Case Logic Inspires Logical Music Choices

Get a look at that. Yup. That right there is a book full of CD's that is currently in Latifah (My cars always have Black chick names. No idea how that started). I unpacked them all out of the cases years ago and found the biggest book offered on Amazon to transfer them into to save space. Do you know that I am such a nut about my outdated tangible music format that I took the back covers out to slip into the sleeves so that I wouldn't lose any paperwork? Also, how could I part with some of these discs? You see that album on the left that reads, "Thirteen?" That is an album by a group called Horny Toad with Louichi Mayorga, founding member of Suicidal Tendencies. He came into the record store I worked at to drop off a few copies, but sadly I wasn't working that day. That album is one where if I threw it out I just know that I would never think to look it up down the line. And even if I did, I would never find it. The Horny Toads live on inside Latifah!

The giant book of CD's has been sitting on a shelf for years now, but something made me take them to my car one morning. I have been having a blast spinning some classics (classics to me, that is). The other day I played Jane's Addiction's "Ritual De Lo Habitual" all the way through. If you go through the effort of putting back the last disc, thumbing through for your next one, slipping the new one back into the player, and especially if you are driving during that whole process - then you're going to damn well listen to the whole thing.

This was the beauty of tangible music, and those days are long forgotten by many and never even known by newer generations. But, my god, I forgot how fantastic Jane's Addiction was. As I was playing those songs I got to thinking that girls loved that band too. They had a sexiness about them with the grooves they played, and they were all tattoo'd up rebel surfer types but with a hippy vibe. They had a heavy but funky aspect to their playing, a lot like the Chili Peppers, only Jane's had a good singer.

I'm off to a beach vacation tomorrow with my in-laws for a week, so I wanted to be sure to keep up on blogging weekly. I know I won't get a chance at the beach house. Your Mission, Seven Readers: Find a piece of tangible music and play it. Report back to me with your findings. 

During the summers that I don't have to go to work and am working as a full time father, I take one day out of the week to drop Erik Noisewater off at daycare. This particular
Daycare Day I was surprisingly efficient. 

1. I always go to coffee shops because I know for a fact I won't get anything done at home. I'll just end up watching television, napping, burping the worm, and who knows what other useless things I can do to avoid getting shit done. I find it fun to keep trying out new coffee shops, and yesterday's was an awesome Colombian one where you can pour yourself regular or sparkling water out of taps. Now that is cool because to be honest I only typically sip one coffee all day, and that's enough to keep me going. But I probably have around 5 to 6 waters, and sparkling stuff makes me feel like a big timer. So that's one thing I did. Found a dope coffee shop in my new neighborhood.

I always find a couch because I have shit posture. 

2. I turned submitted all my tests and essays for one online class and signed up for a new one. If I can knock down a couple more I can bump my pay grade up a little to help pay for necessities like diapers, mortgages, and craft beers.

3. Got a haircut. Do any of you have that place Sports Clips where it's a sports themed place in which you can watch ESPN, get a hot towel on your face, they massage your back with a vibrator (not that kind), and the ladies all wear referee outfits? It's probably a little sexist, right? I never really gave it much thought, but it's kind of like, "What do men like? Sports. Women in skimpy outfits. Women pampering them. And watching sports while women don't talk." Anyway, I did talk to my stylist, and she was a very nice young lady with an AD/HD 3-year-old. I was able to give her some advice in exchange for her maybe demeaning herself a little, for whatever that is worth.

I think they actually stopped wearing these, so I don't feel AS douchey going now.

4. After the haircut I stopped into my gym that is across the street. Not to work out. It's an off day with my marathon training. I just wanted a peanut butter, banana, and chocolate shake. Some guy named Jay came up when she swiped my gym pass, and I was like, "That's cool. Put that on Jay's account. Fuck him." The gym gal laughed and upgraded me to a large one for the price of a medium. The large one was way too much shake, as wide of a cup as a gallon of milk, but I still finished that bad boy because it tastes like chocolate, bananas, and peanut butter for God's sakes.

5. Then I thought I should get in a hot yoga class to stretch out my legs that are getting destroyed from all the running. I laid my gym mat on the floor, and then when I flapped the towel out to put on top of the mat, something went flying out that had been stuck to the towel. When I looked more closely tot see what it was, it was lacy. What could it be? Oh shit! Panties! I just shot panties across the room in a yoga studio. Everyone in there is going to think I'm some sort of panty-sniffing yoga pervert when in actuality my wife's panties just clung to the towel from the laundry. But who would believe that?

No, I don't wear those pants. Nor the glasses. And no, I can't do that with my legs. 

And they just had to be lacy, right? If they were her workout bloomers they would look like maybe it was a headband or something. Nope. Unmistakeably panties. I swiftly scooped them up and snuck them in my pocket. Honestly, it was hard to get into my zen mode during some of the more challenging stretches because in the back of my mind I was worried about the damn panties slipping out of my pocket and back onto the studio floor.

6. Aside from the panties thing, the yoga was really great. I left feeling very recharged and at one with where I was in that time and place, if that makes any sense. Hard to explain I suppose unless you do some yoga from time-to-time. I only get around to going to a class every so often, but every time I think to myself that I need to make it a weekly event. A lot like blogging, which I'm sure you can understand. Then as I'm walking to my car I see two meter maid guys looking at my license plate and typing in their computer thingies. Shit! I tried to explain that I had no idea it was a metered lot, which was true. They were having none of it. One guy was training the other guy, and he talked to the trainee like I wasn't even there. He wouldn't even look at me.



Every time I have come out to my car and the person was in the midst of writing a ticket, they have let me go. Isn't that kind of an unspoken rule? Like, "Okay, you win this round. But watch your ass!" Nope. This guy was having none of that. Maybe he had to be tough in front of the trainee, or maybe he was just a dick. I was thinking to myself that if I wanted out of this one I would have to grovel and kiss this guy's ass, and I couldn't bring myself to do that. I hated him, so I would rather just pay the fifty bucks. After getting in my car (because I always think of the right move after it's too late) what I thought I could have done was to throw a yoga towel, or a pair of panties, over the license plate and peel out of that bitch. Next time. All the more reason to keep a pair of panties in your pocket. What in the hell am I talking about?

Until next time, Seven Readers. Get shit done today like a daddy on a damn mission. What do you have cracking this weekend? I intend to go to a Cubs game tomorrow night with my season ticket buddies and it will likely be an evening of straight-up drunken, skin-tight* buffoonery. Talk to you again next week, probably a few brain cells lighter, but I'll still try to be funny as best I can.
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*No, that doesn't make any sense. It's a Guided By Voices lyrics. Few of their lyrics make any kind of sense, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Shit-Canned At the Grocery Store

So far I have made good on updating the old blog once a week again. You know what helped? I have a repeating entry on the calendar in my phone that reads, "Update your blog, you fucking fuck." It helps to capture that anger at myself so that my future self is reminded how mad past self is at himself. And that might be the dumbest most confusing sentence I have ever written on here, but get used to it. Because it will now be weekly again.

The other day I went to the grocery store with Baby Noisewater, and after spending an insane amount of time in traffic, I decided I had earned a drink. We have one of those fancy grocery spots with a bar inside complete with a full band playing. By 5pm it's nearly impossible to get a seat at the bar. So what a lot of customers do is get an adult beverage and sip it whilst they get their shopping done. Since it was a balmy summer evening, I decided a margarita would hit the spot.

As I'm midway through finding all the items on my list I suddenly realized that I was quite drunk. On only one drink! To me, this mason jar had to have been 80% tequila, but maybe it was a combination of a very stiff drink and a very weakened tolerance. Dr. Ken before child was going out every Friday and Saturday night. With-child (that sounds pregnant) Dr. Ken really ties one on maybe once a month. The right thing to do would be to set that glass of demon rum on the bar, but the cheap-ass and drunk-ass in me said, "We can't let this bad boy go to waste, now can we?"

I like to let Baby Noisewater pick out his fun grocery cart: Taxi, police car, fire engine, or pink car. If he picks the pink one, totally cool with me, but this time he went with the taxi. He was reaching over his steering wheel that doesn't do shit for my 'Rita and saying, "Juicy!" I tried to explain to him that it was "daddy juice" and that it was "yuck." He wasn't convinced. I was looking for some frozen fruit for smoothies. The prices are a lot better at the local members only bulk store, but I needed some now. I actually said out loud, "These prices stink!" Then Noisewater started shouting, "Prices stink! Prices stink!" He was hollering"stink" about their prices and I was stinking drunk. We were not a desirable customer combo in the fancy grocery store at this point.

Have you ever noticed that when you're drinking you want to talk people more, and if no one is around you end up talking to yourself? Well, as a social drinker that's how I operate, and having a kid in your cart is pretty much free reign to jabber to yourself like a nut. "How about some bananas? Those look a little ripe, and those shits are organic. Fuck that." Nobody bats an eye when they see you have a baby in your cart along for the ride. And forgive me if I've talked about this before, but people give you a lot of breaks when you're a dad. Everyone helps me out when I'm out and about with my kiddo. Holding doors, offering to help me carry my stroller off of the train. Sadly, I don't see this sort of support for our moms out there, and I think it's because it's expected of them to go it alone out there. Fucked up, right?

I'm going to post you a video for you to give you an idea of how goofy Baby Noisewater and I are and how much fun we have together. Just to explain, his grandfather had recently gotten him saying  Geronimo and cowabunga when he pushes him on the swings at the park. Baby Noisewater just knows inherently that cowabunga is funny word. I'm proud of him because he talks a lot for his age, he is polite, he is friendly, and he is loving. All that is great. But the number one thing by far that makes me proud is that he is funny. That's important to me. Tell me he is not funny in this clip? That gag of him biting the book is hilarious and then he says, "eat." He had never done that before. It just came to him. Quite the natural improv. The guy seems to know what gets a laugh out of people, and then he beats it to death like a dead horse, just like his old man. He's a good dude and a solid shopping companion when I'm all burracho'd up on a potent margarita, crossing items off of my grocery list.



It's Friday, my Seven Readers. Tip something back and enjoy it. I booked a sitter and I'm taking the lady out for a nice dinner. What do you have on tap?

This has certainly been the longest period between blog updates. It probably looked like I retired. What's worse, it probably looks like I had an ass surgery (last post) and that made me hang up my blogging shoes. Nope, it is just laziness. I think I have convinced myself that I'm not as funny as I used to be, that I'm not as good of a writer, and I don't get inspiration of interesting ideas coming to me like I used to. These are all probably true, but the trick is just sitting down and typing. Something will come to me that way, and I'll get better in all those areas the more I keep at it.

So what is new? I'm moved into the new condo. We really do like it a lot over here. Erik isn't even two-years-old yet, and when we are in the car and I turn on the block he says, "home-home." It already feels like home to him, and that's really great. The neighbors are all very nice, and Erik even has a friend of his own across the hall named Cole. The block is very quiet and almost suburban, but then you can walk to things easily that feel very much urban. So, it's a best of both worlds. Mrs. Noiswater and I finally feel like grown folks.

As some of you know I have the summertime off every year. I'm keeping busy by taking Erik Noisewater to as many free activities as I can find (I also don't get paid in the summer). I devised a schedule where he has stuff to do every day. A given week will look something like this:

Monday: Drive him out to the suburbs to see his grandparents. I'll usually do a long run on those days because I'm marathon training. It turns out piling miles onto legs that are 7 years older than my last marathon is a lot harder.

Tuesday: Run him with the running stroller over to Wrigley Field for a singing and dancing thing in the little park outside the ballpark. Stay for the water spraying everywhere and let him go nuts. The kid loves water.

Wednesday: Story time at the library. We have a women's bookstore that does one too. I really hope they don't tell me and Erik to take our asses and penises out of there. Just kidding, I'm sure they are very welcoming to all. We live in a heavily gay and lesbian neighborhood. I'm trying to find a local bar that isn't a predominately gay one. I can hang out a gay one, but I think my go to one would be good if it were a straight one, right?. That sounds so shitty to say that, but I think it's hard to explain myself and the more I do the bigger asshole I sound like. Let's move onto Thursday.

Thursday: Take him to the free public zoo so he can look at all kinds of fun animals. But usually he just wants to find the construction trucks and gets pumped about riding the bus. He's a city kid for sure.

Friday: Drop him off at daycare so I can work on my online classes. I'm trying to knock out three classes this summer so I can bump up my pay scale. That's the only reason. Almost none of the stuff will I ever be putting into practice. It is boring as hell so I lock myself in a coffee shop so there are no easy ways to distract myself.

Pretty much I'm just really happy. It turns out having kids and a family is fun as hell. I guess I always thought it would just be so hard and boring. Hardly. There was a time where I wished I was rich and famous, but you know what? It fucking sucks to be famous right now. They are all caught up in some "me too" scandal, or they're in a messy divorce, or they have reporters following them everywhere. Sure, I'm finding free shit all over the city to do because I need to save dough, but I like my life this way. I actually would not trade places with any celebrity.

How are you feeling, readers? About the same or is there a celebrity you secretly wish you could switch places with?