The Great American Snuggie Family

I hate the Snuggie. I hate it more than anyone could hate anything. Wanna know why? Read an old post I knocked out a while back about how the Snuggie is nothing but a glorified cock-block.

But for some reason I’ve been attached to the Snuggie on Twitter. At least once every couple of days I’ll get a picture of one sent to me by one of my kick-ass kids on Twitter.

But while Snuggies have impacted my life and made me contemplate arson as a means to which I could rid them from this planet…they’ve also created a life of their own. They’ve grown out of control becoming Slankets, Sham Wow Snuggies, and more.

Regardless, I still find myself wondering, what happened to the original Snuggie family. You know—the one you saw in all the ads.

So I tossed on my super ninja spy gear and dug into their history. And…here’s what I found:

It all started with the perfect family. The dad, hot mom, and two perfect, adoring kids and their Snuggies.

Then they boy wanted a dog.

So then the girl wanted horses.

The mom had two older twin sisters who lived their lives as “Cougars” hunting men and trying too hard to look sexy.

And of course there was the creepy uncle.

Over time the kids grew up. The boy went through a bit of a gangsta phase.

The girl…well, she got a little slutty.

She then had a life-altering experience and felt love for the first time. She panicked and became a recluse for a short period of time.

And when she came out of it, she decided to eliminate sex from their relationship for a solid year to make sure he truly loved her.

Meanwhile, the boy met a bad group of people and ended up joining a Snuggie cult.

A year later, the girl married her boyfriend and they settled down and quickly spat a little nipper out.

Although she always described it as “watching an alien tear out of me.”

But regardless she enjoyed motherhood. She enjoyed it so much she decided to crank out seven more rug rats.

And then life became too much, and she slipped back into old bad habits.

She even sampled hanging out in her brother’s cult for a bit.

Then she got pregnant again. And, for obvious reasons, after the baby was born her husband wanted a divorce.

In the end, the son got kicked out of the cult and he spent his life rebelling against the Snuggie.

The daughter’s eight kids traveled the world became well adjusted Snuggie lovers.

The original Snuggie parents got older, larger, and obsessed with Wal-Mart.

The illegitimate kid became President of the United States.

And the girl…she regrouped again, went back to college, traveled the world, but

eventually became a hoarder and died buried under her own filth.

THE END

Focus Danielson

At what point during my boy’s life is he going to not need to be told things 3,428 times before he actually freakin’ does it? I’m just wondering?

Saturday, I told the boy to go get socks. Four minutes later, as I’m running around getting stuff together to leave, I realize he’s still upstairs. So I go check and he’s lying on his bed reading a fucking book!

“Grayson! Dude! That’s awesome you’re reading a book, but…get…your….socks…on!”

Shocked that I would be rattled by this, he says, “I am daddy, I just needed to check something!”

He appears five minutes later with his socks…in his damn hands and stands in the living room doing nothing. A small drip of drool appears on his lower lip as he’s looking out the window into nothingness. Apparently he has become a dog who only knows how to receive and accomplish one command at a time.

“Seriously Grayson? I mean seriously? You know we’re trying to leave to go into the city. You know all that is required in order for you to walk outside in a foot of snow and 10-degree weather, but yet, you need me to walk you through it step-by-step.”

As soon as I finish that last word, he turns and looks at me and says, “Hey daddy, you know on Wii, on Mario, on World 6 when you’re fighting Bowser. His hat is weird!”

I just had to sit down after that. In what freakin’ world does this kid live? Mario’s World I guess.

Can I please have a huge dose of whatever the hell he’s got running through him to where he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about the time continuum?

“Focus Danielson!!!!” I yell. This has become his least favorite phrase from me.

“Stop calling me Danielson daddy!!”

“Then put your socks on, then your boots, then your hat, gloves and coat and come…on!!!”

“I ammm!!!”

Every time we leave to go somewhere or to get ready for bed, we deal with this. And it’s leaking into my everyday life.

I’ll catch myself telling wifey we should go ahead and go to the store, “so please go get your socks, your shoes, your gloves, your hat, your coat, put on those jeans that shows-off your ass so I can watch you as you walk in front of me. And please take that damn Snuggie off so you don’t end up on some random website for wearing it to the store, and consider having sex with me tonight. Now! Hurry!”

Maybe I take the “I’m only going to tell you this once” approach and if we spend the day waiting on the boy to get his socks, then so be it. Or maybe I need to make a chart? Shit…I’m going to need a chart aren’t I—a hardcore Supernanny Jo Frost-style chart complete with jars of reward stickers, high fives, and hugs. Or maybe I’ll just super glue them to his feet.

Or, maybe I’ll just chalk it up to the fact the boy’s head is constantly swimming with new information and is going a million miles an hour thinking about Mario, snow forts, biking, hating his sister, and whether or not his experiment in the freezer is done yet.

Maybe I should just go on Xanax.

It's All About the Music

Music has always played a huge part of my life.

I’ve always been jealous of people who could just instantaneously look back at life and remember specific moments.

My life has been defined by music. Every moment I store in my memory could not be recalled if it weren’t tied to a specific song. I could go years without hearing one song—then it plays, and I’m eight years old again, in a horrific blue van, with my mother and brother, on my way to swim practice, and I’m watching the world pass by outside, and all I can think about is I hope my dad is there to see me.

And now, one minute, I’ll be laughing with the family in the car, while compulsively hitting the “seek” button on the radio and on comes Aerosmith, “Angel,” and my entire body tingles remembering how that was the wifey and our “song” back in the day.

Or Violent Femmes “Blister in the Sun” will hit and I’ll instantly be 17 and laughing, laying in the wifey’s trampoline out-back of her mom’s house, teaching her the lyrics while chuckling inside knowing it’s a song about masturbation.

I’ll always remember how fucking rad I thought my Uncle was when he gave me Iron Maiden “Piece of Mind” for Christmas one year.

The walls in my room during my high school days were covered in 60s & 70s posters. Janis Joplin, The Beatles, The Who, Cat Stevens, and Bob Dylan.

When I was 11, our family had driven to New York City to be with my father’s family. My cousin, a few years older, handed me his Walkman. I’m pretty sure my ears came at least five times that day as I was introduced to Led Zeppelin for the very first time of my life. That night my god-father died and we drove from New York to South Carolina non-stop, while I listened to Led Zeppelin I, II, III, & IV which my cousin gave me cause he felt bad we were on our way to bury my mother’s brother.

The very first CD I owned was the double album Led Zeppelin “Song Remains the Same Live.” John Bonham will always, in my mind, go down in history as the best drummer ever.

The introduction of Led Zeppelin was an incredible breakthrough musically for me. One I’ll never forget. And, the only thing comparable, was in 1992. I’ll never forget, sitting at the kitchen table alone, watching MTV (back when they fucking played music) and Pearl Jam “Alive” came on. The spoon fell from my hand. I was mesmerized. I later said to my good friend at the time “it’s the sound I’ve been dying to hear!” I wrote “Pearl Jam Ten” on a sheet of paper after watching the video, and owned the cassette by the end of the day.

Pearl Jam is Pearl Jam these days, but for me…it knocked down the wall to my musical boundaries and I never looked back. I even grew my hair out to live the part!

I obsess over lyrics. I can hear the drum line of every song and see it like Rain Man counting tooth picks. I remember:

The girl I dreamt about in middle school finally noticed me and we started dating. And Phil Collins “Groovy Kind of Love” was our song.

I got laid off from my job and I blared Rage Against the Machine “Wake Up” on my headphones and walked a straight line down the Chicago sidewalk daring anyone to bump my arm, look at me wrong, or even smile.

On the way home to grab some stuff from our house after our son was born, I’ll never forget playing John Lennon “Beautiful Boy,” despite the fact I blame Yoko for everything evil on this planet.

The Beatles “Don’t Let Me Down” – Cold War Kids “We Used To Vacation” – Iron & Wine “Trapeze Swinger” – Dave Matthews Band “Say Goodbye” – Bare Naked Ladies “Blame It On Me” – Train “Drops of Jupiter” – Temple of the Dog “Hunger Strike” – Van Morrison “And It Stoned Me” (which this link is to the Great Jerry Garcia, because I could find a damn original Van Morrison version and who better to cover than Jerry!)

I could do this for hours.

I play music as much as I can for the kids. I name the bands. I try to explain the lyrics. I pound out the drum line on my steering wheel, knee, couch….in the hopes they get an understanding. I play my guitar, I long to own a piano again, and the boy and I are nagging the wifey to let us own a drum kit.

For me – the easiest answer to, “so tell me about yourself,” will always be to hand that person a CD and slowly walk out.

What I Learned In Two Weeks

Two weeks. I survived two freakin’ weeks as a single, stay-at-home dad. No, wifey hasn’t left me…yet. She does work part-time though. So, from 8 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. I was the lone individual responsible for keeping two, insane children alive and from killing themselves, or me.

So here are my thoughts and some snapshots of what went down:

1)  Stay at home moms fucking rock. And! Single parents should be given full-tax breaks and awarded Pulitzer Prizes of Awesomeness made of diamonds.

2)  My daughter is absolutely head-over-heels in love with Patrick from SpongeBob.

3)  My kids watch too much SpongeBob.

4)  Watching my boy interact with strangers on a sledding hill brings the biggest, dumbest smile to my oversized face.

5)  Checking out the view from the top of the Sears Tower is kick-ass and makes wifey poop herself.

6)  It becomes painfully difficult to find time to masturbate when children are in your life 24/7.

7)  Wait…I mean…#5 is something I heard on Oprah.

8)  Shit – I swear I did not start watching Oprah over the past two weeks. I hate that woman!!! But seriously, her holiday episode…I mean…SHIT!

9)  I get my period when I’m alone with the kids for that long of time.

10)  I found myself standing in a room at least once a day, with absolutely no idea why in the fuck I walked into it.

11)  I went grocery shopping twice with a list of over two dozen things and came out with only beer and popcorn.

12)  My daughter thinks she’s iCarly and wants to kiss a boy.

13)  iCarly is banned from this house for the next 13 years until she goes off to college.

14)  Parenting with a hangover is really really really hard.

15)  When my kids are lying on the couch, entranced with a movie, and not moving—they are the most adorable fucking things on this planet.

16)  My wife wonders what I “do all day?”

17)  I’ve learned how to turn my phone off all day, then when the wifey asks “what’s up with your phone,” I use my brand-new, off-the-shelf mid-western accent and say, “Ohh geeze…the battery died so I had to plug it in to charge and forgot to turn it back on-okay! Sorry yah!”

18)  Trying to do a cartwheel when you’re naked and alone to celebrate the children going back to school is not a good idea. The cat attacked Mr. Small-Time and almost made it Mr. No-Time.

19)  I hate…hate…hate my fucking cat. Lazy, furry, cozy, snuggle buddy. I mean..that asshat.

20)  My son and I became closer than we’ve ever been and it makes me weak in the knees.

21)  All I have to do is look in my daughter’s eyes for a split second, and she’s scrambling to sit next to me…grabbing my arm and laying it around her and across her chest.

22)  My wife has the ability to make me do whatever in the holy hell she wants me to do and I have no control over it. I painted our bedroom and hallway, and went to Ikea all in a two-day span. And I didn’t even know it happened until it was over.

23)  Three days is the limit for me not taking a shower. After that…even I’m writing myself hate-notes and slipping them under my pillow.

24)  A lot of employers don’t post available jobs during the holidays.

25)  Despite all that’s absolutely and totally fucked right now…I love my life and those who are in it.

Feeling A Bit Nostalgic

So I’m feeling a bit nostalgic.

I loved the job I had in Virginia. I loved its purpose. I loved the people.

There were over 100 employees and I knew them all and they all knew me. From janitorial to the CEO – I was comfortable with them all. And I rocked that fucking job.

But things change as they always do. And, well – my time was up. I needed to move on and I did. I moved to Chicago for the job I held for 18 months before being let go for budget cuts.

And I don’t regret it for a second. I just miss the job, but more importantly—the people.

So – my last day of work they threw me a bash. And some kick-ass folks put together this video documenting some of my stupidity over the past eight years. Some of it’s filled with inside jokes. But in short:

• Yes I met Hal Holbrook and Dixie Carter
• Yes I got to “play” the Easter Bunny on year for a holiday event.
• Yes I met, had a great conversation with, and headed up a major PR event for the great Tony Bennett.
• Yes, I landed us on the front page of the Arts section of the New York Times.
• Yes, I got to learn from the best when it came to marketing and public relations, and later be given the lead in opening a $30 million museum wing—successfully.
• Yes I have a massive head, gap-tooth, and affinity to flash my middle finger at the most inappropriate time.
• Yes, I made some kick-ass amazing friends, colleagues…

And so…a glimpse into a great, significant part of my career and life. I can’t wait to see what lies ahead, and what memories I’ll be making for those future “good luck” videos.

Job Memories from on Vimeo.