The end of an era...

Yes, this former germ-a-phobe has come to the realization that life does continue even after you're subjected to germs...

T.V.'s Monk had nothing on me. I wasn't an O.C.D. case, but I was as close as you could get. However, after all the stuff you go through after 2 kids, there's not really any room to fear cooties and whatnot.

These things just happen. Fate has a twisted sense of humor...

No matter how careful you are, you're going to stick your hand in a dirty diaper. Unless you change diapers with latex gloves, expect to scrub under your fingernails for 30 minutes and still feel filthy.

If you have a boy, they will pee on you when you change their diaper. Hate to tell you, but no human being on this planet is quick enough to change a #2 diaper on a boy and not get peed on at least one time. If there is such a person, please make yourself known. (Cricket noises) Yeah, that's what I thought...

As Jeff Foxworthy said, "Babies are nauseated by the smell of a clean shirt." Don't hold a baby if you want your clothes to stay clean. Just don't do it. It's Newton's 4th law. If there were 11 commandments, this would be #2, and I would bump another one of the less important ones down...

One of the things I've learned is that the baby vomit smell is harder to get out of clothes than skunk stank. You can't bleach something enough to get that smell out. Last night, after my softball game, I was holding my son (who's sick right now) and he was acting like he was feeling better. Happy, but not energetic, not bouncing or anything, just content.
Then like the stealth vomiter he is, he blew like freaking Mount Vesuvius what looked like a half gallon of old milk, mixed with rotten yogurt. It went everywhere, and I'm not exaggerating. My brother was sitting in front of me and it practically covered his back and one of his legs. My shorts were dripping and there was a puddle in my shoes as well as my brother's shoe. My brother almost had an aneurysm. I thought he was gonna break down in tears he was so grossed out. My poor son is crying because he thinks he's in trouble and somehow I stayed calm until we got home and I changed; after sitting and walking around in it for 45 minutes.

Parenting changes so many things about you. Most people would say that it changes your outlook on life or the way you think about things. For me, it opened up my eyes to the fact that babies take all your boundaries and shatter them like a mirror hit with a 2 ton bomb... I think that's what I needed though.

HOCKEY!!!

So long story short, I ended up winning some killer Av's tickets the other night and the game was a blast. All 4 of us, plus my brother went to the game. There were 3 fights right in front of us, 9 goals in the game, Av's won. Soooooo amaz-za-zing...
My brother is planning on trying out for them next year. He's going to play for the best high school team in the state, Arvada High, and then when he graduates this next year, he'll try out for the Av's so he won't ruin his eligibility. Yes, I used to play, but then I got two teeth knocked. Funny how looking like a hockey player made me NOT want to become one...

My brother already has a 85 mph slap shot (I believe the fastest recorded slap shot ever is 108) and he's hoping to get his even faster. He told he wants to get to 100 because scientific studies show that the human eye can't track objects coming at them at 100mph or faster. So in his mind, a goalie won't stand a chance. What he doesn't remember is that a year ago, he hit a slap shot that the goalie caught and it broke his hand. Or that 3 years ago he hit a slap shot so hard that after sailing the air for 20 feet, it hit a kids stick and broke it in half. Or that a few weeks ago he broke another kid's shin guard with his shot. I'd say his shot is plenty fast, but I can't knock him for wanting to get it even faster. I feel sorry for the guy he's practicing against. Story says that Bobby Hull's shot was faster, so fast that he dislocated a goalie's shoulder. That's my brother new goal. A little morbid, but a good goal, I guess...

Tired...

This is a picture of my son, but I'm as tired as he looks...

Top 5 things to NOT do at work

1. Puke. Do I really need to explain this one? Someone here threw up in our office today. If you're that sick, go home.

2. Qualify anything coming out of your mouth with, "This may sound dumb..." Too late. You've already set my expectations high, so this better be stupid...

3. Mess anything up. They'll hold it over your head for the rest of your days there, if not your life.
Forget to color coordinate the post it notes? How dare you!
Open a piece of mail that should normally be opened? And I didn't tell you that I wanted it to remain unopened? You pathetic little creature!
Mispronounce a name or forget a person's name? MAY YOU BURN IN THE 7TH RING OF HELL!!!!

4. Tell a secret. Remember Ben Franklin's mantra about secrets, "3 can keep a secret if 2 are dead." If you're upset with someone at your work, and aren't brave enough to confront them, don't tell anyone else that you're angry. It'll get back to that person and then you'll be in an even more uncomfortable position. Oh, and never tell anyone else that you're looking for another job. I don't care how good of friends you are with this person, they'll find someone to tell. In fact, if you tell anyone in your office you want to leave, you've given them permission to shout it from the rooftops. They'll be like a mosquito at a nudist colony; they won't know where to start...

5. Do anything if you don't know how to. This is guaranteed trouble. If you start messing with something and don't know how to do it, you might as well just pour lighter fluid on it, strike a match, and walk away. Think of it this way; every extra second you spend trying to get the object to do what you want when you have no idea how, you're adding 10 minutes of time it takes me to fix whatever the hell you did, PLUS you're subtracting years off of MY life because you've caused me stress and forced me to build an unnatural hatred at the mere mention of your name. I have been on both sides of this, so I guess I should be a little nicer, but this is a huge pet peeve of mine.

Elevator Etiquette

What is it with people and not following the rules when it comes to elevators? There aren't that many and they are not hard to follow either. Here, since y'all don't have a clue as to what I'm talking about, here's my own personal 10 commandments:

1. Do NOT under ANY circumstances stick any body part into a closing elevator door. What the crap are you thinking? First of all, it's bloody annoying. We're upset that you were in such a hurry that you felt the need to let out a karate yell and stick an appendage in the elevator doors to go up the elevator 27 seconds faster than if you waited for the next one. Plus you get to feel our icy stares the entire way up. For the love of meat, just wait for the next one...
Secondly, YOU COULD DIE!!! What if those doors slammed on your arm and the elevator continued to go up? "It's supposed to stop for me" you might say. People aren't supposed to hit and run, drink and drive, and they should always pay attention to where they're going to, but I don't see you sticking your foot in front of a speeding car. You may think I'm being paranoid, but here's proof:
http://www.snopes.com/horrors/freakish/elevator.asp
Be safe and be patient. Wait for the next freaking elevator...
2. Don't push a level/floor button that's already been pushed. How dare you think that your button pushing skills are better than mine! If you really have to push a button, push the close door button. It doesn't do anything (just like crosswalk buttons), but it's better than insinuating that my button pushing is inferior.
3. I know you saw me walking behind you. You even walked faster in order to beat me to the elevator. Then you gave me that stupid look as the door closed in my face as if to say, "Oh, I didn't see you!" and proceeded to pretend like you tried to hold the door for me. Rule #3 is to always be kind to the people behind you and hold the door for them. The elevator gods are always watching and they will send you bad ju ju. Elevator ju ju is the worst kind... refer to the link in rule #1. Bet she never held the door for anyone either...
4. No asking stupid questions or trying to start conversation cause you're socially awkward and learned a new "how to talk to people" technique on Oprah. We don't have to talk in here. I'm perfectly content thinking about my broken washing machine, my overdrawn checking account, the fact that my socks don't match, and that I forgot my lunch and have no cash. Here's a couple tips: Don't EVER start a sentence with "so", "ummm", "wow", or any other vague adverb that only requires a one word answer. "So, you work here?" No, I'm actually inventing a new sport, "Extreme Elevator Riding"...
"Wow, great weather huh?" Sure is, why don't you go enjoy it so I can ride the elevator in peace? Speaking of "huh", don't end a question in "huh?" either. It makes you sound stupid and it forces me to answer in a stupid way like, "Yup" or "Uh-huh". Just stay away from yes and no questions as a general rule. If you HAVE to awaken me from half-sleepy stupor on the ride up, at least have the decency to ask me a somewhat intelligent question that will make me want to stay and talk with you.
5. Touch me and I swear to the elevator gods I will bite you; and no I haven't had my shots. That's just if you're a girl. If you're a dude, I'll give you a purple nurple until your knees lock and you pass out.
6. Yes, I smell that too. No it wasn't me and since there's only two of us, that makes one of us a liar. Pretending like you're just getting your first whiff doesn't make me think you're innocent. It makes me think you're a crappy liar. Your wife and even your mistress may fall for it, but your dog and I know the truth. Thanks so much for making me smell your $1.13 breakfast burrito. Please go crawl in a hole and poison yourself instead of me...
7. Don't touch me. I have space issues. I don't mind riding in an elevator with lots of people, I just don't want them all touching me. Germ-aphobe? You better believe it! Today you'll shake hands with 10 people who went the bathroom and didn't wash their hands. Americans as a whole received a "D" in hand washing. I hope you see my point...
8.If your floor is one of the first ones we go to, stand in the front, stupid. Don't push your way through. Push me, and I'll push you back, but I'll make sure you fall on your face, scuff your $400 shoes, wrinkle your $1800 Banana Republic shirt-pant combo, spill your $8 coffee and accidentally goose the cute girl in front of you so that she slaps you unconscious.
9. Don't ask about my lunch. It's personal. It's my lunch, I don't want to tell you where I got it or how much I paid for it and I really don't want to hear about what you got and how good of a deal it was. Don't comment on how good my lunch smells either. That's just plain weird.
10. Stare at me and you'll suffer the same fate as people who touch me. Have I mentioned how much I hate being touched?


"The secret to success is knowing who to blame for your failures."

Oh boy!!! Sports is fun...

Last night was a great night for my ego. I play softball, not very well, but good enough that they keep asking me to play. However, the last few weeks, I've been playing really well. I normally pitch, but I got moved to shortstop (or 2nd when needed) and I really like shortstop. I've been making good plays and hitting pretty well, but last night, I was on fire.

It started out with a routine out to first base and then a leaping catch for the 2nd out of the first inning. I'm not sure how I caught the ball considering that normally you can barely get a dollar bill under my feet when I jump, but I got it. The rest of the game just went my way and if the ball was anywhere near me, I seemed to get it and turn out great plays. I hit pretty well, but then came the last inning. There was either 2 runners on base or 3. We'll just say 3 so that it sounds better...

It's what every kid dreams of... batting in the 5th inning of a "D" competitive league softball game, bases loaded, full count. The 17 fans watching are either finishing their overpriced pretzel or picking their nose and you're at bat. It's your job to make their wildest dreams come true, or at least wake them up on the bleachers. Well, the pitch was perfect and I swung. It went into the center-field gap and I ran as fast as my chicken legs would carry me. Basically I look like a potato on two toothpicks, so that must have been the cheering/laughing I heard in the stands. I ran hard and got all the way to 3rd before the outfielder got the ball to the shortstop. I stopped at third and the third base coach told me to go, so I ran for home. It's a race... it's a race.... I'm winning!! I beat the throw to home without even sliding. Time had expired and we won the game. WOOHOO!! Very exciting... I may have given the geezer in the last row a heart attack. Yeah right, kidding. I felt like I was gonna have a heart attack after running like that though...

It would have been a lot more exciting if it was a playoff game or a championship game, but considering it was our first win of the season after 2 straight losses, not too dramatic, but still awesome. I hurt myself in the game right after that and now I'm nursing my back/butt back to health. So maybe next week, you will hear more tales of my amazing feats of strength...

"Dreams are like rainbows; only idiots chase them."

This is why I'm hot... yeah, scratch that...

On Labor Day I went golfing with my dad and since he didn't set a tee time, we didn't actually golf. We did go to the driving range and worked on my swing a little bit. I can hit my 3 wood about 200-215 yards; not bad for a slightly overweight, blubbery mook like myself. If I really smack my hybrid 7 wood well, I can hit that about 200 yards too. But my dad accidentally grabbed my little brother's clubs which had a driver that my dad gave to him. I couldn't use mine, cause my driver is broken. Someone borrowed it and used it as a cane to bend over and snapped the head off... Now to find said person and do the same thing to their head...

The driver my dad gave to my little brother is weird because it was made for an old fogey. You can't really swing fast or you'll slice the crap out of it cause it's light and very flexible. So when you actually swing it like a 86 year old retiree on vacation in Palm Springs, I could only hit it 200 yards. *Wah wah*

I did sink some really nice putts though on the practice green, one from about 20 feet and two from about 30 feet. My dad still beat me 6-4 in a putting contest; crazy old man...

Now I just need to figure out how to make my overall game consistent and then... Tiger better watch out...

It's a small world... til you walk home that is...

It's official. I can't even work with anonymity. There's a temp who works with me who knows my parents. There is nowhere to hide... I think trying to start over as long as I live in Colorado is a lost cause. I've always wanted to move to Tennessee, but I think that was because I wanted to be a musician. Now the question is, how do I raise a family on a cop's salary? Do I go and do studio musician work? Become a studio tech and work part time? Move to someplace where the standard of living is less? Pray and hope that God reaches out to help me? It's frightening to be in this mind, let me tell you... that's why I try to keep a "no vacancy" sign up. I have too much to worry about as it is. Hmmmm... much thinking to do over the next few weeks...


"Not all pain is gain."