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?....”



My New Road

Yesterday I officially became unemployed. My severance ran out, Cobra kicked in, and the wifey and I stood staring at each other holding calculators and shaky, hopeful grins.

Three months ago I was given a choice from my employer – take half the pay immediately and you won’t be guaranteed a job come the end of the fiscal year, or take your full pay and benefits for three months and look for another job. After a weekend of sleepless nights and long discussions, the wifey and I chose the latter.

I’ve had one iron in the fire the whole time—a great job working for an organization that would allow me to rock a newly created position. I’ve worked with, and known, the executive director for a couple years and she is eager to bring me on. The only constraint thus far has been the internal bureaucracy requiring dozens of people to sign off on the job description and another dozen to oversee the posting of the job before it’s awarded to the “qualified candidate.”

Supposedly I’m to start work a week from today.

I’ve changed quite a bit over the past three months. I’ve spent a considerable amount time alone…in my home…on the phone…on the computer….but very little face time with people. I’ve seen my Achilles-heel. I’ve seen it look me dead in the eye with its “sexy come-hither” look. I’ve been angry as shit. I’ve been depressed. I’ve taken it out on my wife, my kids, my friends and family…myself.

I’ve drank too much, felt too sorry, looked for oblivious forces to blame it on such as…karma. I’ve looked back at my life and picked it apart… “what if I didn’t move to Chicago?” “What if I’d taken that job in North Carolina..?”

What if…

And at the end of the day, after all that wondering, I’m still here, in Chicago with my family and friends, about to start a new job after ONLY three months. I’m still here…in my life…not my life’s past…but my life now.

Where it is…right now.

And I’m so fortunate. I’m so lucky to be where I am. I’ve met more people than I care to have met who’ve been unemployed so much longer than I was.

Tomorrow I’m meeting with my new boss to talk further about the job and to begin signing paper work. Within a week or two I’ll be employed again, making a paycheck, benefits, and picking up the pieces. We’ll struggle to fill the short gap between paychecks, but we’re fortunate it’s only a short gap and confident it’ll work out.

But there’s still one thing that’s keeping me from fully enjoying the knowledge of this good fortune. It’s that I know I’ve changed. I’m not who I was three months ago. I’m not who I was two years ago. In fact, I have no fucking clue who I am right now. I feel like I’ve lost some type of identity, direction, path, or journey. I’ve lost something that I desperately need to recover.

I’ve always felt that our 30s were such a fickle time. The 20s it’s all about starting the career and finding that love. The 30s are all about, “OK, I’m in the career, I’ve got my love, maybe some kids on the way….” and then it all hits home. Like a cannon to the chest. You have no idea who you are…

I am fortunate. I have a phenomenal wife. I look in my kids’ eyes and I undoubtedly know they adore me. I have a job on the horizon. I am fortunate.

And so that will be my focus. Despite this nagging, empty feeling of self-purpose, I’ll funnel my energy and heart into family and my career.

I’ll do that, but not without ignoring the fact that this journey has absolutely ripped my chest open and given me front row seats to my soul and then handed me the keys along with the responsibility to choose my new road.

My new road…

Back to My Southern Roots

So I’ll start off by apologizing to my blog readers who’ve given me shit (rightfully-so) for ignoring their giggle needs. I’ve had a rough 4 days…but I’m back!!!

So, my grandmother died. She was 90…I grew up with her as a huge part of my life….she rocked….and now she’s gone. But, she’s happier now so it was more of a celebration. Except, the celebration happened in Anderson, S.C.

Now let me just toss in there that I grew up in North Carolina. Born, raised, went to college, got my first job, first blow job, first relationship with a “little person and his pet horse,” first beer, first throw-up in front of my mom after drinking a whole bottle of MD 20/20 and trying to play it off like I had the stomach flu, first masturbation scene and first girlfriend who still journals about how badly I messed herup…all in North Carolina. So I love the state, SOME of its people, hate its ideals, wish the tobacco industry would rot in hell, and wish all racist bastards would burn a slow death. But other than that…I love it!

So my grandmother’s funeral was on Sunday at 3 p.m. An extremely convenient time for someone who lives in Chicago and has a boss that…well, let’s just say, gets inconvenienced by his worker’s personal life’s problems. But I sucked it up.

Saturday I hopped a plane to Raleigh, N.C., where my brother lives. My bro is just over 2 years older than me and has turned into one kick-ass friend. He’s got a wife who should be knighted for what she’s had to put up with, and two insane boys, 1 and 5 years old.

Long story short, we decide to drive to S.C. on Saturday (4.5 hour drive). We get there at 9 p.m. and meet my mother, her husband, and my godmother for dinner at Applebees. The Clemson game is on, everyone’s in orange, I desperately want a beer but no one else is drinking at the dinner table. Oh…and I’m also a vegetarian.

This seems to surprise a shit-ton of people, I’m not sure why, I’m guessing because I’m such an asshole they think I’ll tackle, kill, and maul any living thing that comes my way, but not so kids…it’s not so.

So the waitress doesn’t know this little tid-bit about me yet, which my step-dad loves to point out. So everyone’s ordering and it gets to my brother’s 5 year old who says, “I’ll have macaroni and cheese, and celery sticks.”

Silence.

Then the waitress looks up from her pad with a horrified look and says, “You ain’t gonna eeaaat no meeeeeat?” in the worst southern accent you could imagine. Immediately my very southern step-dad says, “wait till you get to the numbskull next to him. He eats lettuce and beats too cause he’s a vegetarian!!!”

And the amazement ensued. How could anyone live a life with no meat?!!!!

The next day, we’re on our way to the funeral - me, my brother, sister-in-law, their 2 kids, my mom, step-dad, uncle, and his two kids (teenagers). We have about an hour before we need to be at the church for the family-only graveside service. So we decide to go eat and we’re following my uncle who claims he “knows where to go” for some eats. I shit you not…we pull into a fucking McDonalds.

Wearing suits, on our way to bury a loved one, we eat our lunch at McDonald’s. On top of it…again, I’m a vegetarian…at ……Mc….Donald’s.

After arguing with the zit-faced douche on how simple it is to just NOT put the chicken on my salad and how yes, “picking it off” is not OK with me, I finally got a bowl of lettuce, two carrot skins, what looked to be the boil off a tomatoe’s ass, and dressing for the low-low price of $8.

To top the entire weekend off, I decided on the 4.5 hour drive back to Raleigh starting at 6 p.m., I’d count the number of redneck-ass cars I’d pass that have Truck Nutz. Eight…yes…eight idiots felt they needed to overcompensate for their douchebagness by purchasing a pair of rubber nuts they could hang from their rear trailer-hitch to make sure everyone driving within a 40 foot radius knew their wheels were in fact a dude.

So to recap… I love the south…I’m from the south…..southern women are incredibly hot…my wifey is a southern woman….truck nutz…..McDonald’s…..I fucking hate Snuggies…..vegetarians should never try to live in the south…..Deliverance……inbreeding……..I have an alarm on my house so don’t try to break in and kill me, I love the south, I voted for Obama!!