Happy Birthday, Sibling 1! Now that you are double-nickel, you qualify for the senior-citizen discount! I have been receiving e-mails from AARP; should I forward them to you?
Oh, Sunshine is a bit nervous working the booth with you in September, but I suspect that the two of you will get along splendidly…..
I went with Number 1 to enroll in college the other day. We got through the entire process, and got the bill for the tuition. Not bad. Not bad at all. Later, we went to the bookstore to buy her books.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a college bookstore. I was an undergraduate 25 years ago, and a graduate student 20 years ago. Law School, although it seems like yesterday, was 8 years ago. I know that your memory goes with age, so since my memories are fuzzy and all, I wasn’t quite prepared for the college bookstore shopping experience.
Now, when you walk into a college bookstore, and the first thing you see is a crash cart with trained medical professionals, that should be a clue. When you see a sign warning people with weak hearts to enter at their own risk, that should also be a clue. All I can say is it is a damn good thing that I am in good health, or I would’ve been needing that crash cart. For a College Algebra class, the book cost is….$177! What the hell?! Why should a student have to plunk down that much cash for a book for a subject that pretty much hasn’t changed since the Caliphs made the Mediterranean an Islamic pond. Won’t old algebra books work? No, no, no, it has to be this new addition. What new things are there about algebra? Are we using “q” instead of “x”? And I thought formula and diapers were expensive! Geez Louise!
The English Comp class wasn’t much better. Three books, all paperback, around $150, the most expensive being $80. Eighty dollars for a paperback?! You’ve got to be bloomin’ kidding me! As with the algebra, they must be the newest edition books. Hasn’t the English language been around for quite awhile? I’ve been speaking and writing it for the better part of 40 years, and I really haven’t noticed any changes. Do you really have to have a book to teach you how to be a great author?
“Sorry, Mr. Shakespeare, but your plays suck because you didn’t follow the writing manual….”
It’s “Back To School” time, and you what that means, kiddos! It’s time to go a-shopping for a whole bunch of stuff for other peoples’ kids!
Once upon a time, in a galaxy far far away, when your child went to school, he or she went with supplies bought by his or her parents for his or her use. It was each parent’s responsibility to ensure that his/her child had the appropriate supplies for the school year. It was a novel concept, one that has since gone the way of the pterodactyl. (Since I am edumacated, I know what one of them “terra-dack-tull” thingies is….) Imagine that! A parent was actually responsible for the care and upbringing of the offspring! Cool!
Now look at your school supply list. Go on, look at it! How many pencils does one child need? Or dry erase markers? Or copy paper? Copy paper? Why does my child need copy paper? Why does my child need 24 pencils? That’s a lot of damned pencils!
Why? Welcome to “Socialism 101″. You are not only supplying your kid; you are supplying others’ kids, as well. The supplies are gathered and stored collectively, and distributed according to need. However, who is one to determine need? I can be a sponge and blow all my money at the casinos, and then send my kid to school empty-handed knowing full well that other people will take care of my dear Johnny. Pretty cool, huh? Yes, boys and girls, we are buying school supplies for the degenerates of society.
But wait! There’s more! In addition to supplying the lowlifes, we are also supplying the schools! Why use taxpayer dollars on important crap like school supplies, when we can use them in neat stuff like huge football stadiums and fancy basketball arenas!
It is simply outrageous that I should have to subsidize others. Yes, the schools are broke, but how is that my fault? There is a ton a waste that goes on in each and every school. Do students really need pointless handouts each and every day, especially since that information could easily be converted to .html and posted on the web (like this post!) for each and all to see. But, the teachers don’t give a crap, because it is not their money!
The taxpayers share the blame as well. They’d rather let the schools fall apart than raise their taxes. To hell with education, I need that money for a Jet Ski!
There just seems something terribly wrong with a system where the parents are forced to subsidize the bad decisions of others. Do you like it? Then welcome to the World of Obama! If our wonderful POTUS has his way, we will have a country where government spending knows no bounds, where the dredge of society are subsidized on the backs of the decent working folks…
As I am prone to do, I express an opinion and I hurt feelings and open a can of worms. Unfortunately, my recent post about my disappointed at my upcoming reunion did just that.
Let me just state for the record that I applaud the hard work that some of my brothers put into organizing this reunion. That was a heavy load to carry, and they didn’t have to do it, but they did. For free. Because they felt it was the right thing to do. And I applaud each and every one of you!
Okay, now to my feelings. As one of the committee told me, I shouldn’t think of it as a bowling party but rather a party at a really cool bar with bowling lanes attached. And an excellent buffet, too! My issues are thus.
First, neither V nor I drink, so we really don’t do the “bar” scene. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I stepped into a bar. In 2009, I think I’ve had two drinks, and V has had only one, and both of us regretted it, as alcohol doesn’t agree with either of us. Not only does it not agree, it argues with us and verbally abuses us and then takes us out in the alley and leaves our bloody carcasses in a crumpled heap. So paying money for unlimited booze doesn’t do anything for me.
Second, good buffets are indeed delicious, unless you have a colon that has told you not to eat buffets. I try to avoid buffets whenever I can, because it is not fun having to find the first available john 30 minutes or so after you eat. You can ask my mother about that one. (Hamburgers, except McDonald’s and Steak’n'Shake, have that same effect…) On two of my January eastward odysseys that Mom was my traveling companion, we had to quickly find a john not much after eating. The first time it was a Big Boy hamburger that did it. The second time it was a buffet. The second time was so intestine wrenching that we had to stop for the night in the middle of nowhere, Kentucky. Ah, fun memories!
Golden Corral has the same effect. I can pretty much guarantee that unless I am very selective about what I eat at a Golden Corral, I have to drive like Speed Racer to get home in time. And Golden Corral is only three miles away! Chinese buffet? I don’t think so. The only Chinese place I eat at is one with a Mongolian grill, where they cook it fresh right in front of me.
Boy, have I digressed! Continuing….
Third, the money issue. That is a good chunk of money to hang out at a “really cool bar with bowling lanes attached.” I jump on the ex for frivolously blowing money at a casino; wouldn’t I be just as bad to blow it at a bar/bowling alley? I just can’t justify that kind of expense. I know that most of the brothers have money to burn, but I have seven children, one of whom is in diapers and another who is in college, and I have pretty much the sole financial responsibility for them, and I just can’t justify spending that much on alcohol and bowling. I’m sorry. And, I think it would send the wrong message to my kids, who I am trying to teach how to be frugal with their money. I can’t complain about the ex blowing money or Number 2 doing it if I am willing to blow money on alcohol and bowling. I am willing to spend the time and money to come up to St. Louis to see people I haven’t seen in five years or more, to break bread with them and share a meal with them, to get to know them again, if even for a few short hours….but the alcohol part, well. Nope. Just can’t do it.
I don’t know how many people know this, but I hate being around drunk people. Yes, I have been drunk myself, but before I was 21 and when I too stupid to know better. I lost one of my very best friends, the godfather of my oldest child, because of alcohol, because of his insistance that he couldn’t have a good time without having to have a drink or two or three. Yes, an occassion glass of wine or beer is delicious and refreshing, but more than that is just obnoxious. No offense. I am 43 years old, and I don’t need the sauce to socialize; I can embarrass myself quite well without it!
Now that I have completely rambled, one of my points follows. I know that if I am going out to eat at a fine restaurant with a bunch of other people, they may drink, but the demands of the decorum of the establishment prevent them from drinking excessively and making fools of themselves. There is no such decorum restraint at a bowling alley. V and I have been around enough drunks and stoners to last five lifetimes, and don’t want to be around that anymore; we want to be around the snooty upper-crust, where familial embarrassment acts as a restraint from bad behavior.
Okay, enough said. I am sorry for the offense I may have caused.
As of 5 PM yesterday, the error had indeed been corrected. The erroneous sign had been covered. Now, instead of the wrong directions, there’s no directions at all! Typical ODOT! What I don’t get is why it took NINE DAYS for the error to be discovered!
Remember this fine ODOT lulu? That’s right, the signal is indeed showing RED and GREEN at the exact same time! This is in Bartlesville on U.S. 60, and when I spotted this, it took several weeks and several e-mails to get it corrected. You’d think that somebody would have noticed it, but in Oklahoma, we don’t seem to notice much of anything. Too busy worrying about who will be the tenth-string quarterback for the Sooners….
(POSTED BY AAARRGH)
I have been in a huge funk this year. V has noticed it. My kids have noticed it. My bosses have noticed it. My family has noticed it. I have been very angry, very moody, and yes, sometimes downright mean and nasty.
I have known I have been in a funk. I know part of it was the big albatross around my neck, but I am now divorced, and still in a funk, so that wasn’t the only reason. I have been posting like mad the past few months venting about this, that, and the other, spewing “venom”, so to speak, trying to elicit some kind of response, any kind of response. I have been seeking as much help and advice as I could get. I knew there was something wrong, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Until today….
I have only known V. for 11 months, but in our countless hours of conversations, rantings, and ramblings, she has come to know me better than anyone else. Better than my parents. Better than my siblings. Better than the ex. Better than my kids. This morning, from her hospital bed, she came up with an explanation that I think is dead on. A double standard.
What she said is this – that in my worldview, I feel that I am being held to a higher standard than everyone else, that more is expected of me than others, and it makes me angry. And she is oh so right. Dating back to my childhood.
When I was in elementary school, it was expected that I would get straight A’s. By everybody. Family, teachers, other students. Not only was I supposed to be the best academically, I was supposed to be the best morally, too. I was relentlessly picked on as a kid. I would constantly complain about being bullied, but I was universally told to get over myself, that “boys will be boys’ and just to accept it. The time that I had finally had enough and fought back, I was thoroughly chastised by the principal and told how disappointed she was in me. She expected better. It was okay for other boys to act like delinquents, but not me.
It wasn’t just in school; it was in family as well. My older brother got worse grades in high school than I did, but I felt that where I was concerned, his grades were not allowed. I finished college in 3 1/2 years taking a hard course load and finishing just below a 3.0 GPA. I was only 21 years old when I graduated with my B.S. What acknowledgement did I get? I got an outfit that my brother would wear, pleated wool pants, striped shirt, and a thin tie. Not my style, not my personality. My brother is taller than me, so while pleated wool pants look good on him, they look like clown pants on me.
My older brother began college before I did and graduated after I did. There was much applause at his accomplishment by the family. So here you had me, who finished early without anyone really giving a crap, and my brother, who was a slacker who took the extended plan and received loud adulation. Kind of b.s., don’t you think? I think. But it was expected that I would do that well, and it really wasn’t expected that he would finish, spo while my accomplishment, when viewed objectively, was greater, it really wasn’t, because more was expected of me.
It has been that way my whole friggin’ life. Take my career, for example. While compared to others I have achieved heights most other people never achieve, I am viewed as a total and complete failure. Why? Since I have more talent, more is expected of me.
A lot of the issues that I have commented on in the column and the blog are written from the view of this prism. Honestly, I don’t really care who goes out to lunch with who; if a man wants to go to lunch with a female coworker, so be it! What has me angry about it is that when I would do that, I would get pilloried and tsk-ed tsk-ed about it. I would be called an adulterer and every other name in the book for accompanying a female coworker to lunch, while at the same time other people did the exact same thing and not a word was said. Because they expected more of me.
I worked in offices where female employees could dress like street walkers, other male employees could wear shorts and flip-flops, but I had to wear Sunday clothes and I tie. More was expected of me!
When I was married, my wife would go out drinking with other men, and I was supposed to be okay with that. I go out to McDonald’s and talk to a female stockbroker about investments, and I get accused of having an affair. When we were breaking up, my ex could spend hours with another man at a hotel and come home seven hours after her shift ended, and my kids never said a word. I come home five minutes later than expected, and I get the third degree. Yes, I know that I am the “dependable” parent, but give me a friggin’ break!
Now, to my recent comments about keeping snotty opinions about dating to yourself. Many people start dating when they separate. I think it is important to date when you separate to make sure that divorce is really what you want. If you separate and date and feel guilt, then in your heart of hearts you really don’t want to divorce. If you don’t feel guilt, then carry on with the divorce. I’ve known a lot of people who have dated when they were separated but the divorce was not final; one of the neatest couples I know started dating when she was separated but not divorced. It’s pretty common, right? We are okay with it, right? Pretty much, yes. Except for me.
I start dating after my ex declared that it was over and I filed for divorce, I start dating a friend who was my rock through the whole mess, and all I get is a bunch of crap for it. It didn’t matter that my ex was dating, too. She got a free pass, but all I got was criticized. By a lot of very close people. Why should she be able to and not me? I am better than her, I am told. I am to be held to a higher moral standard.
You know what? I can’t do it anymore. I won’t do it anymore. I never asked to be held to a higher standard, and I don’t want to be held to a higher standard. On anything. If other people can do it and it’s okay for them to do it, then it okay for me to do it, too. If other people can take two hour lunch breaks, then by golly, I can too. If other people don’t have to dress up, then I don’t, either. I am tired of being Superman. I am burned out. Other people get to enjoy their lives, and I should be able to enjoy mine, too. I expect to be treated the same as everyone else. I am tired of hearing this “you were taught better” or “good Catholic men don’t do that” nonsense. I am a human with the same human weaknesses as everyone else. Don’t expect more out of me than you do George or Tom or Tracy or Pat.
My niece gave the toast to her mother and stepfather. I found her words to be poignant. She basically said that when her mother met him, she wasn’t happy, and was hoping that her mother would choose someone else. However, as she thought about it, she realized that he made her happy, and that that was what was important, that if her mother was happy, then she was happy. I was hoping that my kids and other family members were listening.
You see, I am crazy about V. Sure, it’s only been a little over a month since the divorce was final, and four months since the divorce was filed, but my feelings are my feelings. However, to some members of my family, my feelings don’t matter. I have received a lot of crap about having a girlfriend, especially since she became my girlfriend while I was technically still married, even though I had already filed and the ex had moved out. All I’ve heard is how I am rushing into things, it’s a rebound, etc. etc. It didn’t matter that my ex and I have been breaking up for five years. No, all that mattered was that it didn’t look good.
You know what? Keep your damn snotty opinions to yourself. V makes me happy, and that’s what’s important. I am sorry that people are ticked at T for getting married, but I am not her. I am not planning on getting married anytime soon, but I don’t see anything wrong with having a great girlfriend who is crazy about me. As strong as my feelings were for the ex, we didn’t mesh and made each other miserable. She is happy, and so am I. If you don’t like it, that is your problem.
It’s going to be another busy day. They are going to remove that bad gall bladder in the morning, so I best be getting some shuteye. I’m no use to anyone if I am sleeping…..
Get Me To The Church On Time
Monday, September 14th, 2009I am very excited about getting married again. I think a big part of it is that I am excited about having some say in my wedding this time. This may sound stupid, but I think a wedding should be a reflection of the personalities of the bride and groom, and not the personalities of the brides’ parents.
When I got married the first time, The Mistress’s mother completely dominated the process from the get go. When The Mistress and I decided to get married, we were abruptly told that it didn’t count until I bought her a ring. So I plunked down $400 and bought her a nice ring with sapphires and diamonds. Then I was told that the ring I had purchased wasn’t an official engagement ring, so I would have to do it again. Yes, I will be the first to admit, the first ring I’d bought was not an engagement-type ring, but I had planned to customize it to make it unique and special. Instead, I plunked down another $800 for one of the store-bought rings, the assembly-line type that another bride might wear.
I had made the non-refundable deposit with a photographer that my family had known for years, only to be told by The Mistress’s mother that since she did not know of this award-winning photographer, that she would be getting a different one of her choosing. I drew the line when her mother told me what color tux and shoes to wear. I balked at wearing grey rental shoes (most shoes hurt my feet), and was told what a jerk and ass I was and that I was going to ruin her (i.e. her mother’s) wedding by wearing black tuxedos and my own black shoes.
My wedding day was a day of misery. They spelled The Mistress’s name wrong on the wedding banner. The hall vibrated and caused the records to skip, something that I had warned about having been a DJ, but was to be ignored as being a jerk and an ass for the first time of countless over the next 19 years. The photographer was creepy, and was in a hurry to finish to get to his next project. He even elected to take a picture of the cake cutting sans groom, who was in the john at the time. Instead of just being able to leave on the honeymoon the next day, we had to stop by my in-laws house for a while, which pretty much put the whole honeymoon on a bad start, as the mutual loathing was present from Day 1. (Is it any wonder, really, why I asked myself, aloud, “What have I done?”) My wedding wasn’t my wedding at all; it was my mother-in-law’s wedding, her chance to put on the dog for her friends. It really sucked. And I think it doomed our marriage.
If we had eloped like I had wanted to, had a simple wedding in the Smokies that was unique and different and OURS, perhaps we might not have ended up in divorce and a state of mutual loathing 19 years later.
That is why I am looking forward to this wedding. It will be ours. It will be unique. It will be the way we want it. Let’s start with the ring. I want Sunshine’s ring to be beautiful and unique, something that no other woman will ever have. For the engagement ring, I am having her grandmother’s ring re-sized. I don’t see a better use for a family heirloom than to use it, and I think her recently departed grandmother is smiling from heaven knowing her granddaughter will be wearing it. For the wedding band, we are going to have her grandmother’s ring offset in an off-the-rack ring. Something old and something new – something different and unique. We want to make the ceremony simple and elegant and unique – a ceremony that we and our guests will always remember. I am working on that. I want my second wedding day to not be a day a misery, but one of joy and celebration, one that will always bring back fond memories to those who witness it. Most of all, it should be a wedding day that Sunshine will be proud of!
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