Tuesday, March 8, 2011
I know what you're all thinking and you can just climb down off that magnificent stallion of yours. The idea of wanting to be a parent is a selfish act to begin with, isn't it? You are basically claiming that the world would be better if there were a little bit more of you in it. That, somehow, the world as it is is incomplete with its current helping. My reason for wanting to be a parent is far more noble than this. The need runs much deeper than the natural animal instinct to spread my seed. It drives the actions of all middle children I know. It is the reason we wake up in the morning, and it is the reason we pretend to forget our siblings' birthdays. The reason is sweet, simple, magnificent, spite. Spite and spite alone drives me to do such a thing. When one understands the equation that brings about a middle child, one understands the reason for my actions.
In order for there to be a middle child (a child of whom can receive my love and affection), there must be a first and a last who receive my wrath. The coming of this second child marks the second step in my masterpiece. A delicate tapestry I have been assembling since the first time my mother unsuccessfully put me up for adoption. My son is on the way, and he will be the child of my affection. He will receive love and care the likes of which this world has never seen. He shall be showered with praise, excused of chores, and encouraged to learn how to use the potty at his own pace. There is no going too fast, and no going too slow. He will not be forced into any sort of organized recreation. His first word will be "yes" as he shall hear no other. He will be fed red meat until his heart wants to explode with joy! I will grow him as a prized fattened calf. I will take clothes given to our other children as birthday gifts, tear them apart, and knit them together as a coat of many colors for my son. And through my line, all middle children who know no victory, only defeat, no support, only anguish, and have never received the big piece of cake a day in their lives, will receive vindication.
The day of reckoning is coming!
Monday, February 28, 2011
My second strategy was run directly in to him, push him as hard as I could back into the wall, and then just punch as fast as I could into his gut. This worked surprisingly well, but only because I would do it out of nowhere. Do not try that one in a real fight.
And last, should you find yourself in a real fight, there are three tactics you can utilize to get through. I cannot take credit for these, they were taught to me by my best friend growing up. He had 5 older sisters and the estrogen flowed like fine wine in that house. He was a better retreater than I ever was.
1. Armadillo Defense: Curl up into a tight little ball on the ground. A fetal position, but on your knees. The key to success here is that you don't move. Hold this position for at least an hour after your opponent leaves the room, lest they be hiding around the corner. Beware, once they learn how to implement a kidney punch, it's pretty much over.
2. No Bones: Just make as if you have no bones. Fall limp to the ground as if you were a dead body. After all, no one wants to hit a dead body. That's gross.
3. Thumb Butt: This is the only offensive move you should use, and even then, its only if you have no choice. Wait until your opponent is getting up from trying to break you from your armadillo defence. When they are getting up off the floor, stiffen your thumb and strike. Only rule here is if you are going to implement this move, you have to yell "thumb butt!" when you do it. Just remember, once you yell "thumb butt," your committed. So act swiftly, and with great prejudice.
Good night, and good luck.
One summer afternoon we found ourselves in the back yard and decided to partake of one of our favorite activities, "alley shopping." This consisted of Tony and I wandering down the alley behind our house looking for other people's discarded treasure. This day, we hit the motherload. We found about 350 sq ft of used carpet in convenient rolls. It occured to us what our domain had been missing. It was that cozy living room feeling you can only get from being able to dig your toes in carpet. We loaded the rolls in the back gate one by one, rolling them out underneath our tree. It was a thing of beauty. All we needed now was a recliner, a lamp, and a coffee table.
We began to learn an important lesson. The more stuff you have, the more protective over it you become. And with the addition of carpet to our already beautiful grapefruit tree, it became more and more obvious to us that we needed a line of defense. A way to watch after our property when we weren't there. What about when we were at school? Some neighbor kids could easily hop the wall and sit under our tree! Disgusting. The thought of some other neighborhood jerks enjoying our enviroment made us sick. The next logical step? Booby traps. I have outlined our efforts below for your reference in the protection of your wares.
1.) The Abyss: Dig a hole. A pretty good sized hole. Use the pocket knife your parents got your brother for christmas and sharpen some sticks at the bottom of the hole, cover with a thin layer of plastic and construction paper. Cover plastic and construction paper with leaves. Wait.
2.) The Brain Blaster: Find an arrow from the toy bow and arrow set that your parents bought your over-priviliged brother for Christmas. Balance it precariously atop the tree. Tie a string to it that extends down to the ground, easily bumped by a passerby. Test this one a few times to make sure it works. If done correctly, the arrow should fall straght down with enough velocity to dig in to the ground about six - eight inches. (It should be noted that dogs can set off this trap easily. Gizmo was a near miss. This did, however, confirm the effectiveness of the trap).
Manual Controlled. To be activated manually from a tactical position:
3.) Frondinator: For those of you who don't know, years back some genius decided to start planting palm trees in Arizona. Known to locals only as "The Devil Tree," they lack purpose all-together except for one thing. They are useful for home defense purposes. The palm frond of the palm tree is lined with tiny little thorns. Secure frond to a rope, thorn side out. Tie back to the tree, release as enemy approaches.
4.) Grapefruit Dump: This is pretty simple. Its just a box of old soggy/moldy grapefruit kept up in the tree. Should the enemy approach, dump box accordingly.
There you have it! All you need to know about home defense.
"We had to make room."
"For what? That's my bedroom!"
"Your father has decided he wants to get in to shape. He's going to take up running."
"Round is a shape!" I insisted to no avail. "And what does that have to do with my room?"
"We're getting him a treadmill."
The only thing dumber than running on the street with no destination was doing it on a machine that keeps you stationary. "I thought you were enjoying camping? Aren't you having a good time?"
"I was, but I am ready to sleep in my bed again. I think I need to see a chiropractor mom, my L5 is killing me!"
"Your vertebrae are fine, Mike. They're not even completely fused yet; you need to give it time."
I reluctantly resigned myself to the fact that the back yard was to be my new home. I headed outside only to find my loyal hound tearing my tent to pieces. I forgot I had left the last corn ration that my mother had given my under my pillow. "Amature!" I thought to myself. So I decided to form a shanty out of the old tent pieces and the leaves of a fig tree that I took from my neighbor's house. The nights started getting longer as winter began to rear its ugly head. Now winter in AZ ain't all that bad but you don't want to be outside either. Gizmo and I found out real fast the secret to staying warm in the winter was body heat. We came to really depend on each other. I coveted his long winter coat and I assume he coveted my opposable thumbs.
I truly learned to appreciate all that I once had thanks to my mom having me sleep outside. I hold no hostility toward her now. And through all of it, she continued to take care of me. She explained that my restless bowels were caused by making my oleander tea, and that I could close an open wound using the sap from the rubber tree. She would come out on the nights when the weather man would predict a hard freeze and cover up me and the hibiscus I slept next to with Tony's old bed sheets. I felt so warm on those nights. So loved. I only hope that my kids will feel the same kind of affection.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
I find this step particularly difficult to do without killing the bird.
Lice. Now you're speaking my language.
I would rather check the three finger width on the chickens colon again.
I prefer to use the broiler.
Season to taste.