I Don't Do Disclosure Jagoff

My wife went with her brother to visit their mom's grave this week. Yesterday my wife told me he asked her all sorts of questions about how much money I make, my sources of income, did I get a Christmas bonus and if so how much and things of that nature. He also asked if my stress was self induced, insinuating I have nothing to be stressed about. 

Throughout my marriage to my wife this one particular brother in law has always assumed my wife was a daddy's girl, and relied on her dad to help her and us I guess, maintain our lifestyle. Nothing could be further from the truth, my wife never asks her dad for anything aside from possibly more visits with the grandkids when he's in town. But my brother in law assumes that must be the case since he himself is always in debt and feels there's no way I actually honestly earn more money than he does.

I don't know what his deal is. He questions how we can afford the house we have the children we have the way we live the things we do. How the fuck is this his business? I know damn well I have never asked him his yearly salary but I'm sure he's asked my wife what mine is.

People, men specifically, are insecure fucks. If someone appears to have more than they do, they immediately start to question it, how can it be possible? It can't be. I DESERVE to have more than he does. There HAS to be something fishy going on here. It can't just be honest hard work and living within our means, it HAS to be something else. It's ridiculous. He's been watching too many movies.

I think I'll have one of my crew that runs numbers for me pay him a visit and teach him discretion.

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It's Not the Size of the Ship, if it's the Captain has Strong Tongue Muscles

So since I was scared to death to have actual intercourse because of the threats my dad made to me, I didn't lose my virginity until I was 18 years old. I lost it in my girlfriend's parent's bed. Her dad was a cop too, it was very stressful. I think it may have lasted 20 seconds? I could barely get my semi-hard 18-year old cock inside of her wet yet clamped tight from nervousness pussy. It was 2 solid minutes of me trying to force it in while laying on top of her and her trying to relax enough to let me in, also, as I said, the wetness factor just made the head of my cock slide around the opening of her tiny, tiny 18-year old pussy which in itself just made more moisture appear. Eventually the head of my cock pushed about 3/16ths of inch inside and I instantly came. Tadah! Wow, I needed a nap. 

So prior to that momentous occasion, I wasn't exactly celibate. I had a lot of oral sex before that, A LOT. As a teen, when I would have a girlfriend, eventually they started getting suspicious when I wasn't actively trying to fuck them. At first it was sweet, but soon they'd point out how all of their friends boyfriends were dying to nail them and it seemed like I should want inside of them. Since I knew damn well I wasn't going to actually fuck anyone for fear of being shot in the head by my dad, I learned a distraction technique.

I learned, from watching TONS OF PORN, how to eat pussy. I watched lots of lesbian girl on girl porn and simply taught myself how to please a woman. At this age, not a lot of guys went down on their girlfriends and if they did, it was a quick lick or two, maybe an awkward finger was jammed into a dry slot and then they wanted to fuck their girl. Not me, my point was not to end up nailing the girl, in fact it was exactly the opposite. 

Since the girl was not used to being eaten out, she'd be nervous, which would distract her. Even if it felt good, distraction is never beneficial when trying to reach orgasm. But even more importantly, MOST girls at this age hadn't actually had an orgasm. Oh, they THOUGHT they had. They'd get right up to the edge of cumming and then they stop me and tell me they came, I should stop. But they hadn't. I knew what a female orgasm looked, sounded and FELT like and they were not quite there yet, because they probably never had been there before.

So now we'd have a goal, we had a mission, we were going to bring her (whoever she may be at the time) to orgasm, screaming, shuttering, gasping for breath orgasm by my tongue slowly and painstakingly licking against her clit or sliding inside or with my tongue and fingers or however it needed to be done. We had our project.

THIS would totally put any requests for me to fuck her off of the table. She was completely secure I wasn't weird because I didn't want to fuck, because oh my god could I eat pussy. The other side effect was that I learned that since I LOVED eating pussy so much and I got so worked up while doing it, I could cum, simply by licking pussy. So NOW she didn't have to lay there and get awkwardly fucked by some 15 year who didn't know what he was doing, she got her pussy licked, she started having orgasms for the first time in her life AND she didn't have to worry about taking care of me once I had licked her into nirvana. 

As I became older I really prided myself on my pussy eating abilities and to this day still try to learn new ways to please a woman through watching lesbian porn. Everyone needs to be really good as something I guess.  

Heartless Fuck wishes you a Merry Christmas Mom, Now GO.

It's Christmas in one week, my mom almost died a month ago, she can't drive, she doesn't have the use of one of her arms, she's constantly on mediation, always needs to see a doctor, she has no health insurance, she's 58 years old, she hasn't had a job in nearly 20 years and her husband is leaving her (divorce will be final in March), aside from me and my younger brother and her 84 year old aunt she has no one, no money saved, and quite possibly nowhere to live and I kinda' don't want to fucking bother even calling her. 

I kind of want to throw the "off" switch in the section of my brain that pertained to her and move on.

My mom sucked at being a mom. Not the normal sucked either, she wasn't a pain in the ass when I was a kid or too smothering, she simply didn't fucking care. I was not a concern to her. She didn't raise me, she left me to fend for myself with a wolf and then went on to blame me for it, an 11 year old kid who's biggest rebellion was a mullet. The end result is I have had little or no relationship with her as an adult, she has sucked as a grandparent and even though I have continued to offer her help in every way possible, she has time and time again turned me down and opted to stick it out with her drunk of a husband. I'm so sick of typing this shit in this blog.

The last I heard he wasn't divorcing her and magically she stopped calling us once that happened, NOW apparently he IS still leaving her and today she talked to my wife for an hour, or more like LECTURED my wife on how we disappeared after the whole aneurysm event.

I have no connection to my parents. None. Zero. Seriously, when other people talk about their parents being a pain the ass, I don't relate, I don't get it and I don't understand. They're just other people, if you don't like a person, don't be friends with them, it's just that simple.

My wife is a good person, unlike me, my wife thinks we should try again, we should be humble and force our help on her, again, for the 1,100th time. It's Christmas after all. Fuck. Why? Seriously?

I now have to decide if I'm going to call my mom, and if I call what I am or am not going to say. I'm not looking for her to love me or like me or even be nice to me. I don't care. As a human I care a little, just because I know this person and I know this person has nothing else. That being said, her way of connecting with us was to call and bitch out my wife who is the only person who's ever been on her side for years and years now and I'm pissed off.

I know EVERYONE has family issues but I'd be good cutting this one off permanently and walking away and somehow I feel like it's not going to happen. I hate being in this position where I have to kowtow to a woman who will do nothing but bring me grief and emotional wreckage.

All I do for myself is put food in my mouth, put poop in the toilet and try to sleep.

Everybody dies. 

I don't like to think about that, but who really does. 

My mother-in-law died. I watched her die. I watched her literally take her last breath, in her home, in a dark room, surrounded by her children, in the dead of night. The event in itself took hours. The event in itself was beyond words, I can't believe I was there, I can't believe I experienced that and my experience couldn't have been 0.0001% of what my wife experienced. 


Stunning. Upsetting. Unnerving. Reality shattering.

I am thinking about death recently. I have a close friend facing something similar but on a much closer  level. It's unreal to consider someone else having to do what we did then.

I am soon to be 41. I am 5'9" and 211 lbs. My chest hurts. My chest gets tight. My extremities fall asleep and get 'pins-and-needles'. I have headaches. ALL THE TIME. I have a condition called spasmodic torticollis. I have arthritis. I have aches and pains and am tired all the time. I don't eat right, I don't ever exercise. In don't take my meds, any of them.

I need to consider that I AM going to die. No one likes to think about it. I need to start thinking about it. I need to be scared so I do something. I'm not doing anything. 

I am thinking about death a lot lately, about how it effects others, about how it effected my wife, about how I could have a heart attack any fucking minute now.

I'm going to go eat cake now. Merry Christmas!
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Why your Dad refers to your Mom as "Mother" in front of You

People have a lot of "sayings" that excuse men for fucking around on their wives, "Boys will be boys", you know, shit like that. Watching my father as I was growing up, then watching my friends in our twenties and now with my adult male friends, I don't think men ever actually grow up.

I actually think that all of us, men and women, are just 'acting' like adults. We are all doing what we THINK an adult should do in any given situation, and eventually, that sort of pretending just becomes second nature to us, but it's really all bullshit. We learn when we're teens what a grown up should do and how they should act and we carry that over to our twenties, some of us while we're away at college, some of us when we start our young lives out in the world "alone". We act like adults and sooner or later we start drinking our own Kool-Aid and viola! We're "adults".

I think that with men, ESPECIALLY momma's boys, growing up is like 80% acting all the time and 20% actually being a mature adult. I think that with a lot of men, they grew up with their mom's taking care of their every need, their dad's being their heroes and went outside to the house to have fun with their pals and to date and as teens, get laid. I think that as a boy becomes a man, either by moving out of their parents house on their own or moving away to college, they try their hardest to emulate their dad or male role model and be "a grown up", but that emulation can only go so far. Their mom probably still takes care of shit for them, and they're still partying with friends.

Once a man finds a woman, gets married, maybe has kids and the mundane routine of life really gets into gear, eventually, men fall back into that routine they were in when they were teens, except now they have "work" in the mix too. They now have their wife taking care of their every need, they may still have their dad as a hero (or some replace dad with a sports figure or musician) and they start having to go outside of the house to have fun and with some, to get laid. 

I think that so many men can so easily cheat on their wives because they've subconsciously replaced their family of their childhood with their adult nuclear family. It's a familiar and safe scenario and it doesn't "feel" wrong to them on the subconscious level. They can completely reconcile loving their wife yet getting a blowie from a coworker. I realize that as an "adult" men are supposed to be able to control themselves and NOT do that even if they think about it, they're supposed to suppress those urges and think of how them getting head would devastate their wives, I get that, I'm just saying, I think I understand why it happens so frequently (aside from the fact that blowjobs feel awesome just in general, which is a good reason too).  

I know that some marriages are bad. I know that some men are ASSHOLES. I'm not saying my theory here is an excuse, I'm saying my theory adds to the understanding of why men cheat. Also, getting a blowjob is really awesome and sometimes your wife's just not up for it, so really, you're helping her in the long run. 

Big Sur California Hates My Therapist.

It's dreary and rainy and gray here today. I didn't mean for that to rhyme. I bet it's sunny on the cliffs of Big Sur, California right now, I bet the ocean is blue and the sky is blue and life is happy out there. There are a million things I am stressed out about right now, but I know better, none of them are really that important. I used to think I loved change. People who come from divorced parents like to think they're accustomed to change. I was one of them. I used to think I craved it, I was wrong. Cindy, Joanne, Michelle, Gretchen, Mary, Libby, Jacqueline and Debbie; those are the names of the women that were in my dad's and my life, the main women he lived with and/or married (around a year or two each?). We lived in 5 different houses. I thought that was the kind of constant turn-over I was programmed to seek out. Again, I was wrong. Consistency is what I am about, it's all been consistent. Even when my mind wants me to desperately make a change, I don't. The same. I stay the same. I'm going to die without anything changing, I'm sure of it. 

Is this my depression talking? I'm going to go ahead and say yes. 

I went on meds about 4 years ago when I decided it was time for me to start seeing a therapist again. I had never taken meds like this before. At first they made me sleepy and talk slowly, but ultimately, they reduced the amount of fights I had with my wife and probably reduced stress a great deal. The negatives? I got fat. I was unmotivated. I was uncreative. I didn't think that the meds were a good long term solution for me. I wasn't "me" anymore, I certainly wasn't "Jello". I stopped seeing my therapist about 2 years ago and stopped getting my prescriptions filled about 15-months ago. I quit cold turkey actually. Now I'm depressed AND fat. It's awesome.

Most of the time I'm ok, sometimes the depression gets pretty heavy, but I pride myself on being able to ALWAYS get my ass up and out of bed and never miss work...but...when I get home, often I want to hide in my bedroom. I'm back to having an explosive temperament too. The plus side is I'm being creative again, but since I'm a middle aged father of 4 who works in high tech manufacturing, I think being level headed may be more important that being creative.   

I'm thinking of calling my old therapist. I'm thinking of going back to counselling. I'm thinking of going back on my meds.  I'm thinking of changing. 

I Promise to Love, Honer, Cherish, Scream, Yell, Storm Out and Maybe Cry

Wow, while I was writing the last post about my dad taking me down to a pier to basically insinuate he'd murder me, I got in a HUGE fight with my wife. I know I've said before on this blog that I believe that my wife and I possibly create turmoil, subconsciously, in order to stimulate our brains and add excitement to our lives, but this fight was big, even by our standards, and we set the bar pretty high. Have you ever watched the movie The War of The Roses? Like that without the physical violence. Oh yea. We're that badass.

My wife and I have, and do say ANYTHING during our fights; we scream and yell and explode even. It's crazy. I was once talking to a friend about how my wife and I duke it out and they asked, "You didn't say anything you'd regret, like threaten separation, did you?". That comment literally made me laugh out loud, OF COURSE we threatened separation and divorce and a bitter custody battle and doing everything in each other's power to make each other's life miserable. That's what happens when we fight, neither one of us ever backs down. We don't worry about saying shit we'd regret, we just say it, all of it, without a thought. When we're done with the fight, that all dissolves into the ether and we pretend it never happened. 

My wife does not let me win, she doesn't calm down and she knows how to push my buttons. She was raised by a single mother who, it could be said, never quite got over the divorce with my wife's dad. She taught my wife to never let a man own you, and even though I have never tried to own her, if I try to even win an argument, that's close enough to "own" and the response is all out warfare. She simply cannot give in, she'd "lose". 

In turn, I was raised without an actual mother, with a parade of women who constantly came and went and a dad who constantly told me I was the stupidest piece of shit he'd ever met, and would amount to nothing. I would be lucky to live long enough to even make to into jail and that just MAYBE the military would accept me, but he doubted it. As a result, I don't trust women to be honest and I will debate to the death when I feel my intelligence is being questioned. 

We are perfect for each other. Literally trained almost from birth to distrust the opposite sex and with insecurities the size of Lake Superior. Other couples talk about their issues, we have cage matches. Storming out of the house with packed bags? Check. Throwing wedding rings at each other? Check. Calling each other's parents names? Check. Explaining how you never actually loved the other person but now the joke's gone on too long and you're stuck? Check. Pointing out how the other one is mentally ill and suggesting medications to help? Check. Calling the lawyer's office in front of the other person but then hanging up? Check. NOTHING has ever been off limits.

I'd like to think that part of why we are prone to these types of fights is because we're both so absolutely certain with every fiber of our being that there is nothing that either one of us can say that would cause the other to actually leave, and we've been together for about 17 years, so obviously, we've both stuck around. I just don't KNOW that to be the case for sure. I'd also like to think that all's fair in love and war and that these types of totally raw battles are waged more often than it would appear within the households of friends and simply not discussed, but I also can't know that to be the case either. 

We've seen so many people we know divorce, some over things that my wife and I look at each other with that, "holy shit, THAT'S enough to get divorced over?" look. But we're still together. We don't hate each other, we love each other, I think we're just two horribly damaged people loving in a horribly damaged way. 

We're both in our 40's now, so our clashing attacks have been fewer and fewer, we simply don't have the energy or the stamina anymore, but given the right set of circumstances, say when I am emotionally charged and she says or does just the wrong thing that causes me to say just the wrong thing...fireworks can still happen. We've still got that spark (that leads to a fuse that leads to a 300 pound bomb). Isn't marriage grand? Her and I should teach a course at the Community College, "Holy Fuck You're Not Tough Enough For Marriage", it'll be great, I'm going to wear a blazer with elbow patches (god I love those).

A Walk Down Memory Lane, and a Long Pier.

Last night my daughter was in a play. This post isn't about that. Oddly, my cousin came to the performance and brought her young daughter and my aunt, my dad's sister. My aunt talked to me like my dad and I were just fine, like we are father and son. Nothing indicating that he and I don't even speak, and never anything indicating he was a horrible and abusive man to my brother and I.

This has unfortunately been weighing on me the last 24 hours. I keep on going over things in my mind, things to remind myself of what a fucking monster he was. "Monster" is a funny word to use because one of his long time girlfriend's confided in me that he had told her what a monster I was as a kid, and that's why our relationship was so damaged.

When my dad was married to his second wife, the first after my mom, he and I had the roughest period in our relationship. It's odd to speak about it in such adult terms, since he was only 29 years old and I was only 11 years old, but the combination of him bringing this woman into our lives for the first time plus me transitioning from child to pre-teen was a rocky one at best.

I don't know what kind of kid I was, I know I didn't consider myself a bad kid, I got good grades, I was in the advanced program at school, I didn't drink until I was 20 years old and had never gotten suspended or in trouble with police or anything. Regardless, it was clear that my presence, and my brother's, wasn't do much good for my father's new relationship. He had been so mad at one point I remember him taking me into his bedroom and telling me, "If you ruin this for me Jeffrey, if you make her leave me, I'll kill you". I was 11 years old.

It sounds scary, but apparently not scary enough, because one night he came home from wherever he had been and his wife was not happy, specifically with me. When my dad got mad, he had this way of looking at me, I'm sure you're dad had a look too, but his, his was of unbridled rage. He grabbed me by the arm and took me outside, to his car, he put me in the front seat. He got in, and we left. He didn't speak. It was night, I'm not sure what time, but it was dark outside. It was summer, so it must have been after 10 PM. We drove, silently for 40 minutes deep into the city of Detroit from our house in Redford. I remember the drive clearly, I-96 to Jefferson, Jefferson Ave. to Harding Street, right on Harding into a dark and nearly abandoned neighborhood, then another right, into Kean's marina. We parked in the parking lot. He got out, came around to my door, opened it and "helped" me get out. He put me in front of him and started walking. He didn't need to touch me or push me, it was like we were two oppositely charged magnets, he walked and I walked the same direction two steps in front of him.

We walked onto one of the piers and down the pier, outward towards the vast blackness of the Detroit river, everything just seemed so calm and the closer we got to end of the pier, the blacker the world seemed to become. I don't think many kids ever even consider the possibility that their parent is taking them somewhere to end their life, but in my world, that was a very real thought.

We got out to the end of the pier and stood there, next to each other looking out into the nothing. He suddenly grabbed the back of my neck, he put pressure on me, he pushed me ever so slightly towards the water. He calmly told me that he could be my worst enemy or my best friend and that it was up to me. My actions would tell him what I chose.

I finally spoke, I told him I wanted to be his friend, his best friend. I was 11 years old (or 12, around there), this was my dad I was talking to. I tried to be tough, I tried to remain calm. I did not panic. He eased up on my neck. He let go. He turned around and started walking back to his car. I followed him. We got back into the car and the drive home was the drive there but in reverse, in silence.

My wife tells me I may have exaggerated how bad I had it as a kid, I may not be remembering everything as it really happened, and that's totally possible. Not this though. It's these moments I need to hold onto and remember when I think, "hey, maybe I'm being too hard on my dad, maybe I should let bygones be bygones and start over". I can't start over. I just can't.

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My Inability to stop Reacting and Start Making my own choices and thereby destroying everyone else's life around me...so...right.

Every day passes and I don't do anything. I know what I should do, in the big picture it seems like these changes wouldn't take much effort yet I don't do them. I simply live. I have a million excuses too, I have 4 kids, a busy career, 12 employees, a house, rental properties, kids activities, etc. Add to it I'n in my 40's and always exhausted now and I don't get shit done unless it HAS to be done. I have to be at work for a set amount of time during a set period of time, it's inflexible. I have to pick up and drop off kids at set amounts of time during set intervals of time. I have to eat, sometime, at least a few times a day or as I understand it, I'll die. The kids must get to bed, we must go grocery shopping and I must get gas for my car and the dog needs water. FUCK. I can either exercise for 15 minutes or get 15-minutes more of sleep...so...um sleep wins, always. Everyone tells me to take time for me and make time for me and do things for myself...are you kidding me? 

I know the days fly by, having kids REALLY polarizes that, time zooms ahead and I know that in the grand scheme of things if I just worked out 1/2 hour a day everyday before I knew it, 6-months would be gone and I wouldn't look like Zach Galifinakis anymore but everyday I wake up at 5:30 AM and BAM it's 10:30 PM, I"m on autopilot most days. I'd like to look into more creative interesting jobs, I'd like to really investigate starting a new business, maybe in California, but dammit isn't it time for my daughter's play practice/karate lesson/swimming class/Girl Scouts/choir concert????

The cold hard reality is that for the most part, I'm living for my kids at this point; sure, I write this blog and post on FB 2,589 a day, but believe it or not these events take seconds and/or minutes and I can do them while multitasking on my phone (I'm driving a combine and making soup right now), they don't even last 5 minutes. Living for me cuts into everyone else's time and everyone relies on me to work 60 hours a week and maintain my rental properties so they continue to live in a house and eat and stuff, and my wife relies on me to help at home since we've decided to have just under a half-dozen kids, and my body needs me to sleep and eat (probably more, but right now, that's a minimum).

So I am moving 1,000 miles an hour at times in all directions and not really going anywhere. Wow this entry is frustrating, I suck.

Don't Let It Get You Down, It's Only Castles Burning

So this is my first remote blog entry, I'm sitting in my hotel room in San Jose, California, the heart of Silicon Valley. I'm here on business and so far it's been a comedy of errors. There were supposed to be three of us coming here to a trade show and to visit a handful of customers. Yesterday before the flight, one of us had a daughter go into emergency surgery to have her appendix removed and cancelled his trip. That was not me, but seeing how things have gone since then, I may have been willing to offer up one of my many daugters appendixes to avoid being here. 

I normally love it here, I normally want to live here, I normally leave here with real estate brochures and dreams of moving my entire family cross country like the settlers did way back the the 1980s (close enough). But not this time. This time has been different. So far one rental car reservation was not actually reserved, so far we found that the two 60 inch longe boxes shipped to our hotel from work weighed 150 lbs each and had no wheels on them, so far we learned you can't deliver your own boxes to your booth by going through a "union" loading dock unless you pay them all of the cash that you have on you, so far we found out that the person who packed both boxes did not pack any tools to assemble things nor did he pack tape to repack the boxes to be shipped home. So far we were informed that no, in fact there is NOT a FedEx or a UPS depot at the convention center. Awesomely I also discovered that my duffle bag that I use as a suitcase has a huge rip in it and is essentially garbage. 

I had an awesome surprise when I went to pay for the duct tape, utility knives, screw driver, hand cart and new carry on suitcase at Target (serial killer's starter kit); I learned that my company credit card was on "fraud hold" since I'm in California and wouldn't go through, I learned that my personal credit card also wouldn't go through and I learned my debt card would. (My wife called me later to inform me that in researching this she learned that someone has in fact cloned my credit card a few weeks back and has been using it at a JC Penny somewhere in southern California).

I arrived here last night at midnight California time, this is essentially my first day here. In addition, in the grand scheme of things category, I have learned that I don't have time to enjoy California, and I wouldn't have the time to enjoy it if I lived here, but my life is busy and hectic and ridiculous and this is me here without my family and kids. California isn't going to fix me or my problems and although the sun may help with my depression, therapy would probably help more. Moving here isn't a cure to anything, I think I have t look elsewhere for that type of medicine (obviously I am referring to heroin).

All I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS THE ABILITY TO CANCEL SENT EMAILS

We did Christmas stuff today, mainly we got our first real tree ever and decorated it, it's been a fun day, neither my wife or I have ever in our lives gotten a real Christmas tree so this is a first for everyone in our family. 

Another Christmas thing that happened was I decided that I was going to invite my extended family over to our house for Christmas, this would be my father's side of the family actually. My grandma used to always have all her kids and their kids over and a few years prior to her passing I decided to attempt to pick up the event at our house, since I loved my grandma more than the world. Anyway, we've had it at our house now for a few years but I wasn't certain I was going to do it here this year, in fact my wife has been threatening to book us all on a flight to god knows where and have us leave for a week including Christmas, so this decision I made just saved me $6,000.00. The only fucked up part about all of this was that when I sent out the email to invite all my aunts and uncles and cousins and their kids, I basically responded to a bulk email I had received some time ago sent out by my uncle, and included this bulk email, was my dad. 

Now, there is zero chance he will show, he has never been to the house I live in now and hasn't met 2 of my four children, so I have to remember not to get stressed out over this, because he isn't coming, because the last time we spoke, it didn't go to well. 

My dad has been married a bunch of times, I can't give you a number because it's been years since I've spoken to him so chances are he's gotten hitched since then, but last I heard, he was had 4 marriages under belt. The last one I was aware of was to a nice lady who was always very kind to me and my family, although I had already learned by that point not to get too attached to the wives and certainly don't let my wife or kids get to know them, "grandma" is a phrase kids use with great respect and they don't understand why grandma left AGAIN and was replaced with a NEW grandma, so I kept them away as much as possible. So one day, I get a call from my dad's wife, she tells me he's sick, he's more than sick, he's unconscious and in the hospital, maybe she even said "coma". I call my brother, and we both meet up with his wife at the hospital where my dad was indeed, admitted and unconscious (I was 90% sure he wasn't even there).

The doctor's thought his brain had swelled up for some reason, they were trying what they could but they couldn't really get a medical history on him, which makes sense, he's a con man and ANY written record is a bad thing in his book. So my dad's wife tells me she's been calling his eye doctor all day, because my dad has macular degeneration, and the hospital needs to find out exactly what his diagnosis is, it might be relevant to his current situation. She adds that the eye doctor keeps hanging up on her and won't help at all. 

I call the eye doctor. First off, it's NOT an eye doctor, it's a D.O.C. branch, they explain there are no "records" here, it looks like he came in for glasses and complained of blurry vision, they gave him an exam and he declined to purchase any glasses, THAT WAS IT. He had never been diagnosed with macular degeneration and therefore it wasn't going to be any help with his coma. I explained this to his wife who seems confused, which obviously is how he talked her into marrying him in the first place.  Regardless, the hospital told us they were going to put him on steroids and we'd just have to wait and see what happens.

My brother and I left the hospital with the promise from my dad's wife that she's call us with any news. She did call, two days later. Apparently my dad woke up from his coma, he woke up, took a few moments, unhooked everything, put on his clothes and walked out of the hospital. he apparently went home and packed a bag and LEFT his wife and THAT is why she was calling me, she was upset that my dad just left her. Apparently as soon as he was awake she immediately started asking about his macular degeneration lie and that was enough to trigger his flight instinct; "confronted with a no win situation, leave".

A day later I got a text from my dad, not a phone call mind you, a text. "I've left my wife, she was cheating on me with a doctor in the hospital while I was in a coma, it's for the best. Don't freak out but I need some short term cash, $2,000.00 should do it. I'll get it right back to you". I responded with a text in kind, "You don't freak out, I don't have $2,000.00".

That was it. That was the last I heard of my dad. That was years and years ago and apparently, today, I inadvertently invited him to Christmas. Fuck I hate this holiday.  

I am Responsible for All of the Boring Shit

Writing is hard. I don't mean the physical act of writing, I mean coming up with something that is worthy of writing down in this online journal isn't easy. My life, is mundane and boring and predictable. As an example, a few months ago I started using Foursquare on my smart phone. If you don't know what Foursquare is, it's a app that you sign up for that allows you to "check in" wherever you go using your smart phone's GPS system an you get points for each check in. You "friend" people on it just like on Facebook and then you compete with your unique group of friends for the most points each week. You can get multiple points for special events like checking in at new places and if you're the person who checks in at a specific spot the most, you become the "Mayor" of that location.

Anyway, as it turns out, I go to 14 places. That's it. Literally I only go to 14 different places, EVER. This Foursquare thing has just shown me the ridiculousness of just how boring and predictable my life is, I get up, I drive my daughter to school, I go to 7-11, I go to work, I go to lunch (same 3 places) I go to Home Depot, Kroger or the gas station on the corner, I go home, I go to my kid's karate/swim/play practice, I come home. I also hit the comic book store on Wednesdays and sometimes go to Lowes instead of Home Depot and sometimes an offsite machine shop for work, it's amazing. This is a wonderful little snapshot of my life and it's actually depressing.

I'm sure everyone's life is like this though, repetition with no end in sight, I mean, death, but prior to that, no end in sight. So I come on here to write and I end up writing about how my past ties into my current life, because in the past, I had a wider variety of experiences. The odd thing is that my past really doesn't tie into my current life much, my parents who I've written about in here really aren't playing roles in my life (my dad especially). My life is the pretty much what Foursquare has polarized for me, it's 14 places with about 12-16 other people every 24 hours and repeat. Instances may pop up occasionally that are interesting or unique, but usually, they don't.

When I think about it I wonder if the fights my wife and I have are really subconsciously brought on by one or both of us trying to "create" something to break up the monotony. Our minds engineer a problem that really isn't there and once we've manipulated it out into the open our emotions take over and blow it up so our adrenaline can finally kick in and we can get some intellectual exercise. I had a fight with my wife last night and actually had the thought, "this will make a great blog entry!" but after it was through, and the yelling had stopped and I really thought about it, it was fucking ridiculous. If I would have listed all the details of it you would have thought, "huh? that was a stupid thing to fight over", and it was, but it was an event in an otherwise non-eventful day. So in lieu of telling you about our Christmas tree disagreement or our differences in opinion on "cleaning" and "straightening up" I chose to drag out stories from my past, from a worse time in my life when things were fucked up and unbalanced and uncertain and quite simply bad, anchor them to some current event so they have some relevance to the day I'm writing them, and run with them.

The result is you're going to get a clear picture of my past even though my past isn't really that big of a part my life anymore, you're also going to get a lot of sexual innuendo and probably some blowjob comments. I hope that's enough to keep you coming back., I"m not 100% sure it's even enough to keep ME coming back, but oh well.