Bono's Back Botched My Birthday

A couple months ago the wife bought me U2 tickets for their July 6^th show at Soldier Field in Chicago. It was a very very early birthday present (July 3 for those who want to chopper-in some money to me as a present or what not).

I’ve never seen them live, but have wanted to for years!

To make it even better, my best friend and his wife in North Carolina bought tickets and plane flights to come rock-out with us.

I was stoked.

Then, this past week we learned Bono had back surgery and has since cancelled a huge number of U2’s tour venues through mid July while he recuperates. According to their website, they’ve been postponed to “2011 and more information will be provided soon.”

I learned of this through a text I got from my wife who had heard it through another text from a friend who had learned it from the interweb machine thingy. Two minutes later I got an email from Ticketrapster.

I respect the fact these guys have successfully revolutionized music the way they have for as long as they have.

But for shit sake…don’t you think Bono knew his fucking back hurt a teensy bit before he planned a world-wide tour? Didn’t you think he was all “oohh…owwwyy..umm….geezze..guys….I hate to rain on the parade here, but ummm..me back kinda tweeks a bit yeah? Maybe I should see a doctor then we should plan our world tour eh?”

Celebrities do it all the time and bands are the worst. I understand they’re humans just like us. Bacteria pounds their immune system just as it does ours.

But we drain bank accounts, get boss approvals, and create elaborate babysitting rituals surrounding one single night of musical bliss! Essentially as parents we make the earth move to spend an evening seeing a band we love. And most times that can’t be replicated.

And so here we stand, skirt blown up, pantiless, embarrassed, and wondering what’s next?

I’d give anything to be able to live that like. I’d be all:

“Hey honey…listen…I ummm…my left pinky doesn’t seem to lift like it should when I drink from my wine glass, so I’m gonna need to go ahead and cancel all the bed time reading, baseball games, cooking, cleaning, grass mowing, and listening to stories from you for the next two months mmmmkaaay?

“I’ve rescheduled all those activities for 2011. Keep checking www.WhyIsDaddyCrying.com for an updated list of when I’ll be available to re-engage in those activities.

“But we can still have sex!! Right? Sweetie? Right?....”



And Now the News, 7-Year-Old Style

The wifey and I make the comment all the time, “the biggest issues in the kids’ lives seem so trivial.”

We think back to our childhood and immediately remember how we believed our lives would end if we didn’t get those blue bicycle wheels. Or those red Converse. Or if Sandy didn’t check that “yes” box on the note I passed to her.

The result of this pondering? What if my kids had a 24-hour, live CNN-style news channel.

I’m assuming it would go a lot like this:

Music: Da da da da, duuuuuuu da da da……

“And now, your anchor, Grayson:”

Grayson: Good evening and welcome to, My Life Is Freakin’ Hard!

Topping tonight is elementary school news. Today, Timothy threw up in front of Sarah. Sarah immediately threw up on Jamal and Fred stepped in it three minutes later.

Art class is canceled this week and we’ll be spending that time reading books with Ms. Woodsworth who smells like daddy when he comes home from the bar.

At lunch, Bobby traded Shay chips for her fruit bar, but sources say Kyle saw Bobby lick some of the chips before the trade was complete.

Our gym teacher Mr. Tobockle didn’t flush the toilet after making a number 2 today, and apparently half the gym class saw it. Mr. Tobockle offered no comment regarding the incident.

This just in, Macy is in her lunch room with a live report. Let’s go to Macy.

Macy what’s the situation there.

Macy: Well Grayson it’s nothing shy of absolute horror. Susie just tried to open her juice box and it exploded all over her. While teachers were trying to calm her, Walker got up and fed our classroom turtle a Twix. Brandon has asked to go to the bathroom a record 13 times and we’ve only been in pre-school 86 minutes so far today. Grayson…we’re all hoping it doesn’t get any worse than this.

Back to you.

Grayson: Horrible…just horrible.

In home news, I peed myself just a tiny bit earlier this morning because daddy was pooping while I was jumping up and down outside the bathroom door begging daddy to please let me pee. I later changed into Spiderman underwear.

An outbreak of parents asking children to do unheard things such as cleaning their messes, making their beds, and brushing their teeth has taken over the mid-west. Officials suggest that children whine excessively, throw things, and make life unnecessarily hard for their parents until the outbreak subsides.

After the break, an exclusive interview with Jed, the seven-year-old boy in my class who eats his own boogers and never whips after he poops.

Top 10 Things BP Should Shove Up Its Leaking Oil Pipe

So…there’s this oil leak in the Gulf.

After 11 deaths, ridiculous finger pointing amongst disgustingly rich oil company CEOs, and failed attempts at placing oversized diaphragms over the leak, BP is now going to attempt to shove a variety of items into the pipe such as golf balls and rubber.

I was just as shocked as you. So, I didn’t waste a second’s time. I picked up the phone, cranked out a few emails, and polled the world’s greatest engineering minds to come up with a better solution.

And now I’m pleased to share it right here, right now with you. YOU! Before I send it via carrier pigeon to Obama and via my foot in the ass of oil executives, I thought I’d let my faithful readers see it first.

Top 10 Things BP Should Shove Up Its Leaking Oil Pipe:

Rod Blagojevich’s Hair

Seriously, just scalp that crooked bastard’s hair right off and shove it directly in BP’s pipe. It’ll more than likely solve two issues at once – the clogging of the pipe and cleaning up the thousands of barrels of oil already spilled. In fact…don’t bother scalping this douche…shove him right up there with it.

Justin Bieber and his entourage

All you parents of young girls out there, I know you’re with me on this one. As big as that kid’s head is getting he’s got to be able to clog BP’s pipe up. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll drop his entourage down to get his ego nice and jolted just to fill in the cracks and crevices.

My kid’s stuffed animal collection

Seriously…can someone else please give my kids a fucking stuffed animal for Christmas, Easter, their birthdays, or whatever reason you feel drives you to buy a useless plush animal making a cute face with open arms and annoying scratchy tag hanging on its ass? Please? I so badly want to shove them right up BP’s pipe!  

Carrot Top

I think someone should send a fake letter telling Carrot Top that his jokes suck and sign it “BP’s Spewing Oil Pipe.” Hopefully that will piss off that steroid chewing, hulk of a comedian off enough that he’ll want to swim directly down to the pipe and strangle it shut.

Sarah Palin

Come on…you knew I had to put her in here somewhere. Hell, I’d pay BP to let me at least try and shove her in that pipe… Please! Please BP please?!

John Holmes

Someone should totally resurrect that porn industry icon, throw some oil on his Jheri curls, slap him on the ass, yell “go get ‘em tiger, and send him out there to do what he did best in life. If anyone could grab hold of that pipe and handle it like a man, he sure as hell could.

Nickelback

Ten out of ten people agree…Nickelback should be shoved directly up BP’s pipe. In fact, the poll further revealed that if BP were to shove Nickelback into their leaky pipe, they would be forgiven for the mass murder of hundreds of animals that will continue for years to come.

Snuggies

Need further explanation. Read this. Oh…and they should totally clean up the oil using the Sham Wow.

Death Row Inmates

Because – if I can rant for a second – it amazes me we keep people on death row for so long, using tax money, only to put them to death decades later. Gather the overwhelmingly guilty death row inmates up and….well you know the rest.

Zhu Zhu pets

Two weeks ago one of those little bastards got lose in the house and I couldn’t find it. All day long I’d randomly hear its maddening squeaks and sounds, feeling like I was on a really bad acid trip. Two days ago one was left in my car during an hour-long drive. It was all I could do to not drive myself into a telephone pole. Shove all those sanity killers hard down BP’s leaky pipe.

I hope you all enjoy the hard work minds across the world have put towards this environmentally important problem. We hope you’ll consider us when nominating for the next round of Pulitzer Prizes.

Heroes

Last week I was cruising home soothing my news junkie DTs by listening to NPR when I heard an amazingly touching interview with author Brad Meltzer.

Known for his mystery/thriller books, Meltzer started writing a book eight years ago after his first son was born. He was slowly creating a list of people he felt were heroes.

Miep Gies, Dr. Suess, Meltzer’s mother, Mother Teresa, Dan West, Jim Henson, Roberto Clemente, and more. The book is called Heroes for my Son.

It was heart-warming listening to him discuss the process by which he wrote his first non-fiction book. He took his true talents and applied them to a noble cause…to instill in his children the knowledge that no matter who you are, you hold within yourself the ability to impact lives in a positive, forceful way.

I drove past my home and went straight to the book store. Later that night I started reading the book to my kids.

It forces you to engage them, explain to them why things were the way they were. Why a black man was sentenced to death for a crime he didn’t commit in Mississippi. Why Anne Frank and her family had to hide for so long from the Nazis. Why giving away everything you have to help others can be so rewarding.

How the simplest act of doing what you believe is right can sometimes impact the lives of three….sometimes millions.

The journey of a parent is always changing, filled with twists, unknowns, and lots of stiff drinks.

When your kids are babies you instill the basics of life…walking, making sure they don’t choke on their food, and the glorious pooping in the toilet trick.

A little later it’s “no biting,” “we don’t use our hands for hitting,” and “it’s not OK to run around the neighborhood naked.”

Lately for me, it’s clear that I’m now entering the phase of molding a young man and woman’s mind. I’m guiding the creation of a person, their beliefs, their decision-making process, and the impact they make on society.

Praising diversity, instilling respect for those who’ve laid the foundation for the spoils of today, and listening to the questions, comments, and responses from my children along the way – that’s what I’ve spent the past few nights doing as we read this book.

It’s why I bought it. Because I was so thankful for the creation of a tool that would allow me to engage my kids in conversations surrounding the ideals and beliefs my wife and I hold so strongly and have always wanted them to learn.

The last page of the book allows you to write the last chapter of the book – a chapter about your hero.

I plan to leave it blank for now. And years from now, use that space to explain to my children why each of them are my heroes.

Where's the Old School Porn?!

Yesterday Playboy announced the upcoming June issue is going to have a 3D centerfold.

After hearing this, my initial reaction was to slam my laptop shut, grab a 1986 copy of a Sears catalogue and head to Capital Hill demanding all teenagers be restricted from any and all masturbatory material via high tech methods.

Holding open the coveted page featuring high-end granny-panty-clad models, I’d slam my fist shouting, “this, my fellow elected officials, is what we grew-up with. This…this was our introduction to the female body and is what caused the crack in my childhood bathroom door from my mother continually pounding on it while yelling ‘finish up in the shower now!!!! You’re wasting water!!’”

As a kid my older brother introduced me to Playboy. I saw him looking at a copy one day and immediately grabbed it from his hands shouting, “where did you get this, man?!”

“From granddad’s closet. He’s got hundreds!”

From that point on, trips to the grandparent’s condo the next state over became joyous occasions filled with much plotting and planning. I’d stand watch as my brother shoved a few issues down his pants. Once safely in the guest bedroom, he’d provide me with one issue while he kept three. We’d high-five and each go our own separate ways to begin indulging.

Now, teens have the world of sex right at their fingertips…literally.

All they need is an Interweb machine thingy connection and BAM!!! hardcore sex all day, all the time. Computer or cell phone…doesn’t matter…it’s all right there. Wanna watch others masturbate – they have Chatroulette. Wanna watch porn…Google can hook you up.

Have a cell phone and a horny loved one you wanna play with – just dial up some sexting!

Teens now-a-days can pop off a quick text or two to their honey letting them know how they wanna get freaky on the back of an elephant while Richard Pryor tells racist jokes and Justin Bieber destroys any and all love for music they may have once had.

Back in the day, we had to write that shit down on a sheet of paper, fold it up, risk passing it in class, hope some douche didn’t steal it on its journey to the lucky lady, and then pray after the girl reads it her parents don’t find it shoved under some stuffed animal in her bedroom.

Hell, kids these days have probably seen more girls in their high school naked than were seen in all the high schools in the late 80s.

And while thought of being 16 with a freshly opened Playboy complete with a 3D centerfold in front of my young eyes makes me jealously drool a little, I can’t guess most teens will see it as rookie porn.

There’s something to be said for the unknown, for the unseen, for the anticipation, and for the embarrassing pre-ejaculation (umm…not that ummm…not that that ever happened to me, yo!).

Now…well, I guess I’m just another aging guy looking down at the younger generation and shaking my head at the spoils they enjoy while also secretly enjoying them.