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?....”



I Would Totally Suck as a Terrorist

So this sack of shit Umar Farouk Abdul Mutallab tried to blow up an airplane coming into Detroit on ChristmasDay. There’s so many screwed up things wrong with this picture I don’t even know where to begin. I guess the most important is—why Detroit? I mean seriously…I have a new respect for Detroit living in Chicago and being so close to Michigan – but damn, Detroit is struggling!!! It’s the poster child for our shitty economy! So what in the hell kind of damage is dropping a plane in Detroit gonna do to the bigger USA picture? (no offense people that live there—I only mean that hypothetically!)

Anyway, the bottom line is, this sack of shit made it through security with all kinds of crap tied to his body. I kinda wish I’d thought of that earlier. I totally would have strapped my after-shave, mouthwash, and hair gel to my thighs and hips if I’d known I would have just breezed through security. Damn I hate learning kick-ass lessons from other people.

(Yes, this is really me. I'd like to thank the wifey for having the patience

to take this. I'd like to also thank Baby Jesus for being there, and most of

all, Marmaduke for just being you my man.)

But, I guess I have many down-falls which pretty much would keep me off any potential terrorist list that ever existed. What? What are they? Well…OK – here’s the top 10 reasons why I’d fuckin’ suck as a terrorist.

1)  Literally the second after I walk out of a store from buying the wifey a present, I call 10 people to tell them what it is, and usually within one minute of walking in the door, I’m all “so uhh..you wanna open a present early? I mean, cause you should. Cause I bought you something, wanna see it?!”

2)  I HATE any type of clothing or straps touching my body. Hence the Pants Optional Friday. Seriously, when I had to wear a heart monitor for a day, strapped to my belly with wires attached to my chest…I just laid in bed all day wanting to die.

3)  As much as I’ve flown during my life you’d think it was comfortable for me. And it kinda is…but not so much. So mix that with me being on a plane knowing I’m gonna blow it up!!! I’d drink to try and deal with it, then I’d get all “let’s party bitches!!!” and then I’d rip my shirt off and everyone would see the explosives and it just wouldn’t be pretty.

4)  I get nervous taking my cell phone through security. I mean, what if they confiscate the picture I pic-messaged the wifey last year of my...well, of my "thingy?" I mean, I was kinda proud of it, so I really wouldn’t mind if they stole it…but I’m pretty sure the wifey would be horrified. She called me within two minutes of sex-texting that pic to her, all “what the fuck is your problem? You just sent me a picture of your ding-a-ling? What’s wrong with you?!”

5)  I’m pretty sure that at the rate I’m going with this blog…I would have already written about my potential efforts to be a terrorist before it even happened which probably would have ended badly.

6)  My son would talk me out of it. His soul is still untainted and solid and I love him for that. If only we could all stay that way! He’d totally be all “but daddy why? Airplanes are good. And they’re all shiny and stuff and look cool in the sky and when they fly-by all loud and stuff I can say ‘shit’ and ‘damn’ and you won’t hear me cause they’re so loud!!”

7)  Because I have the whitest, most non-threatening name there could possibly be. And…well….I look like I’m too much of a tool to even be considered as a terrorist. They’d pull me aside for “special screening” and just spend 10 minutes laughing, all “if I ever look this white, just shoot my ass.”

8)  I can’t even light a damn grill without screwing it up. Seriously! I admit it…I’ve walked away from a fully-stocked grill, full gas tank, in total frustration cause I couldn’t get the damn thing light. And I swear as I walked away, the damn thing lit itself.

9)  Cause I’m too fucking tired to plot a damn thing. I mean, I’ve been with the kids for a month, with no job, only a few hours of the day alone, and I’m tired. Checking my email puts me over the edge. I just want to sleep….let alone strap shit on, fight traffic to the airport, sit next to some chatter box, act all normal and shit, then at the end have to remember what mixes with what and why? Screw that man!

10)  Cause I’m just not that angry. I mean…I’m angry when the wifey says, “can’t we just watch TV for a bit” when I ask her for sex, but that doesn’t want to make me blow shit up! Well…maybe it does, but not a plane!

So in conclusion – I’m lucky I can even breathe on my own and tie my own shoes. Oh – and I hope Umar Farouk Abdul Mutallab gets a hot poker in his ass…twice.