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Sunday, September 3, 2006

Another Lasy Sunday (not meant as an SNL reference in any way) ...



Sunday.


I close on sundays. And I hate to say it but I really do love closing on sundays. Back when our store had a nose-to-the-book assistant store manager I was forced to close at least once a week or lose my job. So I had to close despite the fact that at the time I was completely unable to close due to my wife's work schedule and our one car. Whatever. It was all work bullshit and pointless paperwork and I don't subscribe to all that. I sucked it up and told them I'd close on sundays only because we close earlier than usual on sundays.


So Now every sunday I get to wake up with the kids and fuck around on the internet and put in some shitty dvd we've seen a million times (Pirates of the Johnny Depp) and drink some coffee and altogether do pretty much nothing. It's awesome. And then, at one in the afternoon, I get ready to go to work. Its a well welcomed rest from waking up at 6am every morning. Plus the closing is usually nice and mellow, a welcomed rest from the stress and heavy lifting and crying I usually do at work.


Emotions at work are pretty grim. It's at least the slightest bit comforting to know that I'm not the only one that wants to kill themselves at work. Things are really dark over there, save the occasional teenage giggle from one of the eternally happy chicks. But they are spread pretty thin. Most people have the same face, the same mood. Everyone is working above and beyon what they're supposed to be doing. Everyone is spread thin. Everyone is dying and getting screwed, although no one is more screwed than I.




Emerald is getting dressed. She's in a dress, as always. She tries to wear a dress pretty much every single day. It's starting to ruffle my brown feathers but she says she's a girl and girls wear dresses. I told her she HAS to wear shorts tomorrow or we won't take her to school on tuesday. God. She's going to school this tuesday.


I can't believe it. She's going to school.




Her father Mark just came to pick Emerald up. They're going to spend the day together. I think I've really come far when it comes to Emerald's real father. I mean, for starters I actually look at him now. That's a huge jump. And secondly I actually say words to him. That's a massive step to what I used to do, believe me.


I get jealous of Mark sometimes. I struggled to be allowed to be Emerald's daddy. I stayed up with her, I held her, I fought with her, I bought her medicine when she was sick and when she was frightened of having her own room I slept in the bed with her and I took baths with her and played with her and it was a three year long uphill battle to get Emerald to call me her daddy. I earned being her daddy.


But this big doucher gets to just waltz in whenever he wants and gets to be father. He didn't earn being a father like I earned being a daddy. And that hurts. Sometimes.


Here's another shitty Beatles cartoon ...




Natasha is once again going to be making some money that doesn't involve spanking people. She's got a few kids that she's going to babysit and the government is going to be paying her. So she'll be bringing in about $600 a month as opposed to the $000 she's bringing in now. Can't wait for that money to come in because we've been struggling to live on my small little bookstore paycheck, which is in no way enough to support a family of two. We've had some extremely rough times but it's so refreshing to finally see some light ahead. plus the unexpected but awesome $25 gift check really helped make food a reality for us.


I have POPCORN in the house right now! Do you know how long its been since we could afford popcorn? God its been forever.


It's the little things that matter the most when you're broke as fuck.




One year later and I know realize who is to blame for Hurricane Katrina ...


ANNE RICE!


Here's my Anne Rice-slash-Katrina theory ...


Anne Rice loves New Orleans, she lives there and writes her entertaining yet pretentious faggy vampire books there and sets them all in New Orleans and these books entertain goth chicks and theater fags and ren fair freaks all over the world.


Then, out of nowhere, this crusty goth bitch who made millions on vampires and witches and blood and death decides to say a big F-U to her fans and find Jesus.


But does Jesus want this pretentious whore as one of her followers? Hell no! So what does he do to send a message to Anne Rice?




That's my theory and I'm pretty sure I'm right.


So now that Jesse is sending me a mic, I can finally start my rap career. So get ready bitches because Early Bedtyme and the B.S.O. are gonna be sending some fat (in no way some teenage white kid's) rhymes up your asses.


Until then, here's some free music for y'all ...


Modest Mouse: Wild Pack of Family Dogs

Johnny Mercer: Accentuate the Positive

White Stripes: Ashtray Heart (rare)

White Stripes: Now Mary

Nirvana: Love Buzz (rare)

Supere Deluxe: Years Ago

The Kinks: Where Have All the Good Times Gone

Tom Petty: Big Weekend

Sex Pistols: Submission

Street to Nowhere: They're Not Like Us

Home Movies: Rock Opera of Franz Kafka


... and FINALLY a song that's REALLY named after me ...


Panic! at the Disco: I Constantly Thank God For Esteban


That's about it. Death to shooshers. Wind clan out!

3 comments:

johnmc. said...

My mother gave me a magnet once that sums things up pretty well - any man can be a father, but it takes a real man to be a daddy.

Anonymous said...

Look at it this way genetic dad is her novelty. You are and always will be her heart. You Should never be jealous when you have that.

Natasha said...

The only reason she even sees her father is so that she won't resent us for it in the long run.
I will never keep her from him as long as she wants to see him.
But she will come to realize that he only wants to be a part-time father, and she will thank you for being in her life through EVERYTHING.
Thank you for being her daddy. I love you.