i am stupidtom dot com

Tuesday, July 31, 2001

I'm working on the page tonight so I'm posting a sort of "best of". This is a reprint of an article I wrote for our company newsletter. ENJOY. First I need to explain the extraordinary cooling requirements of a 6’4” 300 lb human being. Logic and gravity dictate that more energy will be expended during the normal course of the day by the afore mentioned mutation. Physics tells us that energy requires and produces heat. This leads to the conclusion that a human of abnormal size could develop dangerous core temperatures unless extra cooling measures are implemented. This long winded and mostly BS rambling is justification for the well known fact that I drink a ton of pop. The basic formula is simple: 1. Find the biggest container that you can carry. (allowing for the weight of the liquid and any planned activities) 2. Fill your container with ice gently arcing over the top edge. (don’t worry the pop will take care of the snow cone effect immediately) 3. Fill your container with pop using a spiral pattern making sure that the entire top layer is hit . (this will help prevent clumping) 4. Optional, for serious consumers. Use a straw. The damage your doing to your insides is bad enough, there’s no reason to take your teeth down as well. This brings me to the point of this article, ICE. Quality ice is the key to my everyday survival. The following are my general ice guidelines. Ice makers are king. The [drop from a sealed unit directly into your container] models are the best. It’s still a good idea to make sure the unit looks clean and well maintained. This is the best way to go for self serve ice. Don’t be fooled by the plastic lid over certain soda fountains. These units are filled by a nasty bucket usually marked “ice only” on the side. I have worked in too many restaurants to believe that bucket is exclusive to the ice machine. Avoid this ice at all costs. Scoop style Ice machines. These units offer the biggest opportunity for mischief and disease. What’s dropped into the machine, (accidentally or on purpose) stays in the machine. My other big problem is rotation. Last in, first out, goes against all sanitary food handling procedures. Unless you know the owner and completely trust the location these units should be avoided at all costs. I could keep going but I realize that this obsession is abnormal. I hope that this has been helpful. Final Note, Best free ice from a rig ~ St. Alexious ~outside ER doors. Crushed and clean. Five Stars 12:00:00 AM    says you

Monday, July 30, 2001

Chuck and the wife have prompted a quick review of our family’s basic truths. The first basic truth is Liza Good, Tom Evil. Once you understand this everything else falls into place. The prompting came from a question about me being serious or just kidding. I am always kidding but in a mean spirited way. Nothing is meant to hurt, just sting and make people think. And now, back to the basic truths of our clan. If you are mad and not speaking to her Liza is upset, but you have made me smile. Your silence is much appreciated as I do far too much communicating during the course of the average day. Liza is upset with you, I think you’re funny. You are mean or disrespectful to my wife, she wants to understand what’s making you upset, I want revenge. If you have a problem with my children Liza will attempt to understand your point of view, I’m trying to figure out how to completely screw your life and the lives of all of your descendants. Cross one of my friends and you really should prepare for anything. I hold these truths to be self evident. Kidding. This review was brought to you by the letters “P, B, and S”. A tribute to some of the Petty Bull Shit that has plagued an otherwise perfect summer. 12:00:00 AM    says you

Sunday, July 29, 2001

Ikea is a plot by evil Norsemen to make Americans feel stupid. I put one of the girl’s beds together using their 38 easy steps in just under 2 hours. The 38 easy steps are all picture instructions and they don’t really account for the 10 or so steps in each picture. I know this is an international company but I need a little more explanation as to why I shouldn’t just skip those unnecessary looking steps. This is exactly why I am not a mechanic. I would be the one with the running engine and a pile of “extra” parts when I was finished. These people suck you in with their prices and then drive you bat shit with the project. I know that crazy is a short drive for me but it should not take a person of average intelligence that long to build a stinking bed. I’m whining because I’m tired. I have packed way too much into this last week. Liza has just been informed that she is going to have a week from hell. The big wheel keeps on turning, sometimes it just feels like a grinding stone. Last thought on IKEA. I don’t know what the official line is but I’m guessing the name stands for I’ll Kill Every American. Nobody ever accused the Swedes of being subtle. 12:00:00 AM    says you

Saturday, July 28, 2001

The note for today read “tricked by a-hole cheese heads, chump-a-vista”. This was written the very first day we arrived. The explanation is simple. We were taken in by pictures of a pool and resort that looked like Disney World with a southwestern twist. I recommend the site http://www.chulavistaresort.com because it is the epitome of bullshit. Browse around and you’ll see what we did and then picture me being able to jump across the pool without getting wet. This all meant nothing to the kids who had a great time, but I think we all felt a little stupid when we noticed that 5 of the listed water attractions were all in one little pool. If this were a hotel in the middle of nowhere and you happened to stumble upon it you would be happy as a pig in poop. This little nugget is unfortunately nestled 3 miles north of some of the most spectacular digs Wisconsin can provide. I’m not going to spend a lot of time on this place I’ll just hit some highlights. All promo pictures are taken with a trick lens from a crane. (We know this for a fact as they had the crane out for some updating while we were there.) The food situation is almost funny as the best thing about the buffet is the giant stuffed animal that comes to eat with you. One of the restaurants listed on the web page is actually the snack bar at the outside pool. Back to the buffet, can you really call it a buffet if you only have a couple of menu choices? I’ve cooked bigger breakfasts at home. I can’t even tell you about the “nature trail” because it along with the rest of the little things about this place raise my blood pressure to a dangerous level. Best Chula Vista moment; George and I trying to eat $80 worth of room service food while we watched the little ones one night. The ribs were spectacular we just should have cut back on the appetizers. Worst moment, same night, watching Max pull a wall of the closet down on Bryn’s Head. No medical attention was required but it did slow our eating for about 15 minutes. I should have been a little more careful about letting my ~I’ll just burn this place to the ground as we leave ~ feelings show to all of my traveling companions. I’m working on hitting the professional bitching whining complainer circuit and this was great practice. I really did have a great time. I just hate being taken for a ride. The trip can best be summed up in two words stolen from those 2 NPR DJs on Saturday Night Live “good times”. 12:00:00 AM    says you

Thursday, July 26, 2001

Notes from the Dells Vacation Please understand that I had no reasonable way to connect and update. Every time George connected to the internet it cost him roughly $3.00 for 5 minutes. It takes me a half hour to hunt and peck through this thing and frankly it’s just not worth it. The stupidtom motto is if it costs more than the name did ($8.95) then it’s not going in the site. The next couple of updates will be expounding on all of the crumpled up notes that I’m finding everywhere as I unpack. These are written on the backs and fronts of everything so don’t look for a lot of sense or continuity. The first note is written in green crayon on a torn piece of Perkins menu. The note reads “taking all of our kids out at the same time is mental – Liza is either crazy or some type of mother savant. Max pterodactyl screams!” First let me tell you that I only spelled pterodactyl correctly because of spell-check. My version started with a t and did not include a p or y. I’ll explain this noise because I’ve already started down this road. Not one to let a little thing like not knowing our language get in his way Max has developed a blood-curdling screech to express his desire for just about anything. I hate to admit it but in every public place we went to he even had me waiting on him hand and foot just so he’d stop “the noise”. Coincidently, Max wasn’t a big fan of the water parks because his secret weapon had little effect with a background of screaming, drowning, and hoards of white bellies. The other thing that infuriated him was the fact that his sisters would just leave. In Max’s world this is completely unacceptable. When he screeches everyone is to report ready to do his bidding or else. This is a big part of the first portion of the note. Maybe it’s just me (I know it’s not because when George and I were golfing it was like we were on parole from Oz) but our beautiful children are brutal. I have to give Liza credit for taking them to the pool every day. If I were home with them in the summer they’d be those creepy little grey kids that were always presses against the window watching the rest of the neighborhood. I love them individually but as a group they turn me into a giant ball of anxiety. Katy loves acting goofy, (my fault#1) Maggie just wants attention even if it means doing something inappropriate to get it, (once again me #2) and Max believes that planets revolve around him. (strike #3) If this trip did nothing else it has showed me where I have balked with all of my children. Don’t get the wrong idea, we had a great time and are already planning next years adventure. But I have seen the results of Genetics and Parental interaction, and I’ve got some work to do. In case I’m not being clear: I need to act a little more normal around Kate, Arguing with Maggie until she gives up might not be the best tactic because I watched her pass it on, and his highness needs a smidge more discipline. My shoulders and my inner-tube are so burned that it hurts to type and I smell a little like bacon. I need another coating of burn cream. More tomorrow. 12:00:00 AM    says you

Sunday, July 22, 2001

And now its time for Max. Max is currently working on some coordination issues. At 16 months he is bigger than he is ready to be. He has yet to master running and paying attention to his terrain at the same time. This combined with a strength that he shouldn’t yet possess is leading to a number of bumps and bruises. This combined with the damage he is inflicting on the house is making for our most interesting child to date. His damage scorecard this year includes: 2 closet doors, one bedroom doorknob broken off, (his sisters for locking him out) 4 picture frames smashed, Maggie’s Barbie bike stripped of all of its gaudy frills, 2 of Katie’s trophies broken, 8 various knobs pulled off, his crib latches snapped, 1 set of shower doors ruined, toilet paper rolls are not allowed to hand from the wall, and just yesterday he pulled the front off of a drawer he wanted to get in. I love this little charmer to death, I just wish he’s develop into his body a little quicker. I have more but I’ll save it for another time. We are getting ready to head to the Dells and I can’t pack and type at the same time. I’m going to try and update from the road. 12:00:00 AM    says you

Saturday, July 21, 2001

I believe its Maggie’s turn. Maggie is the child that is most like me. Consequently, at 5 years old, she and I are already butting heads. The most striking resemblance is that she doesn’t always use her intellect in the right ways. To get to the point, once you ask her to do something she has already figured out a few reasons why she cant and a couple of misdirecting questions as backup. This results in her sister getting tired of the argument and doing the task for her. (not completely altruistic on Katie’s part because these squabbles are usually holding up some plans, like the daily trip to the pool.) She hates nothing more than being called out on something that she thinks she’s gotten away with. We have already had our first afternoon that she would not speak to me and I have a strange feeling it won’t be our last. The latest development is her throwing a fit when mommy goes to work. This only seems to happen if I am in ear shot. She got mad the other day during this fit when I told her that it worked the first few times but it had lost its effectiveness. I explained that I actually felt bad but now it makes me smile because I see her practicing her manipulation skills. About a half hour later, after she stomped into her room and slammed the door, Maggie came out and said she was sorry. Then she asked “what is manipulation?” I love everything about this child but I cannot allow her to see just how much her intelligence entertains me. 12:00:00 AM    says you

Thursday, July 19, 2001

It’s quite a conundrum. The more email about how mean I’m being the meaner I get. My new official policy is pretend like I’m the only one in the room. I really do love this web log because it allows me to get a lot out that might otherwise be inappropriate. It also helps me cure that persistent creative itch that never seems to go away. I now know that’s why I get so antsy just sitting around. This has taught me that I need to feel like I have truly accomplished something every day. I know this doesn’t seem like much of an accomplishment, but beggars can’t be choosers. Besides, after the kids go to sleep I have no one to bother but myself. So I type away with no real direction and it gives me great joy. Back to the state of the family. I left off explaining that Liza’s calendar is overdrawn. I had one more thing to add before moving on. (This is where you may want to cut and paste for future court proceedings) The only way our marriage will end is with one of us leaving feet first. Now it’s Katie’s turn. I cannot describe how much my eldest daughter means to me. I demand more of her because she is the older. Not fair, but if I treated her the way I felt like she would be the dorky girl in the full body armor that wasn’t allowed to leave her Daddy’s side. I know these feelings are normal but she is different. Having started her life 3+ months early and under 3 pounds I would rather die than watch her go through anything else. Those months in the hospital were the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. Thankfully genetics kicked in around her 3rd birthday and she hasn’t stopped growing since. My sensitive child is also my Tomboy. She would much rather play than any other activity. When her younger sister talks her into playing with dolls (usually bad weather preventing outdoor activity) hers always seem to be involved in some sport. I love and hate this at the same time. When she plays football with the neighborhood boys I have to consciously unclench my fists when she gets hit. I bark out warnings and the boys obey but then she gets mad because I’m not letting her play “right”. I want to give this child the world. She has more friends than I remember having at her age and her social calendar is booked solid. Thankfully I talked her out of traveling soccer. There will be plenty of time for that as her sister and brother become more manageable road warriors. Luckily Katie has her mother’s disposition, so we don’t butt heads much. Yet… 12:00:00 AM    says you

Wednesday, July 18, 2001

Sammy asked and he shall receive; a current state of the family article. This time I’m going to begin with my first wife. (Kidding, only wife, 12 years.) Liza finds herself trapped in a never-ending cycle of time commitments. I am absolutely no help, not because I can’t but because I am a giant baby who cringes at taking all three kids anywhere by myself. I know, “then why did you have 3?” This is a question I’m going to be asking myself for another year at least so your not thinking anything I haven’t slapped myself in the forehead for already. Wait a minute, this was supposed to be about the woman who has tolerated me for more than a decade, sorry honey. Not only does she handle all of the doctors appointments, shopping with all 3, and taking them to the pool every week day, (she works on weekends and there is no way… well I think you get it) she has a husband who is good for some light straightening before he heads down into his cave. The greatest gift I could give her would be to stop killing absolutely every attempt she makes at organization by being lazy. There can be nothing worse in her world than my putting away the laundry. All truly lazy people know that you jam as much as possible into a drawer and when that one will barely shut you move on to the next. As long as the sizes are roughly the same who really cares about ownership. This same theory can be applied to every section of the house with the exception of my office. I know this makes her job a lot harder and is very frustrating but. (I ended that because there is no good excuse) So, you’re lucky if you can find anything in our house. I have been officially banned from actually doing the laundry for roughly the same reasons. (that, and some poorly made cloths that were too easily ruined in my opinion) Now mix in the fact that most nights we are tagging each other at the door while I come home from work and she heads out and you could see where some of the communication is lost. On my road to improvement I am going to help organize the kids and myself because the things they learn with daddy at night aren’t the most helpful during the day. If you remember the Pink Panther movies - I get home and wait for my 3 little Kayto’s to attack. We usually spend the next hour or so wrestling, playing tag, or throwing balls around the house. Then I turn back into a parent. Truth be told this is the actual reason I do the light straighten before heading down to the computer. I have to replace my divot most nights. I truly admire my wife’s ability to handle her four children. Now we all want a dog! 12:00:00 AM    says you

Tuesday, July 17, 2001

Enough already! I didn’t steal the damn poem! I wrote it as I was still smoldering over my encounter with the drunken leprechaun. And another thing, I note the author with every quote I put on this thing so why would I break the respect chain for stupid angry poetry? (Any of you that take poetry seriously, I apologize. The stupid poem itself was a shot at his overall Irishness not an attempt on my part to branch out) I owe the people that didn’t have ringside seats to the 2-hour argument a little explanation. The entire conflict can be boiled down to alcohol and intolerance. There are not many stages of intoxication that I have not seen or that I cannot deal with. I do however have a huge problem walking past a steaming pile of ignorance. This was the case last Saturday night when I found myself in the middle of an argument that would still be making me mad three days later. One of the most level headed and funny people I know turned into a raving lunatic before my very eyes. The ignorance of his argument had me grinding my teeth to the point that a trip to the dentist is in order. The way he was randomly passing judgment on people I care about had me flash fantasizing about punching his throat. You can only tell yourself “it’s just the alcohol talking” so many times before you start to wonder if that’s what this person really thinks. I know changing someone’s mind in that situation is almost impossible but I was waiting for the punch line. In the end when we all start looking down on people that chose to live lives different from our own, watch out for the giant balding fat guys with bats. 12:00:00 AM    says you

Monday, July 16, 2001

It’s obvious that I was a little cranky early yesterday morning when I wrote that last post but those things happen sometimes. I have problems with all forms of “its right because that’s the way I chose to do it” no matter the source. I’ll be checking back on Wednesday as Mom’s Birthday is tomorrow and we are headed over there. I’m still working the sugar out of Max from his Saturday with Aunt Julie. I had a scary flash of a 200lb 10 year old begging to go downtown and help his favorite aunt bake Christmas cookies. Someone help me. Not literally, just figure out how to shut my brain down so I can get some peace. Goodnight. 12:00:00 AM    says you

Sunday, July 15, 2001

I met a little man, He had a little mind, When he had a little drink, I lost a lot of time, He had a few opinions, On those different from he, He solved all others problems, Then made a run at me, He fixed all others lives, Even when there was no need, He never was not right, He held the stage with greed, His life is almost perfect, He got a little sappy, I couldn’t help but wonder, If he’s really all that happy, His claims of knowing men, Were drowned throughout the night, By screeching Iron Maiden, His dancing was a fright, An asshole he may try to be, He tried with all his mite, The sad truth that we all can see, Is he‘ll never grow in height. 12:00:00 AM    says you

Saturday, July 14, 2001

This is more than a simple pet peeve. This is an issue that cuts to my quick. My preferred bank has 6 available drive-up ATMs. I hate few things more than rounding the corner to find some idiot waiting for the next available slot to open up. If you are one of these idiots wake up and take a chance. Life is one great big gamble. Pick a lane and wait so the rest of us can stop blocking the entrance. If they had wanted us to wait they would have an automotive version of those ropes found at all popular amusement park rides. If you absolutely have to wait, GO INSIDE! They’ll be more than happy to oblige. I have argued with more than one of you idiots and my final question is always the same. How long does it take you to get out of the grocery store? 12:00:00 AM    says you

Friday, July 13, 2001

I’m trying to be a better all around person and then some ass-face in a $60,000.00 Stupid Useless Vehicle decides that after he has merged left in traffic no one else can get in line. Now I have to tell you that I saw this jack wad do one of my favorite (pull in front of the truck because it left so much room) tricks so I might have mentioned how smart I thought that was after he flipped me off. This might get a little choppy because I’m still a little steamed. Allow me to back up to the front. ? The road was reduced to one lane with no warning after the crest of a hill by a group of electricians. I don’t blame the electricians because they don’t, as a rule, screw every summer day up with lane blockages and I happen to be a big fan of electricity. OK so this is a pain in the ass but the same problem goes for all so the poor people stuck in the wrong lane just need to creep foreword until its our turn to merge in with the lucky people. Mr. German “mommy’s SUV” jerks in front of a big rig to my left forcing the guy to hit his air brakes and smoke the back tires just a little. Great, I immediately start counting just like in junior high when I had those dance units in gym to make sure me and this ahole weren’t pared up. With the every other one theory of alternating I would be two cars behind him easy. As luck would have it I somehow ended up mirror to mirror with this guy when it was my turn to get left. As I signaled and started to move over he lays on his prissy little horn and starts wagging his pointer at me. Ignoring his insignificants, I press on when he flips me off and calls ME an asshole! A quick assessment reassures me that Max is my only passenger so the swear light is all green. HEY DUMBFUCK. DID YOU EVER THINK THAT THOSE TRUCKS LEAVE SO MUCH ROOM BECAUSE THEY NEED IT TO STOP? WHERE DID YOU LEARN TO TAKE TURNS? FROM THE SAME FATHER THAT TAUGHT YOU TO BUY A WOMAN’S TRUCK? I had some color in his face and after remembering that the minivan wasn’t worth half of his glorified VW I was almost sitting beside him. He yelled something about my ass and I countered with something about next car he should spend a little less and pop for the sex change. (Remember, I’m driving a minivan but I’ll bet everyone he knows told him how cool his new Benz was so this was killing him.) I let him go ahead of me and I pretended to talk on the phone and laugh until he sped away. I felt a little better until I got to the bank. More ranting tomorrow. 12:00:00 AM    says you

Thursday, July 12, 2001

The last thing that I'm going to say about Doug isn't really "about" him but it was something he loved. I worked with those guys in 1998 and the Y2K scare was rolling full force. We had this loud-mouthed know-it-all that worked with us who was constantly preaching the end of civilization. I was constantly goofing on this guy for his gold purchases and survival talk. He would argue back that very few families would make through this crisis in tact. It was during one of these arguments when I adapted one of my childhood theories to my present situation. When I watched zombie movies as a kid I always wanted to be part of the hoard trying to get into the house and eat the people. I was ready to sign up as the zombie poster boy. My likeness; with a caption something like "Get bit and join in the fun." I even devised strategies for finding and containing the most edible humans. Examples; secure as many high rise buildings as possible and eat your way from bottom to top. Retirement homes were also a key to my zombie survival. It's hard to beat slow food. If the folks start to run thin go to hospitals, what can't get up can't get away. And the ace in the hole was our fine penal system. I realize that zombie battle tactics are not your normal childhood fare but I never claimed to be normal. I need to pat myself on the back because I had most people fooled. I'd bet that Sammy and Tim are the only people to see flashes of how strange I was at an early age. I have to give both of them credit because I would have been afraid of me. Anyway, back to torturing the survival nut. I even went so far as to print computer maps to his house and a list of possible food stores and valuables. This guy flipped his lid and started loud talking about shooting anyone that tried something like that. So I naturally countered with “how many people do you think will show up if things get really desperate?” I hope you have a lot of ammo. To which he replied “You’ll be the first one I shoot” Counter, “that’s fine because I’ll be the one driving the abandoned armored car through your un-reinforced living room wall.” Reply, “don’t do it you fucking asshole.” I considered that a win but still had to leave flyers randomly tucked in his things for the remainder of my twoyear. To attempt to tie this mess together, Doug was one of the great single person audiences ever. He is missed. 12:00:00 AM    says you

Wednesday, July 11, 2001

A guy I used to work with died last week and it’s still on my mind. I hesitate calling him friend because I completely lost touch when I left the company. He was just one of those genuinely nice people that you are sometimes lucky enough to run into. We always joked around and he was a great help when I was learning the brick business. The company that I worked for had purchased his families business so even though Doug was a young guy he had been around bricks his entire life. I learned more from walking around in the stacks with Doug, than I learned at any of the training seminars that I attended. Ironically it was those very stacks that ended his life. They were moving locations and they were down to the inventory that had been around forever. Bricks are held together with steel bands that unfortunately aren’t immune to the affects of time and weather. Apparently as Doug was walking back to the forklift a band snapped on one of the lower cubes and a complete stack fell on top of him. By the time his coworkers got to him it was over. 2 tons of bricks ended a life that I’m not sure should have been over. I’m sure his wife and two small babies would agree. I can’t decide if the whole death by bricks thing is ironic, or just a bummer. 12:00:00 AM    says you

Tuesday, July 10, 2001

I’m sitting here in the middle of the night because my throat is trying to swell shut. I know this seems kind of far fetched but I have had a thing with sore throats all of my life. I know you must be thinking “why not just get your tonsils taken out?” well, the simple answer is I don’t want to. I was lucky enough to deal with doctors growing up that didn’t push the issue and here I sit with a golf ball on each side of my throat and a full sized speed bag in the back of my mouth. You know it’s bad when you have to keep swallowing it back into its rightful place. At least the ice I’ve been eating for the last half hour seems to be working. I think I’ll go back to sleep now and head to the doc in the box tomorrow. Wait, I’d better explain the tonsil thing. First, it’s definitely a fear of going under the knife. But more importantly, I’m not convinced that we won’t need everything we were given at birth somewhere down the road. It may turn out that the tonsils actually turn into some form of gills as evolutionary preplanning for the overpopulation of the earth and our eventual move into the sea. Or, who’s to say that the appendix isn’t some kind of reverse aging switch that is activated in a humans 150th year of life. It would be pretty cool to enjoy all that nap and play time without always wishing you were older. Remember a short 100 years ago they were using leaches to suck the ailment right out of you. The dentist was a barber with a set of pliers. Think how stupid the doctors of today are going to look over time. My favorite is when they finally debunk this imaginary clock that is under people’s skin. You go in because you feel sick, they cut into you and dam it if your countdown clock doesn’t have just three months left on it. That’s a pisser. Luckily the clocks are always round time periods and come with a disclaimer printed on the face. This is a guess at best. Please don’t hold the idiot giving you this estimate liable in any way. Your results may vary depending on driving conditions and regularly scheduled maintenance. 12:00:00 AM    says you

Monday, July 09, 2001

When I was very young my first terrifying nightmares involved a sinister character that I named Mr. Whisper. This name came about because I would always be in a normal setting doing everyday things when I’d open a door and this creep would be staring back at me. Now, the whisper part comes in to play because that is how this ghoul communicated with me. He would start talking in his raspy hiss and it would always paralyze me with fear. I would try to run but my legs wouldn’t cooperate. Screaming seemed like the best idea but he seemed to have that shut off as well. One particularly scary dream that I’ll never forget took place while I was getting ready to take a bath. My mom was just outside the open door because I could see her reflection in the bathroom mirror. So I wasn’t really paying attention when I opened the cabinet up to get my tub toys. Curled up inside the cabinet holding my plastic submarine (which only worked for one bath because you ran out of the fizzing pills right away) was my old friend whisper. Unable to speak or move and my mom was cleaning something just outside the bathroom (don’t ask, the woman was always cleaning something) I woke up drenched in sweat. As fate would have it the twilight zone came to my rescue. While everyone else watching that particular rerun was scared of the little kid that controlled his entire environment, I was fascinated. This was perfect because the only place that I was in almost total control of were my dreams. Sure, I couldn’t repeat the flying dream or avoid the underpants dream but I had the ability to take more control. You also need to know that my favorite comic book character was the green lantern. There were a lot of reasons but it boiled down to the fact that I could be called on one day to wear the ring. Everybody knew that only lantern fans would get the call so I remained loyal. Anyway, this ties in because I used similar powers to start screwing with Senior Whisper. After a couple of months I got to the point where I was calling him out before I went to sleep. I actually sat down to draw whisper in college and couldn’t finish. If I ever do I’ll find a way to post it. Sleep tight. 12:00:00 AM    says you

Sunday, July 08, 2001

No time for this dribble today. The stupidtom do-over is almost complete but this nesting page thing is perplexing me. I will beat this today! 12:00:00 AM    says you

Friday, July 06, 2001

This one’s a peach that I have to get on paper or I won’t believe it myself in a couple of days. I did the 4:45am thing at the track this morning and when I got back to the office I had a bunch of errands to run that were all on a deadline. Crammed in the middle of these things to do apparently I was handed $700.00 to deliver along my route. I swear on swearing itself that I do not recall being handed this money. So, imagine my surprise when I was called tonight asking who I gave the $700.00 to. What? How much? Are you sure you gave it to me? These were all valid questions but after I searched my bag and my pockets I wanted to puke. My only other thought was the car that I just turned in today because the lease term was up. Heart racing and that familiar bile taste in the back of my throat I found a service guy that let me into my car that was thankfully still at the dealership. When I felt under the driver’s seat I felt a bunch of paper tents. When I had pulled them all out I was looking at 4 hundred dollar bills. What exactly happened to the other 3 I needed to know? Searched the dealership parking lot, the waiting area, the sidewalk that I was picked up from, my office, and all around our building. Nothing. What looked like a great Friday night to relax turned into a jiffy ulcer and I still feel like puking. I know you must be saying “oh, it’s just $300.00 things happened, move on” I can’t. You have to understand, I feel guilty taking the $50 fast cash from the ATM. We are not in a position to lose track of ten dollars let alone thirty times that amount. This ones going to take a while to shake off. I hate being stupid. 12:00:00 AM    says you

Thursday, July 05, 2001

Once upon a time there was a little family in a little town that wanted to have a little fun on the 4th of July. Instead this family became trapped in one of the most bizarre time stretching phenomenon that man has ever seen. I’m talking about a day that begins at 4:05 am as the patriarch of this dubious clan heads out to do a good deed for some of his employees and finds himself laying blankets on the side of a parade route for half of the neighborhood. Not only does he secure a large piece of prime viewing real-estate (ok, so it was on the sunny side of the street. Live and learn) but he still manages to drop off supplies to the marathon workers at the track. Arriving home just in time to help get everyone ready for the parade. Flash foreword to the 2nd hour of the parade and our hero finds himself fully baked by the sun (If you can avoid burnt shins I highly recommend doing so) and new levels of uncomfort are explored as his five year old daughter has chosen to sleep on his lap. Undaunted he finished out the parade in time to do a quick shop for the after parade brunch. This idea is brilliant because this will give him time to feed his guests and possibly squeeze in a little nappy before the fireworks. 7 hours later after grilling 20 odd hotdogs, 18 hamburgers, 12 chicken breasts, 9 pork chops, and 2 lbs of shrimp, its time to decide where to watch the sky fire. As if he knew that his father was in trouble, the baby revealed his amazing BUG BITR CUBED! Mosquitoes are not as stupid as is generally understood because rather than reenter his skin and having to break through the tough outer layer, the all chose to utilize the exact same entrance point. This produced a bug bite that was a cross between a cone shaped party hat and a Dairy Queen cone. Rather than come down with encephalitis or malaria, it just made him mean. Too mean in fact to be allowed out in the general population. So the moron who took the neighborhoods blankets out finally got his nap at 9:30 after putting his angry sideshow attraction to bed. Epilog: the boy seems to be in some form of communicative control over the pests that tried to destroy him. Those in the know are afraid. 12:00:00 AM    says you

Monday, July 02, 2001

Hey, I realized that I was allowing work to flow into my entire life and that just can’t happened. Stress is never a good thing but neither is putting on the happy face all day and coming home to dump on all of the people you care about. This recent epiphany is brought to you by the good people at Arlington Park Race Track. I was partnered with one of the nicest humans on the planet a few days ago but he is no conversationalist. I know this is bad but I put headphones on and I had no batteries for my walkman just to avoid talking about the same 3 subjects. During this self imposed exile I had a lot of time to think (2 hours to be exact) and I was trying to figure this recent fog that has crept into my horizon. I figured it out and it boiled down to being overwhelmed at work. My responsibilities have been thankfully reduced with some much needed help but I can’t shut my brain off at night. I wake up at 4:30 every morning waiting for my pager to go off telling me that someone hasn’t showed up at the track. This isn’t the worst thing I could be doing but I can’t get back to sleep. I end up planning this spectacular day of finally completed tasks that by the end of said same day I’m lucky to finish half. The real problem is I know that there is a smarter way for this company to operate. Just like I know I could smash the heads of Alex Trebec and that snotty Brit from the weakest link together with zero remorse. The answer is sitting in my brain and I can feel it, I know the answer is in me but until it surfaces I’ll keep plodding along doing the immediate, putting out the fires that have the courtesy to burn directly in my path. All of this nonsense boils down to I’m working on the husband father thing a little harder and hoping my work solution comes out of hiding on its own. 12:00:00 AM    says you

Sunday, July 01, 2001

Hey, dam it! I posted that one last night! I have nothing to say as it is the anniversary of my twelfth year of wedded bliss and I have nary a gift to give. Luckily it’s 4:05am and I’m going to the track soon so I’ll shop on the way home. I couldn’t sleep because we had another sleepover tonight and I put myself in some heightened security mode when other little ones are present. Time to make the doughnuts. 12:00:00 AM    says you