonetheless I had a long conversation with my wife later about being a responsible adult. 

Of course I continue to get in trouble for smacking my wife’s ass and for making inappropriate comments to her, but for the most part she does nothing more than flash a few dirty looks my way.  However that all changed the night we were having dinner at her parent’s house and my youngest son Jack blurted out “Mom, you have one sexy ass.”  Fortunately we had already said grace, but still, not good.  I got more than a few dirty looks later that night when we got home. 

And I’ve gotten into trouble more than once for talking, in detail, to friends about my sex life.  Now obviously I’m only doing this when I’m out with the guys, and I’m being VERY flattering  to my wife, but apparently the graphic details are somehow going from my friends to their wives and then somehow from their wives back to my wife who in turn scolds me.  I’ve argued that calling her extremely flexible or very willing is in fact a compliment, but for some reason she feels differently and I continue to get into trouble for talking about “that stuff.”

And of course, I continue to get into trouble for not paying bills on time and for using foul language in front of the boys and for letting the dog jump up on the couch, and so on. 

Basically I’m in trouble from the moment I wake up until I go to bed at night, which is pretty much how my boys probably feel, but they don’t have to worry about paying mortgage and making car payments and keeping food on the table and so on. 

So as I said before, “stay young as long as you can.” 

I really think it’s good advice.

New Spring Break Routine

As I predicted in my last blog, I did indeed breathe a sigh of relief as I walked through the door of my house late last night.  Actually because of a three-hour delay for no apparent reason, I didn’t actually get home until almost 3:00 AM, but I nonetheless heard myself say, “It’s good to be home.”  Again, I really think spring break could be the one holiday where people can’t wait to leave to start the trip, and then can’t wait to get home again at the end of the trip.  I probably just take those feelings to a whole new level.  At least the getting home part.

I think it has a lot to do with the fact that if I’m not in Northbrook, I’m totally lost.  I mean literally lost.  I’m directionally challenged as it is.  As I think I’ve said before I’m probably the only guy who has his home address programmed into his car’s navigation system so that I can find my way home.  Well, now put 1,000 miles between me and my “home town” and see how I get along.  It’s not pretty.  I took my son to hit golf balls at the driving range within my father-in-law’s complex and I got lost walking there.  My father-in-law’s place is laid-out in one big circle.  It’s a gated community.  And I got lost.  So the whole spring break in a far off place is extra hard for me to handle.

Then there’s the whole sun burn thing.  I burn.  I burn badly.  Now that’s because I don’t use sun screen.  At all.  Don’t believe in it.  So I’m burnt after day one.  Day two, and I’m starting to complain.  Day three, and I’m screaming like a small school girl who’s just lost her kitten.  Day four, and I’m just pissed and miserable.  Don’t even ask about day five.  We went to the beach on day five.  Not a cloud in the sky.  Lets just say that what skin isn’t peeling off is now starting to turn a nice, dark brown color.  Basically I look like a leper with a decent tan.

Then there’s the whole interruption of my normal routine.  I’m all about the routine.  It’s the routine that keeps me going.  That keeps me happy.  Frankly, much of the routine revolves around me sitting on the couch with one hand down the front of my pants while I search out movies on TV that I’ve seen countless times before (and no, I’m not really doing anything with that hand, it just honestly feels better sticking it down the front of my pants – I remember seeing the Al Bundy character on that TV show Married With Children do this, and I thought “you know what, this fucking guy is on to something”).  It’s not a complicated routine.  But that whole routine is thrown off on spring break.  The kids are there and need to be entertained almost nonstop.  For some reason they’ve gone from being lazy sods to hyperactive kids who need constant stimuli.  The wife wants to take daily walks.  The father-in-law has CNN going 24/7, and though my wife would say otherwise, I’m actually doing my best to juggle all this.

And speaking of CNN, have you ever noticed that according to CNN the world is basically on the verge of ending – is there a more depressing channel on TV than CNN?  If the world’s nations ever decide to nuke one another, I think CNN would break the story with a simple “I told you so, I knew this was going to happen.” CNN is pretty much the farthest thing from Tommy Boy and Dumb and Dumber and Black Sheep and National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, which is really the type of mindless entertainment I’m looking for. 

So instead of “my routine,” I’m the guy who’s playing video games with the kids or swimming in the pool with them or digging out sand castle moats at the beach.  And I’m trying to keep up with my wife on all those damn walks which is not easy to do, especially when she gets into “a zone” and starts pumping her arms and moving those feet (I know I’m slow, but those spring break walks with my wife make me feel bad about myself).  And I’m the guy who’s sitting on the couch (not with my hand down my pants) with my father-in-law discussing whether CNN is a biased news source or not. 

It’s a different routine come spring break, and though in the end it’s a pretty nice routine and one that I actually look forward to repeating in the future, change is not always easy for me to accept.

So I think going forward, my wife and I simply have to have an understanding about spring break.

#1 – I need to be better prepared and more easily accepting of the new routine.

#2 – She needs to slow down on those morning walks.  It’s embarrassing.

#3 – Her father needs to get a few HBO movie channels.  He’s got a pretty good sense of humor, and he’ll get a chuckle out of Tommy Boy. 

#4 – We may need to bring the XBOX 360 with us next year.

#5 – We need to buy more aloe vera gel because I’m still not using sunscreen.