Catchy name, no? If you said no, I think that means a yes. I'm no grammarian, nor am I a Gregorian. I don't know what either of those means. I'm barely a writer (anymore at least). It has been hard blogging lately. I am getting fully fulfilled at my job, and having one of those careers where I come home and just want to relax. In the past it was much easier to be bored at my job, and topics to blog about would come in and out of my head. I would have 5 draft blogs at a time on deck.
But now it is a Friday night. My life now (and for almost half a decade now) has involved a family I stumbled into. I love my fiancé Kim and my son Rocco. Call him my step son if you want, but he is my son. I'm a short man who very few people physically have to look up to, but when you got a youngster who looks up and admires you because you give your all to show him a good life, well, it's rewarding, even if he drives us bonkers at times.
I recently got engaged, the day after Valentine's Day. I find Martin Luther King Day as important as Valentine's Day, so I tried to split the difference. We have an appointment tomorrow to get a 3D ultrasound of our future son. I'm excited to see even more features, as I have only been able to see through his features up to this point. I want to see his fingers, his toes, his eyes, his moves. I hope he is doing "the Carlton" in the womb. It feels like it sometimes.
So, based on the title of this entry, you must be wondering what I have to complain about? It is little things. Trivial things. Not everything in my life has been all bacon and peanut butter cups (fat guy lingo for rainbows and unicorns). I have had low lows and am still experience higher highs. Life is fascinating, and as I enter the wrong side of 30 I realize several things that either rapidly anger me or just have me shaking my head.
Recently on Facebook, I did a purge. I joked in a status that for Lent I gave up 40 friends. It was kind of more like 25, but whatevs. The basis of my eliminations had several aspects. Some people had several negative check marks, some had one. One time last year or the year before, I dropped somebody because they were posting about how outraged she was that the government kept evidence of mermaids from the public that Animal Planet was exposing. Yeah, the home of the Puppy Bowl has an anti-government exclusive. I liked the mockumentary, the theories are kind of legit, but the proof was mentally challenged. And so were those who bought it, hook line and sinker. The rest of my Facebook friends eliminations included people who I really do not care about. I don't hate anybody, but I also don't care about several. I care about people in general, but I don't HAVE to care about you because you used to be a jock in high school. If I don't care that your kids are "crazy" or "just too funny" or if everything that you said made you "Laugh my fucking ass off", then you were eliminated. Some people I know can actually truly put LOL after they declare something. Dave Bell, everything he says has a chuckle at the end of it. Some of the remaining friends put they are "lmfao" but they only stick around due to my respect for others. Also, when your dog is the highlight of your life, I would rather read a book about how to cut off my own genitalia. I think they call that a Bobbitography.
I want to complain about people who say they will get work done for me, and I emphasize the deadline, and then I hear them laughing about town. They tell me they know how important the report is or the files are that I need, but nowhere near as important as how delicious the Tostinos (r) Pizza Rolls were you just ate. (This portion of the blog is NOT brought to you by Tostinos (R) Pizza Rolls, but rather leftover pasta and meat sauce I have integrated with bits of the finest string cheese).
Kim loves American Idol. I don't care what she likes on TV, because come football season I have dibs, and she has no complaints. So I often watch it with her. I often spend that time cruising the internet, checking my blog stats and freaking out about how I have so many fewer readers these days, or reading a book about becoming a father (of a baby, not the boy I already have). So the one kid gets the opportunity in the auditions to sing for the judges on the TV programme. He was mediocre for karaoke and was told no. He collapsed outside in front of a tiny Ryan Seacrest and declared it was the worst day ever. Earlier that morning I was walking through the woods at work and I stepped on one vine that pulled a thorn branch down that stuck me in my eyelid. That branch, I would later learn, was covered in the stalk of a poison ivy bush, and I proceeded to develop a rash from my head, across my eye, down and in my nose, and into the wet part of my inner lip. Yeah dude, you had the worst day ever.
People who legitimately think baseball is the greatest game ever. There's reasons I like football, and I won't argue why it's better. I will make my case for what I love about it. But that doesn't mean I won't put down the obsession some people have over players who have sewed on buttons on their uniform shirts and wear pants with pockets and belt loops. It is an impressive feat to hit a homerun. I mean several people were in awe when I hit one in softball a couple years back. Yeah, I did it. I'm like a Mighty Casey, but not mighty. I'm the Mousey Casey.
The other basis for this complaint forum comes from the other day when I was driving home after a long day of going to the office, driving to a meeting, driving back to the office, working some more hours, leaving 20 minutes late, almost 2 hours to get home from the office. I finally get to the second to last turn I have to make. It is seriously like a 2-house long road before I turn again to my street. And there's a car parked on the right side, my side. No problem. That's normal. there was one pickup truck pulled over to the left, facing me. And then in front of me were brake lights. Attached to a car. Parked between the pickup truck and the parked car, talking to the driver. I get if you need 10 seconds to end your conversation. But when you carry it on to the point I am a minute in and about to yell "I just want to go home, asshole," well, that is something that....
The fact I had my window rolled down about to ask you to move, and I hear you say, "Well, I guess this dick doesn't want us to talk anymore," that made you 95% likely to be a deuschebag. So, he speeds up, turns left. I drive like normal, make my last turn, pull in the driveway and I'm home. I walk around my car to get my items out of the passenger seat and this cro-magnon level slow adult drives by my house, stares me down. Oooooooh. You scared me. I'm a dad, dummy. You probably are too. You also probably tailgate your son's tee ball game.
I am also sick of "Throwback Thursday." It is neat if you do that once in a while. But every Thursday? People are throwing back as far as 2008. Sorry, but unless you're 12 years old, that's not a major part of your life. I'd like to see my grandmother's Throwback Thursday with a picture that was taken in Sepia filter because that's all there was back then. Throw yourself back off my Facebook friends list.
That, ladies and gentlemen, is how you come full circle. Starting point, end point, transitions, pictures, John Wayne Bobbit jokes.
So, when will my next blog be? Will I actually take time to write anything? Well, FAT Tuesday is coming up, and for my longest running feature I look forward to previewing what I think will happen when the NFL free agency period begins. Also, I will try to get a recap of the birth of my son, any exciting fishing flops, and anything significant that happens to me that isn't football related. Thanks for reading.
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