Four Year Old Adulthood

     Strolling through Dave’s Market, because when I get hungry I can’t just do something simple like order a pizza; I have to drag a carriage around a store until I have the recipe for a Taco-Cake Lasagna. Well during this hunger crusade I come across what can only be a 4 year old, by himself walking down an aisle on a cell with such confidence you’d think he was shopping for a new suit for a big interview in the morning. As if he’s never been lost once in his entire life. I once got lost at that age at a haunted house for eleven seconds while holding a headless dudes hand, convinced he had to be my father.

     Anyway about a minute later, what I assume could only be his mom or nominee for worst parent of the year walks up to him and says, “Hey you, are you ready to leave?” Hey you? Is this a common thing now? At 4, if I wasn’t able to reach the house phone, then I wasn’t on a phone. I also wasn’t even allowed in another room let alone able to roam a store by myself because for all my parents knew, I was climbing the house to do god damn back flips off the roof. When I become a father I refuse to look like a bad parent when my kid doesn’t have a cell phone and can’t just waltz around a grocery store holding a head of lettuce like it’s some kind of renaissance painting. Kid I’m 27, let me spear you the wonder. It’s lettuce, and it sucks, just like your mom.


My Dog, the Psycho

A little over a year ago I bought a puppy. His breed is mostly German Shepard, and part wolf. Which I know which most would think, “you’re insane, he’s going to be massive.” Well when he’s about 5 pounds, my reaction was, “Ay, that face though, how big could he get?” And also, “Fuck you it’s not your dog anyway don’t worry about it.” Around the same time, coincidentally I heard the news of a new neighbor moving in next door. I have not spoken to this man let alone have seen him, and he has not seen me. I’m not sure he even knows a monster named Brutus lives in my house. He just knows something else besides me lives here. So when I let my dog outside yelling things like, “We do not eat couches in this house!” “That was my god damn sandwich!” And, “I can’t close any of the doors because you’ve torn off all the handles!” He can only wonder what exactly I have in my house. Am I batshit crazy? Maybe. Are those my kids? Could be. But you didn’t take the time to stop by and introduce yourself, so now you can sit on your porch in wonder while I see your silhouette as I scream random phrases then go back into the house. And don’t get me wrong, I love my dog, more then people clearly. But I also enjoy someone that lives mere feet from me just never having a clue what is going on.IMG_20160118_124927

Frantic People are the Worst

Walking through Best Buy when a woman frantically runs up to me with her son asking if I work there. Thrown back (since I clearly don’t), but interested, and also because I’m a thoughtful guy, I reply, “Yes, of course.” I instantly regretted this as I start getting berated. Apparently she bought her child who could barely even speak yet the wrong phone and this is somehow my fault. Double asshole move. Almost forgetting that I don’t work there I just diffused the situation, sent her on a quest to find Chuck in the electronic department, as he handles those problems and has the best knowledge of what she’s looking for. I told her good luck, sipped my Awful Awful, and strolled right out of the store. Next time don’t yell at the guy wearing sweatpants drinking an ice shake. Which you’ll have plenty of time to think about while searching for the non existent Chuck.