Random Nothings

I'm still here... I swear. I just went through a writing withdrawal after the Chicago trip.

I wish I had more rest once I got to the hotel but that didn't happen. It seems the Westin Heavenly Bed just isn't so heavenly for me. I prefer my beds as firm as can be. Gotta a dinning room table you're not using? Perfect for my bedroom. I don't like my beds mushy and let me say that Westin is the king of mushiness.

Add to it that our conference kicked into full gear last Monday morning, just about the time the news was announcing the Virgina Tech nightmare. Most of you know I'm in marketing, well the association I work for represents higher ed. We had three attendees from Virginia Tech at the conference along with 400 other college and university professionals who shared the incomprehensible feelings that campus was going through. It was quite a somber two days as you can imagine.

While out of town, I also had an employee quit. There are no hard feelings; he felt it was time to leave and I understood his need to move on. However, I hate interviewing and hiring. It's not my strong suit... though it's another opportunity to practice skills. (Look at me being so fucking positive.)

In case you were wondering, I have not been nominated for any of the blogger choice awards. Many of you have probably been anxiously looking, so it's a good you are hearing the sad news from me. If they did have the hot-gay-daddy-from-the-DC-area category you might actually see a nomination. It would definitely be a tight race with the other local candidate.

My backlog of products and meme's are starting to pile up like my parent's basement, so look for a number of those coming out soon. I also have a Blogfather's post that has a lot of jumbled words which just aren't funny enough for human consumption. Don't you hate when those pre-posts don't materialize the way you want them to?

If you're watching LOST, I must say that the 2nd half of this season has really picked up. I mean what the fuck is going on with Juliette? I'm still not figuring her out. And the "Paulo Lies" episode...brilliant. I nearly crapped my pants. Not sure if that winter break re-energized them or not, but I'm all for eight weeks off if the shows are going to be this compelling.

This weekend has finally gone back into the 70's. This is my favorite type of weather and favorite time of year. I spent half my day in the yard getting ready for planting. The other half of the day was spent painting. Our guest room has been this green color that worked for a while and then just irritated me. So finally today I primed the room with two coats. Maybe tomorrow I'll get the two coats of paint up. (You'll see before and afters of that project.)

On a funny note, my boss called me in on Friday to ask me a question. "So I was reading your blog" he says, "and I got so confused in one of your stories."

You can only imagine how my mind was racing trying to remember if I had said anything wrong, offensive or of a nature that would have me fired by day's end. I so need to learn to stop telling everyone about this blog.

He went on, "I had gotten through the story of the vasectomy and how you had to masturbate in the bathroom because you work in a cube. It took me a while to wonder why any gay man would get a vasectomy, but hey I'm not always on the cutting edge. Then I reread the story and realized it wasn't you."

Makes the rest of the week pale by comparison, doesn't it?

The Bad Dad

I wasn’t the best dad this weekend.

There are days that just don’t click, but its amazing how 20 minutes of bad parenting weighs on you for days. We’ve all been there I know, but it still just grates on me because it’s not the dad I want to be.

We went up to the town center this Saturday. It was “movie in the park” night so we thought it would be a great night to be outdoors and run around. The movie wasn't a good fit, given that it was Harry Potter IV, but we thought we’d swing by Ben & Jerry’s and settle into a great evening of ice cream and fathers/son time.

Corey’s in a big stage of testing his independence. We all support this, but it certainly does come with some drawbacks.

We got in line for the ice cream and when asked his choice he said “cacapoopoo.” “We don’t use those words,” I said. “The man wants know what kind of ice cream you want.”

“Coconuts,” he responded. (That’s a word he uses to mean silly or crazy.) “We don’t have coconut,” the poor server replied, not realizing the kid wasn’t being serious.

“We’ll just take chocolate.”

“I want a kiddie cone,” Corey asked. I immediately looked down at his clothes and brand new shoes. “Really? Are you going to make a mess?” (Let me just translate that into parenting speak…brown ice cream, 90 degree day and clean clothes…duh, of course dad.)

I gave in.

First, the kiddie cone has two scoops. Are you guys high? The kid is totally going to knock the top scoop off with his tongue, spiraling into a complete scream fest once it hits the pavement. I volunteered to hold the cone as we navigated the steps. The cone tipped precariously and I corrected him several times until I finally grabbed it and walked outside. We sat on the curb to eat our desserts.

One minute later, he was screeching because the ice cream was dripping on his hands. (Not sure where all this OCD stuff comes from.) He’s licking from the top, nearly pushing the top scoop over. I’m licking from the bottom trying to save my hand from absorbing anymore chocolate.

“Try to lick from bottom,” I asked. With that he stood up, directly into the cone and nailed his shirt and shorts perfectly. The new shoes caught the remainder.

I gave up and lost it. I ordered Larry into the store to get a cup for the remainder and more napkins. I ordered the kid to sit still until we could clean him up and rectify the situation.

The cup and napkins arrived. We cleaned up and got the ice cream organized. As you can imagine, no one was in the mood to eat. The partner was mad, the kid was pouting and I had won at the expense of all. With that a little girl emerged from the ice cream store, covered in chocolate, with her parents just smiling.

My chocolate covered son disciplined at the thought of clean clothes. Not exactly the image that I expected to portray four years ago when I held a two week old.

Sometimes it’s the smaller things that teach you the biggest lessons. I promise, little man, I’ll do better next time.