I was in class last night and the guy who sits next to me came in, glanced around, and switched out his desk for a left-handed one
"Lefty, huh?" I said cleverly. I had noticed before, but I was keeping that under wraps. In case of a murder mystery or a really random extra credit question on a test.
"Yeah." He said.
"My daughter's a lefty," I said. I was pretty sure this news would knock him on his ass. I mean, dude, you're of the same handedness as my daughter. It doesn't get more awesome.
"What?" He replied.
"My daughter's a lefty," I repeated, forcing a little more brightness into my voice. I'm about to make your day here, motherfucker, my tone said.
"Oh wow, cool." Was his tepid reply. Obviously he suffers from depression and probably (likely) brain damage. Sever brain damage
I was pretty amused with myself in the end. Getting that excited about which hand my kid prefers when picking her nose. Something I had to learn--am still learning--as a dad, is that nobody really gives a fuck about my kids. I mean, I knew that, intellectually, and I try not to be a bore on the subject of my children (that's what blogging is for) but sometimes that parental love and pride just wells up, and I forget myself, and I expect everyone to appreciate just how lucky; how truly fortunate they are; to share something in common with my kids.
"My daughter has a dress like that!"
"Hey, my son eats food!"
"oh my God, my daughter loves to go pee pee!"
It's often the mundane shit like that too. I rarely talk about how exceptional my kids are outside family and close friends. The world will know soon enough, and tremble at their terrible beauty.
Or not. You never can tell with these things. Which is why it's best to try to keep your mouth shut about it. But every once in while, you gotta let go a little too.
I've had a new button up on the side of the blog for a week now, give or take. It's the Cure JM button. It stands for Juvenile Myositis, a rare childhood disease for which while there is treatment, there is no cure. Please give it a click if you have a sec, it's a very good cause.
The person from whom I procured the button, now that's a different story. The cause is good, but that guy, whose internet handle is Always Home and Uncool, he's just terrible. I mean, really an awful, awful person. Possibly the worst one ever. You're talking the kind of guy Pol Pot'd snub at a party for being too mean.
If Hitler and the Grinch had a baby, this'd be the dude that baby would think of when he was worried about monsters.
Sure, he's an accomplished writer. Yes, he gave me my first guess-posting spot. And yes he helped me get a second one as well. And yes he has a beautiful family who love him, and sure he never has a bad word to say about anyone, and indeed everyone in the blogosphere seems fond of him, and most definitely if you've ever seen a picture of him he looks very friendly and huggable in a vaguely Grover-esque sort of way, and of course there is a legion of blogs out there who have the above mentioned button on their pages.
Smokescreen. Big, fat, smokescreen. Let me put it this way: what number of human badness is equal to prick squared? Double it.
I'm sure this'll be the last post I ever write, once he lays his jaundiced, bloodshot, malicious gaze upon it.
Visit his blog if you don't believe me. I dare you. Read between the lines.
Better yet, click on that Cure JM button. Trust me, that'll tell you everything you need to know.
If you don't hear from me in 4 days time, call the authorities.
This post brought to you by Fatherhood Friday at dad-blogs.com.
P.S. anyone who was wondering, I got a 90 on the mid-term. Not quite as good as I hoped, but better than I was expecting.