I just spent 1.5 hours trying to escape the mall parking lot.  I’ve seen the worst humanity has to offer.  Christmas spirit- Bullshit!  If Christmas spirit really existed one of the six-zillion motorist who refused my attempts to merge into the exit lane would have exploded in front of my Dodge Ram creating a huge gaping hole to the freeway.  But no such luck- instead they thumbed their noses at me and my extremely impatient children as they inched closer and closer to their “Red Lobster” dinners and “Pier 1″ 50% off sales.

Mark my words- I shall never Christmas shop in person again.  From this day forward if I can’t find it on Amazon, Zappos or Overstock it ain’t happening- some Christmas wishes will just have to go unrealized.

Oh by the way, if you’re the old lady who wrestled the Victoria’s Secret Yoga pants from my clutches this afternoon- well done.  I know it wasn’t easy, especially when I body slammed you into the Super Miracle Bra and seamless thong display but kudos to you for holding on and making the purchase.  My only regret is I won’t have a chance to redeem myself.

I’ve been drinking Carlo Rossi and doing some on-line shopping, friggin dangerous combo.  Funny how your mind works when slightly lubricated with cheap red table wine. 

I’ve got most of the family figured out but trying to find a gift for my father has become increasingly difficult over the years.  So to remedy the problem I went to www.sportsmansguide.com- this is my fail safe web site for holiday gift ideas.  I never walk away empty handed- so many discounted, yet soundly constructed items, you’re sure to find something for everyone.

In about five minutes I came up with four quality items that I am positive my father would be happy to call his own.

Item #1-

Simply Better Meat Mallet from Jaccard® is FOUR tenderizers in one!

When I saw this nifty little “Meat Mallet” I had to ask myself “what man dosen’t enjoy beating meat?” I mean come on, every guy I know spends an inordinate amount of time whacking on his meat trying to return it to a soft and pliable state- especially if his meat has been stored for a while.  This mighty mallet, complete with ergonomically designed rubberized “grippage”, guarantees to soften up even the toughest of customers- friggin awesome!  If I get this little number for my Pops he’ll be a meat beating fool- which is good because when I spoke to him on the way home this evening he had just got done purchasing $400.00 worth of butcher grade cow- I’m not talented enough to make this shit up.

The only thing that puzzles me about the whole thing is the manufacturer claims that their product is capable of beating meat four different ways? I’m almost 40 and I know of only one way to beat my meat- you slap the daylights out of it until it’s tender- end of story.  If anyone out there knows of three additional ways to tenderize meat please let me know- I’d be interested in trying them all.  Hell, I could have a meat beating marathon.

Item #2

A thick, lush head of hair. Is this a dream? No... it's the Flair Hair Camo Visor.

Believe it or not, “Billy-Ray-Joe-Bob” is as bald as an egg plant- but you would never know because he’s sporting the revolutionary “Flair Hair Camo Visor”.  I would bet money that the redneck who tore himself away from the NASCAR channel long enough to design this trainwreck had a huge crush on all four of the “Back Street Boys”.  I’ve come to this conclusion because the joker pictured above looks like a middle aged Justin Timberlake- only better because he’s got a kicking, well manicured beard to compliment his straight from “Spring Break 2010″ Faux-doo.  If I purchase this for my father I’m going to include some super righteous fake tribal tattoos to go with it; he deserves the total package- from Grandad to “Super Pimpin Frat Boy Gone Wild”- whoot, whoot!

Item 3-

Ho, Ho, Holy shit!- no way am I buying this for my Dad because I love that guy with all my heart.  I just thought I would post this picture in case anyone out there is considering purchasing this number for me.  Be forewarned if you buy me this for Christmas I’ll wear it just long enough to douse myself in gasoline, light myself on fire and run into your home incinerating all of your worldly possessions as I scream obscenities at the top of my smoke filled lungs.  Just wanted you to know before things got out of hand.

Meet the Toilet Monster

Item #4-

The only reason I would buy this for my father is to see the look on his face when it springs up from the bowl to greet him during his 2am potty break.  That shit would be Hil-lar-ious!

But then I asked myself how sanitary could this thing possibly be?  Truth is, once it gets released into the crapper it’s there for the long haul- because I for one am surely not retrieving it.  Not to mention the trauma this thing could cause if someone sat on him in a rush to have their morning BM- friggin sobering thought isn’t it?

Funny, you would think that with all of the advances in engineering the ass-clown who designed the “Shitter Gremlin” would have had just a little more insight into it’s potential for multiple class action law suits?

Well that’s what I came up with so far- feel free to offer an opinion or better yet an alternative gift idea.

This post is going to get me in trouble-mark my words:)

Big Props go out to my wife for her superb performance during the brunt of the mysterious flu like illness that Mack has been battleing since last Thursday.  She’s not one for blood and guts but give her an illness and she’s on it like a Hobo on a ham sandwich. 

We’re reluctant to call Mack’s illness ”Pig Flu” because we don’t want to contribute to the Pandemic hysteria that has accompanied the newest strain of winter illnesses- but it sure did act, smell and sound like the “Pig Plague”.

We’re keeping our eyes open and our fingers crossed that Mack will be the only victim.

In case you’re wondering Mack seems to be a bit better today- Luckily Connie did all the heavy lifting yesterday so all that’s left is to hang on the couch and watch America’s Funniest Home Videos with the recovering patient.

I’m a fortunate man.

Cayden lost another tooth last night- I helped with the extraction.

Soon after the tears/blood stopped flowing I wrote a note to remind myself to leave the window open for the “Tooth Fairy”- otherwise the “Tooth Fairy” might forget to visit, especially after two glasses of Carlo Rossi ;).  Trouble is, when I went to open the window I discovered the “Tooth Fairy” was fresh out of dollar bills.

I love my kids- but all the “Tooth Fairy” was packing in his fairy purse was a ten spot.

Like I said I love my kids- but $10 in exchange for a nasty dead tooth is not an equitable trade.

The ”Tooth Fairy” improvised,

 He left Cayden a Ham Sandwich and a Kohls 30% off coupon.

Funny, Cayden looked really pissed off this morning.

I say a lot of stupid shit- because, well I’m stupid.

Cayden has certain favorites that he attempts to mimic on occasion.  One of them is this catchy little ditty that I learned on the drill field when I was a young enlisted Marine.

“I’m gonna pull off your ears and shove them in your back pockets so you can listen to me kicking your butt”

Never fails to get a laugh out of Cayden.  He hasn’t quite mastered it yet- he starts laughing every time he thinks about pulling someones ears off.

I hope in the past seven years I’ve given him with more than this to get him through life’s challenges.

But, there is a really good chance that long after I’m gone this will be the one thing that Cayden pulls from the old memory bank when he thinks about his old man.

Could be worse- I could have said “Ass”

I agreed to take the boys to Chuck E. Cheese this morning for some “game play” if they willingly cleaned up the  basement.  Funny, I don’t remember bartering chores for fun when I was a kid.  The only compromise I can recall was something like ”if you clean up your mess I won’t pull your lips over your head”- a far cry from the bribery that I currently employ. 

Things have surely changed.  

Apparently my boys have been led to believe that there are no absolutes in the parent/child relationship- everything is negotiable.  Somehow I’ve come to accept this notion as well, as I often participate in the bargaining cycle like a first time home owner at closing.  Since when did the boys and I enter into an agreement where all of our opinions were weighed equally?  I often have to remind myself that it is “I” who pay the mortgage, shop for groceries and put ”Tony Hawk” skate shoes on their feet- plus if you abide by neanderthal rules I outweigh each of them by at least 150lbs.  So my opinion should matter slightly more than the kid who thinks “Glitter Glue” is made form the fart residue of the “Trix” Rabbit.

I wonder what my Dad would have done if he had asked me to do something and I said “You know I’m not really feeling it right now, maybe later”.  It’s likely the preservation of my meager life would be directly attributed to the sudden cardiac arrest he experienced as my flagrant disregard for his authority sunk into his “brain housing” group.

Fortunately for him, the word “no” never passed beyond my subconscious thought.  I didn’t have an ounce of intestinal fortitude when it came to my parents- they said do something and I did it- at least until I hit puberty (then I became a bit of a smart ass).

It makes me wonder what magical parenting theories my folks used to achieve this level of unquestioning obedience to orders?  It couldn’t have been anything founded in research data or trial tested on prisoners- hell, 40-years ago parenting advice consisted of “during pregnancy smoke filtered cigarettes and try to limit yourself to beer and wine during the last trimester”.  If you compare that to what parents put themselves through today it’s a wonder that any of us survived at all- let alone obeyed our parent’s demands.  You would think that with all of the expert advice we’re recieving our kids should be 6′3, 200lbs of tightly packed muscle with IQ’s in the genius range- if you have one of these kids let me know we’ve yet to have one over for a play date. 

I just don’t get it?

Should I throw away “What to Expect…” and purchase a carton of Camels- or should I convince myself that kids are different today because of the crazy hormone levels found in boneless chicken breast?

Connie and I are busy making the chow.

I have all ready had my first glass of Carlo. Fine wine can be enjoyed all hours of the day- 5pm rule need not apply.

Oh the boys?

They’re in my gym, shirtless, working off the Thanksgiving dinner they haven’t eaten yet.  When I went down to check on them Cayden was running in place (pretty common for Mr. High-Energy) and Mack was standing in front of the mirror stroking what he  believes to be his first armpit hair. 

I’m not surprised nor am I concerned.  Both of my boys are convinced they are in the throes of puberty.  Two days ago they got in an argument over who needed to wear deodorant and who didn’t.  We all agreed that Mack warranted his own bottle of speed stick, but Cayden still smelled pretty good- he was extremely distraught.  To make him feel better I told him that his Fu-Manchu made up for his lack of body odor.  He’s been rubbing his upper lip ever since. 

Man I’m quick on my feet…

Connie e-mailed me this photo the other day.  I’m not really sure what her motivation was to do so. 

Maybe she thought that the sight of my sons modeling Hershey Kiss nipples would make me swell with fatherly pride?

Or, maybe the doughy sugar coated aereole were meant to remind me to stop at the grocery store on the way home from work and pick up  eggs, milk and bread?

Or, maybe it’s a desperate cry a cry for help?

“HELP!  The boys broke into the cupboard while I was working and baked themselves up a fresh batch of silver dollar sized nipples- they’ve been running amok tweaking their Hershey Kisses all afternoon- get home soon!

 No matter how you slice it the end the result is the same- I’m afraid to go to work, I’m not sure what will happen while I’m gone…

Cayden’s seven years old and until the other night he was able to retain every single one of his baby teeth.  This isn’t completely unheard of.  Plenty of kids hold onto their primary teeth for even longer than that but this fact did little to ease Cayden’s frustration.  He was tired of being the only kid in 1^st grade without a huge gaping hole in his front grill.  As an aside, isn’t it strange that kids consider a toothless smile a sign of prestige as where adults see it as a sign of poor dental hygiene or methamphetamine addiction?

Regardless, Cayden was eager to lose his petite little tic-tac teeth and acquire some big honking “Sponge Bob” fangs.  So two nights ago when he announced that he had a wiggly one- he was most excited.  Losing your first baby tooth is a noteworthy milestone- and unlike learning how to use the potty this one came with a cash reward.

For two days the kid worked feverishly on his loose tooth.  He wiggled it, pushed it, twisted it and tugged it.  I got so used to seeing his hands elbow deep in his “soup-cooler” that I stopped putting silverware at his place setting.  Think about it, what’s the point of giving a handless kid eating utensils?  It’s just plain mean. 

But, no matter how much effort he expended the tooth refused to budge.  So like every other job that fails to be accomplished by lesser means he called in some heavy artillery- he asked Dad for help. 

Cayden- “Dad can you help me pull out my tooth?”

Dad- (feigning excitement) “Don’t move I’ll go get my vice grips!”

Cayden- “Uggggghhhh, Daaaaaad- NO, sob, sob, snivel, snort…

Dad- “Dude, relax I was only joking- channel lock pliers are more appropriate”

Cayden- “Whoosh!” (That’s the sound my son makes when running at the speed of light)

Maybe I should have been more sensitive- but I’m not completely at fault.  Cayden should assume some responsibility for my callous humor- after all he’s the one who asked a retired Marine to perform a potentially painful dental procedure on him-  that’s about as intelligent as licking Hannibal Lecter’s lips.

I was finally able to coax Cayden out from behind the love seat by promising him that I wouldn’t use anything harder than dental floss to extract his tooth.   He did however, demand a thorough explanation of the procedure before completely letting his guard down.

I asked him sit at the counter and lean his head back.  I then tied a slip knot on a long piece of dental floss and slid it over the wiggly tooth.  Cayden looked concerned (terrified) so I let him hold the loose end of the string.

Cayden- “What now Dad?”

Dad- “Well buddy we’re going to go upstairs to your bedroom, tie the string to your bedpost and then I’m going to heave you out the window J”

Cayden- “ugggghhhhhh Mommmmmm! Dad’s gonna throw me out the window!”

Dad- “Shush boy, you’re going to get me in trouble”.

While Cayden weighed his options for escape I grabbed his hand, the one holding the string, and gave it a sharp tug.  I figured it best to make him the responsible party.  That way if things went south he would only have himself to blame.

Result- Blood (but only a little), tears and several quick but painful jabs to my upper torso- Cayden was less than pleased.  He was even less pleased when he realized the tooth was still stuck in his face.  I didn’t think of that possibility so I had no pre-planned response designed to calm him down.  The befuddled look on my face sent him running to find his mother.

Thankfully, before he had the opportunity to tattle on me the tooth fell out.  I’m positive I had something to do with it- but since it didn’t happen right in front of me I got absolutely no credit.  Life is so unfair.  Next time I’m using an ice skate and a rock- that shit worked in “Cast Away” (Tom Hanks is a national treasure) it’s bound to work on the boys…

I’m thinking of you today Andy. 

I do that a lot- but more so on days like today.

I promise to write your mom and dad and let them know.

They’ll probably get choked up- but don’t worry, hearing from one of us never fails to make them smile.

You see your loss is painful for them- but not quite as painful as thinking their son is forgotten by his fellow Marines. 

I promise I won’t let that happen.

I’ll let them know that I remember.

That I’ll always remember.

Happy Veteran’s Day Andy