Kids these days

Kids these days just don’t know how good they have it.
Back in my day, things were different.
Kids today need to learn the value of x, y, and/or z.

We all know the cliche’s, because about 20 to 40 years ago they were directed at us.  It’s the old “I had to walk uphill both ways in the snow to school” thing.  Parents and “grown ups” think that the way it was before was INFINITELY better than the way it is now, and that kids just “don’t get it”.

But this time, we’re right.

Kids today – in general – are a bunch of whiners and crybabies.  Believe me, I’ve tried to convince my kids that they don’t NEED all the stuff their friends stupid parents are giving them (seriously, an Xbox for a 5 year old for his birthday?  A motorcycle for a 7 year old – and then a bunch of other gifts on top of that?  If I ever got anything that was over $500, that would count for all holidays all year)

It’s hard to teach discipline and hard work when they see their friends reaping massive benefits by doing nothing.  My kids are starting to plot their escape.  When the tooth fairy only gives a dollar at their house, but if they went to Johnnys house they’d get 10 – the course is clear.  I’ve seen the rope made of sheets tied together they have hid under their bed, and the 5 days of provisions they have in a backpack ready to go.  The breakout is coming soon, I’m sure of it.

How can we fight that?  I know they’ll thank me one day for not spoiling them, but today they have a little less perspective.

Parents?  If you say “kids these days….” – it’s probably your own fault.  Get your act together “parents these days”!  Give your kids less stuff.  I’ll thank you for it.

Spring is Sprung

Sorry to all my followers – I took a needed spring break.

I did it up right this spring break!  I did not, however, chase coeds in bikinis and shotgun beers.  That might have been fun, but it’s not my life now.  But it’s still a blast!

 

This spring break I, in no particular order, got blotto drunk and made out, sat outside and read a book for hours, went for a bike ride with the kids, talked for hours with a friend, watched all of season one of “Game of Thrones”, didn’t write one blog, laughed at something ridiculous the kids did, made love to my wife (pretty well I might add), and got a new tattoo.  And I might have drank a few beers in my off time.

 

I have to say, my 30’s are pretty fun.  Maybe I’m setting the bar too low, but I really think this is the life.

 

The problem with the 20’s is there is a frenetic pace to the whole thing.  Like we have to get as much partying in as possible because it will be all over soon.  I know I got more wasted during 4 years of college than I have in the last 10 years after.  But it’s better, because now I REMEMBER the asses I rubbed up against while we’re drinking and dancing.  Before it was all a blur.  And I want to remember those asses!

 

But now the break is over.  Back to the grind.  But there’s still the weekend to look forward to!  Dirty 30 continues!

Testy

 

Life is one big test.

We are testing ourselves every day.  We test our spouses, coworkers and kids.  Others are testing us.  Your god is testing you every day – whoever that might be.  We are all testies.

As kids, they are testing us all the time to see what they can get away with.  It’s inherent in their genes – if we weren’t natural scientists we would not have made it this far on earth.  Our ancestors were the ones who were, like – “Hey!  I wonder what would happen if we picked up the burning stick and brought it to our cave?”  It sounded less eloquent than that probably, but the point was made.  They tried new things.  They took a swing and sometimes missed.

They tested life.

We need to test ourselves.  With the modern age, we still wonder – how would we react in a situation?  What if a masked gunman tried to rob us?  What would we do?  What if our kids fell off a cliff, and we had to pull them up to safety?  Could we do it?

Kids do it for themselves, too.  I see my son testing his limits all the time.  “Could I climb a little higher and jump off?” he’ll say to himself, and then do it, until at some point the height is just a little too much, and he climbs back down.  In 6 months it won’t be too high anymore, and next time he’ll do it.

It’s important in life to be a testy.  The stronger your testy instinct, the farther your essence will shoot out.  In life.

You thought this post was going to be about testicles, didn’t you?  Perfectly understandable.  I did too at first.

Raincheck?

 

Drawings by my 5 year old

It may be entirely possible that a glassy film spreads over my eyes whenever I view something my kids do.  I don’t think I see the world the same way when it’s talking about them.  I guess it’s the same way as when you look at yourself in the mirror.  You don’t really see what the world sees.  You have bias.  And you have a particular criticism toward yourself that the rest of the world doesn’t share as well.  So looking at my kids is like when I’m looking in the mirror and I see more fat than the rest of the world sees.

When they’re doing something great, that glassy film covers my eyes, and to me they are doing something incredible.  The 5-year-old does these drawings, and I just think they are dynamite.  But I’m so biased I can’t be sure – to me they’re like a Picasso, only better.  But when I show other people these things, they give the cursory – “Oh wow.  Cool.  That’s great.”  Why didn’t they fall on their knees and weep?  Why did they not tear at their hair in awe and wonder at this amazing gift?  Perhaps I’m seeing things they aren’t?

And it works the other way as well.  When they are acting up in a restaurant, no one else seems to care.  When I talk to their teachers, they tell me  they are well-behaved and not loud.  WHAT?  Are you kidding me?  I was braced for you to tell my they are throwing chairs and desks around the room.  You’re telling me MY BOYS are behaved?  Either you’re seeing something or I am!

But, I’m not going to change.  I’m not going to force the glassy film from my eyes.  I love it right where it is.

Great job boys!  You’ve jumped from a one foot height!  You’re AMAZING!

Check out Bikini Barista – Chapter Two!

 

Jo didn’t have much time to react as her whole face seemed to explode in pain and blood. She dropped to the freezing concrete and laid there for a second, trying to process what happened. When she tried to push herself back up to a sitting position, a spiked heel slammed into her back, and she went down again.

Continue reading in the “Bikini Barista Novel” tab

And check out chapter ONE if you’re a newbie! 

Bikini Baristas – Beauty and Caffeine

I don’t know if you’ve heard, but the barista’s at Starbucks wear boring uniforms.  And they’re generally surly college students or pseudo intellectuals who’s thesis is not paying the rent.  Or assholes.  And their coffee is pretty much the same as everyone else’s, they just have those cool cake pops.

 

If you live in an urban area, there’s a chance there’s a better alternative.  It’s called a Bikini Barista shop, and it’s probably the best invention in the last 10 years.

Before you poo poo the idea as sexist, or dirty, or stupid, or “my wife won’t let me go” or “I’m afraid my neighbor will see” – consider this: Beauty and coffee – a perfect marriage.  Try that tag line on the wife.

And while I’m sure there are the guys who go and are inappropriate or ogle, my experience has been that these girls are nice, sweet, NORMAL girls who are making coffee and brightening your day in a cute outfit.  It’s like going to the beach on a day you can’t actually make it to the beach.

We all want beauty in our lives.  In my opinion, women are beautiful.  All shapes and sizes, they are beautiful creatures.  And these girls aren’t all stacked and skinny – most are regular shapes, big busts and small, big butts and small, blemishes and all.  They aren’t airbrushed like the victoria’s secret catalogue you bring into the bathroom with you.  They’re real, and beautiful, and they make a great cup of coffee.  It’s inspirational!

Excuse me.  I’m going to go start drafting my plans for a bikini tire shop.  See ya.

The Snooze Button Antichrist

Everyone is worried about the end of the world.  If I hear one more time that someone thinks the president or a presidential candidate or a possible secretary of treasury might be the antichrist, I’m going to go all 666 on someone.

The antichrist is supposed to come out of nowhere.  Someone everyone least expects.  It’s not going to be a high level politician.  Those guys are too douchey to be the antichrist anyway.  The real antichrist is right in our bedrooms as we speak.

No, I’m not talking about your wife (well, maybe yours Larry), I’m talking about a cancer in our rooms that is spreading globally.  In fact, when it reaches the remote villages of Africa, I believe the human race is doomed.  Yes, I’m talking about the snooze button.

Think about it – what all could mankind have accomplished if the snooze button didn’t exist?  We’d probably on Mars right now if those scientists didn’t take that extra half an hour each morning, trying to get up but taking “just 10 more minutes” of snooze time.  And we all know it’s a worthless amount of sleep – it does nothing for our bodies.  It just delays the inevitable.  And steals our eternal souls.

But I’m powerless against it. At 4 in the morning, when I’m supposed to get up to exercise, I know it’s there.  Waiting for me like a hit of crack – just ten more minutes.

Screw you, snooze button.  You may herald the end of the world for us all.  But I don’t have to like it.  Now excuse me, I’m going to get just a few minutes more sleep.

Been Sick

The plague has ravaged our house for the past couple of weeks.  It seems like every time one gets better, another falls victim.  Of course the wife and I are no different – as I type this some type of mucus is alternately dripping from my nostril, then blocking it up like a dam.

But the fact that I’m up and writing is a testament to the human spirit, and my own ability to overcome the cruddies.  It may have taken two weeks, but I’m back Baby!

In the annals of the history of my life, two weeks out of a year for sickness seems fairly mild, but I can’t help but feel it is some sort of whole life setback.  Like – “if I hadn’t have gotten sick these past two weeks, who KNOWS where I’d be today!”

What’s really important is what I do with my time NOW.  Let’s get back to work!

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