Well, with this blog it is no different. Only this and future 'blogger's notebook's' will be done purely out of laziness. I'm running out of good ideas to write about, it seems, and the baby has slept a total of about 10 minutes this week, so I am dragging ass and slacking on the 'blog site,' as my Dad calls it. Sorry, folks. Think of it as seeing your favorite band live on a night where they are really hungover and uninspired.
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Today I took the next step toward being a full on dad (you know, aside from fathering a child, spending half of my paycheck to feed her and bitching about the heat being turned up) when I woke up this morning, walked over to my closet and for the first time in my life put on a bathrobe. I have owned this robe for several years, a very soft, fleecy Christmas present from when my dad used to manage the warehouse at some yuppie LL Bean rip-off type company, but I wore it sparingly as up until this point I have never been much of a robe guy.
Aside from initially feeling like a sex offender (Monica told me I looked like Grover's tall, creepy cousin who had to knock on doors before he moved in to the neighborhood) I took a liking to the robe and wore it most of the morning. I also confirmed my suspicion that the Snuggie is nothing more than a reverse bath robe without a little cloth belt. Scam.
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I have never been the type of guy to take pictures, in fact, I have never owned a camera until about three weeks ago when I accidentally broke Monica's and bought her a new one only to find out that she had a protection plan on it. Long story short, we couldn't scam Staples and we now have two identical cameras. In any event, I wish I had one of those cameras with me this morning.
For about two months a trash bag filled with old clothes has been kicking around the house, and I decided today was the day that I get off my lazy ass and take it to the Planet Aid drop box. The nearest one to my house is located in a parking lot in between a sub shop and a transmission repair garage that looks more like a place where teenagers go to be murdered on prom night by a cult of the undead. There are two drop boxes in the back of the lot and both have very large, very intimidating warnings on them that say 'NOTICE: THIS BOX PROTECTED BY CLOSED CIRCUIT CAMERA. NO DUMPING ALLOWED' (That's what she said).
Under the warning label it listed what was restricted from being dumped. Furniture, rubbish, metal and 'waste'. (If someone can explain the difference between rubbish and waste you are a smarter person than I). Next to said sign sat a broken folding chair, two recycle bins filled with what appeared to be old gym bags, broken CD cases and what looked like a portable air compressor, one broken window blind and a filthy pair of black sneakers. I am pretty sure all of those restrictions were violated, and I am willing to bet, unless it was mounted on a tree, the closed circuit surveillance camera did little to catch the perpetrator.
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When I was between the ages of 19-21 I did my fair share of scamming people in to giving me beer. I can remember one night where a bunch of us went around to different liquor stores saying that we left our ID's in the car in the hopes that someone would just say 'don't worry about it.' It took an hour or so, but eventually it worked.
Last night at the bar I encountered the single most pathetic attempt to drink under aged in history. Around 11 p.m. about 6 kids walked in and ordered beer, four guys and two girls. All four guys had ID's that were either real or real enough that I couldn't tell, and all had just turned 21 in the past few months. The two girls, however, were only 20. I know this because they told me in the following ways.
The first girl pulls out her ID and hands it to me. DOB 6/20/89. Really?
'I was hoping you would just look at my picture and ignore the date. If I tip you really well, can I still drink?'
'Um. No.'
So, not the best effort I have ever seen, but her friend topped it with this gem.
'What if I have an ID that says I'm 21, but I'm really not. Would you confiscate it?'
'Um. No. But I'm also not going to serve you.'
'But, it says I'm 21.'
'But you're not.'
'So.'
'So I can't serve you.'
'What if I have my friend go to the store and I bring in my own beer.'
'Seriously?'
'Yeah. Just give me a glass.'
'Not a chance.'
Wow. Just wow.
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So I mentioned before that Av hasn't been sleeping much, and I think a lot of that has to do with the fact that she has started to eat real food and I think it makes her gassy and constipated. She has an outrageous amount of teeth for a child her age, six with more on the way, therefore, we have decided that it is time to introduce her to foods that are not just unidentifiable mush.
She likes bananas, sweet potato fries and cheerios, but one thing she is going to town on a lot lately is oatmeal. It doesn't even matter what kind of oatmeal, or what is in it, she loves it. As a result, there have been a multitude of poop incidents. In fact, almost every morning I wake up to a steaming load in her diaper. When she has been keeping me up all night as it is, that is not a good way to start the day.
That said, even I had to laugh at the latest poop catastrophe that took place on Tuesday. Somewhere around noon she was in the bath tub getting the stink of her last oatmeal dump off of her when she instantly stopped playing and splashing around, squinted her eyes and let out what I thought was a fart. It was classic cliche' bathtub fart. There were bubbles, she let off this little giggle afterward. It was funny. Until I saw the turd float to the top of the tub. Needless to say, the bath ended then and there and the strenuous task of removing the turd without touching it, or letting it touch anything in the bath tub began.
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So that is it. That is my time. Tonight marks my final time that I will be doing the Item a favor covering School Committee meetings. I realized that if you quit a job that you hate but still go back every two weeks to help them out, it defeats the purpose. So, I'm done. That's it. I'm out. Another year or so as a stay at home dad, then it is off to the real world again. Now if only I knew what I wanted to be when I grow up...
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