Monday, May 31, 2010

(Husband) Bidding for Sex

“I think we should have sex”, I said to Daisy as we were having brunch at a bagel shop.

“No” was her reply without even looking up from her plate.

“It’s been three weeks!” I said

“It has not been three weeks.”

“Well it sure feels like it.”

As you can clearly see, I made a bid for sexual intercourse and it was immediately rejected. Men may ask for sex in a variety of different ways (funny, demanding, inquiring, or begging – maybe romantic should be included too). Whatever the case may be, sex bids have to be made.

Goose – “I think we should have sex”. What I am saying is…”I can’t resist your smoking hot body any longer. The risk of rejection is no longer an issue for me.” Aaahhh…but it is. See the response.

Daisy, “No”. What I hear is: “Your nakedness repulses me” or “You have ceased in your ability to pleasure me. I am starting to lose hope”.

My response back was exercising the art of hyperbole. It asserts an unwritten rule on how often a couple should have sex. Let’s say the assumption is once a week. If I say it has been 3 weeks, according to the unwritten rule, she is an inattentive wife and close to throwing me into the arms of another woman.

She countered with a call on my bluff. I stammered but found my feet, “It feels like it”. Translation: “Don’t’ you dare try to talk me out of my feelings Daisy!” How can you argue that? Well, I don’t mean to brag but I won the argument and she agreed to have sex with me. She scheduled me for next week on her lunch break. I pumped my fist and high-fived the guy next to me. Expressions of love are so beautiful.

Friday, May 28, 2010

(Husband/Father) "Special Brownies"

Daisy’s birthday is only a few days away and Beast loves birthdays. He enjoys other’s birthdays as if they are his own. So as Beast, Fire, and I were enjoying our morning oatmeal I mentioned how mommyis turning…um….a certain age. Beast suggested cake. Micah said, “cake”. I thought we may have cake mix in the cupboard so were on our way. I have a hard time planning things out so I have to take every opportunity to buy, and make, presents (Daisy received a Beta fish two days before mother’s day). Daisy was coming home in two hours which meant we had a chance. Beast saw that I had the cake mix and said it was for his birthday. He suggested we make the brownies instead. I looked in the cupboard again and lo’ and behold, brownie mix. The kid is 3! I think the reason why so many parents think their kid is the smartest child ever is because of these occasions. Anyway, the boys climbed up on chairs and away we went. The measurements are always a bit of a challenge when you have kids “helping”. Half of everything ends up on the floor so I made adjustments as I saw fit. Well, there was one adjustment that was a difficult call for me to make.

Recipe calls for two eggs. We had exactly two eggs. Beast wanted to crack one of the eggs. A split second, “Uh, well…..” on my part and it was all over. Beast’s tiny little hands squeezed and the yoke fell on the counter in one piece. Thank God! Then, imagine slow motion, the yoke began to slip down toward the edge. Keep slow motion going. “Nooooo…..” as I stretched out my hand to catch that slippery yellow/orange substance. Splat and a stifled swear word on the tippy edge of my tongue. The boys looked down at the….stuff and looked back at me. I could already see this gooey substance make its way toward the edge of the floor where nastiness likes to live. It was almost as if the egg was living out the basic rule of survival. Just like socks in a dryer, the egg tried to disappear amongst his comrades who were calling him over to them in the bunker. Listening closely I could swear they were yelling, “OVER HERE! The broom hasn’t found us in two years.” The egg took their advice.

I squatted down to look at the damage. Silence among all involved. The egg, dust mites, Beast and Micah were waiting for what we might do. It was then I noticed some of the dirt was getting cocky. They were literally jumping onto the egg as if he were already one of them. The egg looks up at me with a wink and a smirk. “Bastards!” I yelled. “You have sealed your fate!” I whipped out the plastic spatula and reached for the portable plastic cutting board. The dust screamed as they tried to jump ship. But guess what? I didn’t let them. With one scoop they were all mine. I poured them into the mixing bowl and turned on the mixer to high. “Who’s laughing now? Huh? Who’s laughing now?” Their tiny screams faded and my breathing slowed. I felt 4 eyes looking at me. I looked to see my boys slack jawed and with open mouths. “Let’s not tell mommy about this ok?” They nodded.

The boys ate the chocolate off the mixing spoons and the brownies baked. The timer sounded and brownies came out. Daisy is home in 10 minutes. I sprayed “Happy B-Day Mom” and stood back admiring my creation. Hot brownies = melted frosting. I looked in the fridge and found spread frosting in 2 different containers. “Cold frosting will melt on them there brownies” I thought. The white did fine but the chocolate did not. Car pulls up. Crap, Crap, Crap. “Mommy’s here!” I yelled. The boys jumped off their chairs and made a beeline toward the door. “Maybe the boys can stall her” I mumbled while trying to spread the stubborn frosting around. “Wait……..Birthday clump”. I took the ball and stuck it in the middle. “Hey babe” I heard behind me. I moved to show her our creation. “Birthday clump” I said proudly. “It’s wonderful!” she said as she hugged the boys. “Whew”, I thought. “Crisis obverted”.

And then it happened. “Were not going to tell you the egg fell on the floor” Beast said. “Floor” Fire said, pointing to the spot where leftover goo still sat. Daisy looked down and then looked up at me. I half whispered/half choked. No words came out. Daisy’s eyes burrowed into my soul. “happy birthday mom” I cracked.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

(Father) You never forget your first time

On a more serious note..........

I went to a reunion/conference in Maine where we honored a man we had all been influenced by. At one point the topic turned toward memorable clients we had all had and whom we would never forget. I took the opportunity to share with them the first client I had ever sat with. I will never forget that 8 year old boy and our short journey together.

The mother and her two children walked into the Center. One of the trainees saw the daughter while I saw the son. We did play therapy which consisted of sandbox and drawing. We also played board games about anger and feelings. I had seen the boy about ten times when the mother suggested we stop therapy. As far as I know, there wasn’t contempt on her part. If I hadn’t been such a newbie I would have wanted to sit down and ask her why. Furthermore, if I hadn’t been such a newbie I would have asked for time to transition him out of not seeing me anymore. Instead I asked, “You mean today”?

“Sure” was the reply. I walked into the session and explained to the boy I would not be able to see him any longer. He continued to play with the leggos and not say anything to me. Five minutes later I repeated myself in case he had not heard me the first time. I received the same response. Halfway through the session I felt as if time was running out and he needed to understand we had to say goodbye. I said as much to him, this time he jumped up, ran to the door, flew it open and ran down the hallway. I was shocked to say the least. I ran after him and eventually saw him on a stairway next to the waiting room. His head was down and he was crying. Mom and I sat next to him, but he refused to be coaxed back to the room. The boy left with his mom and sister. It was then that I realized how much I had meant to him. The quiet child who played toys with me cherished our time together. I made a promise to never underestimate my importance to a client no matter what their reaction is to me. It’s not arrogance, it’s simply the dynamic of the profession and the warranted or unwarranted power that comes with it.

A couple of months later, after I had already left the Center, I received a phone call. The secretary from the Counseling Center asked if I would come back and make an exception to see only one client. The boy. The chance of redemption filled me with both anxiety and relief.

A tragedy had befallen the family and the mother wanted me to see him for ten sessions. I don’t remember the first 9 sessions very clearly, but I do remember reminding him, after each session, how many sessions we had left. The tenth session went very quickly. We played airplanes. At the end, I sat down on a child’s stool and said it was time to go. This shy and tender child walked up to me with his head down. For a moment I didn’t know why he was standing in front of me. Then I had the feeling he was waiting for something. We are not supposed to touch our clients. Especially as a newbie and especially a child. But I wrapped both my arms around his body and picked him up off the ground. “You are a good boy” I whispered in his ear. I set him down and he walked out the door. Taking a part of my heart with him. That is why I sometimes wonder, “What is that 16 year old boy doing now?”.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

(Husband) Masturbation vs Sex

Daisy met with some of old friends the other day. They all have two kids and are ready to be done. So when Daisy mentioned my upcoming Vasectomy it created a stir among them. All of them are dealing with the same thing but at different stages. Some husbands have had their surgeries, some are upcoming, some are still ambivalent, and one will never undergo the knife (curiously the most effeminate one). Anyway, the point of the surgery is for the male to become sterile. Simple enough. But the “after party” holds a different story. Evidently the male needs to ejaculate at least 20-25 times in a period of 3 months to make sure all the stubborn sperm are cleaned out of the pipes.

Daisy said, “That is above our average.”

Another woman said, “I’m looking forward to it.”

Another said, “I think he might need to take care of himself on most occasions.”

The last person to chime in said, “Can it all be done in one weekend?”

Monday, May 24, 2010

(Husband) Maine Goodbye

We stayed with Pacific and Atlantic Beaver this last week. We slept in the Beaver house, ate their food, drank their alcohol, and drove their car. Daisy and I wanted to get them a gift. Here is the story we had them read before the giving them their outstanding prize just two hours ago. We will be home in a couple of days. I fulfilled my Monday posting promise and am very proud of myself!

We could not have had a successful vacation without your help. You have certainly gone above and beyond what we could have ever expected. The trip is coming to a close and so we only saw fitting that we present a gift offering to you both. How could we satisfy the hearts of two people who have varied interests? Wine? Chocolate? Ice Cream? No to all of the above. We represent the Goose name and with great power comes great responsibility. Therefore, the gift must be unique, intelligent, creative, and beautiful. Just like the Beaver Family itself. But where can we find such a prize? Hour after frustrating hour went by without any idea coming close to what would fulfill our expectations. After several brainstorming sessions which including writing lists, scratching out lists, resharpening of pencils, pounding table tops, a couple of shouting matches, and even some tears, we realized we needed a break.

We walked through several stores and then found a bench to rest on. Daisy sat with her elbows on her knees and head resting in her hands. As I watched, she slowly massaged her temples. I sighed and looked up at the ceiling. Daisy let out a slight groan so I looked to my right to see her. She put her hair behind her ear, gathered herself, and looked in my eyes. She finally uttered the words neither one of us wanted to say or hear. “We have to settle fo…………”

"Stop. I already know what you are going to say."

"Doc G. You and I both kno....."

“Daisy please, for the love of God.” I looked up and saw several people staring. One mother covered her toddler’s ears and hurried her away. Shame and embarrassment overcame me and at that point I knew I was not only hurting myself but Daisy as well. I chuckled and shook my head. “I’m sorry Daisy, I didn’t think it would be this hard.”

Daisy lightly touched my shoulder.“ It’s just as much my fault as it is yours Doc G. We just couldn’t get it done this time.” Several minutes passed in silence. Daisy put her hand under my elbow and the other under my wrist, prompting me to a standing position. “I think it’s time.” With chin quivering and brow furrowed, I found my balance. My eyes began to refocus.

And then I saw a reflection of light. “Daisy!” I said. I took a few steps toward it.

“What is it?”

“Look!!” I shouted. I pointed toward the box. “LOOK!!!”

The light reflected greater and greater until it shone as bright as the sun.

Mr. & Mrs. Beaver. Welcome to your gift.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

(Husband) Maine

Daisy and I are going to be in Bangor, ME (where John Travolta's dogs died at the airport a few days ago) and will be there for 7 nights.  We will be without Beast and Fire as they will spread their love and affection among a variety of relatives during our absence.  My sincere hope is to get on a computer to write about the empty threats we make toward our children or any other kind of topic my brain decides to obsess over.  I just didn't want you to think I had already backed out on my promise of a Monday and Thursday blog.  Cheers. 

Monday, May 17, 2010

(Man) Snowplow Madness III - Final Chapter

Then I heard it. I even smelled him. I saw the yellow and orange lights blinking through the drapes. You can see the driveway through the bathroom window so I jumped out and watched. The snowplow was going down the road as he normally does. Spraying his evil every which way. And then my heart skipped a beat. He began to slow down. The closer he came to our house he slowed down. I was jumpin' around like a little schoolgirl. He was at about five miles and hour when he plowed into my barrier of snow and spun his chained tires to get through. As he continued on his way I ran out into the garage with only a towel. Nothing in front of our driveway. And then I heard him again! What the hell is going on? He must have gone around the block. He passed again but left only a small amount in front of our driveway. He had to pass again to get the rest of my snow. I made him do more work. Victory! I won! That snowplow will think twice before leaving 5 miles of snow buildup in front of my driveway! I went to bed at 12:00 am and slept soundly.

Two days ago I came home and saw the snowplow had left another present for me. I tried to drive through the snow but to no avail. I backed up, put my blinkers on, and began shoveling in my warm dress clothes. I looked over at my neighbor yelling at a Maine Department of Transportation supervisor about one of his trash cans getting ripped apart by a snowplow. I then heard him yell that there was another trash can in his yard that he didn't even recognize as one that had even been on our street.

Sigh. A lesson learned this Winter my friends. The snowplow is bigger, stronger, faster, antisocial, and always wins. Yesterday the snowplow came by as I was shoveling. I took a break to stretch my back two feet away from where he was about to drive. Pulling for sympathy y'know? He just kept on going and left me a big pile of dirty snow. Pray for me.

Friends and Family,

My friend Anne, who has a heart of gold by the way, said she felt the snowplow was perhaps misunderstood and had a rather peculiar way of showing its affection for me. Anne said, "I've decided to start the feed the snow plow foundation. Volunteers will read them books and tuck them into warm garages at night."

I felt guilty having read this and thought perhaps I was too harsh in the way I portrayed them. But check this out. I set out the garbage cans for pickup and returned the next day from our trip to Portland. And what did I see?!!? My trash can 30 yards down the street overturned in a snow bank. I went to retrieve my can and found a split down the middle. Do you know how many pounds of pressure it would take to rip open a trash can? Well I don't either but imagine it's a helluva lot. Looks like a phone call to the city of Bangor is in order eh?

- Update-

The city transferred me to Portland, ME (The Big City) and they said there is a law that protects snow plows from responsibility in damage to personal property.  Essentially, they are the gods of the road and have full reign of all things within its reach.  What is this world coming to?

Sunday, May 16, 2010

(Man) Snowplow Madness II

Every time I would shovel in the morning I would come inside to shower and get ready for work. When I would go outside again I would see that our friendly snow plower blocked the driveway and the mailman's ability to give us cards and gifts. I would shovel the mailman's walk and be on my way to the bus or get picked up by a co-worker. I come home to see the nice snow plower had piled up even more snow in front of our driveway already packed down snow from the morning. I go inside and shovel again. The mounds getting increasingly higher while our across the street neighbors have two inches of snow plowed in front of their driveway. See, we live at the end of the snowplow route while our neighbors are at the beginning. And they are the people with the 650 dollar snow blower. They wave while I smile back and think "snow blow this buddy". At one point I asked Daisy to pull her weight around the chores of the house by doing a little shoveling. You know how she responded to me? It was, "I fixed your dinner, I put away the dishes, I'm carrying your unborn child, I just brought you your 3rd beer, you haven't gotten up from the couch for three hours, I just vacuumed the house and put Beast down to sleep". blah, blah blah

Anyway, it was 10:00 pm and I had shoveled two hours prior. Then I heard it. The snow plow. Then I saw the yellow and orange lights blinking through the drapes. He rumbled by and left as fast as he had come. The problem was, sleet and freezing rain had come down since I had shoveled last and I knew whatever Christmas gift the snow plow had left would be very heavy indeed. I got on my hat, gloves, shoes, etc. and lifted the garage door. I could hardly believe it. I seriously wondered how he had amassed so much snow. Had he driven 5 miles around the neighborhood before taking it to our house? Gotta keep Dr. Goose on his toes. And yes they know my name because they all have it out for me. Whatever doubt I had before then was clearly dispelled that night.

I begin my long night of shoveling. My anger increasing with every scoop. Daisy leans out. "You sure you want to do this now?" I don't answer. Too tired and too angry. I'm not gonna stop now. Then I had an idea. I can't remember the show or movie we had watched but it had something to do with changing your tactics based on the situation. Well my situation was I had just gotten screwed. Hhhhhmmmm...... I began shoveling the snow out into the street. I didn't have anywhere else to put it! The walls were too high and my strength was zapped. But I shoveled it on the left side of the driveway where they would have to take it down the street and unable to push it back into our driveway. I had to get on top of the mound of snow and begin shoveling it off the top. It took about an hour and half but I got it done. My anger mixed with a sense of hope drove my crazy shoveling. I looked at my work with sweat dripping off my brow in 10 degree weather. I was so tired I started to giggle. I took my half beaten body inside, ran the shower, and cleaned off. I was almost to the point where I could forgive the snow plow and it's evil henchman.

Saturday, May 15, 2010

(Man) Snowplow Madness I

This post is what Daisy calls "Vintage" and was written on our family blog at the time.  In 2007 & 2008 Daisy, Beast, and I lived in Maine.  Fire was born there 3 months before we moved again.  Daisy and I are going back to Maine for the first time since we left and so I only found it appropriate to reach into the cellar and bring to you.  I am going to give it to you in small chunks because it is meaty and hard to digest in one sitting.  Here we go.  

The topic is one that bothers me so badly the back of my knees itch. When we moved in the owners said two things about the snow. One, we live at the end of the block so the accumulation of snow gathered from the road is conveniently dumped into our driveway by the snowplow. It is also dumped around the corner and in front of our door.  The second thing I remember them saying is that the mailman will not deliver our mail unless out front porch is shoveled well. At the time I thought the mailman had a completely understandable reason for not jumping over mounds of snow for every house that was not respectful toward his time and energy. I also thought the city of Bangor (snowplows) could not be responsible for making exceptions to the rules by dumping less snow here and more snow there based on a particular citizen's convenience . Every citizen should pitch in to make the streets of Bangor ice and snow free. And guess what? I still feel this way. I look out the window with my bathrobe on and my piping hot cup of Earl Grey tea watching the plow go by. I wave and smile and wish I could bring him some chocolate chip cookies for the trouble. I think, "Boy, those are my tax dollars hard at work. God bless you snow plow man". That's the reasonable thinking Goose.

Now let's set the stage. Daisy and I were becoming incredibly anxious as the days neared. The news was talking about it, the Bangor Daily was talking about it, my co-workers were chatting around the water cooler abut it, and real live Mainers (the kind you only see in circus tents) were talking about it. It was THE STORM OF 2007!!! "I hear it's gonna be 10 - 12 inches." "I heard their gonna close the schools." Uncle Jesse says he ain't seen a NORTHERNER in 15 years!" We held our breathe and checked the weather channel website every ten minutes. And then it happened. The flakes started coming, and coming, and coming down for two freaking days. As the Mainers say, "It was wicked awesome".

By the way, you cannot use wicked as in "that's totally wicked". A Mainer will only point and laugh at you. You need to use wicked the same way you would use the word very. My friend Drew translated for me as Bethany (grad student) spoke one day.

Bethany: Those brownies are wicked good.

Drew: Those brownies are very good.

Bethany: That shirt is wicked cool.

Drew: That shirt is very cool.

I digress. So THE STORM OF 2007 continued and I went out to shovel. Everyone was out having a good time by waving to one another and saying things like "Cold enough for ya?" and "Heard were gonna get 5 more inches 'fore it's all done" and "Wanna make some yellow snow?" People didn't think my last comment was very funny but it didn't really matter because we were all so excited about our first snowfall of the year. So I shoveled. And then I shoveled what the snowplow put into our driveway. The next morning I shoveled. And then I shoveled what the snowplow put into our driveway. We had another snowfall and I shoveled three different times to keep up with it. But I also had to shovel three more times in between because of the snowplow. I think this is becoming quite clear for you. Well, the banks became higher and I had to start throwing my pounds of snow higher over the banks which then made my flabby arms tired and back sore. I know I know, I'm supposed to lift with my legs but you try doing it when you have to get to work and have little time to shovel. Why didn't I get up earlier if I knew I had to shovel? Because I need my wicked sleep!! Darn it! My sleep is wicked important! OK, maybe I should explain more.

Thursday, May 13, 2010

(Man) Guy Banter 102

Exhibit C: A man who is seasoned in the art of banter will have a line ready. If he just sees you and is about to miss an opportunity for banter he may fall back on a reliable phrase such as the one in Guy Banter 101. Another fall back phrase may be, “You missed a spot.” The unfortunate part of this phrase is it is a closed statement rather than an open statement or question. Remember, you do not want to burden your fellow man with working toward a witty response. If you initialize banter you have the responsibility of setting the man up for an easy answer like: “How ‘bout if I just give you the kids?” or “Drive it over and give me the keys.” Remember, you don’t know if the man you are speaking to is banter certified. He may only smile and say, “I don’t think so buddy” but at least he said something.

Exhibit D: Timing and placement is everything. Banter is meant to be fast. Ideally two exchanges with each banter being one sentence. You don’t want more than two seconds to go by without giving a response or it begins to get uncomfortable. You’re thinking too hard. You need to read and react. Read and react. That is why you need to know the fall back banters. Once you begin to banter with the same person more than once you can take chances with more complex banters. Especially if you have know something about the person. For instance, you see a University sticker on the car and he is in his mid-fifties. You could take a stab and say, “Your kid going to school?” A “yes” reply and you have a ready made, “Expensive huh?” in your back pocket and a reply of *Ha Ha* “It sure is”. But even a “no” response can gain a great deal of respect from the other man in that he knows your observant and have the guts to take a chance. No harm done.

Your placement is important in that you have to be within earshot and can be seen easily. However, if you start your banter too close than you are in the “Intimate Zone”. In my situation, the man was across the street and I was looking his direction. In another situation you could be on the same side of the street but your banter friend is on the roof. Don’t get me wrong, being on the same side of the street is not forbidden. If the guy is working on his door or is across the lawn pulling weeds its fine.

I think that is enough for now. Here was the typical banter between my neighbor (who I have never seen) and me. He decided to initiate.

“Hey, when you’re done washing your car you can come over and wash mine.” *chuckle*.

“Are you sure?” (I raise my eyebrows and point down to the small kids) *chuckle chuckle*.

“Hmmmm, need to grow another foot each.” (smile)

“Already fed ‘em McDonalds today” *chuckle chuckle*.

*chuckle chuckle*.

Did you see? Two exchanges, one sentence each. Initial banter was a fall back but with my confident and creative response he realized he could push the envelope with his last exchange (it was almost two sentences). By the time the last sentence was stated he was out of the banter zone and continuing with his walk.

If you have a young man in your life, or a reclusive man who has not bantered for years, please print this information off or direct them to this blog. They will thank you for it.

(Man) Guy Banter 101

“Hey, when you’re done washing your car you can come over and wash mine.” *chuckle chuckle*. This is what I heard when I was washing my vehicle with my two boys.

This is a great example of guy banter in the context of a perfect setup. Let me explain.

Exhibit A: I am doing a labor intensive task that most people need to do which creates a common experience we both share. Others may include: Raking leaves, hanging outside Christmas lights, spreading bark dust, spraying weeds or washing windows. I did not include working on your car because you may make the embarrassing mistake of asking him to do work that is only specific to that vehicle. This may lead to an unsuccessful banter reply of, “You need work on a 1957 Ford Thunderbird supercharger?” However, if a man is banter certified, he will let a comment pass with a smile and the nod of his head.

Mowing the lawn was not included on the list. In order to have a successful banter you must be heard loud and clear. Nothing stops a banter dead in its tracks more than a, “What?” Repeating banter is like saying a punch line twice because people didn’t get it the first time. However, most guys who are worth their salt would never shame another man in this way. You may only see this in young men who had banterless dads or who have not yet learned the unwritten rules of banter. If you want to take a chance with sign language you are more than welcome to do so. Just make sure it is very clear what you are trying to communicate. For instance, wiping your brow with the back of your hand or a thumb up to say, “I respect what you are doing.”

Exhibit B: If I am out washing my car you could assume it’s a nice day and that I have time to do so. If you guessed a sunny Saturday afternoon you would be right. With how happy this guy was I could assume he slept in on this particular Saturday, drank his coffee, read the paper, and then left the house for a brisk walk with his spouse. On my end you could assume I have time to wash the car. Visual evidence would support this in that Beast has the hose and Fire has a cloth. I am bonding with my two young sons rather than just trying to get a job done in a hurry.

Guy Banter 102 is soon to follow

Saturday, May 8, 2010

(Husband/Father) Daisy Quotes

I have tweeted some of my son's (ages 3 and 1) quotes and actions to the delight of thousands of people. But I thought I would write down some of Daisy's quotes spoken to our boys tonight as a...............switch-a-roo. That's right, switch-a-roo I captured these quotes in about one hour tonight. Daisy axed the one I thought was the funniest. In no particular order:

"Spread 'em"

"Enough, Enough, Enough"

"Don't rip. Be gentle."

"Can you make your own food for a change?"

"There is a lot of twirling going on"

"He is going to be a handful when he is a teenager"

"Get away from his knees"

"Mommy will get it! Yucky, Yucky, Yucky."

"5-4-3-2-1.......Oh, you barely made it"


I did this one other time and it was pretty funny. I think the best quote from that evening was, "Stop biting the couch!"

I almost forgot this one, "It's not naked time."

(Husband) Daisy meets Goose II

Daisy makes a couple jokes.  "What is this in my hand?" 


"An invisible cabbage" 

"Oh" (confused look) That response did not deter her.

"How do you catch a rabbit"


"Hide in the bushes and make carrot sounds"  I surprised myself (and perhaps her) and laughed. 

"What a cute girl" I thought.  We went out to play basketball.  I'm 6 foot 3 inches and she is about 2 inches taller than a midget.  She used soccer moves (cheating moves) to block me out from rebounding the ball.

I thought, "This girl is annoying me, but I kinda like it"

A month later it looks as if Daisy wants a piece of Goose.  I said something along the lines of, "I would still like to see other people"

"So I can see other people too"

"I guess so"

"OK"  That response did not sit well with me.  Too agreeable.  I then remembered she had a mandatory study hall with other athletes as part of her requirement to the University.  I pictured guys who had chiseled chests and abs who would like nothing more than to pluck my Daisy.  After thinking a few more seconds about chiseled male abs than I ought I began to reconsider the proposal I had made moments earlier. 

"Well (sigh), maybe we can try to be exclusive for a while".

Three states, six moves, two kids, and 12 years later we are still together.  We re up our marriage commitment every five years so I know we have at least 3 years more.    

Thursday, May 6, 2010

(Husband/Man) Testicle Surgery

I watched a vasectomy video today and it was quite interesting. The first shot is of a 30 something man in a green polo shirt tucked into his khaki shorts that is approximately 6 inches long and are pulled up to his navel exposing his pasty white thighs. He is barbequing for his wife and two children who happen to be swimming politely in the pool and having just the best darn time a family could imagine. There is no splashing in the pool which leaves his wife’s hair perfectly puffed and wavy.

I have never been a guy who has seen having a vasectomy equaling a loss of my manhood (literally). My dad had one and shrugged it off as just something you have to do. I grew up expecting I would have a couple of kids and that would be the end of it. So when guys would say they would never get a vasectomy I would become confused. The video answered some of those questions.

The man and wife sit, rather uncomfortably, in their chairs facing their doctor who is behind his desk.

Man: Doctor, will having a vasectomy change the way I perform……….sexually?

Translation: Are you going to cut off my penis? If not, then will the surgery make my penis shorter? Will I ever have another orgasm? Will I ejaculate prematurely? Wait, that may not be a bad excuse for future episodes.

Man: Will the procedure be painful?

Translation: Will there be a buzz saw involved? Will you laugh after I pull my pants down or snicker if I were to get an erection? Will there be further embarrassment by allowing 10 medical students to watch. Will you get enough sleep the night before? Are you an epileptic? How much more would it cost for laughing gas?

Man: How about recovery time and any complications that occur after I leave?

Translation: How soon can I have sex? Can you write my work a note saying I have to be out at least a week? Is there a chance my testicles could fall out of the incisions? Would genital massage help speed up recovery?

Man: What is on this form you want me to sign?

Translation: Does this take away my right to sue the living sh—out of you if something were to go wrong?

In case you are wondering, everything turned out great. Some Advil, a bag of ice, and a couple of days later they were barbequing just like old times. I had to wonder though, if this HMO earns billions of dollars a year why can’t they make a video from this decade or hire actors who don’t choke on their lines?

I told Daisy that although I was fine with the procedure I was still a little nervous. Essentially, she said to suck it up. Defensively I said, “If someone was poking around your genitalia you would be nervous too. Silence. “Uh Oh”.

“Yeah, you’re right. Spending 25 hours in labor while pushing your first born’s watermelon head out of my vagina made me a little nervous. Let alone the stitches from the tearing and wearing a diaper for the next 3 days to hold all of the blood flowing out of me. Oh yeah, did I forget to mention the nervousness I felt when Beast would bite down on my niplles so hard I lost my breath?” Silence.

“Well………you were still nervous.” At that point I was glad we were speaking on the phone.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

(Son) Mother? Please stop.

Soon it will be mother's day. God bless all mothers. But I think my mother has started going over the deep end and it's starting to scare me a bit. Inappropriate forwards. Listen, I appreciate a risqué forward from a friend now and then. But dear old mom? Let me describe it to you.

The characters look like they were drawn by the creators of South Park. The husband is across the yard and out of earshot from his wife so he uses hand signals to ask, "Where is the rake?" The wife hand signals back by pointing to her left breast, to her bottom, and then her, hhmmm how would Oprah say it, VaJaja. The husband didn't know what to think so he shrugged his shoulders. The wife repeated her actions. But this time it had subtitles that read, "Left it (left tit) behind (bottom) the bush (VaJaja).

Mom, I love you. But for son's sake don't send another one. If you choose not to heed this advice I will not purchase the $6.99 bouquet and the 99 cent card I was going to give you.

Sunday, May 2, 2010

(Father) Writing on the wall

Every day I have a new subject to write about.  My fear is I will write too much but I will certainly promise posts on Monday and Thursday.  I have joined twitter but am finding it hard to connect with people.  I can follow as many people as I want but how is anybody going to find me? Oh well, time will tell.  Anyway, here is what the post is about. 

Mr. Fire boy is a much different child then Beast ever was.  Fire does things that are not appropriate and will then do all the "right" things in his apology such as, head down (remorse), saying sorry in a tone that says, "let's be friends again", and after serving a time-out in the most polite way as possible, will hug and kiss you while laying his head on your shoulder after it is time to get out of jail (corner).  Then, within a couple of minutes, he will trot off and rip a page out of Beast's book. 

So the kid's are in Fire's room and everything is somewhat peaceful.  It really is true about something being wrong when siblings are quiet with one another.  The kids come out, I go in, and find the walls are decorated with scribbles from a crayon.  I ask Beast and he points at Fire.  I ask Fire and he nods.  I take each child in and measure their reach in proportion to the "art".  I can't be sure if Fire is actually owning up to the drawings or if he doesn't know what Beast and I are talking about.  Daisy thinks it was Fire. 

It wasn't until I was getting Fire out of bed on a regular basis when he began to point out the drawings as if I should praise him.  I would use a scolding "no" but it was almost as if he interpreted my word as if I was making some sort of joke when he threw his head back and laughed. can I ever be taken seriously?