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The Parent Trap
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Nov 26, 2011 10:09 pm
980 Views
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I know straight men are saps when it comes to children but are gay men also susceptible?
I moved to my children’s home town last January. At first it was great. I’d pick them up after school and they’d practically knock me over by jumping into my arms. Things started to go wrong last March when Mike and I moved into our town home. That's when my second oldest daughter decided she’d rather stay with mom on the weekends she was supposed to be with me. And like the sap that I am I said “sure, I can be flexible.”
Over the summer, my sons made friends with the neighbor kids and our town home became Grand Central Station. My second oldest daughter came occasionally but spent most of the time on her cell phone reporting back to her mother everything that went on here.
In September I found out that they and their mother were homeless and sneaking in and out of their 82 year old grandmother’s one bedroom efficiency. In court, I was awarded placement of my children for the month of October and I guess you could say that’s when the real drama began. They came home with lice, started asking me questions like “why did you lie in court daddy?“ and I even had the cops knocking at my door. The police were following up on a report someone had made about disturbing texts from my oldest daughter’s cell phone. These texts state that I tap her on the buttocks while she’s ascending the stairs and call her inappropriate names like “Sugar Pie” and “Honey Bumps.” It is not in her nature to lie but I honestly don’t remember tapping her on the buttocks while ascending the stairs. The only thing I can think of is, since she hasn’t quite mastered the art of walking and talking at the same time (yes, she's a blonde), that I may have bumped her on the behind with a laundry basket to get her moving again. As for calling her “Sugar Pie” and “Honey Bumps,” that’s a misquote of a song I often sing while doing the dishes...
“…Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch.
You know that I love you.
I can’t help myself.
It’s all you and nobody else…”
Regardless of which, October began with three of my four kids living with me and ended with only one. The child psychologist says the reason they don’t want to come is because my partner Mike “yells at them too much.” Granted Mike is kinda nit picky but he‘s really only yelled at them once. The shrink says it doesn’t matter because in a child’s mind nit picking is still interpreted as yelling and that this should be coming from dad because Mike hasn’t “earned his stripes” yet. Not that the psychologist is completely off base but I do think it’s awfully strange none of this was a problem before October. In fact, the kids had established a pretty loose rapport with Mike. They had no qualms at all calling him weird to his face (Mike's spiritual). and when he pointed out how nice it was that a sleep over guest actually carried her dishes to the kitchen my 2nd oldest daughter didn't hesitate to respond with "you had to say that didn't you" and it was laughed off. I also think it’s strange that the shrink doesn’t even want to know about the content of the reports the children's mother has been making with child protective services. She claims Mike “takes naps with my four-year-old behind locked doors” and that my four-year-old's “anus appeared stretched.” The shrink simply asked if any of those reports been investigated? The actual term CPS uses is “screened out” which means no, they did not investigate.
Now it’s Thanksgiving weekend and despite the fact that this is my holiday to have the children, only the youngest is here. God I love that little guy. None of his older siblings pressuring have any effect on him - “No, no. You don’t want to go with daddy. You want to go with mommy. Right?“ He just swats them away like flies, grins really big and says “Yes I do! I wanna go with daddy!” But I did take the shrinks advice and send my second oldest daughter a card with a picture of a cat (her favorite animal) saying “Just curious about how you’ve been.“ Much to my surprise she actually said “yes” to my bowling invitation this afternoon. Of course the condition was that Mike couldn’t be there. Mike agreed to stay home and it was a nice outing - somewhat strained, but pretty close to old times… well… until mom showed up just as we were finishing the last frame. She bought me a beer which I didn’t touch and a Capt. Coke which I took two sips of. I left when the girls then began playing songs from the jukebox that were popular when their mother and I were dating. They had also invited me to the roller rink where their mother and I first met. The whole scene was beginning to feel a bit too much like Disney’s “THE PARENT TRAP.”
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Hurt So Good?
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Aug 3, 2011 7:30 pm
1195 Views
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“Are you feeling OK?” I asked a co-worker who sat down cautiously on his chair. Most corporations no longer provide a smoking area. Ours even provides patio furniture in the quaint little fenced in area next to the garbage dumpster.
“Oh, Mark just gave his ass a good ride this morning.” Our IT guy smirked.
“No.” Steve rolled his eyes. “It’s my back – not my ass. I slept on it wrong.”
“Well you know,” our favorite straight female and trivia buff chimed in “I read somewhere that the reason the discs in our backs become sore is because they don’t get enough oxygen.” She looked around the table to make sure she had all of our attentions. “What you need to do, Steve, is get one of those exercise balls and bounce up and down on it like this for about 15 minutes per day.”
Steve watched her little demonstration through the narrow slits of his eyes. “All I know is – I have much more respect now for old people who constantly complain about their aches and pains.”
“Yeah, we’re all in our 40’s” I observed. “This is the time when those little injuries we used to shrug off become unbearable.”
“Oh, I know.” The trivia buff practically bounded off her seat. “It’s getting to the point where I’m afraid to do things like roller blade or go downhill skiing because I could seriously injure myself…”
But as I trudged up the stairs back to our 4th floor office I pondered; why is it that sleeping on my back the wrong way could wipe me out for a week while mishaps like the one that sent me flying over the handle bars of my bike last Friday leave me with little more than scraped elbows and a gash across my right calf?
The bike trails bring me almost all the way home from work. It isn’t until I enter my neighborhood that I have to take the side streets, which are usually empty this time of day. Not sure why I was so hellbent on pushing myself to go faster and faster. I never even saw the fat little Asian kid come flying out of a blind alley on his bike. Our front tires collided jacking the back end of my bike up into the air like a bucking bronco. This is what sent me flying over my handlebars and right down on top of that 7-year-old boy.
“Are you OK?” I asked climbing off of him as fast as I could.
He pulled his arms to his chest and groaned.
“Oh my God! Is anything broken? Can you bend your arms and legs?”
The pudgy little Asian boy just grimaced and stared at me as if I were speaking another language so I mimed bending my arms and legs for him “Can you do this?”
He repeated my movements but remained on his back.
“Would you like me to call for help?”
He grimaced again so I removed my cell phone from my pocket and held it out to him. “Would you like to call your parents?”
His eyes widened and his chubby cheeks shook with a cringing shudder.
I inspected his bike and found that the handlebars had turned sideways. Pinching the front tire between my knees, I straightened them. The kid was still laying flat on his back and groaning.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to call someone?” I wanted to commend him for not crying. Not sure I would have been so accommodating at his age.
He paused for a moment and blinked. Then he jumped to his feet as if nothing had happened and took the handle of his bike from my hands.
“Take it easy little dude.” I half chuckled as he anxiously pedaled away.
The handlebars on my bike had turned sideways as well, those I could fix. What I couldn’t fix was the severely bent disc brake where the kid’s tire had connected with mine.
So, why aren’t I walking around like a 90-year-old grandpa this week? By all rights, I should be completely laid up. Was it because I was so focused on the child’s injuries that I forgot to assess my own? I honestly didn’t notice the clotted blood from the gash on my right calf until I got home that night. And how was it so easy for that kid to stifle his own pain once the threat of his parents being notified presented itself? Is it possible that our minds possess the power to eliminate bodily aches and pains simply by focusing on something else?
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Informant
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Jul 1, 2011 4:10 am
1261 Views
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I came around the corner just as my second oldest daughter was telling her mother on the phone that I fed her ravioli that smelled like piss. There was nothing wrong with the ravioli. We all ate it and none of us got sick. Even though it was my night to have the kids their mother showed up and whisked her away.
At 12:07am I got this text from my second oldest daughter:
I h8 U. My sister said U called me a tattletale. i always h8 u. the thing that hearts me the most is when we had a picnic and u threw Sunny D in my face. i never want to c u again.
I replied this morning with the following:
What r u doing up at midnight? The reason I left your mom is because her manipulation of me was causing me to do things like throw Sunny D in your face. I didn't like who I was becoming and the only way to stop it was to get myself as far away from her as possible. I never guessed she'd keep U kids from me. That was a very cruel thing 4 her 2 do. U can hate me all you want but I will always love you.
Dad
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While Rome burned
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May 1, 2011 4:51 pm
1475 Views
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If high school or even college history classes were half as revealing as the History Channel I would venture to guess there would be a lot more history buffs running around. The show I caught last night had to do with the height of Roman Power (the Julio-Claudian Dynasty) just before Nero took over. It was a time when Roman aristocracy lived in the lap of luxury and engaging in wild, gratuitous sex still meant you were “virtuous” so long as you didn’t do it in public. Apparently that’s where Nero started going wrong - he let his Greek lover “ravage” him sexually in front of everyone. Not that there’s anything wrong with taking a big ol dick up your ass in front of the whole world, it’s just that Roman Aristocracy didn’t respect him much after. They didn’t like his love for the theater either. In their day, actors were the lowest rung on the social ladder - unlike today where many actors are over-paid brats. But the biggest thing he did wrong was to ignore his militia which had helped Rome taken over most of the world. He also did very little to help rebuild after the “Great Fire of Rome” (64AD). Instead he invested most of his time, energy and Rome’s wealth and resourced organizing the Greek Olympics so he could watch grown men wrestle naked (it’s kinda hard to hate this Nero dude isn’t it?) The only thing Nero really did do about the fire was to blame it on early Christians, it and why not? Christians were a weird breed of people who worshipped a known criminal and were too wimpy to fight back, i.e., easy targets. Plus, I’m sure their preaching of Leviticus 18 “Man shall not lie with another man. It is an abomination to God” did very little to grant them his sympathy. And so, Nero’s torture of these early criminals went far beyond the coliseum events where live lions were trained to eat them. Nero also got off on covering these Christians with tar and setting them on fire to light up his back yard at night (where he probably held all manner of gay orgies right in front of them). But it is funny how all of Nero’s attempts to eradicate Christians from the face of this planet only made the Christian cult grow stronger. All the tortured martyrs had to do was denounce their faith and they could escape persecution. When they would not, Roman society became very interested and for every martyr lost, dozens more became aware and eventually converted.
After Nero’s death, conquered lands began to revolt against Rome’s power over them. By contrast, the popularity of Christianity had increased to the point where it too was becoming hard to control. In an effort to fight fire with fire so to speak, Roman Emperor Constantine the Great issued the “Edict of Milan” in 313 AD which legalized Christian worship. But being the underground religion that it was, Christianity was very unorganized which forced Constantine the Great to hire scores of scholars to go out and collect all of what was known about Christianity. Once all, or at least most, of the writings had been collected Constantine then took on the roll of editor - keeping only the stories of the bible that would aid him in regaining control over his people. And thus, the bible was born.
The end, Halleluiah, Amen.
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Chapping My Backside
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Mar 2, 2011 7:47 pm
1765 Views
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Not sure why I never vote. I suppose it’s because keeping informed is just too much damn work. I mean, I can never take a politician’s word at face value, I have to do my own research just to verify his/her facts and that’s a huge investment of time that… well… I’m just not willing to give. I do have a life after all – and children who will always come first. Of course there is that certain adrenalin rush I always get from becoming a part of something larger than myself. I believe it’s called “fighting the good fight” and it really is a “GOD IT’S GREAT TO BE ALIVE” feeling… but how do I deal with the inevitable sense of futility that sets in once I finally realize none of my thoughts or energies will ever affect change? Politicians will always be corrupt... why get myself all worked up over things beyond my control? If I had my druthers I’d just assume stay out of it but recent events in the state of Wisconsin (Governor Walker) seem to be sucking me right back into the game.
Now don’t get me wrong, I do understand where Walker is coming from. He wants a balanced budget. Who doesn’t? But I also see where the Democrats are coming from. They fear the concessions Walker demands will weaken the collective bargaining power unions have fought years and years and years to gain. Yes these are both very valid issues but for some reason, I’m having a hard time choosing sides. Why is that? Issues of this magnitude usually chap my backside with a vengeance. Or wait… I know… these issues are trite compared to the trillions of dollars we’ve thrown out the window getting involved in foreign wars for the past two decades.
On the news tonight I saw a protester carrying a sign with Governor Walker’s photo morphed onto Hitler’s. I don’t like him either but at least when Hitler went to war, he absorbed the losing countries resources into his own. That’s how he rebuilt Germany after WWI. So, why aren’t we doing that? Why aren’t we absorbing the resources of the foreign countries we’re at war with/for? Why do we keep helping these third world nations rebuild their own governments with no expectation of monetary return? How can we be so giving to the rest of the world and yet so callous to our own people? WE THE PEOPLE OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA SHOULD NOT BEAR THE FINANCIAL BURDEN OF FOREIGN WARS FROM WHICH WE WILL NEVER PROFIT!!! If we can't afford it... if it's costing us too much to be over there... then maybe we just plain shouldn't be over there. Like my great grandmother used to say; "Charity begins at home."
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dirty laundry
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Feb 11, 2011 5:14 pm
1943 Views
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Mike and I were helping to prepare for his dad’s big 80th birthday party this past weekend when I made the mistake of throwing in a load of laundry.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? YOU’VE GOT SO MANY CLOTHES IN THAT DAMN DRYER THEY’RE NOT EVEN FLUFFING – THEY’RE JUST ROLLING AROUND IN ONE BIG BALL… and yada, yada, yada… blah, blah, blah…”
I never realized how much there was I didn’t know about doing laundry. Probably should not have asked what the difference would be if we split the load up or just ran them through twice. The blood vessels in his eyeballs almost burst.
But it is amazing how popular grumpy old men can be. Over 250 people turned out for his bash. I have never seen the old man so happy.
Happy Valentine’s Day!!!
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5
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Miss "Congeniality"
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Dec 14, 2010 2:42 pm
2183 Views
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I finally read my reviews on good reads. They've been out there a month already and I was clueless. To be honest with you, I really didn't expect a review and so I was thrilled someone actually took the time to do so. Then I read it. Yikes! Those people are vicious. And they're the ones calling me passive aggressive. Am I the only one who finds this ironic - a reviewer who is virtually untouchable tossing about catty comments and calling me passive aggressive? Of course, we don't call it "passive aggressive" in my neck of the woods. Here it's called "Minnesota nice." And if you think Minnesota winters are frigid you should experience Minnesota nice. Trust me, it's not pretty. They also called me boring. Well, duh. Minnesota is boring so I guess I nailed both the passive aggressive and boring parts pretty accurately. And if my book is such a let down, why do I have comments on the website I set up for my book stating "Is it terrible to say that I enjoyed reading this?"
But on to bigger and better things, I got that User Interface Designer position I was up for. Or... well... I think I got it anyway. Call me cynical but I don't believe anything until I have the offer in my hands. But you tell me. I've included the email they sent below...
________________________
Hi Nick,
I very much want to see you join our team. As a matter of fact I’ve been trying to get an offer out to you for the past week. My hard drive crashed and I’ve been without a computer until yesterday. I’ll do my best to get it out today. As far as timing goes are you looking at the first of the year?
Thanks,
Tom
________________________
I suppose if I were to have included this in my book the reviewers would rather have had me write that the offer was firm, that it was more money than ever imaginable and that everyone lived happily ever after... or until sugar shock killed them first. Ooops, here's me being passive aggressive again. I'm sorry but I just can't write fairy tales (pardon the pun). And if I ever do, you have my permission now to put a bullet through my brain.
Sorry to vent. But God that felt good!!!
Stay real guys!
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HOLY $#!*
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Dec 4, 2010 11:46 am
2476 Views
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My partner and I just got back from my home town. I need to move there to be closer to my kids. Anyway, we stopped into each of the three gay bars to hang posters for my book, hand out business cards and basically just work the room and schmooze everyone. It worked out perfectly; all bar owners were there so I could talk to them directly, the manager of the local Barnes and Noble was also there so of course, my lips were firmly planted on his backside… pretty much everyone was blown away but that’s not the amazing part. I also had a job interview for what I thought was an obscure software firm. It turns out that they are a division of a fortune 500 architectural firm. OMFG! I felt like I’d been catapulted back in time to the late 90’s when it was still an employee’s market out there. They offer four weeks of vacation right off the bat, two bonus’ per year, profit sharing and a FULL benefit package. I had no idea companies like this still existed. Not only would I be able to see my kids on a regular basis but I'd no longer have to drive them to the middle of scenic nowhere just so they can go to a dentist who accepts medical assistance. HOLY $#!*
Of course, the interview wasn’t totally without it’s tense moments. In an effort to cover up my gap in “gainful” employment, I told them I took a year sabbatical to write a book. The next obvious question of course was “Oh, so what’s the book about?” I think I handled that one OK though. I told them I’d have to defer to the words of Paul McCartney in his song PAPERBACK WRITER; “It’s the dirty story ’bout a dirty man and his clinging wife doesn’t understand…” Amazing how aligning myself with the Beatles suddenly makes writing about sex OK. The boss has been through two divorces himself and you should have heard him laugh when I responded to his background check “you haven’t killed anyone have you” question with; “Well, I do have this annoying ex I wouldn’t mind bumping off… but no, I’m pretty harmless…”
The work I’d be doing as a “user interface designer” won’t be all that glamorous but… it can’t be any worse than burning my fingertips while cleaning the grill every night at the local resort I currently cook for. Wish me luck?!?!?
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6
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Glorious Results of Cheap Electronics?
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Nov 25, 2010 8:06 am
2260 Views
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Amazing how big ideas don’t come out as big in reality as they do in our minds. I thought my idea for a book trailer was going to be phenomenal but after completing the first draft Sunday evening and sending it out to my friends it seemed everyone was getting hung up on my technical ineptness: “I don’t like the jumpy animations. Get a live boy to sit at a bar and react to the camera (oh that's brilliant. I live in the middle of red neck hell. Guess I'll just bop on over to the nearest baptist farm and say "Hi, I'm filming a trailer for my gay book. Mind if I borrow your son for a couple hours? I'll be chased out of town with torches and pitch forks). Your line readings are good but a bit to shrill at times and can cause irritation…”
OK fine. So I removed the jumpy animations and found a foam covered microphone for my digital voice recorder. I actually liked the finished piece better - less is more sometimes.
Then I got a response from my partner’s friend in New York who I believe blew all the money his parents left him on getting a horror movie he wrote and directed produced. Regardless of which, he knows more than I do so I felt compelled to head his advice. “I liked the first opening better. This one does build towards the end but not sure it gives the mood you're looking for. It sounds vaguely horror but...we're not sure. It sounds like this could be a story about a homosexual (i.e. "psycho") who snaps and goes on a child killing rampage. You may want to bring out more of what the book is really about.”
Well FUCK ME FREDDY! No, this book isn’t a horror novel but it does touch on some very disturbing issues - case in point the screaming children at the end. No one likes to hear a children screaming but it is a very natural reaction when they don’t understand what’s going on with their parents. And in their little minds I’m sure what they’re living is very much like a horror movie…
Oh well, I’m done. It’s not exactly what I envisioned but it’s as close as I can get with limited tools. Since I can't post the link here you'll just have to search YouTube for "username7mark8".
Happy Turkey Day!!!
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Uprooted
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Oct 19, 2010 10:26 am
2493 Views
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“If it were up to me I’d buy this land from you and put it in your niece and nephew’s name” Mike’s dad stated as my blood ran cold. Mike had promised this property to his niece and nephew when he dies. “And what are you going to do with all your stuff? I hope you’re not just going to give it away.”
I finished the dishes as quickly as I could and headed out to the garage. My heart was pounding its way out of my chest. FAHQ! Mike’s family sees me as a gold digger out to rob their niece and nephew of their inheritance. I should have seen this coming.
Not sure how long I stayed in the garage before coming back inside. My legs felt as though they were filled with concrete as I climbed the ramp to the back door but I knew I’d have to face his dad sometime.
“Shit, you could hardly stand up inside that first camper we had up here.” Mike’s dad laughed as I hung my jacket. “Guess this will be the last year I’ll be able to hunt.”
“Now, dad,” Mike began, “you know you’ll always be welcome to hunt on your son-in-law’s land…”
I was relieved when Mike and his dad left to check on their deer stands. His dad’s girlfriend (Mike’s mom died in 2003) stayed behind with me.
“Yeah, I couldn’t believe it when Mike told me he was going to sell this place.” I began feebly. “He’s put so much into it – all the landscaping and such…”
She just shook her head and half smiled. “How’s he doing?” she finally asked glancing out the window.
“Good, good… well… his walking is getting worse.”
“This place is too much for him.” A worried look crossed her face.
“Yeah, yes it is…” I stammered.
“Moving is a lot of work.” She looked directly at me. “What are you going to do with all of Mike’s stuff?”
“Well I know Mike’s dad doesn’t want us to just give it away but if we can’t sell it, we really can’t afford to store it either.”
“Yeah, storage can be expensive if its stuff you’re never going to use it again anyway.”
“Yeah, yes it is…” I stammered. “I’m still holding out hope that we can rent this place.”
“Oh renting is no good.” She shook her head. “Renters will destroy your property.”
“Maybe, but there are an awful lot of families up here who make decent money but have lost their homes due to balloon payments or whatever and will never own another home. Plus it would allow Mike to retain the equity he’s built up.”
“So how much will you get for this place?” She asked.
“Not much. I mean, by the time the realtor gets her fees and we pay off what Mike still owes…”
“Oh, he took a loan out on this property?”
“Yeah. I thought he only had seven years left to pay on it but according to the bank he’s got 15 years left.”
The blood drained from her face and she began searching out the window for Mike and his dad to return. I didn’t go into the details because I don’t really know what Mike used that money for. I suppose he used it for landscaping, materials for the two decks he built, having that huge 2 car garage moved in, to purchase his Volkswagen and probably to pay off some bills. Regardless of which, it’s really none of my business – or anyone’s for that matter. It was his money to do with as he pleased. What I regret is everyone’s assumption that this is the last liquid asset Mike has and I’m the gold digger getting it all out of him.
Mike’s dad’s deer stand wasn’t sturdy enough for another year (the trees that support it are dead). Luckily he’s all excited about buying a portable deer stand – the kind with replaceable screens so you can just shoot right through them without opening them first. He even picked out the location and marked it with sticks. I took the shovel and leveled the ground for him.
“Oh that’s good enough,” He grunted. “My girlfriend has a rug I can put down anyway.”
We watched Mike give his dad’s girlfriend one last tour of the property on his Turf Cruiser (she won’t be coming up for deer hunting nor anytime before we sell).
“Sounds like that thing needs transmission fluid. Hasn’t he checked that?” Dad asked.
“He’s usually pretty good about stuff like that but… I don’t really know… I suppose I should be more on top of him.” I stammered.
Back at the homestead, Mike and his dad worked on fixing our axe (the blade keeps coming off).
“When did you get that saw?” his dad gazed into the corner of the garage.
“Oh that? I’ve never used it.” Mike said. “If you want it, it’s yours.”
Before they left, Mike’s dad shook my hand. As I let go, he squeezed my hand again and smiled back at me.
“That’s huge.” Mike informed later. “It means he likes you.”
Last night in the hot tub Mike made the statement that his family was weird.
“No. Not weird.” I countered. “They’re just worried about you Mikey. I mean, there’s a lot more temptation in La Crosse… what with all the gay bars… I mean, what if my career takes off again or my books become huge? (And yes, I realize very few people ever get rich off their first books. Even Stephan King and Anne Rice didn’t become huge until they established a following, third or fourth book, and they are the lucky ones. God knows how many other authors of equal caliber are still virtual unknowns. btw, the release date of my first novel "Username: 7mark8" is November 5th WOO-HOO!!!) And what if I suddenly dumped you for a mindless twink willing to cater to my every whim…”
“Wait.” Mike interrupted. “Is that how you think I feel about you – like you’re a mindless twink who caters to my every whim?”
“No. I don’t Mikey. First of all, I’m no longer a twink. Secondly, I actually get a perverse thrill out of helping you do stuff… But this may be how your family views me. I mean, think about it. Why were they so happy you found someone again? Were they really happy for you or were they more relieved because now they don’t have to come up here and help you out so much, i.e. Mark can do it. Mike’s got him wrapped around his little finger. Whew - we're off the hook. But now that we’re moving to a place where there will be more temptation, they are probably fearful that you’ll be left on your own again and they’ll have to resume taking care of you.”
“Well I know my sister was upset when I mentioned doing a garage sale over deer hunting weekend. She wants to come up here and relax – not be put to work.”
“And that’s the way it should be. Your family’s final deer hunting weekend up here should be carefree. I can help you get ready for the move just fine without their help.”
“I love you Marky.” He smiled solemnly.
“I love you too Mikey.”
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