To Bird-Dog a Russian

I have to admit that in the past a lot of the stories I would tell on this blog took place at a bar. Since becoming a parent my nights of carousing are a lot more rare, but I did step out with some buddies recently for my birthday. We ended up at a place in my neighborhood with one of the biggest beer lists in the city, and although it is a classy joint with an excellent menu, they surprisingly have a no kids policy. So, I thought it was a great chance to get in there since I didn't have Erik Noisewater as a dining companion for a night.

I came in there to find my good friends Night Train and 312 bellied up to the bar. We ordered clams, a tray of fancy cheeses, you know, man shit, right? There were playoff football games on, but believe it or not this place and their clientele are way more into their beer than they are into sports. 312 flipped his phone up on the bar so we could watch, and a manager actually came over to us to say that he had to turn the sound off. We didn't put up a fight, flipped the sound off, went back to our hors d'oervres, sipping Belgian beers we couldn't pronounce, and telling lies. 

Just to give you the lay of the land to set up the situation I want to share with you, if you were there and facing the bar, the order of us was 312, Dr. Kenneth Noisewater, and Nigh Train. Our relationship status for the three of us is that I'm happily married, Night Train is in a newly committed thing, but 312 is single and ready to mingle with Kris Kringle. No idea if that spin on the expression is a thing or makes any sense whatsoever, but there you have it. 312 had a young lady to his left who was all alone at the bar, and when he started chatting her up he ascertained that she was waiting for a date (I believe their second date), and the guy was considerably late. Bad form. The late guy not only screwed up by breaking the important rule that he should have learned long ago about never keeping a lady waiting, but by doing so he allowed 312 to start working his charm. 

When Late Guy finally showed up all three of us noticed that he wasn't at all apologetic about making her sit there all alone on a Friday night waiting for him. You'll notice that our attention to the NFL had disappeared completely. Our chief concern was this Russian (did I mention she was Russia?) gal and if there was any possiblity at all that 312, in an unprecedented move, could steal her away from him. When the date went off to pee, 312 casually asked how it was going. She said he had already told a story about taking too many weed edibles and getting lost in a grocery store. Not sure how that scores a guy any points. She said at this rate she would be home very soon.

312 asked Night Train and myself for input about how he could find a way to see this woman again without looking like an alpha male jerk or something. I first suggested that when she went to the bathroom, he could intercept her around the corner so Late Guy couldn't see it and exchange numbers then, but that window closed when she sat back down. I asked if he had a business card so he could discreetly get it to her. I mean, Late Guy did seem like a turd, but that kind of puts her in an awkward spot to be on a date with one guy and get hit on by another one - so discretion was key. Believe it or not, my friends, he did have a business card in his possession and was able to do a slight of hand drop off before we made our way out. We high fived him and forgot all about it. 

Then later in the night as we are in the cab on the way to the next spot, 312 got a text from Russian Girl. By god, he pulled it off. She was interested in him. 

We had a helluva fun time that night, and the from Russia with love switcheroo gave me a chance to live vicariously through a single friend. All us married people do that with our single friends a little, don't we? 

Okay, I'm off. Got a fun weekend ahead of me, but more of a family oriented one than the other one where I was giving bird-dogging advice on the fly to a buddy. No, this weekend the family will be in a resort with a pool and spa and stuff, swimming and enjoying that beautiful memory-making time. Hope all of you also have a fun-filled weekend ahead of you. Farewell, Blog Buddies. 

Dr. Ken Turns 40

Well, it's my 40th birthday today, so I figured I might as well do a blog post. I have the day off of work, and I'm spending it with my 4-month-old little buddy, Erik. The only thing I had to get done today was drive out to Toys R Us and Carter's to return some of Baby Erik's Christmas stuff. I don't know a lot about parenting, but here is a good tip: Don't buy anything for babies that has buttons all the way up and down. The very idea that people are still making, buying, and selling button-up and snap-up baby clothes when the zipper is 10 times faster is astounding.

Speed is of the utmost importance when you're changing 30 diapers a day. Snapping one-by-one with a baby crying and squirming all over the place . . . Why would you put yourself through that? So, yeah, the button-up jammies had to be returned. Instead I got him some of those sweet sweatpants that look like jeans. Mrs. Noisewater was saying she is okay with all of his sweatpants, but daddy insisted that the boy have some jeans when he is out in public (or at least give the outward appearance of jeans). My boy is no everyday sweatpants fella, and I intend on being sure of it. I dig those jeans/sweats so much that I spent the extra 8 bucks to get one that is one size bigger that he can wear when he outgrow the first pair. I considered buying a pair for myself because I like comfort as much as the next guy.

Okay, as it turns out you all haven't been missing much by me not blogging anymore as evidenced by these topics. But I have decided that I need to try to write more. My good friend's father just died, and every time I think about my own mortality I immediately think that one of my biggest regrets would be not writing more. Weird, right? Well, have no fear. When I'm dead and gone there will be brilliant pieces of work out here on the inter-webs about my son's magical jeans that have the comfort of sweatpants.

I know it's wrong, but I watch some television with my infant. What? The horror! Well, when you have kids, you tell me if you can do doctor recommended play crap all day long. Believe me, it's nice when daddy wants to watch the Bulls and he will sit next to me with that beautiful blank stare of his into the glowing beautiful light. So the other day Erik and I were watching Robotech. Anyone ever watch that as a kid? I know a couple of you are right around my age, but to be honest, a lot of friends who I talk to don't remember it. It's a Japanimation cartoon from the 80's about a time in the future where an alien spaceship crashes into earth, and humans use the technology to develop their own weapons (such as jets that transform into robots), and then years later the aliens come down to earth to retrieve the spaceship and kick ass and stuff. There are some love stories going on and some major characters dying, which was really heavy when you were a kid. Here's a clip of Robotech below.



Another thing going on is that my mother-in-law is flying in from the San Francisco area to stay with us for 3 months to help watch Baby Erik while Mrs. Noisewater and I are at work. It's a small apartment for the four of us, but it will be really great to have her here. She grew up in Japan. I wonder if she will watch Robotech with me . . .

Tonight Mrs. Noisewater and I are making pizzas and maybe having a beer or two for my birthday evening. We don't go out as much anymore, but we really don't miss it that much. It's a more simple life, and our little guy brings us a lot of joy. Like the other day my son is on the couch with me and I got a hold of his ankles, making his feet clap like a pair of hands, doing stuff that dads do when they run out of shit to do. I thought I smelled some poop, and just as I move my nose right up to his little butt, he cuts loose with a whopper fart. Expert timing. I laughed my ass off. He just kept farting.

See you next time, friends.

I'm MC'ing my buddy Choo-Choo's karaoke birthday party at a bar around the corner, and I'm oddly excited about it.  People often ask me to do stuff like this, so I guess I'm just good at being a great big loudmouth.  The key to this one is just doing the nudey bar DJ voice all night long, "All right, give it up for Lace on the main stage!"  It works for all kinds of events, garage sales, church bingo . . .

To be honest, Choo-Choo is a quality human being and I'm glad I know him so anything I can do to help is not a problem.  Also, it is customary for the karaoke DJ to sing the first song when no one has signed up yet.  I'll sing whichever one I like the best out of the comments submitted by you all, my beloved 7 readers.

This video is what it's all about.  She passes out in the middle of her "performance."