Monday, April 15, 2013


Now, my original plan for opening this up was quoting Hunter S. Thompson’s Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, regarding people “humping the American Dream”.  I was going to explain that everyone has their own ideals, while citing my own.  My own dream is to live as a writer on the freeways of the U.S. – a permanent resident of Route 66 and its descendants – with no roots except for something as small as a PO Box or as large as a dusty cabin on a lake.  But it would've sounded a little pretentious, compared to the bulk of the content following it.

The truth is, while being a nomadic wordsmith would be a very fulfilling life, it’s a pretty lofty goal.  When I hit my life’s stride, I probably won’t be a creative, enigmatic traveler like Jack Kerouac or Timothy Leary.  At the moment, I wish I could be a cool and charismatic misfit - though I think we all know I’m actually the plucky comic relief, which means I’m going to end up being the jolly dad instead.  A life revolving around my wife, house, dog, lawn and 2.5 kids… that’s where I’m headed.  Now, to some, that sounds like a pretty boring way to live, and to them, it may be.  But I’m not them – I tend to stray toward the eccentric, so it’s safe to say that life is going to be a little interesting for all those involved.  I've often said that I’ll end up being the type of dad that will often drive my wife and kids NUTS.

The following is a list of notes for my future wife, regarding situations she’ll be very likely to encounter.  So honey, if you're out there… you have been warned.  As for the rest of you, I hope you find this at least a little entertaining because I’ll be depending on you to keep her from whacking me in the head with a rolling pin on a regular basis.

Dear Future Wife:

-My best man Justin’s speech at our wedding reception will be in the form of a gigantic game of Hangman - possibly in Spanish if he's in the mood to further annoy everyone.

-Sorry I taught the kids to say “Yeah you know me” whenever I ask them if they’re down with O.P.P.

-Sorry I play “Theme from Superman” every morning when I get ready for work, it makes shampooing my hair feel like a step toward saving the world.  Just be glad I don’t play it in the bedroom on my birthday… I’m saving “Theme from Mortal Kombat” for that.

-Pay no attention to the stereo I brought with us into the delivery room.  Though, don’t be surprised if when you pop out our first kid, I hit the Play button and hold our baby up in the air while The Lion King’s “Circle of Life” plays in the background.

-If our kid’s first word happens to be a Chewbacca roar, I had nothing to do with it.  I swear.

-Keep in mind, plopping your freezing-cold feet on my back in the middle of the night means that you’ll be startling me out of a relaxed state with my ass already pointed in your direction.   Go ahead… roll the dice.

-On Saturday mornings, you’ll be the only adult in the house.  Us kids will be in the family room watching cartoons and laughing at Daffy Duck’s pain… because he’s an asshole.

-If we can’t come to an agreement, all disputes will be settled on who looks better in leather chaps.  You first… Pookie.

-When it comes to dinner parties, our game of choice will be Charades – I rock the shit out of that game.  So plan to make some cash on the side from hustling all the other couples… or as we’ll call them on the ride home, “suckers”.

-You want me to write you poetry?  Ahhh no.  Homie don’t play that way. *flashes gang signs*

-When our daughter’s first date arrives to pick her up, I will do my duty as a father.  So when I barge into the room he’s waiting in, wearing Army fatigues and brandishing a shotgun… that will be your cue to say, “Honey, are the voices back?”

-We can have a cat, just as long as you let me torment it with a laser pointer from time to time while laughing like a mad scientist.

-You want me to stop staring at you while you eat?  Quit buying popsicles.

-No way.  No way in hell we’re going to wear matching sweaters anywhere.  Not a chance.  Wait, you already ordered them??  Shit.

-I didn’t eat our kids’ fruit snacks… if they say otherwise, they’re a couple of dirty prepubescent liars.

-The less you fight with me over my spontaneous obsessions, the quicker I’ll eventually get over them. P.S., I wanna take Swing Dancing lessons.

Oh hello there, Casual Friday Outfit...

-Until our kids own up to their mistakes and stop blaming each other for broken household items… I will continue to wear my CSI hat and surround the crime scene with police tape.

-Until our son gets taller than 3 feet, he’s going as Yoda for Halloween every year.  And while we’re on the subject… why won’t you try on the Princess Leia bikini??

-The Bouncy Castle was totally for the kids.  They can use it, just as soon as I’m done testing it out.  I swear.

-Our son’s summer vacation = Mohawk Season.

-There’s a brand-new naughty school girl outfit in your closet?  I thought you bought it…

-If I’m nervously whistling on my way to the bathroom in the middle of the night, it’s because the kids made me watch another ghost movie.  Blame them.

-Wanna win an argument without having to prance around in leather chaps?  All you need is some bacon.

No, dammit. The OTHER bacon.

-If it’s a summer day and our son and I run inside and hide somewhere… there’s a baseball that recently went through a neighbor’s window.  So if anyone asks, we were inside building model airplanes THE WHOLE TIME.

-No, I’m not lost.  I just like the way that gas station looks… so I thought I’d pass by it a few times.

-When you complain of noisy neighbors, the first thing I’ll do is grab my phone.  But I won’t be calling the cops, I’ll be summoning a friend to help me use my three-person water balloon launcher.  Of course, you already know that… as being my wife means you’re automatically the #2 in my three-person Suburban Audio Disturbance Hydro Aerial Assault Team, or as I call it:  “S.A.D.H.A.A.T.”

Oh hello there, Other Casual Friday Outfit...

…and we will bring down an unholy hellfire of (ironically) ice cold water onto their inconsiderate asses.  Then we’ll go inside and hide. 

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