Tag Archives: blog

The Long And Winding Road

19 Nov

The baby started crying shortly after we started heading back . It turns out, that in the process of getting out we forgot the formula at home. A screaming baby in the back seat of the car for any ride longer then thirty seconds is a nightmare. A hungry screaming baby is adding the guilt factor which makes it unbearable. Almost.

So we started singing all the songs that work. Songs that work are giving you the illusion that you can over come the crying. But it’s quiet only while you sing. Stop singing and a different kind of a concert begins. So here we are, mom and dad, both nursing a cold, singing our lungs out with some assistance from our older one, driving as fast as we can when suddenly the car in front of us is slowing down until it stops completely, and moves to the side of the road. My initial thought was that there has been an accident, but no, there was no accident. The lady in the Prius (of course) across from me had her car stopped in the middle with blinking lights and a stupid smile, while two ducks, birds of a feather, were trying to cross the road. Everybody around us seemed very happy. They did not have a screaming infant in their car. I waited for about a minute and then pure honesty took over and I shouted “Fuck the ducks!” And took off. The annoying lady in the Prius didn’t like it at all.

Happy Thanksgiving.

* No ducks or cars were harmed during the making of this post.

Of Shite and Men

2 Oct

    • Would you like some Champagne?” At first we said no, then they asked again, more firmly and we said yes. A mistake considering that we haven’t had a drink in so long that we forgot how to drink, It was only eleven in the AM, and that it was a birthday party for a three year old. We felt that it was getting too crowded and noisy for our seven months old daughter and tried to leave but we were ordered to “Stay for the cake!” We regretted it shortly after, when our baby had an explosion of diarrhea that went over her clothes. They barely let my wife get out to go to the car, where she found out she didn’t have a change of cloths for the girl. The ride home was great…

 

    • How do you measure pride? Since there is no way of quantifying how proud one is, it has to be compared to other moments to know if it’s More or Less. I was prouder then an athlete’s parents seeing their child as a pro for the first time on TV (“there’s my kid over there…) when I saw my first born sitting on the toilet. Not so much for sitting there, but for doing it while on the iPad. That’s my big boy!

 

    • My friend from California does it to me. We speak once or twice a week, and he never fails me. Winter Spring Summer, or Fall, all I need to do is call, and five minutes into the conversation I have to shit. He is my Shit Trigger or “Shrigger”. “Call Shitty Dad’s Friend From California Today, And Say Goodbye To Constipation! Call today, operators are standing by.”

 

    • To the guy who walks in to our locker room/ restroom at work, just at the time when about a dozen guys are changing to soccer gear, walking into the one available stool with a grin on his face like some fool on a hill, and taking the stinkiest, noisiest shit I have ever smelled and heard in my life. You arrogant prick. I think twice before farting in the car, making sure no one will smell it if I stop at a traffic light. And here you are Mr. “Well, this is what bathrooms are for”, instead of going to the other toilet fifty feet away decide that it’s cool to do it there. Nobody said anything when this was going on but let me tell you something, I saw the looks, and none of us will ever be friends with you.

 

Guests

7 Aug

We love when guests from out of town come to visit and stay with us for a few days. Especially if it’s family. This was the case over the weekend.

The situation however, didn’t come without its challenges. No, I’m not talking about the fact that the kids stay with us in our room. If you read this shitty blog before, by now you know that the kids would end up in our bed at night anyway.

I’m talking about other things, more important. When you have guests you are unable to: Fart freely, so you have to find all kind of excuses to get out. But even then you are not safe because a neighbor might be outside and would want to start a conversation. So you find yourself stinking up the car because there is nowhere else to go. You pay for it the next morning when you get in to your car , and the farts that were locked in all night, don’t smell like your farts but someone else’s. Get naked, so you have to stay clothed until you go to sleep. My usual dress code at home in underwear, t-shirt optional. Shit when and where you want. We are limited to the bathroom in our bedroom, the one with all the plumbing issues. So every dump has a fifty fifty chance that all the shit from the entire building would rise and spill all over your floor, covering my feet with diarrhea from all walks of life. I shat with the plumbing snake next to me. Jerking off. Is there really more to say? OK, I’ll say more. The first night, The wife helped after the kids were asleep. After that, I was on my own, alone, in the dark, hiding in the bathroom, taking advantage of everybody going out for ten minutes leaving me all alone.

Thing is, that the moment I knew I couldn’t do these things freely, I needed to do them all the time….

 

Heavy Breathing

6 May

This is a family of snorers. You know what an orchestra sounds like in the moments just before the concert starts? the fine tuning. So something like that. Complete cacophony.

Breast pump

Our apartment is quite roomy, but somehow in the morning, we all wake up in the same room, and almost always in the same bed. It’s not always snoring, but those intolerable noises to which my wife refers to as “heavy breathing”. There are a few kinds of “heavy breathing”, with the most common being something that sounds almost like snoring but does’t have the same force, energy, or volume. A typical scenario involving heavy breathing will have me in deep sleep suddenly being torn  out of my dream by constant shaking. It’s an awful feeling, like someone is ripping you out of your own skin. And then, when I open my eyes, the wife would say: “You were snoring” now, I don’t think I snore at whole so I would ask: “Was I really snoring?” and she would say: “You were breathing heavy”, and I would say: ” You wake me up for this? Come on!”. Another popular kind is the “Khaa”. It almost sounds like dripping water only backwards. It’s as if the sleeper has a valve in his/her nose that is only allowing so much air to enter and exit. If you know what a breast pump sounds like (which in it self is a subject for another post) then you are getting closer. When I try to sleep and hear it, it’s driving me nuts. We have two “Khaa” offenders. Wife and son, and the way to deal with it is very simple: With wife, I just grab her arm, gently first, then a more firm grip as needed. She’ll turn around eventually and the Khaa would stop. With son, I just roll him to face his mom. In both cases, speaking is not required.