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.