The next day there were many victories. The coffee from inside the pantry inside the kitchen inside the house was brewed and there were victories together with the coffee and they were the Xanax that was prescribed by the doctor and together they were consumed. The brew was bold and it was fine. Now the fighting in his head was calm and it was not turbulent. The people milled around and they were his family and they did not seem to notice him and it was what he wanted for today. There was a child of three and she was not an adult, and a child of six and she also was not an adult and they destroyed not everything but almost. And there was a wife and she was quiet and it was what he wanted for today. And beyond the house there was a street inside a town along a route that led not to anywhere but a bar. Later, inside the bar, he sat with friends and glasses and bottles of everything, and he knew the year was over for it was December and the end at that. And they drank quickly and not seriously and swung their glasses into the air and knowing not what for, they drank again for many times. The bottles of everything poured their contents and the contents were dark and lovely and after this he walked alone a bit and thought he must go on to leave at once.
"You must go on. Leave at once," he heard and the voice was his and it was inside his head.
"Stay," he heard, and again it was a voice but it was not his and he stayed instead for more.
They raised the glasses many more times and it was good. And finally when the bottles were not full and the money was no longer theirs, they walked together from the bar into the new dark night. The night had a feeling that of rain and he stood outside and shivered through his coat and had a small argument but it was only his and inside his head and then he was with them again. It was dark, and they could not see the trees and the trees had dropped their leaves and the leaves were blown away on the wind to another town where they were not.
"Good night," he heard and the voice was his and he spoke these words to them.
"Good night," he heard, and again it was a voice but it was not his. And he walked this way and they the other, and it was good.
And then it rained.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Friday, November 26, 2010
Black Friday Non-Tweets
If you guys help me get my followers up to 250 my promise to you is I'll stop tweeting.
Funny thought. If you take the phrase A Good Man Is Hard To Find, and switch a few words around... you get: To Find a Man is Good Hard
Every time @W9ndy stars one of my tweets, I eat an Oreo. I've gained 12 pounds this month.
My kids need their own jar of peanutbutter. This is fucking gross.
I had kids for one reason: Because I had no idea what i was getting myself into.
This is a non-tweet #nontweets
A great drinking game is to throw your bottle through the tv screen any time an Atlanta housewife comes on.
I bet the guy who hosts the Housewives roundtables shaves his pussy.
"I was researching for a tweet" is not going to hold up in court. #3to5
Everybody who follows me thinks I tweet too much. Fine. I'd like to hear from some of the people who have unfollowed me, if you dont mind.
"Because you never know when the moment will strike?" Are you telling me that even at the age of 67 I wont know if I'm going to get laid?
No more trusting hookers with my bank card. #2011Resolutions
To my neighbor who blew all his leaves onto my yard today: Thank You. I feel much better about jerking off to your wife now.
Funny thought. If you take the phrase A Good Man Is Hard To Find, and switch a few words around... you get: To Find a Man is Good Hard
Every time @W9ndy stars one of my tweets, I eat an Oreo. I've gained 12 pounds this month.
My kids need their own jar of peanutbutter. This is fucking gross.
I had kids for one reason: Because I had no idea what i was getting myself into.
This is a non-tweet #nontweets
A great drinking game is to throw your bottle through the tv screen any time an Atlanta housewife comes on.
I bet the guy who hosts the Housewives roundtables shaves his pussy.
"I was researching for a tweet" is not going to hold up in court. #3to5
Everybody who follows me thinks I tweet too much. Fine. I'd like to hear from some of the people who have unfollowed me, if you dont mind.
"Because you never know when the moment will strike?" Are you telling me that even at the age of 67 I wont know if I'm going to get laid?
No more trusting hookers with my bank card. #2011Resolutions
To my neighbor who blew all his leaves onto my yard today: Thank You. I feel much better about jerking off to your wife now.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Things Kids Should Say... But Don't
A Few Things Kids Should Say... But Don’t
“Oh there he is. And he’s on his phone. Who could’ve guessed? Twitter—check. Facebook—check. Good quality parenting… not so much.”
“Why in God’s name are we not eating ice cream right now? Seriously, I’m trying to figure this out. Have you tasted this shit? Because if you had, you’d never ever stop eating it. You’re an idiot.”
“Oh by the way-- I talked to your mom. She said you were no fuckin’ angel, either.”
“Oh, what, are you gonna put me on the step? For three whole minutes? Come on tough guy, you can do better than… alright, I’m going. Christ. Fuck me.”
“Newsflash: I shit myself. And to tell you the truth, I don’t care if we ever clean it up.”
“You call this a glass of juice? What is this, Leavenworth? Give me a proper goddamn pour. And turn something edgy on the tv-- this crap is infantile. That Dora's a nice piece of ass, though. I will give you that.”
“You wanna make a deal? OK, let’s make a deal. You give me everything I want, and I’ll stop hitting our house guests.”
“Better spike it, Jack. I’m having one hell of a day.”
“Are you gonna floor it and pass this jackass or are we gonna suck meth addict trucker exhaust all day? Hello? Cancer, anyone?”
“Share THIS!”
“Oh there he is. And he’s on his phone. Who could’ve guessed? Twitter—check. Facebook—check. Good quality parenting… not so much.”
“Why in God’s name are we not eating ice cream right now? Seriously, I’m trying to figure this out. Have you tasted this shit? Because if you had, you’d never ever stop eating it. You’re an idiot.”
“Oh by the way-- I talked to your mom. She said you were no fuckin’ angel, either.”
“Oh, what, are you gonna put me on the step? For three whole minutes? Come on tough guy, you can do better than… alright, I’m going. Christ. Fuck me.”
“Newsflash: I shit myself. And to tell you the truth, I don’t care if we ever clean it up.”
“You call this a glass of juice? What is this, Leavenworth? Give me a proper goddamn pour. And turn something edgy on the tv-- this crap is infantile. That Dora's a nice piece of ass, though. I will give you that.”
“You wanna make a deal? OK, let’s make a deal. You give me everything I want, and I’ll stop hitting our house guests.”
“Better spike it, Jack. I’m having one hell of a day.”
“Are you gonna floor it and pass this jackass or are we gonna suck meth addict trucker exhaust all day? Hello? Cancer, anyone?”
“Share THIS!”
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
My Negotiations With Kidnappers
Texting With Kidnappers...
Them: We have your daughter. We want 75k for her safe return.
Me: I don’t have that kind of money.
Them: If we don't get the money, we kill her in 2 days.
(Two days have passed)
Them: Do you have the money?
Me: No.
Them: Are you even looking for it?
ME: Not really.
Them: Why not? Don’t you want your daughter?
Me: Yes. But not just yet. We have a dinner to go to tonight. And we’d like to go see Inception tomorrow. Does Sunday work?
Them: No, Sunday does not work! We’re going to kill her! Also, she says she is allowed to eat ice cream every single night. Is this true?
Me: If she’s been good that day, yes, that’s fine.
Them: That seems excessive. Every night?
Me: Use your best judgment.
(Sunday night)
Them: Well?
Me: Great weekend. You?
Them: We want the money, asshole. Until then, we’re letting her stay up past midnight and eat all the chocolate she wants.
Me: That’s not smart. She starts school tomorrow.
Them: Shit. We didn’t know that.
Me: That’s ok. You’re new to this.
Them: We have something in the am. Can you take her? We can pick her up if so.
Me: That’s fine.
(3 days pass by)
Them: School is great. She loves her teacher. Also, she wants to know if you are feeding her fish.
Me: Great! Yes, the fish is being fed.
Them: Look, if you cant come up with the money we’re going to have to work something else out.
Me: You’re doing fine. It gets easier.
Them: What gets easier? We don’t want a kid, we want our money! We’re not keeping this kid!
(2 hours pass by)
Me: Do you have a lawn?
Them: Yes
Me: I’ll mow your lawn if you keep her.
Them: What? No! Also, does she ever stop talking? Come get her right fucking now or we kill her.
Me: It’s gonna cost you.
Them: What are you talking about?
Me: Money. I need money if I’m going to take her back.
Them: Now you want money from US? Are you out of your mind?
(One hour passes)
Them: OK. What are you thinking?
Me: Monthly deposits into a 529 plan for college.
Them: That’s ridiculous! How much per month?
Me: $500
Them: Fuck you! $325
Me: $415
Them: And you cut our lawn through end of the season?
Me: yes.
Them: Done.
Them: We have your daughter. We want 75k for her safe return.
Me: I don’t have that kind of money.
Them: If we don't get the money, we kill her in 2 days.
(Two days have passed)
Them: Do you have the money?
Me: No.
Them: Are you even looking for it?
ME: Not really.
Them: Why not? Don’t you want your daughter?
Me: Yes. But not just yet. We have a dinner to go to tonight. And we’d like to go see Inception tomorrow. Does Sunday work?
Them: No, Sunday does not work! We’re going to kill her! Also, she says she is allowed to eat ice cream every single night. Is this true?
Me: If she’s been good that day, yes, that’s fine.
Them: That seems excessive. Every night?
Me: Use your best judgment.
(Sunday night)
Them: Well?
Me: Great weekend. You?
Them: We want the money, asshole. Until then, we’re letting her stay up past midnight and eat all the chocolate she wants.
Me: That’s not smart. She starts school tomorrow.
Them: Shit. We didn’t know that.
Me: That’s ok. You’re new to this.
Them: We have something in the am. Can you take her? We can pick her up if so.
Me: That’s fine.
(3 days pass by)
Them: School is great. She loves her teacher. Also, she wants to know if you are feeding her fish.
Me: Great! Yes, the fish is being fed.
Them: Look, if you cant come up with the money we’re going to have to work something else out.
Me: You’re doing fine. It gets easier.
Them: What gets easier? We don’t want a kid, we want our money! We’re not keeping this kid!
(2 hours pass by)
Me: Do you have a lawn?
Them: Yes
Me: I’ll mow your lawn if you keep her.
Them: What? No! Also, does she ever stop talking? Come get her right fucking now or we kill her.
Me: It’s gonna cost you.
Them: What are you talking about?
Me: Money. I need money if I’m going to take her back.
Them: Now you want money from US? Are you out of your mind?
(One hour passes)
Them: OK. What are you thinking?
Me: Monthly deposits into a 529 plan for college.
Them: That’s ridiculous! How much per month?
Me: $500
Them: Fuck you! $325
Me: $415
Them: And you cut our lawn through end of the season?
Me: yes.
Them: Done.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
The Answer
We’re all depressed. Those who think they are not depressed are in denial. In the psychology world, that’s what they call a double-whammy. Not good. So if you know and admit that you are depressed, look on the bright side: at least you're aware that you're fucked up. More on the bright side some other time.
Ever want that cup of coffee in the morning to never ever ever end? Yup, that’s just your depression talking. Or that piece of chocolate with the creamy center? Are you infinitely sad when you tongue the last tooth and finally give up hope on finding another morsel of caramel clinging on? If the caramel can’t cling on any longer, you’re probably on your way out as well. Again, that’s just your depression talking. Coming in loud and clear. Ever say something to someone and then try to qualify it by saying “That’s just my depression talking?” I strongly advise against that.
Enough about the problem though, you say, what’s the solution? Well my friend if I knew that I would bottle it and sell it. I’d call it Sierra Negoda Davita Pale Ale. I jest. Actually I do know the answer. And that’s why we’re here. I’m interested in sharing the answer with you, I truly am. This answer will change everything for you—and not in the disappointing way the last thing you purchased that was supposed to change everything did. Or didn’t. Yes, this will work. And it’s simple, as all good solutions are. Here’s the thing though—I can’t just give it away. I mean I could, but that wouldn’t be intelligent or capitalistic enough on my part. I’ve got a family to look after. So I spent some time trying to come up with something I thought was fair. In order to do that, I asked myself “What would you pay for the answer to all your troubles?” It’s an easy question. I mean, if someone were to really give me the answer to all my troubles, then it wouldn’t matter what I paid because not having any money leftover wouldn’t be a problem, in theory. Nevermind all that though-- I’m not here to lay a heavy psychological sales-y trip on you. I hate that crap! Let’s just be practical.
I want to buy a boat. That’s a practical place to start. And if I’m going to buy a boat I figure let’s make it a grand boat. Something that can handle the rough seas, but also which I can look good on cruising the waterways while burning about eight dollars in gas every thirty seconds. Let’s say this boat costs $50,000. Plus the monthly gas and maintenance of $3,400. Dry docking in the winter, etc, etc—boat owners are with me here. The list is endless. The good news is that while this boat is expensive, there are a lot of you out there. The way I figure it is if each of you likely to respond to this gives me $1.67 free and clear, I can accomplish my goals. I hope that sounds fair. After all, let’s focus on what you’re getting here, and not get lost in my greed. For a mere $1.67 you’re getting the answer to all your troubles. Be honest, what number popped into your head back there in paragraph two about how much that answer would be worth? I bet it was more than $1.67. I’m just guessing.
Now, I’d love to just give you the answer right here and now, because I want you to start experiencing the glory of depression-free living RIGHT NOW. But I can’t. The world doesn’t work that way. It’s not your fault or mine, but it’s just reality. And we have to be realistic if we’re going to succeed. By the way that’s just a little HINT toward the solution I’m going to offer you. So if you liked that line about reality, if that made sense to you, then you should definitely send in the $1.67 free and clear, ASAP. There’s more where that came from, is all I’m saying.
I could go on and on but you either want the solution to all your troubles or you don’t, right? You’re that kind of person, aren’t you? The kind that goes out and makes things happen? The kind that sees the prize and does whatever necessary to get their hands on it? Aren’t you? I thought so. Your neighbor said you were, and after writing this letter, I can tell he/she was right!
Please send $1.67 free and clear to: Chris 'Laytes' Layton, 610 Westbury Rd, Charlotte, NC 28211 and I’ll reply back to you by email (include your email) with the answer to all your troubles.
*This is not a hoax. Look is up on Snopes.com-- you will NOT find it there.
With Love,
Laytes
Ever want that cup of coffee in the morning to never ever ever end? Yup, that’s just your depression talking. Or that piece of chocolate with the creamy center? Are you infinitely sad when you tongue the last tooth and finally give up hope on finding another morsel of caramel clinging on? If the caramel can’t cling on any longer, you’re probably on your way out as well. Again, that’s just your depression talking. Coming in loud and clear. Ever say something to someone and then try to qualify it by saying “That’s just my depression talking?” I strongly advise against that.
Enough about the problem though, you say, what’s the solution? Well my friend if I knew that I would bottle it and sell it. I’d call it Sierra Negoda Davita Pale Ale. I jest. Actually I do know the answer. And that’s why we’re here. I’m interested in sharing the answer with you, I truly am. This answer will change everything for you—and not in the disappointing way the last thing you purchased that was supposed to change everything did. Or didn’t. Yes, this will work. And it’s simple, as all good solutions are. Here’s the thing though—I can’t just give it away. I mean I could, but that wouldn’t be intelligent or capitalistic enough on my part. I’ve got a family to look after. So I spent some time trying to come up with something I thought was fair. In order to do that, I asked myself “What would you pay for the answer to all your troubles?” It’s an easy question. I mean, if someone were to really give me the answer to all my troubles, then it wouldn’t matter what I paid because not having any money leftover wouldn’t be a problem, in theory. Nevermind all that though-- I’m not here to lay a heavy psychological sales-y trip on you. I hate that crap! Let’s just be practical.
I want to buy a boat. That’s a practical place to start. And if I’m going to buy a boat I figure let’s make it a grand boat. Something that can handle the rough seas, but also which I can look good on cruising the waterways while burning about eight dollars in gas every thirty seconds. Let’s say this boat costs $50,000. Plus the monthly gas and maintenance of $3,400. Dry docking in the winter, etc, etc—boat owners are with me here. The list is endless. The good news is that while this boat is expensive, there are a lot of you out there. The way I figure it is if each of you likely to respond to this gives me $1.67 free and clear, I can accomplish my goals. I hope that sounds fair. After all, let’s focus on what you’re getting here, and not get lost in my greed. For a mere $1.67 you’re getting the answer to all your troubles. Be honest, what number popped into your head back there in paragraph two about how much that answer would be worth? I bet it was more than $1.67. I’m just guessing.
Now, I’d love to just give you the answer right here and now, because I want you to start experiencing the glory of depression-free living RIGHT NOW. But I can’t. The world doesn’t work that way. It’s not your fault or mine, but it’s just reality. And we have to be realistic if we’re going to succeed. By the way that’s just a little HINT toward the solution I’m going to offer you. So if you liked that line about reality, if that made sense to you, then you should definitely send in the $1.67 free and clear, ASAP. There’s more where that came from, is all I’m saying.
I could go on and on but you either want the solution to all your troubles or you don’t, right? You’re that kind of person, aren’t you? The kind that goes out and makes things happen? The kind that sees the prize and does whatever necessary to get their hands on it? Aren’t you? I thought so. Your neighbor said you were, and after writing this letter, I can tell he/she was right!
Please send $1.67 free and clear to: Chris 'Laytes' Layton, 610 Westbury Rd, Charlotte, NC 28211 and I’ll reply back to you by email (include your email) with the answer to all your troubles.
*This is not a hoax. Look is up on Snopes.com-- you will NOT find it there.
With Love,
Laytes
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Think Like A Thief
I sure do try to think like a thief a lot. Sometimes it’s when I’m hiding my keys outside, or when I’m trying to figure out where in the car to hide something shiny. I assume everyone else is doing this as well? I sit holding my wallet, look around the interior of the car and try to get inside the mind of a small-time criminal. Or I slowly walk through my house, usually pausing in the kitchen, asking who the hell would look in a box of Bisquick for a checkbook?
I think if they find it, thieves will take your weed 100% of the time. They’re thrilled to find weed, because that actually cuts out the middle man in some regard. It’s the equivalent of finding money, and in some cases may even be preferable. On a weather-related note, are you convinced like me that thieves don’t work in the rain? That’s the wave of relief I get on a rainy day—welp, at least I don’t have to worry about the thieves today. I can leave expensive shit lying around in plain view all day long. This means I get to toss credit cards and social security numbers out on the counter willy-nilly, and live without the constant fear of being ripped off. And I think it’s a win-win. I don’t think thieves are pissed off when it rains. I think they’re more like construction works in this regard. They’re dying for it to rain so they can stay home all day, get drunk and not have to go out thieving. We all need a day off.
Admittedly, there are times when I fantasize myself the bad guy. Flip the script a little, you know? Like, maybe something has happened and now I’m the thief. And I usually have a car. My car. And I’m being chased. And while I’m being chased, all I’m really wondering about is whether I have what it takes to escape. Could I speed up fast enough to get the cop out of the rearview? We all know what comes next—take an unexpected turn, pull into the first driveway and kill your lights and engine! Whatever the scenario, it almost always involves me killing the lights and cutting the engine. If I nail that part, I get away. I do know that much. And when I escape in the scenario it’s a really cool time. Now, that’s distinuighsable from those times in my fantasy where the cop spots me. Here’s an uncomfortable moment that drags on forever. Sort of like in Hide and Go Seek when you know your opponent has found you, but they play dumb for a few moments before acknowledging you. Until eventually you emerge from your hiding place, embarrassed and disgraced.
I have nothing to escape from, really, so I’ll never find out the answers to some of these questions. I don’t live a life of adventure in that regard. I am a parent of two though. And I have certainly envisioned escaping from those little bastards. In fact, my best plan to date is quite clever. I quietly sneak off during a really intense game of Hide and Seek. My kids would look for me for hours before reality began to set in. By then I’d be far away. In fact, I think some twenty years later in grocery stores and public places, they’d still reserve a part off themselves to the notion that I might ‘pop out’ from inside a watermelon bin, or that they’d spot me crouched uncomfortably on aisle 6 behind the first row of beans. That’s just the way the human brain works-- we want to pick up where we left off when last things were good. We never truly give up hope for the occurrence of impossible events.
The nice thing about this idea is that it gives me an eternal ‘in’ if I ever decide to return to their lives. They’d spot me behind a bush in a park, run up and tag me, and it would be game on. Just like we never missed a step. “Holy shit Dad! That was the most intense round of Hide and Seek I’ve EVER played! You’re the all time champion, Dad! Look Dad, I can do a somersault! Hey Dad, want to come back to the house and meet my wife and kids?”
Friday, August 27, 2010
Who’s Reflection Is This, Anyway?
Have you seen the commercial for bladder control where the man is missing out on important photo opportunities with his buddies because he always has to leave to take a piss? This is interesting. He is playing golf and misses out on a group shot because he’s stuck in the 8th hole bathroom. Then he’s at a baseball game. Great photo of all his buddies, but his seat is…empty. Why? Because he’s in line at the pisser. This gentleman definitely needs some bladder control medicine, sure. But not before he gets some new fucking friends. The day my friends don’t wait for me to take a picture because I’m taking a leak is the day I kick ‘em in the nuts and wish them farewell. I advise he does the same.
Ahh, the world of advertising invites us into it’s perfect trap. Their world becomes ours. I’m fearful now that I’m missing out on the good things in life because I have to piss too often. Hell, most of the time they don’t even take the time to tell you what the medicine is for. They just strongly advise that you ask your doctor about Confusiplex. Then they show you how to ask your doctor. Why? Because the truth is they can’t get people to do what they want them to do. They can’t get the doctor to sell their products by name, so they decided fuck doctors, we’re going right to the people. But then they realized that people aren’t cooperating either—doesn’t matter how good your dick hardener pill is if the patient never asks for it and won’t fess up to the problem.
Here’s something. The easiest way to have a bladder control conversation with your doctor is to take a piss on the floor when she asks you the reason for your visit. That’s right. Just get it all out there on the table. If you’re there for some Xanax, instead of complaining about how stressful work is, why not put the doctor in a chokehold until he figures it out himself? Don’t let him go until he finishes writing out that prescription—and hold out for 6 months of refills and an extra Mg on the script.
For now though, we’re getting soft encouragement by way of 30 second commercials. Make ‘em feel comfortable talking to their doctors. Make ‘em feel comfortable about their inability to get their dick to resemble something other than a sock filled with warm pudding. Show them catching their reflection in the window on the way to the doctor’s office. Show them the internal conversation they don’t know they’re having. The one where their insecurities and embarrassment are getting in the way of their ultimate happiness. Getting in the way of a Crucial Conversation with a doctor who doesn’t give a shit about them anyway. It may work. People may start initiating the conversation themselves. And this would be good, because most doctors are socially retarded pieces of shit who can’t take a hint in the first place. But until the manufacturers of these drugs can sell us new friends and a hot piece of ass, even if we buy the medicine, the root of the problem is still unresolved. Where’s the pill for that?
Ahh, the world of advertising invites us into it’s perfect trap. Their world becomes ours. I’m fearful now that I’m missing out on the good things in life because I have to piss too often. Hell, most of the time they don’t even take the time to tell you what the medicine is for. They just strongly advise that you ask your doctor about Confusiplex. Then they show you how to ask your doctor. Why? Because the truth is they can’t get people to do what they want them to do. They can’t get the doctor to sell their products by name, so they decided fuck doctors, we’re going right to the people. But then they realized that people aren’t cooperating either—doesn’t matter how good your dick hardener pill is if the patient never asks for it and won’t fess up to the problem.
Here’s something. The easiest way to have a bladder control conversation with your doctor is to take a piss on the floor when she asks you the reason for your visit. That’s right. Just get it all out there on the table. If you’re there for some Xanax, instead of complaining about how stressful work is, why not put the doctor in a chokehold until he figures it out himself? Don’t let him go until he finishes writing out that prescription—and hold out for 6 months of refills and an extra Mg on the script.
For now though, we’re getting soft encouragement by way of 30 second commercials. Make ‘em feel comfortable talking to their doctors. Make ‘em feel comfortable about their inability to get their dick to resemble something other than a sock filled with warm pudding. Show them catching their reflection in the window on the way to the doctor’s office. Show them the internal conversation they don’t know they’re having. The one where their insecurities and embarrassment are getting in the way of their ultimate happiness. Getting in the way of a Crucial Conversation with a doctor who doesn’t give a shit about them anyway. It may work. People may start initiating the conversation themselves. And this would be good, because most doctors are socially retarded pieces of shit who can’t take a hint in the first place. But until the manufacturers of these drugs can sell us new friends and a hot piece of ass, even if we buy the medicine, the root of the problem is still unresolved. Where’s the pill for that?
Friday, August 13, 2010
Late Christmas Letter
Well, it’s that time of year again. The time where I take a day off work to get plastered while taking down the Christmas tree—or what remains of it—and I figured I’d share my thoughts as my buzz kicks in.
My goodness. If we are to believe the“365 Subtle Ways To Emotionally Scar Your Loved Ones” calendar that sits on my desk, then it looks like yet another year has slipped us by. I figured rather than make a round of tiring phone calls eating up our minutes telling stories of holiday excess, I’d send out a good old fashioned letter. It feels so good to take pen to paper, even if you are just typing on a computer.
I don’t know about you, but if I had to sum it up, I’d say it was a year of…Joy. For those of you without children in your lives, that may be difficult to comprehend, but for every day spent fretting about losing the house, we were lucky enough to have tireless and abundantly cheerful 5 and 2 year olds who run to embrace you and wash away your worries. Sometimes that came with a stiff though unintentional punch to the nuts, but after a while you learn to tuck and crouch in anticipation. Also, the athletic cup I got for my birthday (June 5th everybody!) didn’t hurt, either.
In my eternal desire to find the silver lining in the sequence of financial and personal failures we’ve experienced, I decided the kids’ ignorance as to the reality of our situation was an opportunity. Heck maybe if I tried hard enough, I too could find bliss. And I did. Thanks to off-brand sinus medicine washed down with a few stiff liquor drinks. Change what you can and screw the rest. The liquor? Oh never you mind, next week Matt Lauer will be telling all of us that 3+ shots a night of cheap vodka is the elixir of youth. THEN who will be the one laughing, hmm?
OK, updates. I’ll start with Parker, our youngest. Mostly she babbles nonsensically and continues to run up an obnoxious diaper bill. Next! Just kidding, that doesn’t make for a good holiday newsletter. When she’s not refusing to nap or throwing a tantrum in public, she does appear to have taken a keen interest in the dog’s privates. Over the last 12 months she’s blown bubbles at them, prodded them with the princess wand, and even painted one of his testicles the color purple—we’ve since put the oil paints on a high shelf. If we could keep the snot off of Parker’s face long enough to snap a photo I’d include one, but some chores aren’t worth the small payout.
Avery, our 5 year old, is finally coming out of her shell a little bit. This was a tough year for her because she started kindergarten. I suppose we all have our own definition of ‘tough.’ With the multitude of inter-racial children in the classroom, she apparently had some adjusting to do. After she finished decorating our house for Kwanzaa and we completed her three week crash course on making baklava, we feel like we’re all finally up to speed. Unfortunately, for each cultural step forward she took, she took a step backward in potty training. This was unexpected and a genuine pain in the ass. Just when you think they’re on their way in the world, they take a dump on the carpet at a neighbor’s holiday party. A few visits to a child counselor later and we feel she’s back on track—we’ve only just begun the project, but‘Family Fecal Art’ is a Godsend.
Genny, my adoring wife and the mother of these two beautiful darlings, is really loving her new-found freedom now that Parker spends her days at daycare and Avery spends hers at kindergarten. Genny’s worked hard for it, and I think if she wants to spend her free time watching reality tv and abusing prescription drugs, she’s earned the right to do so. My fear is she’s either going to burn down the house, or run out of doctors in this town willing to play the “I lost my prescription” game. Call me crazy, but I don’t have the confidence in the Canadian pharmaceutical mail order system that some folks do. Oh well—with each new year comes new challenges, and we will embrace them, even if it means bending the rules a little bit to keep mommy’s medicine cabinet in good supply.
Me? Well, for me it’s just more of the same. I spent the year trying to complain less, which was tough for me. I tried to appreciate everything and everybody, even when they made it a challenge to do so. My approach is simple—you only get one trip around this crazy big box consumer world of ours, and if you get stuck in the Electronics Department you never get to enjoy the Garden Center, if that makes sense at all. I can honestly say that 2009 was the year I was saved by Rachel Ray.
I could go on for quite some time, but there are new memories to make and I want to hop to it. I hope you and yours are doing well—we’d love to have you for a visit so long as everybody who comes is healthy and doesn’t expect much in the way of entertainment.
Chris
My goodness. If we are to believe the“365 Subtle Ways To Emotionally Scar Your Loved Ones” calendar that sits on my desk, then it looks like yet another year has slipped us by. I figured rather than make a round of tiring phone calls eating up our minutes telling stories of holiday excess, I’d send out a good old fashioned letter. It feels so good to take pen to paper, even if you are just typing on a computer.
I don’t know about you, but if I had to sum it up, I’d say it was a year of…Joy. For those of you without children in your lives, that may be difficult to comprehend, but for every day spent fretting about losing the house, we were lucky enough to have tireless and abundantly cheerful 5 and 2 year olds who run to embrace you and wash away your worries. Sometimes that came with a stiff though unintentional punch to the nuts, but after a while you learn to tuck and crouch in anticipation. Also, the athletic cup I got for my birthday (June 5th everybody!) didn’t hurt, either.
In my eternal desire to find the silver lining in the sequence of financial and personal failures we’ve experienced, I decided the kids’ ignorance as to the reality of our situation was an opportunity. Heck maybe if I tried hard enough, I too could find bliss. And I did. Thanks to off-brand sinus medicine washed down with a few stiff liquor drinks. Change what you can and screw the rest. The liquor? Oh never you mind, next week Matt Lauer will be telling all of us that 3+ shots a night of cheap vodka is the elixir of youth. THEN who will be the one laughing, hmm?
OK, updates. I’ll start with Parker, our youngest. Mostly she babbles nonsensically and continues to run up an obnoxious diaper bill. Next! Just kidding, that doesn’t make for a good holiday newsletter. When she’s not refusing to nap or throwing a tantrum in public, she does appear to have taken a keen interest in the dog’s privates. Over the last 12 months she’s blown bubbles at them, prodded them with the princess wand, and even painted one of his testicles the color purple—we’ve since put the oil paints on a high shelf. If we could keep the snot off of Parker’s face long enough to snap a photo I’d include one, but some chores aren’t worth the small payout.
Avery, our 5 year old, is finally coming out of her shell a little bit. This was a tough year for her because she started kindergarten. I suppose we all have our own definition of ‘tough.’ With the multitude of inter-racial children in the classroom, she apparently had some adjusting to do. After she finished decorating our house for Kwanzaa and we completed her three week crash course on making baklava, we feel like we’re all finally up to speed. Unfortunately, for each cultural step forward she took, she took a step backward in potty training. This was unexpected and a genuine pain in the ass. Just when you think they’re on their way in the world, they take a dump on the carpet at a neighbor’s holiday party. A few visits to a child counselor later and we feel she’s back on track—we’ve only just begun the project, but‘Family Fecal Art’ is a Godsend.
Genny, my adoring wife and the mother of these two beautiful darlings, is really loving her new-found freedom now that Parker spends her days at daycare and Avery spends hers at kindergarten. Genny’s worked hard for it, and I think if she wants to spend her free time watching reality tv and abusing prescription drugs, she’s earned the right to do so. My fear is she’s either going to burn down the house, or run out of doctors in this town willing to play the “I lost my prescription” game. Call me crazy, but I don’t have the confidence in the Canadian pharmaceutical mail order system that some folks do. Oh well—with each new year comes new challenges, and we will embrace them, even if it means bending the rules a little bit to keep mommy’s medicine cabinet in good supply.
Me? Well, for me it’s just more of the same. I spent the year trying to complain less, which was tough for me. I tried to appreciate everything and everybody, even when they made it a challenge to do so. My approach is simple—you only get one trip around this crazy big box consumer world of ours, and if you get stuck in the Electronics Department you never get to enjoy the Garden Center, if that makes sense at all. I can honestly say that 2009 was the year I was saved by Rachel Ray.
I could go on for quite some time, but there are new memories to make and I want to hop to it. I hope you and yours are doing well—we’d love to have you for a visit so long as everybody who comes is healthy and doesn’t expect much in the way of entertainment.
Chris
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Standup Links
Links to a recent show where I did 15 minutes...
1 of 2: http://bit.ly/aKSwkr
2 of 2: http://bit.ly/amlnl0
Hope you enjoy them.
1 of 2: http://bit.ly/aKSwkr
2 of 2: http://bit.ly/amlnl0
Hope you enjoy them.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Coffee
Coffee saved my life again this morning. Either that or I over-exaggerate.
I'm sauteing green peppers and onions just for the smell of it. I currently have no intention of eating them.
Last night I came home drunk and fumbled through the kitchen making peanutbutter and ritz crackers while expertly navigating the self-closing kitchen drawers. This is where rich meets poor.
I dreamt last night that my wife bought a ShakerWeight. or "The Shaker" or whatever it is called. I also dreamt she told me I was good with the tongs in the kitchen. These things are just true.
I was hammered last night when I left the bar, so I took a cab. I swear the cabbie was drunk. So in theory there was one less drunk driver on the road, but I may have been aiding and abetting by giving him a fare.
This concludes Saturday's initial thoughts. Enjoy the weekend.
I'm sauteing green peppers and onions just for the smell of it. I currently have no intention of eating them.
Last night I came home drunk and fumbled through the kitchen making peanutbutter and ritz crackers while expertly navigating the self-closing kitchen drawers. This is where rich meets poor.
I dreamt last night that my wife bought a ShakerWeight. or "The Shaker" or whatever it is called. I also dreamt she told me I was good with the tongs in the kitchen. These things are just true.
I was hammered last night when I left the bar, so I took a cab. I swear the cabbie was drunk. So in theory there was one less drunk driver on the road, but I may have been aiding and abetting by giving him a fare.
This concludes Saturday's initial thoughts. Enjoy the weekend.
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