Love Hurts

 The top 3 most painful things I have ever experienced have been: 

1. Shunt malfunctions 

2. Gallstones 

3. Ruptured appendix 

However, a short while ago, another experience made a strong case for itself. I was holding who I thought was my nice little niece, but unbeknownst to me, Cloé had morphed into the sadistic spawn of Zinedine Zidane and she whipped her head back like a wicked Willow Smith and turned her beautiful baby brain container into a battering ram for reasons I’m sure I deserve, but are a bit unclear to me at the moment. This cranial collision caused a rather unfortunate rearranging of the four pieces of information on constant rotation in my head: 1. When rent is due 2. Where to find the mayo at work 3. Lines from Monty Python and the Holy Grail 4. A good portion of the names from the Detroit Red Wings 2002 Stanley Cup winning roster. I still love you, Cloé! 👶

A Birthday to Remember

 When I was a kid I was in and out of the hospital quite a lot and a “tradition” that my dad and I had was when I finally got to go home, we would take all of the “Get Well Soon” balloons, release them off of the back deck and shoot them with BB guns. The good news is I have been hospital free for about a decade. The bad news is one of my neighbors just had one of those parade processions of cars decorated with streamers and balloons  for someone’s birthday. The good news is I still got it. The bad news is I think I simultaneously ruined a birthday party and made it one they will never forget. “Hey man, welcome to Little Florida where we don’t do drive bys, we do drive thrus!”

Isolated Incident

Quarantine Journal Day eleventeen bajillion and four: I have begun to notice void, empty space on my walls and become more cognizant and opinionated about the layout of my furniture and my thoughts have spun out of control and now seem to be things like “A picture would look nice over here.” And “What if I angled this couch this way?” With my home gym, I was really hoping to come out of quarantine looking like an inside linebacker, but with each passing day I fear I may very well leave this life experience pursuing a career in interior design. Dear Lord, please end this now!

Sleeping Streep

I would never claim to have the look or dramatic chops of an “A list” actor and I am probably more of a “Me list” actor, there is one scene in life where I seem to excel (Unnecessary explanation time and a horrifying glimpse inside the mind of Mark Woonton, the last word in the epilogue of the “ABC” song is “me” so if “A list” actors are the best and “t” equals 4 then we can conclude that “me list” actors are in fact the bottom of the barrel. Everyone onboard? Oh, you understand this whole time and I sound like a pompous, arrogant numbskull? My bad 😢.) If my phones ringing wakes me up and the person on the other end goes “Did I wake you up?” I think it is socially accepted that one lies in this situation. Even though it is tough to disguise, I have to be like “No, my voice always sounds like the Winter Warlock and Frankenstein had a child together. Come on, you know that my vocal cords are made out of both the leftover wood from a haunted house door and a medieval drawbridge.” I have been pretty convincing every time, so either the other person is like “okay, this kid is a lying piece of garbage, but I have things to do so I’ll keep it moving” or I am on point at all times and one dang fine dramatic actor. 😀

Wild, Wild Aisle

At the grocery store a guy came up behind me in a cowboy hat with a bandana over his mouth and I honestly thought I was going to be the victim of a Market Basket burglary from Butch Cartsidy and the SunChips Kid. So I froze in place, looked as helpless as I could (which is not very hard for me 🤓) and exclaimed “Oh my heavens.” He glanced at the contents of my cart, which was lined with Caesar kit salads and then gave me a look that said “You strike me as the kind of person who does math problems in his free time for fun” and he moved on. Let that be a lesson, always ALWAYS conceal any alcohol and tobacco products in your cart with a few decoy salads that you are just going to hand to the cashier at checkout. It just might save your life.

Ultimate Fahrenheit Championship

Yesterday morning before I left for work I was out shoveling my driveway. Now, what you have to understand is that the majority of my neighborhood is flatter than a two year old soda in Ben Stein's fridge. I don't know if God just had in extra hunk of clay laying around and He was like "💩 Done!" or maybe an angel thought it would be funny to nudge His elbow when He was drawing up the floor plan. Either way, my driveway has some very unpleasant angling to it and after doing about 80% of the shoveling, I had a thought that I can safely tell you rarely ever enters my head and that is "I am too dang hot!" I know, I know. You can stop laughing and shut up now. Of course, when I say "you" I don't mean YOU specifically, I mean everyone else. Anyway, the problem is, because I work in a hospital I am not allowed in if I have a high temperature. So, still sweating profusely, I drive to work without a coat on and all of my windows down as if I'm trying to "make temperature" for a fight in the UFC, Ultimate Fahrenheit Championship. I nervously wait outside for a moment, staying absolutely still and thinking about the coldest thoughts I can think of, like two penguins arguing over a pebble and never speaking to each other again. Eventually, I enter the hospital and I am immediately descended upon by two people dressed like the Michelin Man preparing to go into outer space. They wave this magic wand over my forehead, and I hear the three magic words that baffle me every time I hear them from a doorman, my friend's parents or my parents "Come on in."

November Reign

I’m stuck between wanting to share a feel good tale of every day self sacrifice and heroism unrelated to the news stories circulating and also not wanting to sound like an arrogant piece of garbage, because the “hero” of this story is me! 🤓

The family went for a walk in the peaceful village of Pelham, New Hampshire. Seemingly out of nowhere, a rafter of turkeys (a group of turkeys is called a rafter, sorry for making you learn 😜) ambushed us from out of a side yard and they looked like they meant business and clearly had extensive training from their time in the Turkish military. I channeled my inner “Godfather” and ran right at them making a sound very similar to that thing Shakira did at halftime. Possibly terrified, but most likely just looking for a more scenic route devoid of any nerdy Neanderthals, the turkeys turned around and headed back towards the woods, leaving my family and I alone. Once I felt they were a safe distance away I shouted “SEE YOU AT THANKSGIVING!”

The Bet

Following my birth, a very sadistic and highly unprofessional team of doctors placed a wager. It has come to my attention that immediately after our introduction, you all have been given an opportunity to place a bet and “get in on the action.” The bet revolves around the first time in my life I would be in my room putting away laundry and accidentally shove my hand into a running ceiling fan whilst fixing an inside out pant leg. I was given an admittedly very generous over/under date of March 5, 2020. To anyone who showed some faith in me and took the over, I would just like to take a moment and say thank you for believing in me and express how truly, deeply sorry I am. 😢 I hope you didn’t lose too much money

Acting Out

There have been certain moments in my life that I feel have served as solid “Parent Preparation.” Whether it be waking up in the middle of the night to let sweet little Sammy out or taking Sammy for a walk, feeding him and playing with him and then 1p.m. rolls around and I think to myself (🎵what a wonderful world🎵) “Have I eaten yet today?” And not that you asked or want to know, but I have also had to cut poop out of his fur and I figure anything poop related gives you “parent points.”

I was watching an XFL game between the St. Louis Battlehawks and the Seattle Dragons. Any time someone made a great catch, run or solid play on defense, I couldn’t help but express the kind of artificially inflated enthusiasm one must have that first time that their child shows them an epileptic episode of abstract art and says “I drew a picture of the family out in front of the house, what do you think?” And I gotta be honest, right now I don’t think I have it in me to not be like “Listen Marky Jr., Daddy is gonna tell you the truth. I have been to art museums in Madrid and what I am looking at right now is not worthy to hang as a restroom sign in that building.” Only in the case of the XFL and what is an eventual scenario I should probably prepare myself for, all of my “children” could definitely knock me down with as little as an excessive exhale.