We could change Election Day to a month earlier

You’ll see what I mean by end of this post. But first a little background to my dad’s worst Halloween ever, which was just last Friday. He has a shed in his back yard that (except for a few days a year) is stuffed full of Halloween crap. But for years all he had in there was a dummy wearing a hockey mask in an electrocution chair (death row style) that’s rigged to look pretty awesome when it’s plugged in. After construction he and his friends nicknamed it “Sparky” for obvious reasons. When Dad was still in his “single and hating most women because of my mother” years, he and his friends took Sparky over to a family member’s house. And others would contribute, making it the most kickassingest Halloween display on that side of town. Then Dad got remarried, and his wife turned out to be the kind of one-woman-show who puts many to shame when it comes to making holidays spectacular. Well, almost everyone.


So she says.

And from that Halloween on, Dad and my step mom teamed up to make their property really freaky. Their house and yard became the most happenin’ place in the neighborhood. But this year they were more than slightly annoyed with some of the ghouls who stopped by. And after hearing all about it, here's what I now believe are the worst types of visitors (from least horrible to most horrific)…

The super obnoxious teenaged thief

This was not your average obnoxious 13-yr-old male teen who, for example, might tell you he’s taking your daughter to his grandmother’s for cookies when they plan on watching a movie together at his house. No, this is the super obnoxious bastard who tells you exactly where they are going while he’s got his arm around her (and she’s wearing a mini-skirt and giggling way too much). The ‘thief’ part is obvious. He’s going to steal her virginity. In this case Dad would’ve done the honorable thing and send him packing with his underwear hanging out of his pants, then tell his daughter to, “Put some damn clothes on.”

Anyway, this super obnoxious jerk arrived as you might expect, with all manners out the window. He didn’t even say “Trick or treat” before slamming his entire hand into the candy bowl in an attempt to take all he could. Well that wasn’t going to fly. Dad grabbed his hand and forced the punk to drop it all. My hope is this spoiled piece of butt waste will remember this and learn something, but I have an odd feeling he’ll be in kiddy jail soon. I wonder if that’s anything like the adult-jail variety? No? Damn.

The future gold digger

This was a 16-yr-old girl who was not only NOT dressed up as anything but a slut (like those weren’t her normal clothes) but she was also hauling two large gunny sacks like she had just robbed the nearest bank. One was already full of candy, the other half-full. To witness greed of this magnitude blew my dad’s mind, and under the special circumstances he was at a loss for what to do. You see, there’s a rule most men follow called the ‘girl rule’, which means whether they know it or not (usually not) they automatically treat females differently than males. This is always to the female’s advantage. My dad belongs to the group of men who follow the rule without realizing it. It’s why for years my brothers secretly hated us (but mostly our other two sisters).

As you can imagine, the future gold-digging bitch with her sacks full of candy took from the bowl with no shame, and got away without reprimand. Her punishment will come in a few years when she’s forced to pick up Viagra at the pharmacy for her 80-year-old husband and then (as if that weren’t bad enough) it dawns on her he is expecting some action. Either that or finds out after his death she was never mentioned in the will. I personally hope it’s the latter. And that it comes after ten years of picking up Viagra and suffering through the trauma that follows while waiting for him to bite the dust.

The political fanatics

These are the absolute worst kind of Halloween House crashers. At least with the drunks you can make up an address a mile or two away and tell them there’s lots of booze and ‘easy young booty’ there and get rid of them quickly. When I say ‘political fanatics’ I’m not talking about your typical supporters just leaving a few words to mull over before moving on to the next house. I’m talking about the nuts who see the most popular house in the neighborhood as the one to haunt. They stick around and become grade A repellent. When the decent people come along and hear them arguing they run away and make a mental note not to drop by this crazy place ever again. And this story was the one that surprised me. You’d think people would take a break from their political views and enjoy visiting their neighbor’s awesomely decorated yard? Doesn’t that sound better than wasting time trying to shove your ideals (and all sides have them) down another guy’s throat and pissing off everyone in the vicinity (including the host)?

Dad didn’t want to be rude as these were adults and not kids who might actually be taught a lesson. But he sure thought it was rude how these grown idiots decided to make his yard the place to debate. This was his yard, dammit! He eventually said, “Fock it,” and figured it was much less depressing giving candy to the greedy and impolite goblins and witches.

My holiday was just fine since I do very little decorating. Last year I made fun of the teens who came by trick-or-treating. I asked them if they liked being out with all of the little kids, and mentioned it was so sad they didn’t have a date for the Halloween dance. Needless to say, I didn't see them this year. Hillary Clinton once said, “It takes a village to kick a kid’s ass.” So true.

It's so hard to find a good doctor these days

I went to the doctor and said, “At night I’m having trouble falling asleep, and stay awake long after the kids have gone to bed.”

“No problem. I can prescribe you some good sleeping pills,” he said.

“But there’s more,” I continued. “When I finally do fall asleep, I don’t want to wake up.”

The doctor interrupted a second time. “Sounds like depression, and if that’s the case, no worries. Nothing a good prescription won’t fix.”

“Wait, there’s more. When I get home from work and my sweet, darling children talk to me I feel a strong urge to grab a beer and take a long swig every time they say, ‘Mom’ or ‘Can you…’. If I actually followed through, in a couple of hours I’d be drunker than Amy Winehouse at a Sunday brunch.”

I sometimes wonder if it’s just her name. Maybe if she changed it to ‘Amy Straighthouse’ or ‘Amy Soberhouse’ it would help her image? Maybe at least help keep her from always looking totally trashed?


Nah.

He winced. “Sounds like you might have the drinking disease. Any alcoholism in your family?”

“No. None. Having lots of kids is the only thing that runs in my family.”

While he scratched his head, I continued describing my symptoms. “When we’re at the grocery store, I want to throw all of the frozen foods into my cart and totally empty out the freezer case.”

“Hunger?”

“No. ‘Cause then it would be easier to stuff my kids into the freezer case.”

“Oh.”

“Just until they begged for mercy,” I added.

He frowned. “It sounds like you’re having early symptoms of a disease called KCJB - Kidamage Caustrating Jellocious Braindeadeous.”

I let out a puzzled, “Hmm?”

He continued, “In plain English - Kids Causing Jellied Brain. It’s very real, and you should be very afraid. The more kids you have, the worse it will be for you in the end. And you’ve got like - let me see your chart - holy kidlets. Five. You should be crapping your pants. Right now. I wish I could tell you there’s a cure. But what I can tell you is, there’s no cure.”

I let out a stunned, “Huh?”

“Luckily, you do have some time left to enjoy life. Mainly in those precious hours you spend away from your children. But eventually your entire brain is going to turn to jelly. One big blob of jam that will be totally useless. If I had to guess, based on everything you’ve told me, I’d say it could happen in about five years. That’s not so bad. You’ll be 40 then, so your life will basically be over anyway.”

I let out a - nothing. Just dropped my jaw into my lap.

He continued, “I admire your gaping mouth. So I’ve been thinking. You know what? I can’t lie to you and say this disease is entirely incurable. There’s nothing wrong with being proactive, now that you know what fate lies ahead. So I’ll let you know - and this needs to be kept just between you and me - I’ll totally cover you, if you want to pull a Yates.”

“If I pull a what?!”

He continued, “Shh! Not so loud. I’m trying to help you here. Surely you’ve heard of that mother who drowned her five kids?”

“Um yeah, the psycho-mama. I don’t want to drown anyone. No offense.”

He put a finger to his chin and thought for a minute. “Well, seriously? You’re going to shoot that one down without any consideration? ‘Cause although you’d be in a hospital for the rest of your life, it would be a long life without jam for a brain. You’d retain your sanity. No one will know. You plead insanity, I’ll back you. I’ve got a doctor pal working with a certain defense lawyer, and my friend owes me some favors. Think about it.”

“No.”

“Oh well. I got it! How about an accident? Here’s a good one. It’s simple. Take the kids on a hunting trip. ‘Accidentally’ make them your target.”

“HELL no.”

“Um, alright. Too violent. Okay. I got it! Take them on a long drive into the mountains. ‘Accidentally’ lose them in the middle of nowhere. The wolves and bears should take good care of them. Worst case scenario: one makes it out alive. Two tops.”

I stood up to leave. “Thanks Doc, but I think the only real solution is to send the kids to live with their grandparents. After everything I’ve learned about KCJB today, I’m thinking it’s a good idea. It’s become pretty clear - Mom and Dad are already a couple of jam heads.”

The doctor’s eyes lit up.
















“Great Scott! Now why didn’t I think of that?”


Hmm. He looks awfully familiar.

The Shit List: Undecided Voters

On occasion I make a mental note of certain groups of people I hold a good amount of contempt for. But why keep it bottled up inside? So I’ve decided to share my feelings. It isn’t hatred - I just really dislike these people. I’m calling it ‘The shit list’ for lack of a better title. ‘People I really dislike’ sounds too lame, and ‘People who should disappear off the face of the earth’ or ‘People I hold a good amount of contempt for’ are too long, and that last one just plain sucks.

Watching the presidential race has been so weird this year. I can’t remember a race ever being this dramatic. It’s like a soap opera except it’s real life, which is pretty awful when I think about it that way. I hate soaps, but I do enjoy vanilla scented body wash. I also hate polls for many reasons but mainly because it’s always really close, and you’ve got those undecided voters who could swing it either way, yet they insist on remaining undecided right up until the very end just to keep the rest of us guessing. Thanks, guys! So we don’t really know how it will end, but I’m ready for it to end now.

Here’s my advice for undecided voters. The first time in my life I had a tough decision to make I went to my dad. Maybe it was something like deciding whether or not to wear those hideous leg warmers to school because they were considered hip, but whatever and whenever it was, it was a tough decision at the time. So I asked my dad how he decided what to do when he was confused about something. He said, “You’ve got to weigh it out.”

He held out his hands, palms up, like he was a human scale and literally showed me how it worked. “You put all the good on this side, put all the bad on the other side. If the bad outweighs the good, it’s the wrong choice. If the good outweighs the bad, that’s probably the right choice. Run with it.”

The leg warmers helped to keep my legs warm that winter.

So there you go. You think about everything you already know, and find out everything you don’t yet know but want to know. Then you weigh it out. It’s not fool-proof, but it’s a formula and better than just sitting on your haunches. So please, and I’m probably speaking for most political junkies here, don’t remain undecided another day.

We’ve still got over two weeks left before the standard national voting day, but that doesn’t mean the undecideds should keep telling the pollsters they have no clue who they are voting for. Everyone’s identity I assume is kept confidential, so what’s keeping them from spitting it out? Are they really still confused or are they just paranoid? Are they on drugs? Alcoholics? Is there a Nazi in the room when they get the call? I give up.

Yeah, I know. Polls are usually wrong anyway. I should just turn off the TV and go to church.

I stole an SUV and drove 1000 miles

Then I drove all over the Twin Cities for a week, then another 1000 miles to get home when I had just become comfortable with… well, when I had become used to navigating around so many crazy drivers. It’s something I have to relearn every time I visit. As Mom says, living out here has spoiled me.

*Warning: This post will waste approximately ten minutes of your time, and that’s without leaving a comment.

I had been secretly planning this trip for months. Okay, the only secret about it was when we would arrive, which was just in time to surprise my sister Jessica for her birthday. There was a 50/50 chance she’d actually read my blog so I couldn’t say exactly when I was leaving. Well, maybe a 5% chance but I didn’t want to risk it.

Her birthday was Saturday June 21st so I planned to leave on Thursday the 19th, drive all night, and get to the Twin Cities on the 20th. Then we would show up at my sister Melissa’s house for the party on the 21st and surprise the birthday girl in person. It was a solid plan and absolutely nothing could go wrong…

Problem 1: The Bratmobile. The week of our planned escapade my vehicle started giving me shit. Well, the engine caught on fire after it had already been to the auto repair shop. When I took it in the first time I specifically told them I smelled gas under the hood. They thought I was just smelling the exhaust because they’re mechanics and trained to pretend to listen. So I dumped $350 into it, just for them to tell me there was no gas leak.

*The good news: I got my Suburban back and they did their job. You can’t tell the engine was aflame. And they found the gas leak. It was in a spot that was hidden pretty well, so I’m not upset or anything (until I get the bill). The bad news: I will eventually get the bill.

Back to problem 1… After the Suburban caught on fire they took it back, but they were too “busy” to work on it that week - the week I was planning to leave. Monday they said they’d look at it on Tuesday. Tuesday they said there was a lot of wire damage and they’d get to it on Wednesday. Wednesday they ordered parts, so it was too late to push it down the road to their competitors. Thursday they said they’d work on it Friday. I had to leave Thursday night! so I called up a friend Wednesday and asked if I could rent an SUV from her. I was seriously not expecting her to say, “Sure!” but surprisingly, she was willing to loan it out for 9 days. She only asked for $100. I gave her $200 and still felt like I should be incarcerated for grand theft auto. I was certain she’d have a change of heart and I’d get pulled over somewhere on I-94. I know I could defend myself in prison but it would really hurt to know the kids were in their father’s custody. I’m just grateful my friend was so desperate for my money.

*I returned her SUV with a half a tank of gas and had received it on “E”, so that makes me feel a little better.

Problem 1 solved...

Problem 2: Getting there alive. Up to this point I’d never driven overnight anywhere. There were times I’d tried it and ended up checking into a motel along the way. I just couldn’t do it. But this time I was determined and the pressure was on. If I didn’t pull this off I’d have no time to rest before Jessica’s party and all this planning would have been in vain.

We left Billings at 8:30 pm, and I estimated we’d be in the Twin Cities by noon Friday since the kids would be sleeping during most of our journey. It was fool-proof.

We made three pee stops before we even got out of Montana. Well, one was a gas stop and I bought a bunch of food thinking it would help knock the kids out. My teenaged sons stayed awake most of the trip so that didn’t work out too well. We spent the next few hours in North Dakota fighting over music choices. Mine were right, and they refused to acknowledge that. Eventually I was so steamed I was ready to drop them off at the next rest stop and let them hitch a ride back home. That would make my vacation cheaper and they could listen to whatever crap they wanted (if they made it back). That would sure “man” them up in a hurry. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but ultimately I ended up lecturing them on how I never argued with my dad over music in a moving vehicle. I lovingly told them, “He was paying for the gas and he was driving, so he controlled the tunes. And I respected that! I’m trying to drive here at 75 miles per hour, in the dark, in a flipping SUV that isn’t even ours… And you guys want to argue with me?! So everyone better be quiet, starting right now, unless you want us all to end up in a fiery crash. You can’t hear music when you’re dead.”

They not only shut up, but one of them even apologized.

At around 4 am the trees off in the distance started to look like evil creatures doing some sort of sacrificial dance, so I pulled into a rest stop and took a nap. The sun woke me up an hour later and we were off again. Then at some point, maybe 7 am-ish I couldn’t keep my eyes open and had to pull over again. The boys went off to explore in the trees nearby, ignoring my warning that they were bad trees, and woke me up 45 minutes later. Then the girls woke up and needed to pee every few hours.

We finally made it to our destination at 2:30 pm, but we lost an hour due to that stupid time zone change. I’ve never been so ecstatic to climb into bed. Well, not since the last time I got laid. And I slept like I’d just had an hour of sex and four orgasms, which means I slept pretty damn good.

And we all were very much alive.

Problem 2 solved…

Problem 3: The surprise. While my sister Melissa and I were planning this party with a large family attendance for Jessica, her best friend was also planning a party with a bunch of friends for her. Luckily it was scheduled for the night of Friday the 20th so it wouldn’t interfere with our party the next day. Well, I hoped it wouldn’t. It was a party which would include alcohol so Melissa worried about Jessica being hung over and not making it over to her house for the family party and her surprise (me). So in trying to coordinate all of this, Melissa’s husband later told me that she had spilled everything to Jessica’s bff. I would not have approved of this move. Just wanted to mention that. So, Jessica’s bff got drunk at her party and made the mistake of telling her she had a secret. That was all it took. Jessica then proceeded to beat it out of her. So, before the night was over she found out I was coming to surprise her and was so moved she literally sobbed like Tammy Faye...

Whatever her last name is. Was. Anyhow, this was the first time I ever made my sister cry without pain involved.

I knew all along Melissa would eventually tell some one who couldn’t keep a secret, but my guess was way off the mark. I had assumed she’d tell our mother. Apparently my repeatedly telling Melissa not to tell her paid off. Mom was very surprised.

At least some one was. I guess that counts.

Problem 3 solved…

Problem 4: Being in two places at once. The plan to surprise my sister on her birthday came about back in March when my best friend of 22 years (Regina) invited us to her daughter’s graduation party, which was also on June 21st. Her party was in the evening and my sister’s party started at noon, so I had no doubt we could make it to both parties. Well, in a perfect world…

A few days before we were scheduled to leave town Melissa tells me the party will start at 1:00 instead of noon. I realized that would cut down the amount of time I could be at Jessica’s party before heading out to the graduation party, but I didn’t foresee any problem with that. The evening party would be from 5:30 till 10 pm so that gave us plenty of time. Besides, Jessica’s party was being held at Melissa’s house, so who was I to argue? I was only traveling 1000 miles after all, and had to nearly be in two places at once. But I kept my happy face on, knowing if things didn’t work out I could always make Melissa feel guilty in the end.

It’s now Saturday, June 21st, and we are ready to party. Traffic was a bitch and a half so we got there at 1:30. It turned out Jessica was hung over after all, and hadn’t beaten us there. At this point I didn’t know she had already learned of the surprise through the grapevine a.k.a. Melissa’s mouth, so I was pretty excited and just couldn’t wait to surprise her. At 2:00 everyone was starving and tired of waiting for her, so lunch was served. At 2:30 the whining started... "When is she going to show up?"... And I’m not ashamed of that. At 3:00 her vehicle pulled in and I made the kids hide in the garage so we could jump out and surprise her. That’s when a chain of relatives passed along the phrase, “She already knows Alicia is here!”

So, word got to me before she even came within hugging range. She had asked some one if I was at Melissa’s place yet. I was… so… shocked… that she already knew…

When Jessica saw me she started to cry again. As I already mentioned, she had cried a freaking river the night before when she found out I was coming to surprise her. Then, later on I started to feel like a real bitch for wanting to get out of there to go to the graduation party. So I tried getting family members to follow us out to the party but they were all drinking and didn’t want to go anywhere. Great. So I put it off as long as possible. When I was finally ready to go, Regina told me the party would practically be over by the time I got there so I should just stay with my family and make the most of it.

Now I really felt like shit because Regina and her kin are just like family. Even better, because they aren’t blood related.

As soon as I got off the phone with her I slammed another beer. Then I drank numerous cans of Pepsi to sober up. I drove over to Regina’s house later on and we crashed there that night. I mean, we all went to sleep on her numerous sofas and whatnot. That made her feel better.

Now that problem 4 was solved in a weird and unwanted way, we were free to enjoy the rest of our vacation. We fucking did. And I gave Regina’s daughter 50 bucks for her graduation present, as well as the original baby pictures I’ve had of her for 17 years (which are the only baby pictures she now has of herself due to a bad divorce between her parents), so… she loves me.