A spectacle-tacular day!

Yesterday was the big day! No my selective service number did not come up. I'm getting to old for that kind of thing. No it was the day for the annual eye exam!

I must admit that this was prompted only by vanity. While getting X-mas pics at JCP the other day with two extremely uncooperative kids, I was perusing the adjacent optical salon and saw a frame that I liked. I have not had new glasses in five years, so, wanting to be avant-garde and stylish, I decided that now is the time to update. 

So the exam was yesterday. I made sure that I arrived on time and picked up a magazine in the waiting room. It was some sort of girlie magazine (no not that kind!), Cosmo or something like that. I don't need any advice they had to offer, so I read Money magazine instead. I have one word for this publication: Yawn. Hedge funds! Tax brackets! Annuities! Retirement planning! Cash outlays! Maybe I should have read that article about my G-spot after all...

The highlight of the waiting room experience was looking down and seeing a cresent-shaped piece of crud nestled in my shirt. What in tarnation is that?, I thought, somewhat scared. It looked like a clipped fingernail that has somehow migrated north and stuck to my chemise. How's that for gross? Upon inspection, I found out that it actually was a dried-up Ramen noodle from lunch that fell and stuck to my shirt. Classy. I thought about eating it, but I decided that their has to be some sort of limit to my conduct in public. 

It turns out that the inevitable has happened- I am going back to bifocals! It was only a matter of time, but as I told the doctor: "I don't understand why book publishers keep using a smaller and smaller font these days." It ain't the font unfortunately...

Anyway, I'll get the new specs in about two weeks. Now my only remaining question is what color grandma chain should I get so I don't lose them?

electoral epitatph

R.I.P. 2012 elections. I'm gonna miss you, but I don't know what I'll miss most...

Could it be the trashy low class political ads that many Americans chose to watch? Could it be the garbage mailers that inundated my mailbox?  Could it be the wastefulness of people putting up 5-10 of the same signs in their yards (seriously, WTF)? Could it be the nauseating amount of money that was spent by corporations and super-pacs because of that horrid Citizens United Supreme Court decision? Could it be the latent and overt racism? Could it be the trashing of a man's religious beliefs? I'll be honest, it's none of these things. 

 Now, anyone who knows me at all realizes that I am extremely happy about the outcome of last night's elections and certain ballot measures (way to go Maryland and Maine- civil rights always take the day).  Be that as it may, there's a lot of work to do to create a true democracy where every human is valued and appreciated, not for what s/he produces, but for what s/he is.

Clearly, some people are not happy with last night's election results or the direction in which they perceive we are going. That is o.k. Being a good citizen and a good human to me means loving everyone no matter what differences we may have. And lastly, WE (all of us) are the government. It's not some preternatural nebulous entity that exists on a metaphysical plane.

Election rejection

The scribbling daddy will not be able to write tonight. Currently he is tracking the state-by-state election results using an advanced statistical algorithm designed by NASA clipping his toenails as it is more exciting.

Just finish it already!!!!!

So the idea of compression has been on my mind for the past few hours. My first job was a fun one- working in the duodenum of a ginormous drug store/cheap plastic crap emporium. My duties were to run the cardboard box compressor in said bowels and wrap bailing wire around them for recycling. The smushing machine was a real beast and I was perpetually covered in grease and oil. Yum! If I remember correctly there were 124,845,936,201 OSHA infractions in the little chamber. How I never compressed myself is a miracle. Can you imagine a 5'9" 130 pound guy running what was essentially a trash compactor for hours on end? Those were joyous times for sure. 

That leads me to today: As I was listening to "Performance Today" on NPR (if you don't know what that is, it's a classical music show- any of you questioning my manliness right now, I'll meet you in the alley after school!). Apparently some dude is taking an opus that lasts 14 hours and choosing the essential notes and making it last a measly hour. Right on, I say. Fourteen hours of anything is synonymous to torture as far as I'm concerned. This leads me to my current thoughts:

What in the hell is wrong with us in The good ol' U.S. of A.? This presidential election silliness needs to be compressed way way down to the essentials. I mean, we've been listening and following this garbage for TWO FULL YEARS! Give me a break. What's worse is that it'll all start up again in 2014 and well get another TWO FULL YEARS of this blabbering shite! I think I may go media free for a while, because honestly, I cannot stand any more!!!!!! We are like horses with broken legs- just put us out of our f***ing misery, please. 

Here is the time table I propose for the next go-round:

The Friday before election day 2016: Republican National Convention

The Saturday before election day 2016: Democratic National Convention

The Sunday before election day 2016: A day reserved for whining about the fact that 3rd parties are not taken seriously and never invited to participate in whatever horrid convention, etc. that we can be lashed with by the major buffoons political parties.

The Monday before election day 2016: The one and only debate between the two candidates. Each candidate will get EXACTLY 4 minutes to talk.

Election day: Vote and go home.

Let's be clear: this is a fantasy and will never happen (damn it!) so starting January 2014, I'll be tuning out, turning off, and dropping out. I can't wait.

Why didn't y'all just stay home?

So last night I decided that actually attempting to create something mildly nutritional so that my children will not be shackled to the yoke of ricketts or scurvy was not possible. I decided that plan B (no not that pregnancy pill, you dirty scoundrel) was more beneficial to...well... ME! And thusly was the decision to crank up the 2011 Honda Fit that gets me and others places. 

When we got to the restaurant, I noticed a dad and his son sitting across from each other. He of the puerile persuasion was glued to the screen of his I-Pad, I-Phone, I-don't really care what it is cause I-will never have one of them there I-thingamabobs. As if that were not antisocial enough, I noticed that the elder diner (who was actually younger than me) had a set of headphones pardon me, "earbuds" in listening to something or somewhat or whatever. 

Being a traditionalist when it comes to media devices (I still call the operator to connect me whist dialing on my rotary phone), I was aghast and confused. Why bother going out of the damn house if you are not going to interact with the kids? As I was lauding myself for being a superior father than he of the temporary aural implants, I turned to Carter Marie and said "Are you enjoying your food, honey?" I was meant with the stone cold silence that I used to endure whenever I asked a girl out on a date between the ages of 16 and 31. More uncomfortable than an undersized pair of wool tightie-whities.

And what does my dear daughter say to me. "Leave me alone Dad, I'm watching Ice Age on that boy's computer over there."

'Tis moments such as these that add the "joie" to my "vivre"