Happy Birthday! Unsucked...

My wife made me an egg white omelet with weight watchers American cheese, on one slice of low-cal whole wheat flat bread for breakfast.

It was dry but it wasn't her fault.

It was a mighty fine sandwich.

My Doctor recently told me to stay away from tomato based foods because of my acid reflux.

Hence, no ketchup on my omelet.

I am 41 today.

Probably the most insignificant birthday I have ever had.

Last year when I turned 40, my wife threw me a surprise birthday party at one of those kid, inflatable bouncy places. There were lasers and obstacle courses and candy and presents and a Captain America cake.

This year my wife asked me, "what

do you want to do on your birthday?"

I said, "I would like you to cook me crunchy chicken with brussel sprouts and mashed potatoes."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

The reason I want this is because I don't get to eat mashed potatoes very often. They are made with milk and butter and I am lactose intolerant. Mashed potatoes give me diarrhea.

Happy 41st Birthday!

I woke up this morning at 6am. It was dark and rainy.

I said to myself out loud, "This sucks."

Why is it that I always feel so down on my birthday?

I still have those same childhood expectations. I still think that birthdays are made for bowling parties, matchbox cars and pin the tail on the donkey. I miss my pointy, cardboard party hat.

My 9 year old daughter came upstairs, jumped on my bed and hugged me. Then she broke into a perfectly silly birthday dance.

That unsucked things a bit.

I walked into the bathroom and paused for a moment to look at my 41 year old face in the mirror. I look older than I did last year. I feel older than yesterday.

I stepped into the shower.

As I was shaving my shoulders, my 5 year old popped her head in the bathroom and shouted a gargantuan "HAPPY BIRTHDAY DADDY!"

My day unsucked just a tiny bit more and it started to seem promising.

Before she ran out, she told me that my peenie looked like Squidward's nose.

Such a simple and bizarre observation but it made me smile.

On the way to the train, I passed an old man riding an ancient 10-speed bicycle in the rain. He was wearing a Cincinnati Bengals jacket, Cincinnati Bengals hat and bright orange, tiger striped, Cincinnati Bengals mittens.

My day unsucked even more.

It was then that I realized that I don't need to wear the proverbial party hat on my birthday. Today doesn't have to live up to any of my silly, little expectations. Today is about the little moments. Today is about the in-betweens. Today my peenie looks like Squidward's nose.

My only expectation for today is the diarrhea that will follow my birthday mashed potatoes and that will do just fine.

The Opposite Of Scary...

A couple of months ago my 9 year old daughter told me that she wanted to dress up as a Cowgirl for Halloween.

I'm all for letting my kids choose their costumes every year. As a parent it gives me great pride to to watch my children exercise their creative muscles. These costumes are a way for them to express themselves through their imagination. For a parent it offers an opportunity to peer through a small window to their mind. Dressing up is a form of role playing. It's an outlet for them to live out their wildest fantasies in a safe and encouraging environment. It's a healthy way to escape the ordinary. This is what Halloween is all about.

But a Cowgirl?

Cowgirl pictured above is not my daughter.

I don't understand.

As far as I know, she is not a fan of John Wayne movies. She has never been to a dude ranch and there hasn't been a Roy Rogers chain in our area for over two decades. (consequently, how awesome were their bacon cheeseburgers? And don't even get me started on their fried chicken)

If I'm being completely honest here, I have to admit that I was a tad disappointed when she broke the news.

A Cowgirl isn't even scary. It's actually the opposite of scary. I just Googled "opposite of scary" and it said, "not scary". This is true. A Cowgirl is not scary.

Do kids even care about Cowgirls anymore?

I mean, only strippers and kids that model Cowgirl costumes dress up as Cowgirls.

You order a Cowgirl outfit on the Internet for your wife on your one year anniversary. Or an alien woman costume. Captain Kirk loved alien women. He was constantly bedding down alien women.

I could understand if it was 1973 and she was obsessed with the movie Westworld. Or even if she was obsessed with the movie Westworld now. I don't think she has ever seen Westworld. Yul Brynner died before she was born and Richard Benjamin is completely irrelevant to her generation.

When I was a kid my mother spent three hours applying makeup to my face so I could dress up like Peter Criss from KISS.

You know what? I wound up looking like a fucking bunny rabbit. There was no bunny rabbit in KISS. I was humiliated.

Now that's scary.

A few weeks ago my wife went ahead and took my daughter shopping for her costume and she wound up abandoning the Cowgirl idea. When she came home and announced this to me I tried to contain my excitement.

She made me sit down and told me to close my eyes.

I heard her frantically tearing the package apart and fumbling to get the costume situated.

I was relieved. My daughter was creative after all. It was all a misunderstanding; a momentary lapse of reason on her part. Who could blame her? She's only 9 and she's finding her own way.

She told me to open my eyes.

As fate would have it...

A God damn Cat.

Whiskers and Cat ears and a tail.

As I sat there and looked at her cute little Cat face, smiling from little Cat ear to little Cat ear, I realized how silly my expectations were.

My name is Jason and my 9 year old daughter is dressing up as a Cat for Halloween and I'm OK with that.

For fuck's sake, she looks more like Peter Criss than I did.

You Were Here...

How do you say "goodbye" to someone that has already gone away?

This is the first thing that popped into my head today when I heard the terrible news.

She had been battling Cancer for nearly a decade. Pushing back the deadly disease with life. She had friends that cherished her, family that relished her and children that revered her. She was beautiful on the outside and soft and kind on the inside. She was strong and smart and all kinds of funny. She was never afraid to mix it up. At least this is what I remember about her.

I haven't seen her in years. Both of us busy with family and business. The usual shit. But every once in awhile there would be an email offering a kind word about my family being beautiful or that my blog made her laugh. That always made me smile.

I don't think we, as human beings, realize how much we contribute to each others lives. The little thoughts and prayers we send out into the universe, the fleeting glances, the smiles, the Facebook "likes". They all mean something.

We often don't notice the significance of a hug or a phone call when it happens but every little thing, good and bad, sticks to our DNA like Velcro darts flung across the room.

All of these things, these tiny little offerings of unnoticeable generosity, sit on us like dust sits on a forgotten bookshelf.

I sent her an email the other day. I only wanted her to know that she was being thought of. It sounds weird to say that to someone but it really is one of the most honest truths that can be communicated to another human being.

"I'm thinking of you."

You are a part of me. You are a part of every single person that had the pleasure of meeting you. You are in our DNA. The thoughts and memories of you can't be stopped.

How do you say "goodbye" to someone that is already gone?

You remember them.

And smile at the person next to you on the train or the bus or at the supermarket or wherever you are. A person's legacy can simply be the smile they gave to you, passed on to another.

You are already missed friend... Even in God's arms you are still here with all of us.

I'm Flying! I'm Stupid! YAY!

OK. So I'm on a plane and I'm blogging.

One of my secret guilty pleasures, is perusing Delta Sky Mall magazine.

If you are not familiar with Sky Mall, it is an in-flight magazine that is sort of like the print version of QVC. The products are so insane that apparently only people who are very high up in the sky are permitted to read it.

Here are three of my favorites from the Summer 2011 installment and please forgive the shitty picture quality. I'm blogging from a big, steel bird in the sky.

1. Very tired man sleeping on very huge pillow on a plane:

or as they call it: "SKY REST" $29.95

The description says, "The miraculous, wedge-shaped travel pillow makes even the most uncomfortable spots downright pleasant."

You've got to be kidding me. My neck hurts from just looking at the picture. It's also a God damn fire hazard. I'm guessing you need to be really drunk to appreciate it or maybe just a mental patient. I'm pretty sure Delta would actually make you check that with the rest of your luggage. I'm also guessing this guy had to purchase two seats. I'm sticking with the whole falling asleep on the person next to me plan.

2. What is your cat doing in the furniture?

Or as they call it: "KITTY WASHROOM" $99.98

That's right folks. Do you want to keep your kitty's litter box out of site and at the same time ad a beautiful piece of furniture to your home? Well if it seems too good to be true, it probably is. Yes, this country style, bleached wood end table and cabinet, houses your feline's shit box. Because a pile of cat poo wasn't bad enough in your basement? Now not only will your living room smell like a cats ass but your friends and guests will think you are a disgusting, filthy human being.

"Helen, is that a new piece of furniture?"

"Why yes it is? Do you like it?"

"It's gorgeous! Did you shit your pants?"

Why not turn your bathtub into a urinal for the town meth addict? Or perhaps convert your refrigerator into a morgue? Why stop there?

3. The Kill Me Slowly Helmet Thingy

Or as they call it: "iRESTORE HAIR LASER" $499

This is how this brain helmet works. "Just sit, relax and 650nm lasers and red luminous optical lights provide phototherapy, a scientific process providing stimulation to cells in your hair follicles."

What about the part where the wizard turns you into a jack-o'-lantern and tiny little monkeys fly out of your piehole? This thing either does absolutely nothing or it is going to burn your fucking skull cap off. My favorite part is the guy in the picture is just casually wearing his cancer hat while watching TV or surfing the net. So here's the deal. You're going bald. You're insecure. So insecure that you are willing to do anything to keep whatever hair you have left but at the same time, you have no problem with wearing this designer Storm Trooper helmet. Honey, if you ever catch me wearing this around the house, please hit me with the biggest frying pan we have.

I hope there isn't a guy wearing an iRestore on the plane. They should probably alter the in-flight announcements just in case.

"Will all passengers now please turn off all personal electronic devices, including cellphones, laptops and iRestore Hair Therapy Treatment Helmets."

We're probably gonna crash.

Hello. How May I Not Help You?

The other day, I had the most absurd, maddening and yet extremely hilarious exchange with an online customer service representative.

Here is the product I was trying to purchase as it appeared on the website:

Red Bamboo Rug (3' Octagonal)

My questions were: What are the measurements of the rug? And what does 3' Octagonal mean?

Here is my exchange with the online customer service representative, who is clearly not named Palmer:

Palmer: Hi, my name is Palmer. How may I help you?

Visitor: Hi Palmer.

Visitor: I'm looking for the measurements of a rug.


Visitor: It says 3' Octagonal and I don't know what that means.

Palmer: It is 'Red Bamboo Rug (3' Octagonal)', correct?

Visitor: yes

Palmer: Since this rug comes with the thickness of 0.125 inch it is considered as 8 edged rug hence it is called Octagonal Rug.

Visitor: OK

Visitor: What are the dimensions though?

Palmer: Dimension of the rug is 3 ft. octagonal.

Visitor: I still don't understand. What is the length and what is the width?

Palmer: It comes with the dimensions of Height: 3 Width: 3Length: 36.

Visitor: 36 inches long and 3 feet wide?

Palmer: Yes, that is correct.

Visitor: But wait. If it's 36" long and 3' wide, wouldn't that make it a square? Because the rug is in the shape of a rectangle.

Visitor: And how could the height be 3 feet if it's a rug?

Palmer: I am sorry, I am unable to locate the information on the product page.

Palmer: I apologize for the inconvenience that caused to you.

Visitor: Where did you get Height: 3 Width: 3Length: 36 from?

Palmer: It is described in Product Description page.

Visitor: Can you send me a link to that page?

Visitor: I don't see a product description page with that information.

Palmer: I am sorry, we do not have an option to send that link.

Palmer: Thanks for visiting our website Have a nice day.

Palmer has disconnected.

Of course I went ahead and ordered the rug. I had to have answers and I certainly wasn't getting them from "Palmer".

This is what was delivered to me:

Of course! Now this makes total sense to me.

Thanks "Palmer"!

*Wraps self in 3' Octagonal Red Bamboo Rug and Jumps through closed window*...

When Her Face Gets Long...

I dropped the Meatball off at DAYCARE for the last time today.

$68,000 worth of days and care.

A Lincoln Navigator's worth of TLC.

Each and every single copper coin well spent.

First the Monkey and now the Meatball.

Both now chapters in a book not yet finished. Every page read, carefully  torn from the binding and folded up into imperfect, little, paper airplanes that forever glide above a wind that has no clear destination.

Running races to the door. So many running races. I let them win every single one.

The Starbucks is right next door.

Winters accompanied by steaming hot Grandes. Summers flush with Iced Ventis.

The kid behind the counter knows my name. I didn't even say goodbye.

Will he wonder where I've gone?

I'd like to think he will.

This day took forever to arrive. Like a final exam, I couldn't wait for it to end. Summer on the otherside, if I could just make it till then.

If you don't stay in the moment, if you don't stay right smack dab in the middle of the God Damn running races, time will pass you in the HOV lane like an angry Taxi.

The Meatball graduates from Preschool today and I suppose I do too.

Both of us passed that final exam after all and as promised, the summer was waiting on the other side.

The Meatball's face is still round. A sure sign that we still have time.

Time to procrastinate.

Time to prepare.

Time to study for the next final exam.

The Monkey's face was round too once.

When the face gets long, the innocence begins to fade.

An observation that seems like fact as far as I can tell.

This is how you tell time as a parent. Just watch the face. Watch it like you would a flower, blooming in time lapse.

It seems slow but it wants to trick you.

The Meatball's face is still round.

I'm going to watch it like a flower starting right now...

Counting My Blessings...

1. Twenty little painted toenails.

2. Long fluttering eyelashes attached to four puppy dog eyes.

3. Two mischievous smiles.

4. Endless parades of kisses.

5. Dance recitals.

6. Holding hands crossing the street.

7. Snuggling on the couch.

8. Bedtime stories.

9. Uncontrollable giggles.

10. Tears of Joy.

11. Princess costumes.

12. Playing family.

13. Mounds of stuffed animals.

14. Pink (the color).

15. Smiley faces, Peace signs and Hearts.

16. Pictures on the refrigerator.

17. Helping with homework.

18. A renewed appreciation for cupcakes.

19. Freckled cheeks.

20. Swing sets

21. Are we there yet?

22. Scraped knees and elbows to kiss and make better.

23. Being needed.

24. Being Wanted.

25. Being Loved.

26. Fatherhood.

If it weren't for my kids, I'd be celebrating useless, lazy, selfish, asshole person day.

Today I'm counting my blessings.