Top Five

Over Spring Break, I built a swingset. Now, if you know my wife, you probably understand that this was not going to be your average, metal swingset that we all grew up on. Now, neither of us have a problem with the metal swingsets. In fact, I have many fond memories of playing on my friends'. I remember it like it was yesterday...

Listening to the creaking joints as my friend and I sat face to face, almost uncomfortably so, on the teeter-totter swing of doom. Rust sprinkling down on us as the motion made the two-person swing slowly work its way lower as if it were the device of choice from The Pit and the Pendulum. And lets not forget that sudden rush of fear as someone swung too high, or leaned back too far on the slide steps, bringing the whole set down like a renegade ferris wheel. Oh, and lets not forget washing the rust off my hands before heading inside.

Personally I think imminent danger is a selling point for the traditional swingset, adding an additional element of fun in the minds of every boy on the planet. Luckily, we also like big, wooden castles. So when my wife decided that we should buy a large, wooden swingset (w/ slides, platforms, and...labor), I thought, "cool." Refreshingly, she showed some concern about what kind we should buy, wondering if we should "start small", to which I replied (puffing out my chest), "go big, or go home."

I should've gone home. I worked on this thing nearly every day of my Spring Break, and still have a few small items to fix or add. Still, I'm proud of my accomplishment (the amusing story of its construction has been copyrighted by my wife, so it will be showing up at her blog).

But who is not proud of it? My neighbor.

Now maybe she didn't realize what my wife was explaining to her when it was all explained beforehand. Or maybe she just didn't think it would be as big as it is. Regardless, it is only her reaction that I really care about, and only because besides being an aggravation (and embarrassment), it's pretty damn funny.

Yes, she put up a tarp.

The BEST part of this, however, is what she did after she realized her tarp wasn't quite big enough. She replaced it with...

wait for it...

A CAMO TARP!

Actually, like 7 panels of Camo. Classy, all-American Camo.

At this point outrage has been taken over by sheer amusement at just how ridiculous this is. So what does one DO about 60 feet of Camo tarp bordering your backyard?

Well, I made a top 5 list (would go for 10, but I ran out of props)

5. Inspirational setting to pledge your love....

to Rambo: First Blood

4. BUBBA!!

...what? This doesn't scream "Forrest Gump" to you?

Just be impressed with the Pee-Wee toys.

3. "The first casualty of war

is innocence."

"Platoon" ...*sigh* I really love that movie.

Fozzy as Willem Dafoe is a stroke of genius, if you ask me.

Think what you will of my casting of Disney Characters as the Viet Cong.

2. Pretend you are on the set of M.A.S.H.

Jules studied for his part for days...

1. Film YouTube messages for your Anti-Government Militia.

Digs at the truth more than any of this other works

Yup, we're still surviving.

I'll keep ya posted on the camo developments...

Danny Trejo in my pants.

Danny Trejo

(that guy you recognize from movies, but didn't have a name for)

April 16th, 2009 was a big day in the history of my testicles. Yes, thats right, we're talking about "the scarred ones" again (see Danny Trejo reference) Now if you are new here (*snicker* okay, I realize that would require a growing readership, but bear with me) you may have to go back and do some backlog reading. [check The Quest sidebar]

See, before I entered the DB world, I was under the impression that generally after a certain point in a pregnancy, you were "safe" (cue the omniscient laughter). So on April 16th I went in for what I thought would be the beginning of an entertaining adventure of pain meds and frozen peas: my vasectomy. Since we literally found out about Joel's kidney problems the very next day, the vasectomy story is now only full of bitterly sick irony for me.

BUT in the spirit of commemoration, I give you not the story of the vasectomy, but the vasectomy reversal. Enjoy the link-y goodness:

Eating through a vasectomy reversal (The Quest part...something)

back in the new blog groove

*sigh* so I'm finally blog ready again; something finally broke loose of the logjam in my noggin. Now, I know I've been mentioning this religion-ish entry for a bit of a while now (annoyingly so), and I will get to it, it's just that every time I start to piece it together in my head, I realize it needs to stew a bit longer.

As for today (or tonight, really...well, at this point tonights) I have to go on a bit of a 'work rant'. In an attempt to set the stage, let me briefly set up my work situation: I am a middle school teacher (and clearly a masochist) in a school serving a low-income population ripe with drug activity and absentee parenting. Not to say this school population doesn't have its bright spots. In fact, there are a lot of really great kids at my school. A lot of great kids with big, big hearts.

Now I have all the cliche teacher complaints too: they don't listen, they don't work, they don't get my jokes, they don't offer to wash my car for extra credit. My real problem is when I, or my fellow teachers, talk to the parents.

For every one parent we have that cares and tries to be involved, we have five that feed us bullshit, defend bad behaviors, or just flat out ignore us; It's like a bad parenting hydra. But again, this is not all that uncommon, sadly.

Problem for me is that every time we have one of these invisible parents, my blood boils, probably more than it should. Sure, I always got aggravated with these people before, but after losing Joel... well, parent sensitivities go into over-drive. A little more angry at people that take their children for granted, or just don't take them at all.

m

Every day of work for me (pretty sure I've said this before) is a room full of reminders of what Joel will never be. True, some days my job is a big reminder of what I don't want my children to be, but that too just makes me hate these parents even more.

At this point, honestly, I really just cannot deal with the constant barrage of people that don't give a fuck about their kids. Maybe every once in a while, but I think I'm just still a little too emotionally raw to insure that I remain tactful with these worthless wastes of universal energy. Why couldn't THESE be the people in the World Trade Center back in 2001? I mean, aren't they why people hate America?

*sigh* so yeah, this combined with an upcoming consolidation has me hitting the bricks and heading to a new school next year. If it weren't for the consolidation I'd stick around and drive myself insane (eventually hunting down and tar and feathering the parents that never respond to calls from school). Of course I also feel guilty leaving the people that really and truly helped my wife and I get through everything. Great people.

Anyway, if you have kids, ANSWER THE FUCKING PHONE! (thats our moral)

g'night!

Well then...

So it has been almost another month, so its definitely time for a blog post where I apologize for not keeping my New Year's resolution. Sorry. Over it? good.

I'll be getting back on the blog-bike soon enough, you know, life gives me a minute.