Hot damn, exactly one month between postings. That’s not too shabby.
I know all of you are just dying to know what’s up in my world, so let’s get to it.
As a family.
The whole fucking family.
In the woods.
In this thing.
This contraption is hardly roughing it, I know, but it was still rough, since the closest liquor store was nearly an hour away.
The friends we camped with are a hoot. They’re nearly ten years older than we are and drank us under the table by a long shot. The wife and I couldn’t keep up, and that’s even with the children there encouraging us to drink by their very presence.
We only lasted two days and we had to go. The weather was too cold for my big ass to get into the river and it was about to start raining. We’re not savages for God’s sake, so we know rain is God’s way of saying, “Get the fuck out of my forest, DOAT clan!”
Hopefully, we get invited again, in spite of our lameness and our children, because with some warmer weather, it’d be a blast to get drunk in the river.
Speaking of children, they’re still around nearly all of the time.
Gman joined me for a bus ride home on the Honkey Bus. He was less impressed than I think he had anticipated being.
He’s very difficult to impress, honestly. He’s too cool for everything, even when he’s asleep.
He started his athletic career with some tee ball. He’s also mostly unimpressed with that as well.
That’s Gman on the left, fully immersed in the ballgame to even hear his father imploring him to pretend as though he’s interested in anything but the post game snacks.
He’s able to maintain focus long enough to swing the pink bat (coed team) that he enjoys and occasionally runs in the direction of first base without much prompting.
This is actually a swing.
I do my imploring from the sidelines, as a spectator and not his coach. Gman is what we like to euphorically call “strong-willed,” so rather than risk the same head to head confrontations I had with Ace when I coached her as a 4 year old, I’m deferring to strangers to coach this child. I still coach Cool’s team because Cool is easy like Sunday morning, whatever that means.
Speaking of Cool, he got to hang with daddy at a bar finally. It turns out he enjoys playing pool and Golden Tee nearly as much as his old man. He was cracking me up with his focused squinty eye thing while taking his shots with the pool cue.
Cool gets very into whatever it is he’s doing and is way too hard on himself when he sucks, because being six isn’t a good enough excuse for sucking at things apparently.
One thing he most certainly doesn’t suck at is being a great big brother. The boys got to walk around Busch Stadium last week and they had a jolly old time with it.
Other than that, life is as always around these parts.
I had a brief affair with a $100 bill recently.
I sat in my driveway in suburban America with my bill and my beer and waited for something to happen.
But nothing did.
The suburbs are so boring sometimes.
Nobody tried to rob me or ask me for money or cigarettes, or to inquire as to whether I wished to purchase my own stolen lawn mower back.
I sat out there with my bill and my beer for almost an hour and all I heard were birds.
I sometimes miss living in the city. The soothing sounds of traffic and sirens and gunshots is hard to let go.
Anyway, that bill is long gone, as is my beer and my desire to write anymore of this post.
How have all you been? Top notch I pray!