Crazy and Hmmm, I Think I'll Go to Vegas Tonight

Crazy things happen.

Like me raving about Page 73 of a stupid book and possibly losing credibility with the people that couldn’t contain their curiosity so they had to go to the store to see what the hell is on the page.

*****

I like the crazy conversations with my boys.

Will: Drew, do you ever poo at school?

Drew: I did once.

Will: Me too. Just one day I mean. When I was in a lower grade, I poo’d four times in one day.

Drew: Wow, I only poo’d one time.

Will: Do you pull your pants all the way off when you poo, or just part way down?

Drew: Part way down.

Will: I like to pull mine all the way off.

Daddy: Why are you having a long conversation about poo?

Will: Because I have to go poop.

Daddy: Well then go!

Will: I am.

Daddy: Do you want something to read?

Will: I’m not ready for that.

Drew: I’m starving because I just pooped and got all the food out. When can we eat?

*****

I like Crazy Hair Day at school. I have spray painting skeelz.



*****
I like to play Crazy Eights.

*****

I love crazy as long as it’s the good kind. Psycho and/or irrational crazy drives me, well, crazy. I have a crazy thing going on that isn’t all that fun and falls into the irrational category. If I ever decide to write about it (or post what I have already written), it will make for a quite a few blogs. In the meantime, the point is that it’s been weighing on me since November. There is a bright shiny light at the end of the tunnel – it’s just been a fucking way too long tunnel.

I was feeling a little sorry for myself yesterday because of the latest with the bad crazy. And then a buddy called with a crazy idea. He said he last-second decided to join his brother-in-law in Vegas and that I should come too. He is leaving Saturday afternoon and coming back Monday morning. My first reaction was “no.” I had big plans Saturday, the rates are probably huge so last-second, I’d rather go for a longer weekend, I have other shit to do, I normally have my kids this weekend but the ex wanted them for Easter and I was thinking about stopping by, blah blah blah. He said the flights out are $60. And suggested using an award ticket to get back. I was pretty sure I didn’t have an award ticket although I do charge a lot of clients’ advertising on my Southwest card so I can get the miles. The ex said Easter won’t be a big deal; just a basket hunt at sunrise. My initial lame ass response of ‘no’ seemed stupid. Why not?

I decided to look into it for kicks. I found a flight out tonight at 10p for $60. I literally just accrued a free ticket yesterday when my bean counter paid the company credit card. So I got a flight back on Monday for free. I cancelled my plans for Saturday with great support and understanding from the friend I was standing up (plus giving away my Nuggets playoffs tickets for free made it better). I figured I’d just stay out all night tonight and get a room for Saturday and Sunday. Done deal for $140 total.

I’ll take care of my bad crazy this afternoon. Then I will look forward to the good crazy - a carefree escape for the weekend in Vegas. Spontaneity at it’s best.

Page 73

I just read a book that didn’t make sense. I got through the whole thing because it had a cool cover, good title, interesting fonts and most of all because it was short.

It was metaphoric and allegedly clever, but I’m not so sure the author pleased as many people as himself. Although kudos to him for that – I think it’s great to write for yourself. I just don’t know how he got that sucker published.

Light Boxes by Shane Jones

But I’m glad he did just for page 73. Without giving anything away, a big part of the book is how a town is being punished by having it be February for hundreds and hundreds of days. The town tries to rebel and fight back. Page 73 gives a list of things people can do to make it all better.

I’m not going to tell you what is on the list on page 73. It delights me a sick tiny bit that some of you (Steph and Jolene for sure) will have no choice but to go to a book store to see the list on page 73. I will tell you why I liked the list. Because you can take any bad situation and choose many things from the list on page 73 to do something about it and feel better about it. I like that a lot.

And I like knowing that page 73 was cool enough that it will likely be permanently engrained in my cluttered brain. I may forget some of the things actually written on page 73 (I already have), however I will never forget that page 73 had a great list of ways to deal with turmoil.

For those of you that read the book, we can chit chat at cocktail parties and mention page 73 with a knowing snicker while others wish they were in on page 73. When in reality I don’t really know what the hell the book was about and if you do read it, I hope you will explain it to me in a way that makes me think the other 159 pages were any good.

In the meantime, if you are having a bad day, week, month, series of hundreds of days, or are simply frustrated with this post, then just choose something from page 73 and get over it!

The Big Question

“Daddy, how are babies made?”

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh, I knew this day was coming. Why does it happen when I have the boys and not when they are with their mother? Will is only eight so I feel like this is a little early for him to ask, isn’t it? We were driving but that didn’t stop me from texting the ex wife to tell her about the fun ride we were about to have.

She said he asked her one time and all she had to say was it starts with kissing. Will stopped her and said that’s all he needed to know so far. I have to tell you what; I’m no doctor nor am I an expert on anatomy, but I’m pretty sure you can make a baby without kissing. I think the ex may have been trying for a quick subject change.

“That is a really good question Will. Have you talked to anyone about this yet?”

“No Daddy; that is why I’m asking you. How are babies made?”

“Well, you know how men and women have different body parts?”

“Yes?”

“Well, when a man and a woman want to make a baby, they put those parts together.”

*crickets*

“But how do they MAKE the baby?”

“Women have eggs in their body. And the man can fertilize the egg. Sometimes it takes, sometimes it doesn’t. If it takes, then the egg turns into a baby.”

“So the man fertilizes the egg and it turns into a baby? Do all girls have eggs? Does Zoe have eggs?”

“Zoe doesn’t have eggs yet. You have to be an adult to have a baby.”

“When will Zoe have eggs?

“It is different for everyone, but usually girls start having eggs every month sometime in their early teenage years. But that is way too early to have a baby. Adults have babies. So Zoe won’t be making babies anytime soon.”

“And how does the man fertilize the egg?”

*crickets*

“Daddy! How does the man fertilize the egg?!”

“That is a really good question Will. Umm. Well, a man can fertilize a woman’s egg by um…”

*crickets*

“Daddy! You stopped talking.”

“Right. What? Oh right. Drew, how are you doing?”

“Fine.”

I looked in the rear view mirror at Will and he sternly said, “Daddy.”

“Okay Will. The best way to make a baby is for the guy to get the girl really drunk so she will fuck him all night long…”

Of course I didn’t say that!

“Okay Will, look, these are really good questions and it is important that you learn this stuff. I want to be able to explain it all really well to you and focus on the conversation. I think it will also help (us both) to get a book. They have lots of books about these things that we can look at together. Can we do that? Can you wait until I can get a book and not be driving?”

“Okay Daddy.”

Now I have to run to the bookstore this weekend to learn how to tell an eight year old how babies are made in a way that will make him not want to experiment for around twenty years or so.

I’d also like to get him to stop thinking about Zoe’s eggs.

Broken Down Car Frees the Willy

“Will, look! My penis is blue!”

That is all I heard from the other room in the condo. Normally I’d run over and investigate, but the wowing and laughter afterward made me think it was no big deal. The boys were changing out of their bathing suits. Plus I was busy making dinner. I was in the kitchen slaving over a hot stove. Putting a frozen pizza in the oven requires my full attention.

It was a white pizza with cheese and spinach. I tried to redistribute as much of the cheese as possible to cover up all the spinach so that my boys would actually eat said pizza. As it cooked, the condo began to smell like white pizza.

The next thing I heard Drew say was, “Ewww, I smell throw up.”

Will corrected him and said, “No, Daddy is making dinner.”

Is it needless to say that I had trouble getting them to eat the pizza? Sometimes the simple things are difficult. It’s important to keep it all in perspective though. It has been a crazy few months around here with many stressful things going on that were a lot worse than a chilly willy and smelly dinner.

I’ve been really digging listening to Florence and the Machine and in particular The Dog Days are Over. I keep telling myself the dog days are over and I mostly believe it. I just need to try not to sweat the small stuff. Usually I have no problem with this – I’m irritatingly optimistic all the time.

But little things that pile up can be trying. Like Monday evening for example. I drove to basketball which is always a huge physical and mental pick-me-up. Well, for whatever reason, I couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn with a basketball that night. It became comical how poorly I was playing (at least on offense). It got to the point where I psyched myself out and knew that every shot I took would rattle out of the rim. And so it did. Luckily my satisfaction with playing isn’t really based on my performance because I still love it. But it sure was frustrating!

It was 9p and I had to boogie home to get some work done for a big meeting Tuesday morning. I got in the car, turned the ignition and nothing happened. The battery is brand new and I had power to the radio, lights, windows, etc, so I knew that wasn’t the problem.

I suck at car stuff so I did what I’m capable of doing which was kick the tires, try the key eleventeen times, pop the gas cap door mistakenly twice as I tried to find the latch that pops the hood, look under the hood for who knows what cuz I’d have no idea what was out of place even if it were something obvious, bang the steering wheel three times with the palm of my hand, turn off the radio (because it seems like that would make the car start), rifle around the glove compartment and wonder why it is still called a glove compartment when nobody ever stores gloves in there, try the key three more times and hit the steering wheel eleventeen more times, close my eyes and visualize the car starting through osmosis and then cursing because even that didn’t work. I even thought about checking the flux capacitor and kanuten valve. And then I gave up.

It was late so I didn’t want to deal with a tow truck without knowing where I’d have them take my dead car. So I called some friends to rescue me. This all took place in Denver by the way. I live in Boulder, about a half hour away so I knew I’d have to crash somewhere in Denver. I put on my jeans over my sweaty boxers and still had on my stinky t-shirt and pullover along with my high tops from playing basketball. For some reason I’d later regret, I left my nice shoes, dry socks and the shirt I wore that day in my dead car.

Since it was 10p now and I still had a ton of work to do, I just had my friends drop me off at a buddy’s office that is in a converted town home. It is my Denver safe-house and I have free reign to get in there anytime I want.

By the time I got all my work done and wound down from the frustrating evening, it was 2:15am. I crashed on the couch and stared at the moon through the blindless window of which the bright blazing sun would be waking me up at the crack of dawn (not the canyonesque crack of The Med chick’s ass from the last post). I spent a good half hour trying to sleep. This always helps:

I see the moon and the moon sees me.
The moon sees someone I want to see.
God bless the moon and God bless me.
God bless the someone I want to see.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

I borrowed a friend’s car in the morning and got to work by 7am. I showered there and luckily I keep a clean dress shirt in the office. It has been hanging there for five years. Um, I must have been a bit thinner five years ago. It was a snug fit, but still better than my smelly t-shirt. I had to go commando since I didn’t have spare underwear at the office – who would do that? I couldn’t put back on those nasty socks, so I pulled my high tops back on over my bare feet. This was as good as it was going to get for the meeting.

The meeting was a success and I had Florence singing in my head. The dog days are over, I tell you. Of course I still had to get my car towed and fixed, which I did. And I had more work to do and shit to deal with, but that never ends. The good news (besides the great meeting) was that I had a full day of free willy. Commando was awesome.

Something good comes out of everything.

I Didn't See That Coming But Then I Couldn't Stop Looking

The Grand Canyon is quite spectacular. The last time I was there was about eight years ago. I think it has been argued as one of the seven natural wonders of the world. Upon checking The Google and The Wikipedia, it seems there is some debate over the wonders of the world depending on if we are talking ancient times, engineering, modern era, underwater or clueless blondes – all are considered quite the wonder. Regardless, imagine my surprise when I encountered one of the great wonders of the world right here in my home town of Boulder, Colorado.

I was at The Med. I was trying to focus on the conversation with my party. But how does one ignore the grand canyon in all her glory(hole)? Colorado certainly does have vast wide open spaces, butt this was unexpected in what is considered a modern hip place in an urban environment. With such a large and exposed crevice gaping at the clientele, I couldn’t believe there weren’t ropes or some kind of protective fencing barricading the fluctuating crack. The surface area shifted often which caused the large expanse to widen and lengthen to startling degrees.

Although I am native to Boulder, I fell into tourist mode and had to snap a picture. I would have posed in front of the amazing wonder but I didn’t want to disturb the wildlife. Plus I was afraid I might accidentally fall in. It would take hours to find me down there.



The nice thing about it was that the bar area got pretty crowded and people were able to nestle their pint glasses in the wide crevice in lieu of table space. Of course now and then a cocktail would slide all the way down and be lost forever, butt my guess is that’s the point of the whole thing anyway.

The Med is a real crack up.

Charities With Color and Karate Kicks

The boys and I were driving by a big open field next to a highway ramp and shopping center yesterday.

Will: I’m going to build a charity right there. It will be for the homeless because they are always on these corners and there is so much open space.

Drew: What’s a charity?

Will: It can be anything Drew. Mine will be a shelter for the homeless where they can get food, sleep and checkups. And it will be free for them in case they don’t have any money.

Drew: What color is it?

Will: What color is what?

Drew: The charity! What color is it?

Will: Um, I guess I don’t know what a charity is. But my shelter is a building and it can be any color I want it to be. I’d talk to the builders about it.

Drew: If I were a builder I’d build charities, houses, buildings and pools.

Will: I’m also going to build a grocery store with all healthy stuff in it. No junk food at all. And it is only for the homeless and everything is free.

Drew: What color is it?

Will: The grocery store?

Drew: No! The charity!

Will: Drew!!!

Daddy: A charity is the name for a good cause. It is a category to describe what can be a not-for-profit business, a fund raising campaign, or any number of other things that people do to generally help other people. So a charity doesn’t really have a color. Does that make sense?

Drew: I can karate kick really good.

Will: My charity will help the homeless so they don't have to ask us for money.

Drew: High-ya! *he kicks the back of my seat*

Daddy: Drew, don't kick me. Will, that is really cool. I'm glad you want to help the homeless.

Drew: But what color is it!!!!!

Breaking Up

I wish I could say it’s not you; it’s me. But I’m tired of hiding my true feelings for you. It’s all you. And we are done. I can’t take it anymore. You are a pain in my ass. And yes, there is someone else. But let’s keep talking about you because I need to get some things off my chest.

I never said anything about your weight. But seriously, figure it out. It makes you even clumsier than you already are. And I don’t know if your heaviness is related to it, but you are so fricking slow. I am ALWAYS waiting on you. You move so slowly and are never ready when I need you.

You are not reliable at all. I guess you are consistent in that I know I can never count on you to do what I think you are going to do. But that isn’t the kind of spontaneity I like. The fact that I need you for one thing and you basically freeze up is a cop out. Or if you make an attempt to participate in something with me, why are you always plodding along like you don’t care about me?

Okay, I know this next area is a sensitive topic, but besides your weight and bulky appearance, we have to talk health. Your memory sucks. I don’t understand how one second I think you are good to go and the next you act like you are overwhelmed and can’t absorb any more information. Secondly, I think you have a serious problem considering the number of viruses you have contracted from unknown sources. You never have an explanation for any of them and I’m tired of taking you to the clinic and paying ridiculous fees to get you fixed up.

Want to talk personality? BORING! I have to admit that I’ve been embarrassed to be seen with you in coffee shops. Think about it – strangers never take any interest in you and I’m tired of giving you lame praise like how you are good at work (not really true anyway) to justify our relationship.

We don’t even get along when we do things I love, such as traveling. Remember that last trip to Florida when you completely shut down and were worthless? Even after a few cocktails I couldn’t get you going. I tried to turn you on and all you did was lay there; dead.

I deserve better than you. So long bitch. Meet my new lover: