2012 huh?

2011 wasn't all that bad. I accomplished much. I had a son, bought a house, bought a family car, got a new job, and formed a metal band. All in all I'd say it was a win. It was a lot of work, but a win for my family.
Fiji
Yes. Good stuff. I was also completely numb through the entire thing. Like I was on auto-pilot. So I decided to do something about it. I've been on ADHD and anti-anxiety drugs for a long time. A long time. When my son was born I decided I wanted him to know his dad dad. Not a fucking doped up socially acceptable zombie. I say that because I am an anxious, temper-ridden, loud, obnoxious, 3-second attention span, mother-fucker, who has no filter. I forgot I guess. People didn't like me and college didn't either. No meds, no degree or social interactions.

So I said fuck it. Fifteen years later I realized, I'm still a social failure, I have awful anxiety, and people, including my wife, don't seem to like the real me. I'm so behind at work I'm afraid of being fired. My family is afraid of me, Even the dogs. People ask me what my problem is. Nothing this is the real me. Well, nobody reads 10 page blogs, so that's it maybe more later.

Getting in the Christmas spirit.

Ah, Christmas. I haven't been in the spirit lately, I guess because I'm getting old, but like always, I find reasons to enjoy the holidays and my spirit is renewed.

It was EXTRA special this year though. In the wake of economic hardships, a new baby, and parents that get paid every two weeks, sometimes the simplest things have to be postponed for a little bit. Shit happens, and Toilet paper is one of those things.

Two days before I got paid this week, I was on the pot taking care of business, when I realized I had no way to ummm.... Close the deal. Shit. I did what I always do, I yelled for my wife. No response. Oh yeah, she's shopping with her mom. Well, at least I was sitting and comfy so I could figure this thing out.

I looked around me, nothing. I could use one of the wife's pads or disassemble a tampon, I had done it before, but she paid good money for those. No, I knew what I had to do. So like a prisoner in leg shackles I shuffled down the hall, careful not to let the cheeks touch or trip and fall on my face. I surveyed the area for anything of use. Paper towels? Nope, out of those too. Fast food napkins? I can't afford fast food. Ok. Think. And then it hit me.

There on the table, was my savior. The wife's office had exchanged gifts the day before and someone had given her a beautiful Christmas bag stuffed with red tissue paper. Tissue being the key word here. As I shuffled back down the hall and softened my new found hope, I thought, Merry Christmas to me. :-)

Puppy farts and burritos

What a fucking night! Little man lost his shit at the local Mexican restaurant. Ok, problem solving time. He already had a bottle, he's a little wet (but it can wait until we get outside), walking around isn't doing the trick. Hmmm.

I wonder why those people decided not to sit back here? Why is that couple ( who is obviously not married because they're sitting next to each other in the booth) staring and rolling their eyes at us? Why is that old man trembling like he's about to go into shock?

I must've blacked out from the baby screams. I've been in daddy mode and didn't realize that the entire restaurant would love nothing more than to roll me and my little bundle of joy in a big-assed tortilla and beat us like a adolescent dick.

As I snap into reality and attempt to vacate in fear for my son's life it becomes clear that I have had it all wrong throughout the years. There's no reason to be mad at those parents that bring little tykes out in public. Why?

What I didn't realize until tonight is that when that baby starts screaming, parents go into "Tard-mode". All the beautiful thoughts of the last time they got it on or what they're gonna do with a little free time turn into a mild catatonic state in which puppy farts can be heard in the parents brain. I didn't hear him crying. I just knew what I had to do. Food, poop, or comfort.

However, when I came to all I know is my wife was holding a sleeping baby, we were at home, and I was blogging....

Old Rockers Die Hard

Man, I hate to say it, but being a dad is more difficult than I thought. I'm ill equipped for the job maybe, mentally. I'm not a problem solver, nor am I calm and cool in tense situations. By situations I mean my 2 month old son screaming and not having a fucking clue as to how to fix it. He's not a piece of machinery that I can just smack with a hammer or a big retarded ass redneck I can tell to fuck off. No, he's the love of my life and requires problem solving skills the likes of which I have never encountered. It's hard to decide whether to check for poop or fill a bottle with imitation tittie milk when there is a thirteen pound megaphone raping your ear pussy.

All that aside, he can smile at me or coo at me and all my troubles disappear. I love that kid with all my heart, but god-dammit, the simplest decisions are like solving calculus problems.

I like the BLOG. Maybe we can do this again sometime.