Don’t tell me that I oughta get rolfed

Went back to the Y today. Paying $20 for each PT session is getting old, so I told them I’d work myself out for the rest of this week. The PT is definitely useful. I’m walking almost normally and have just about full range of motion back. But, I can ride a stationary bike and lift weights at the Y and not have to pay $20.

So, I’m back…and in pain. I don’t know if it’s more of an “I just worked out and things are sore” or “Oh shit…this is bad”. I think it’s the former. The inside of the knee (where all the stretched out shit lives) feels OK. It’s the bone bruise that hurts like hell. It’s really sore right now and I’m not happy.

I had never been to the Y’s workout room before. I’d forgotten how much fun a gym setting is for people watching. In the pool, there’s really no chance to preen or accessorize. You get in, you swim, and you leave. Sure, people have designer fins and shit, but there isn’t much opportunity to flex and act like an ass. You kinds drown if you do that. In the gym…Whole nother story.

I find myself a bike and hop on and start peddling. I’m taking it easy; mostly trying to make sure I get the knee as close to straight as possible on the down-push. I did 15 minutes on an average setting. There’s no sense in doing too much. I’m not training for the Tour De France, just trying to walk again. I’m also wearing an old pair of shorts and a t-shirt. And, of course, a hat is on my head.

It’s very easy to tell who the people are who are there to exercise and those who are there to be seen exercising. If you accessorize when exercising, you’re not exercising. When your clothes are made to look ratty, you’re not exercising. When you’re peddling away at like Level 1 and are drinking water, wiping sweat, listening to music all while telling us how much you feel the burn, you’re not exercising.

It’s also fun to observe people while they do work on weight machines. They should just make that into a reality show. It’s the height of comedy. I like this guy:
Age 45
Wearing tight red shorts
Wearing the dreaded tank top
Is still upset that Brenda dumped him in Junior High
Has backne (Not mine…I stole it from Bill Simmons)
He’s strutting around from machine to machine, throwing weights on seemingly at random and doing all he can to rupture his biceps tendons or a disk in his back.

All the while, he’s looking at himself in the mirror and you can hear the voice in his head…”That’s right. All the ladies love The Matt (that’s his name). That bitch Brenda left me for Scott Harrelson. I’ll show her. Yea…The Matt is The Man. Look at me. I am awesome. I am so ripped. Tonight I’m going to masturbate to the special Gold Edition Midget Porn. That’s right, The Matt. You are awesome”

One guy strutted to the lat pull-down machine (You sit and a bar is above your head. You pull it down, against resistance, and work your lats and shoulders). He throws on an absurd amount of weight. He sits, reaches up and pulls….He comes out of the seat and hits the thigh bar. He hangs there, bouncing, until he gets the weight down. Rinse…repeat 10 more times. Highest of comedy.

I finish biking and need to find some weights. I need to do leg extensions and leg presses. I find an extension machine and start…with 12.5 lbs. That’s right. Who’s a stud? I am. 12.5 lbs. I am so ripped. I’m doing these 1-legged and am near tears from both the effort and the pain. All I n the name of progress I guess. I did leg presses and blasted up like 40 lbs. I am so huge.

Then I went home. And now my leg hurts like hell.

And, as I think of it, that was a very pointless entry. I hope the whole The Matt thing was amusing because the rest of this has been pure horseshit.

Fucking writer’s block.

Oh it’s papa’s birthday. Mister buffett’s birthday too!

All in all, a very nice, quiet, Christmas weekend…basically just what we wanted.

First, I have business to attend to.

As we all know, I got hot Backdoor Action from Chika whilst I was in Michigan.

Here’s proof:

Chika gets her freak on with Sir Clarence.

Her perspective on things. She’s so cute and tiny.

My manly-man view of things

There we have it. NGD does Michigan.


So, Christmas…

Let’s start on the Eve of the Christ-Mas

I had to get to the store because we needed seafood delectables for dinner.

I needed:
Lobster Tails
A White Fish

Nothing exotic, right? And, yes, there were only 2 of us. I also needed pork tenderloin and other snackables for the Mas of Christ. So, to Fresh Market I went. I got the cheese, bread, olives etc. I also nabbed the pork. I overpaid for the shrimp. They wanted $20/lb for scallops. No. They also wanted $25/lb for lobster tails. Double No. I did get a cod filet though (and overpaid for it). To Harris Teeter I went. Got the scallops and mussels. Still have not seen a clam anywhere yet. They wanted $22/lb for the lobster. Nope. Still need lobster and clams. 2 stores down… I swung home because it was on the way, dropped the loot, and announced that I had more stops to make. I was on a quest now.

I drove to the ghetto fish market, No clams or lobsters. They did, however, have a fish called Spot. What? So, right down the road is…The Evil Empire. I considered that I may puke if I bought Wal-Mart seafood, but, honestly, it looked like a good option. 2 more strikes. I then got back in the car and went to Kroger…down inside the Belt Line. There, I spotted the first clam of the day. The fish lady looked at me funny when I offered to kiss her; I also got some wee little lobster tails. So, 5 stores and 2 hours later, I had my fish.

I got home and packed it all away. We did a little prep-type work on the food and settled in to do nothing. Shmuppie was bouncing off the walls, so we tried in vain to keep her calm. She finally napped and we broke out the cheese, bread and olives (along with bottle #1 of wine of course) and started snacking. We ate, I stole a quick nap and all was well.

To say I cooked too much would be an understatement. I made a lot of seafood and pasta. But it was very yummy and worth the driving. By now, a double-sized bottle of pinot Grigio was gone and a Riesling was almost done.

From there, we did lemon drops and shots of Limoncello (good stuff).

We got Shmuppie into her jimmies and went downstairs to lay out loot for Santa.

Shmuppie posed by the tree before going to bed.

We put her to bed and got out her gifts from Santa.
She got:
A bear
Musical Instruments
A wooden tool set
Some wooden food
Some dress-up dolls
(All that stuff was from the Melissa and Doug line of toys. Check them out. They’re all sturdy, wooden toys that I don’t think you can destroy without a bomb)
A little train set
A puppet theater.

Too much? Yup.

We set it all up, ate Santa’s snack, drank a bottle of champagne and wandered to bed.

Fortunately, the kid spelt until after 8 the following morning. That was nice. We went downstairs and she seemed less excited than we’d expected. She liked her stuff but wasn’t quite making the Santa-connection. She seemed really dumb. But, we opened gifts and had a good time.

JewelrySlut got:
A Shmi-Pod (A Rio Carbon that I scored off EBay for really cheap!)
A buttload of silicone bakewear
A nifty measuring eye dropper thing seen on Good Eats
Some unmentionables

I got:
Several Buffett CDs
A few DVDs
Some books
A cool Buffett-themed Hawaiian shirt
A Toblerone (Upon seeing it I called JewelrySlut a bitch because she knows I hate them)
I think I’m missing something but can’t think of it…

Now, my parents came up big as usual. Actually, I don’t mean that. But, my mother had a lapse and got me a cool gift. I got a mandolin. No, not the instrument. The food slicer. That’s cool. As for the rest, a pile of crap bought at the discount store. We also got $100…which paid us back partially for the gifts we bought Shmuppie for them. The mandolin was out of place. I was stunned. I haven’t gotten a decent gift since I got a video camera back in 1995 or so. (By the way, they took it on vacation and broke it before we ever really used it). We called them and my mother told us that she hoped we could manage to have a good Christmas. Meanwhile, all 3 of them in NJ were sick and cranky. YAY CHRISTMAS!

Shmuppie did not nap all day so we kinda had to deal with her and the noise all day. Not good. She was up early yesterday too. As a result, it’s after 9:30 and she’s still asleep this morning.

It was a great weekend. We drank a lot of wine, got our freaks on. Got good stuff. We ate too much. We slept well. It was warm. We were in our new home. We really had a good time, just being here all by ourselves.

As for this week. I may take a day off. WarCryGirl’s been threatening to come out this way to go to a museum, so we may have visitors from the boonies later in the week. (Hand making phone shape) “Call me”

Otherwise, I won’t have any work to do and don’t need to be anywhere…

Well, I have a 2nd interview tonight. I had the first yesterday. It sounds vague at best, but I like getting the practice in when I can. But, you never know…

We saw Charlie and the Chocolate Factory last night. Quite amusing.

We also saw the Family Guy movie (a gift for me). VERY funny

I have to put an end to this rambling mess now.

Later in the week, I’ll do a retrospective of the year. Not only did we move, but I joined this circus here…

PS: Enjoy the typos

PPS: Happy Birthday, Jimmy. I know I’m too days late.

He thinks about boat drinks and fun in the sun. Ho, ho, ho and a bottle of rhum

Things I like about Christmas
(Because I can’t leave that last entry as my pre-holiday entry)

I like Christmas Eve dinner. It used to be a real event in the family but started tailing off in recent years. Then, JewelrySlut and I took matters into our own hands and made it into what it’s supposed to be; a feast for the eyes and belly. I can’t wait to start cooking tomorrow!

I like…no…love that when you ask Shmuppie who’s coming to visit, she lights up into a huge smile and yells “SANTA”. It’s been so long since anyone I knew believed in Santa that I forgot how cool it is. She’s going to be very excited on Sunday morning.

I like the music:

Oh Come Oh Ye Faithful: When done right, I just love the song. I even used to join in on the singing back in my church-going days. I don’t even care what it says, I just like the song.

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen: The BNL version. Shows that they can put together a really nice tune from time to time when they want to.

But, I’m just happy for this past year. We’re going to be here in our new house, celebrating together. No bickering parents. No crappy food. No long-ass car rides. Just me and my 2 girls.

I may be a NoGoodDaddy, but I’m a happy one this year.

Merry Christmas to all my new internet friends. You guys have made this year a very fun one and I look forward to checking more names off my list in 2006 when we meet up.

I hope Santa is good to all of you and know that I’ll toast you all when I start drinking heavily in a few hours.

Mele Kalikimaka is the thing to say

Today was going to be a nice entry. I was happy beyond belief to be home and was going to write about how much I’ve taken a shine to Christmas recently. I had it all planned.


8:00AM: Riiiiiiiiiiiing. We know who it is and ignore it

8:15AM: Riiiiiiiiiiiing. We’re certain who it is and, again, we ignore it

8:17AM: I check the message. Oh shit

“Hon. It was my mother. She needs you to call her right away…says it’s important. But she’s got that sound in her voice when she feels it necessary to call us at 8:00 to tell us one of the dogs just shit”

8:20AM: Riiiiiiiiiiiing. I pick up. Big mistake

Strap in, folks, I’m going to talk about my Mother again

Oh…that’s what it sounds like when people all over the place suddenly shut their browsers. Interesting…

“Oh hi.” (She always says that. It’s like she’s surprised to hear you on the other end of the phone. She did dial the number that corresponds to you, not a random assemblage of digits, but she’s surprised none the less)

“(Voice full of despair) Hello”

I really should tell JewelrySlut this…


Do you want to come up here on Saturday and then go home on Monday?

WHAT! NO! I already told you there was never the remotest chance in hell that we were driving there and the airfare is a ton of money this late in the week.

It’s only $750 for the 3 of you and I bought the tickets?

WHAT! Have you met me? I’m your son. The son of NoGoodFather. Do you want me anywhere near EWR on Christmas Eve?

It won’t be crowded.

WHAT! NO! What are you thinking?
Well, I know how upset everyone is about not spending Christmas together

(to self…Who is upset? Not us…)
What the hell does that mean? Who’s upset? We’re not going to do this shit again? I’m not in the mood. What, is Dad upset?

No…no one’s upset. Why are you making more out of this?

Because you just said that “we all” are upset about this holiday. We are not. If anything, JewelrySlut is upset that her father is alone in FLA. We’re not going there because of my knee. So, it’s really unfair of you to do this. If we can’t see him because I shouldn’t travel, how can we go see you?

Well, things change. Situations change.

Dad doesn’t know about this, does he?


Great. This is really unfair. I’ll have JewelrySlut call you later. Bye.

End of conversation…

I trudge upstairs. “Hon. Guess who? Yea…she bought 3 tickets for Saturday”

“$%YN($JYU(@%^(JUY#B%JU(B(#^&@(U$%(#$J” (At this moment, JewelrySlut had a stroke, a heart attack, an aneurism and some sort of fit which involved her head turning around in circles)

“Yea…my thoughts exactly”

So, here we are. She (my mother) doesn’t want to spend the holidays at home because she and my father still don’t like each other and because SecretAgentBrother is crabby and depressed over the whole “My wife left me for another man” thing. So, what’s the cure? Fly the 3 of them up. Never mind that one of them is 3 and another one acts like a 2 year old. Use the money that you have to buy tickets and comfort.

Now, we told her to come here. After we realized that we were not going to FLA, we told them to come here. They said no. They don’t want to travel and my father doesn’t seem to want to come here ever. (We have no clue what that’s all about). So, because they’re miserable, we have to join them? Yup, that’s how it works.

Let’s now plan this out like we were going:
RDU is warning people that it’s going to be a Class 1 Disaster Zone this week. Having been there on Monday, I can believe them. We’d need to get there over 2 hours early. I’ve seen the security lines in July. I can’t imagine them on Saturday. I talked last time about the baggage situation. Not good.

So, we’d try to fly with only carry ons.

BUZZ! Can’t do that. Why not? Because, if nothing else, we have to fly with the car seat and it needs to be checked. Then, we also have the little issue of ALL THE GIFTS ARE HERE! So, we’re going to pack up all the gifts to fly them to NJ. Because the wee one is hella ready for Santa. She’s got the tree all decorated and is psyched. Santa Claus is coming to town and town is Raleigh. So, we’d now be traveling like an expeditionary force….to Newark…on Christmas Eve…with me…


My mother does not try to be manipulative. It would be easier to handle if she did. No, she’s just not bright and doesn’t think about how her crazed ideas impact other people. All she knows is that she’s unhappy.
She doesn’t want to be.
What will make her happy?
Shmuppie will.
Shmuppie is in NC.
Bring Shmuppie to NJ.
Then she won’t be unhappy.
Damn the fact that Shmuppie’s family doesn’t want to travel and that her husband knows nothing of this and will SHIT when he finds out.
She has money. She can spend it. She can buy us tickets.

I swear. One call and I could ruin their lives. All I need to do is dial my father’s cell phone and it’s over for them. They will be under separate roofs by 8:00 tonight. I can get them a divorce for Christmas. One call.

So, now where are we?

I’m pissed beyond belief. I’m still shaking over this and it’s been 2 hours.

JewelrySlut has cried about this.

The 2 of us are sniping at each other.

Thanks Mom. You fucked our holidays yet again. We’re going to have to deal with this for a while. JewelrySlut still owes her a call. Then, they can go at it.

It would be less bad if the call was “Hi. We’re coming on Saturday…flight so and so. Pick us up”

But know, that would inconvenience THEM.

I’m so pissed.

I know I must sound like a whining bitch. But, we have to go through this every year. Just 2 nights ago, Chika was asking me about our holiday plans and I told her about how we always have to fight with them over where we’re going to be and with whom once we’re there. But, this year was different. We were here in NC and they could no longer bother us and bring us down.

Not happening.

And, don’t start in on me with “They are family and that’s what the holidays are about” No. I know how this will go:
My brother’s cranky and depressed.
My father’s pissed and unhappy.
The 2 of them will go sulk in corners of the house
My mother will cook a series of terrible meals.
Nobody will talk to each other.
I will drink too much.
JewelrySlut will be forced to try to rein me in at all times because I’ll be one small step from losing my mind and opening my mouth.

Yea…Merry fucking Christmas, folks.

I don’t want to deal with this. I want to be in my new house. I want to be with people who I happen to want to be with. I want to see Shmuppie when she comes down to the basement on Christmas Morning and sees that Santa has visited. I want to celebrate our new lives in our new home. That’s what I want for Christmas. I don’t want anything else. I got all I could ever want this year back in June.

This is going to play itself out very interestingly. I can’t wait.

And…I just checked flights. SecretAgentBrother can fly here for under $200. However, the 2 of them can’t get here for under $700 each. I have no idea where she got those fares for us.

And to think: I was in a good mood until 8:00 this morning.

Maybe tomorrow I can write something nice. Like how WarCryGirl send me a new nutsack.