Motel 6

It is already a well-known fact that I am not a fan of the dark. I have night-lights strategically placed throughout the house. The strategy is basically; if there is an open outlet a light goes in it. It’s a simple plan, but it works. So I had a visitor this week that took night-lights to a new level. This visitor Motel 6-ed me. Motel 6’s slogan is “We’ll leave the light on for you.” What I think they mean is that no matter how late you get there, they will have the room lit up and ready. It’s saying welcome to its visitors. Once you check into your room, I don’t think they want you to leave the light on. Am I making sense?

Here’s the deal, William, Mr. Poop and Boogies, was in town this week for work. He and I work together, and we were having some meetings, so he stayed at my house. He’s a fun guest to have cause he is funny and all. My kids like him because he is still basically a 5 year old in a 36-year-olds body. It was just hanging out, and it was fun listening to him complain about poor service in different arenas. He cracks me up with his old-man grumpiness when it comes to his views of how people should treat customers. This is when he acts like an 86 year-old man in a 36 year olds body. Bill’s got a lot of range when it comes to ages. The only puzzling thing about his stay was, he slept with the lights on.

He stayed in Kristin’s room beings that she is away at college. This room is next to the bathroom, so I noticed during my midnight pee break that the lights were still on. I figured he was still awake, so I went back to bed. The next morning I went in to get him up for work, and the light was still on. This clown slept with the light on. I sleep with night-lights; he bypasses the night-lights and just keeps the lights on. What the hell is that? Here’s the kicker, he also sleeps with the covers over his head. Now, if he is sleeping with the lights on and the covers over his head, maybe he is scared. If he is scared, I respect that and understand it. If he sleeps with the lights on, but covers his head because it is too bright, then I say, turn the freaking lights off. What the hell are you trying to do, light up the neighborhood? My house looks like a lighthouse with one light blaring at three in the morning. Did he think a boat was going to come down the cul-de-sac, and wreck his rental car? Was he worried about helicopter traffic? This didn’t happen just one night, but both nights. He slept with the lights on, and the covers over his head. He's a strange dude.

So, anyone who wants to come stay at my house, you’re welcome. I have a slogan now. The Lawnwhisperer’s, “ We’ll leave the light on for you, all freaking night.”

Doesn't Measure Up

It used to be that the stars had to be perfectly aligned, and the moods just right, in order for us to take the kids out to eat. Now things are a bit easier. We still have some issues, but they are usually solved with crayons and a coloring book. My wife has a bag in the car with both items in case we go somewhere that does not have crayons. The kids are actually very good nowadays in the restaurants, but I still tense up the moment we pull into the parking lot. Actually, I am the worst behaved family member now. I get so worked up worrying about what may happen, that I fail to just relax and enjoy the time out.

This past weekend we went to a place called 99. It is a new place in my area, so we tried it out. It was ok. The beer was cold, and the meat was cooked, so it passes my test. The kids got the typical chicken fingers and fries, and seemed to be fine with the place. My wife ordered her normal, which is nothing. As we were leaving, my wife said, “well, I don’t think that was so good” How she knows this is beyond me. I think she ate 3 fries, and a bite of my burger, and yet was able to determine if the food was good or bad. I looked at the kids and asked them their opinion. “Hey boys, what did you think?” Luke replied, “It was good dad, but it ain’t no Hooters.” So he put it in perspective for me. 99 was ok, but Luke was right, it ain’t Hooters.

Rabbit Patch

Picture 1: This is the Lawnwhisperers beautiful front lawn.



Picture 2: This is a rabbit that is hanging around the Lawnwhisperer’s beautiful front lawn.





Picture 3: This is the fucking hole that the freaking rabbit dug into the middle of the lawnwhisperers beautiful front lawn. The god damn rabbit probably dug the hole so that she could go have a thousand babies in there, and now the Lawnwhisperer will not be able to fix that patch of grass, cause Mrs. Whisperer saw the rabbit digging in the front lawn and thinks it is cute and stuff, so if something happens to the rabbit she will automatically blame the Whisperer. Mrs.Whisperer also showed the two Jr. Whisperers, who know that the rabbit is going to have babies, and don’t want anything to happen to the babies. So If the Whisperer were to go out there and do anything to this rabbit or its beautiful hole, he would immediately be in trouble from all other family members. Why this fucking rabbit did not dig a hole in the back yard, or on someone else’s yard is beyond the Whisperer. The Whisperer will not stand for this. The Whisperer must get rid of this lawn destroying creature. So now the Whisperer is a hunter. “SHHHH, be very, very, very quiet, I’m hunting rabbits.”

Have a nice Day

Bon Jovi is coming to town. He will be in Philadelphia in mid July. I am taking my kids to see him. Well, I am trying to get tickets to take my kids to see him. Yes, I realize that my kids are 6 and 4, but Luke will be 5 by the time the concert is here. 6 and 5 equals 11, and I saw Kiss when I was somewhere in that 11 to 13 range. I went with a friend of mine, and his dad. You can look at this as me taking two very young kids or me taking one fairly young kid. Actually, I’m not really concerned with how you look at it. I have never claimed to be the world’s greatest dad, but I may be one of the coolest dad’s out there.

The company that I work for has season tickets to the Phillies. Being season ticket holders, we get first priority on special events at Citizens Bank Park. So I am trying to find the seats that best accommodate a 6 and a 5 year old for a rock concert. I have spoken to 5 different customer service reps for the ticketing agency, but they have yet to help me out. I have to buy the tickets online, and they won’t let me pick seats further away from the stage. They keep giving me what they deem to be ‘Best Available’. Here’s the thing, ‘best available’ is relative term. What I see as ‘best available’, and what they see as ‘best available’ are two totally different things.

I was on the phone with one lady and was explaining why I wanted seats further away. It is really none of business, but I was pleading my case so that maybe she would help me out. I said, “ Look, I want to take my 6 and 5 year old to the concert. I don’t want to be sitting with the crazy crowd. I don’t want to be sitting with the pot smokers, and drug users. I want to be back away, so that I can keep the kids away from the bad people. The seats that I am looking for will allow me to walk around and keep the kids happy.” This is where she stopped me and said, “Do you really think it is a good idea to bring such young kids to a concert?” I got a little pissed. She wasn’t even listening to me. She was stuck on the fact that she thought my kids are too young. She may be right, but that is not her place to say. Who does she think she is, my mother? So I replied, “Hey, if I was looking for parenting advice, I would call a parenting hotline. But see, I’m looking for tickets, so I called the ticket agency. Can you help me out here or not?”

Needless to say, I am still looking for different seats.

Dear Santa

Santa should work Easter as well as Christmas. I understand the religious part of Easter. I know what the holiday is all about. I am aware of the meaning of Easter. I am a bit puzzled by the Easter Bunny. I don’t get it. I find it to be down right silly. I personally find Santa Claus to be a much more believable character, and frankly a guy that even adults can believe in. But the Easter Bunny, what the fuck is that?

Is it not much more realistic that Santa Claus comes around on Easter and leaves a big basket of hyperactivity for the kids? Santa has a bunch of little helpers, so is it not more believable that the elves dyed all the eggs and hid them through the house and the yard? How believable is it that a great big giant rabbit makes his way around the world leaving candy and stuff for all of the kids? Santa has reindeer, and they fly. That is how he gets around the world in one night. How is the rabbit doing it? I don’t understand it.

As a parent, I find it a lot more manly to be playing Santa Claus on Christmas Eve than I do to be playing the Easter Bunny on Easter Eve. It is almost to embarrassing to even say the words, “Ok honey, the kids are asleep, time to be the Easter Bunny.” There is something about it that just irks me. I enjoy both of these holidays, but Santa is just a cooler character.

My wife thinks that I make a bad Easter Bunny. She thinks that I half assed it this year. Here’s the thing, I went to hide some eggs in the back yard, and it was a bit chilly. I did not have any shoes on, and the grass was wet. My feet got a little cold, so most of the eggs were in a semi-circle close to the back door. All right, all right, all right, I did not get very creative in my egg hiding, but the kids still had fun. They still found all of the eggs, and enjoyed themselves. That’s the point, right? Anyway, I’m writing a letter to Santa. I want to see if he can find it in his busy schedule to work two days a year instead on one.

Not your average soccer practice

My dad coached all of us nine kids in every sport we played. He says he never saw anything like it before. 9 kids, 3 different sports, for let’s say 15 years. That could be what, 30 different teams? 30 teams times an average of 12 kids per team equals 360 kids. My numbers are probably off, but not by much. If they are off they are under the real number of kids that he has coached, and yet he has never seen or heard of anything like what I went through at my first Soccer practice.

I had the typical kids not paying attention. I had the tears from being kicked in the shin. I had the questions from out of nowhere. I had the attention deficit issues that most 5-6 year olds have. I would be teaching the kids the goalie position and say, “Does anyone have any questions?” I had a kid raise his hand and say, “My sister pinched me today!”
Why he felt the need to tell me that at, at that particular time is beyond me, but that is what coaches deal with. None of that bothers me, actually I get a kick out of it. But I had one kid do the ultimate.

I had two lines going. We were doing a shooting drill. The kids were to dribble through the cones, and then shoot the ball when they got to the line. Things were moving smoothly until I heard, “EEEEEW Stop Peeing on me!” I turned my head and there was one little kid with his pants down peeing in the middle of the field. What is a coach to do there? How do you stop that? What do you say? How do you react, and what the hell was this kid thinking? I said, “Alright, practice is over.” This is going to be a fun season.

The Tale of Two Lawns

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. It was the day of wisdom. It was the day of foolishness. It was the day of light. It was the day of darkness. It was a day of hope. It was a day of despair. This day, this time, was the opening of whispering season. This is the Tale of Two Lawns. We have my lawn, and everyone else in the neighborhoods lawn. This day was Friday April 7th. I cut my grass on Friday. The official start of Lawn Whispering is here.

I hate stealing from Charles Dickens here, but he had a way with words. So Friday I went out and set the bar. The grass is cut in perfect diagonal lines. It is a deep dark green, while all the neighbors are still yellow. I am about to put down my second application of fertilizer and all the other stiffs have not even done their first. I have forbidden my kids to play on the lawn now. I tell them to play on the neighbor’s lawn, cause they have nothing over there to damage anyway. Hell, that is why the township has parks and playgrounds, so the kids don’t ruin their parent’s lawns. That’s the way I think anyway.

AHH, I love the wonderful smell of freshly cut grass. The beautiful sound of the mowers’ engine as I zip across the lawn. It doesn’t get any better than this. It really doesn’t get any better than whispering season.

Whose afraid of the big bad wolf?

How scared would you be if you walked into a dark office with this standing to greet you.?

Watch Children

Kyle is a reader now. He reads and reads and reads. We are at a point where he reads signs on buildings. If my wife runs into the store and we are sitting in the car, Kyle will read everything that he sees. If it is a word that he does not know, he will sound it out just like the guy from Sesame Street does. Pre scrip tion. Prescrip tion. Prescription. It’s cute. He has to read every street sign that we pass. “Dad, slow down, I want to read that sign.” So I slow down so he can read it. I find this to be cute as well. I don’t think the 10 cars lined up behind me find it so cute, but my boy is reading, so they can wait.

Last night driving home from my birthday dinner, we pull into the development, and Kyle wants to read a sign. I pause at the sign for him to get a look. He goes through the sounding it out thing, and reads it. Watch Children the sign read. Watch Children. Luke says, “ We need one of those signs at our house.” My wife and I look at each other, and Vicki says, “Why do we need one of those Luke?” “Well, you guys never watch us. The sign says watch children, and you guys always send us down the basement to play. You’re not watching us when we are down there by ourselves. How about when you send us out back to play on the swing set? Who’s watching us then?” We laugh a little and then Vic explains that we are always watching, and we know that they are safe. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Was Luke’s response. Anyway, I won’t be stopping for Kyle to read any more signs.

The Big, Bad, Ugly Freaking Wolf

I have told everyone about my fear of dogs. I am afraid of big dogs, little dogs, fat dogs and skinny dogs. It really makes no difference what kind of dog it is either. If it is a member of the dog family, I do not like them. That being said let me tell you about my Saturday.

Before I go into the events that took place on Saturday, I must give you a bit of back round. My boss is a hunter. He lives for hunting and has pretty much hunted for any animal that is huntable. Back in the fall he was wolf hunting in Canada somewhere, and got a few wolves. He has a trophy room somewhere that he keeps his hunted animals in. He had one of his wolves stuffed, and mounted on a fake rock. His wolf was shipped last week, and received at our work facility. I knew it was here, in the warehouse, in a crate. He was going to take it to his house one of these days.

I had missed work on Friday. I had a few Dr. appointments and such, so I was out all day. Being the good employee that I am, I decided to come in on Saturday to get caught up on my work. So I come into the dark empty building alone. Being alone allows me to get a ton of junk done without any interruptions. So, I enter the building and disarm the alarm system. I do not turn any lights on, as the sunlight is lighting up enough for me to see. I stroll down the hallway towards my office. I open my office door, and there in the shadows is a freaking wolf. It was a big, bad, ugly freaking wolf. I freaked out. I started backpedaling, and saying every word in the book. It took me a few seconds to register that this was one of the stuffed wolves, and even after that hit me, I was still scared shitless.

I gathered myself, and got my composure back. I tiptoed around the beast towards my desk. My heart was still pounding, as I sat down in my chair. I turned toward my computer and there was a big, bad, ugly freaking wolf head under my desk. I freaked again. The bastards got me, and they got me good. I grabbed my files and ran out of the office screaming like a little girl. The entire office knew about this practical joke. They all thought that I would be in on Monday, and they were going to be here to see me pass out, but I came in on Saturday. Saturday was April fools day. They did not even mean to get me on April fools, but they did. They got me, the bastards got me good. I hate the people I work with.

Lukey The Kid

Little kids are cute when they talk about growing up. I like hearing about all the things they are going to do. My kids have a thousand ideas, and they voice them often. Here is the latest.

Luke wants to be a Bank Robber when he grows up. He told my wife this just last night. Out of the clear blue, Luke says, “Mom, I’m going to be a Bank Robber when I grow up.” Vic chuckles and asks, “A bank robber? Why do you want to be a bank robber?”“Because, bank robbers are rich!” Vic tried to explain it to him, that bank robbing was bad, but Luke wasn’t buying it. “Mom, all the money is in the bank, I rob the bank, I am rich.”

So Vic goes on to explain how it is not good to rob banks, and that he could be something else. She tells him how people have to go to work, and work hard to earn their money. She gave him the old, “You can be rich in family and friendship” speech. She let him know that there is more to life than just having a ton of money. She did a good job, she convinced him of something. Cause when she was finished talking he said, “OK, I don’t want to be rich anymore, but I still want to be a bank robber.”