Thursday, August 14, 2008

When you think about it, gray hair ain't so bad....

If you had to choose a malady that's synonymous with growing older, you would probably think of graying hair first right? Maybe somewhere down on your list if you're a nutjob like me, MAYBE.......shrinking an inch or two off your height is there.

I am shrinking. How do I know this? My pants. I wear a special band of Dockers that have an expandable waistline in front. I do this because being an obvious 38" waist, it gives me some satisfaction buying a pair of 36's. This would be the same size satisfaction that fat cow in front of you at Wendy's gets from ordering a triple cheeseburger WITH........a diet Coke. Everything in moderation I guess.

Well I had to buy a whole new crop of my male maternity pants (my nickname for them) because the back of the cuff where they meet my shoes were fraying. Those pair that had that problem quickly moved down the social strata of "pantsdom" into "mowing the grass pants". For pants, this is the end of the line. A clear sign that you've lost your "A" game.

So I bought a whole new crop of Fatsy McChucklebutt's "Pants for Porky's". So the first day I put them on I finally realize why the last crop were fraying on the bottom. I am walking on my pants. What gives? Same length as always, but for some reason my heal kept stomping on my pants. This is what ruined the last ones. So my big fix, cuff them. That's great. Now i can walk around, finish getting ready for work, and save my new pants. This WOULD be great if not for the other thing I'm noticing about myself lately. I forget a LOT! So now,....I'm fat......a little grayer (not completely) and walking around my new job for which I hope to impress my bosses, all the while sporting 3" cuffs. Nice.

The thing that scares me is gray hair keeps coming till it's ALL gray.....what if the shrinking doesn't stop? Will my friends and family desert me when I have no legs? Just an ass with feet attached to it? Sure they'll still talk to me. Everybody will want to cash in on those valuable "freak dollars" I'll get at the fair.

Friday, August 1, 2008

Not all home runs are in ballparks

I have a 2 1/2 year old daughter. Right when we found out that we were having a girl I, pretty much knowing this might be our only child, started to think of what I would be missing out on now that I wouldn't have that son that all guys seemingly want.

Of course all father and son dreams seem to somehow revolve around sports. His first at bat. His first touchdown. I'd have none of that. Now I had to alter my dreams for a little girl. This was no big deal to me though because my REAL dream would work for a boy OR a girl.

Being the consemate wise-ass that I am, I value humor above most things. I've had some of my biggest chuckles at the most inopportune times. I firmly beleive that nothing, and I mean nothing is above humor. I've visited plenty of funeral homes and I've laughed in most of them (I'm not a TOTAL loon, I show reverance when necessary). I'm almost positive that each indididual I've paid my respects too would have wanted it that way.

So my "home run" for my daughter was a bit different and she hit it out of the park for me last week. While putting her to bed, I playfully asked her "Does your bottle go up your bum?". She looked at me and smiled, knowing I was joking with her which is pretty good for a 2-year old. So I just started saying "bum bottle" and she heard that and started chuckling wildly. So I did it again........"bum bottle....bum bottle, over and over again". She started a wild belly laugh.

Now to most parents, a child laughing is no big deal. They do it all the time. But to me, this was monumental. I had written a joke that my daughter found funny. And she gave back to me more than I could ever imagine. I've been on stage and made complete strangers laugh. None of that could compare to having my littlest audience give back to me such great laughter. This, was her home run.