Magic Powder Mon

Drew thinks Santa Claus is a Colombian drug lord.  I shouldn’t have let him watch Scarface and The Doors movies back to back.  This morning he announced that he is asking Santa for magic powder that makes his stuffed animals come alive.   If Christmas is too far out, I’m pretty sure you can buy that stuff on East Colfax from a local dealer.

The funny thing is, Drew doesn’t realize his stuffed animals are already alive.  I know!  First graders are so stupid!  They can’t even multiply double-digit numbers.   Nor can they vote or drive.  How embarrassing.  I’m sitting here with Blue Dog right now having a beer.  He likes Red Stripe which makes perfect sense since he was made in China where reggae got its start. 

“Hey Blue Dog, what up dawg?”

“Ay mon.  Can I have another Red Stripe?”

“No way.  You are supposed to be in bed with Drew. What if he wakes up and wants to cuddle with you.”

“I’ve got the Puffles on high alert.”

“I thought those guys play Texas Hold ‘Em every night.”

“No mon.  That is the Angry Birds.  Those assholes don’t let anyone else play.”

“Oh, right.  Well get back in there anyway and don’t hump Fluffy.  Dogs and pandas shouldn’t behave that way together.”

“Good friends we have, oh, good friends we have lost,”

“Stop it Blue Dog.”

“Along the way, yeah! In this great future, you can’t forget your past,”

“You aren’t a Rasta dog.  How many times do I have to say you weren’t born in the ghetto of Kingston? You were made in fucking China!  And are you implying Fluffy lives in a slum?”

“So dry your tears, I seh. Yeah!  No, woman, no cry; no woman no cry. Eh yeah!”

“It is one of my favorite Bob Marley tunes…”

Together we sing, “A little darlin’, don’t shed no tears; no woman no cry. Eh!”

That crazy Blue Dog.  He knows I’m a sucker for good music.  He finally went back to bed to snuggle with the Drew-boo.  I’m sure Fluffy got violated along the way.

I’ve had my kids and their eleventythousand animals all week.  We finally sold our old house.  The we is me and my ex.  The old house is the one I used to live in before I moved out two years ago.  The kids spent half their time there with their mom and the other half with me.  The ex is homeless for a week until her new pad is ready for her to move in.  So I have had the boys and the zoo they sleep with all week and until Monday morning.

The timing works out well because I have to go to Boston next week for work.  It just came up and will actually be a fun business trip.  My work obligations will be Wednesday to Friday.  Instead of flying back, I’ll stay for the weekend.  I’m the King of Adding a Day (or two) to Business Trips.  Many people are unaware of that particular kingdom.  Those same people probably can’t multiply big numbers. 

So yeah, I’ll have the whole weekend to play in Boston.  It seems I’ve been there a bunch the past few years.  If anyone has any recommendations, please let me know.  Blue Dog has recommended a few reggae bars/restaurants, but I’d rather eat seafood than Chinese, so I’m going to blow off his advice. 

I think the Angry Birds are harassing the Puffles.  I better get in there before they wake up the Drew-boo.  Everything’s gonna be alright.  Everything’s gonna be alright, yeah.

Little Men in Ties, Torture and the Woman's Trifecta Makes for Angry Bears

The Grim Reaper has been a total dick lately.  Four of my friends have had a parent or sibling die in the last month.  Two more friends are waiting bedside for their respective moms to go next.   Death sucks donkey balls.

Torture on the other hand, is awesome.  Will went to court on Monday to help defend Goldilocks from being prosecuted for breaking into a house supposedly occupied by three bears.  Goldilocks claims she was cold (hence the need for shelter), hungry (therefore she ate some porridge) and tired (so she took a nap).  As a male, I have no clear understanding of women whatsoever, but I do know when the trifecta hits a woman (cold, hungry and tired), any male in the vicinity better either run away or find a way to help that woman warm up, eat and get some rest!

Left to her own devices, Goldilocks did what she had to do to combat the trifecta.  I think Goldilocks is lucky to have escaped the house without being eaten by the three bears.  A friend just told me some bear horror stories and apparently regardless of being a small bear or big bear, they don’t like humans and have been known to feast on the skulls of the likes of Goldilocks.

So Goldilocks was tried in court by a bunch of third graders.  Will did his best to defend the damsel in distress and I guess you can say he succeeded because it ended up being a hung jury.  Upon further discussion, the judge asked the kids what they think might be fair punishment if Goldilocks were found guilty of partial charges, such as for eating the food that wasn’t hers.

Will and one of his girlfriends came up with what they thought was a good idea.  They suggested Goldilocks be left unfed for 24 hours and locked up outside so people could throw food at her with the caveat that she is not allowed to eat any of the food, even if something splatters all over her face.

My ex wife was slightly horrified by this idea.  I thought it was funny.  The judge explained that torture is not punishment and the kids would need to re-think their idea.  Some judges are lacking creativity.

I thought the only torture involved was that Will wore a tie.  He didn’t have to wear one but he wanted to look official, plus he knows the chicks like a sharp dressed man.  So I dug through the back of my closet to find my ties.  Owning an advertising agency in a laid-back market such as Denver has enabled me to avoid wearing a choker/food-catching-device pretty much year round. 

I found my old stash and Will chose a fish tie.  I stood behind my little man and showed him how to tie it around his neck.  Drew watched and declared he wanted to wear a tie to school since it was also picture day.  I told them both they were crazy to want to wear a tie when they weren’t going to a wedding or funeral.  Why would they want to torture themselves?  They said they like ties and think it’s nice to dress up.  Will said nobody has to die to wear a tie!

That reminded me of the Grim Reaper being such a dick again.  So I put on a tie too.  Nobody has to die to wear a tie, asshole.  Of course this was just Sunday night and I wasn’t going to torture myself by wearing a tie Monday too.  But my boys did it and they looked very handsome.  Fuck you Grim Reaper.

Has Anyone Seen My Mind in the Lost and Found Box

I just moved back to my old neighborhood in July.  I am renting a townhome for the time being.  There are six units in my building and we all have our own garages that open to the alley.  When I go running, I go in and out through the garage so I don’t have to bring keys.  I just use the keypad.

This past weekend, I went for a run.   Fine, it was more of a jog than a run.  Geez, okay, it was something between a brisk walk and a slow motion awkward canter.  I don’t like to run.  Unless it’s my mouth.  I can’t canter my mouth.  If there were a canter club, I’d totally join it.  It might be called Polo but I don’t own any colorful shirts with alligators on them.  Although I like the idea of whacking balls (easy Beavis) with a mallet.  I think that is called croquet.  But croquet isn’t a very good workout and that, my friend, is why I’m not in a running club – because running isn’t cantering and playing croquet won’t help my efforts to be in good shape.

Anyway, I did my 5K route and arrived back home at the alley to my garage.   My garage door is in the middle of the bunch.  I walked up to it and immediately saw that my keypad had been ripped off the wall.  All that was left was some blue tape.   Why in the world would someone rip off my garage door keypad? I didn’t have a key or phone and I began thinking about how’d I get in my house.

My unit is on the second floor and there are balconies on the front and back.  I knew if I could climb up to the balcony I could bust through a screen since I leave my windows open in the front. Or the back has a sliding door and that would be easier to get in if I left it open, which I couldn’t remember. 

I looked to the neighbor’s unit to see about a way to climb up the building using their patio chairs and holy shit, all their stuff was gone!!  Their patio had been cleaned out!!  I was still flabbergasted as to how all this could happen in a half hour and then wondered if someone broke in my house.  I don’t lock the door within the garage that leads inside my love shack.  Should I call the cops? But I didn’t have a phone. And I don’t even know my neighbors.

Screw it, I’ll bust out my Spiderman moves to scale the building and then karate chop any bad guys in the neck if they are in the midst of stealing my grill.  I stepped back to the other side of the alley to size up the building and look for my path up.  Something didn’t seem right, besides my ripped off keypad and the naked patio next door. 

I looked to my left down the alley.  To the next block.  And saw my building.  And my alley.  One block away to the west.  I was in the wrong alley at the wrong garage door next to the wrong neighbor’s patio.

I am losing my mind.  Thank goodness I didn’t break in, right?