If, when I say I may fade like a sigh if I stay,
You minimize my movement anyway,
I must persuade you another way.
You minimize my movement anyway,
I must persuade you another way.
- Tool, Pushit
Putting a life back in order is not an easy thing to do, or so I am told. Tricky business, making certain the noise level of the bullshit that drives you into that dark and smelly space between your ears; trickier yet, knowing when to listen – or worse, what to listen for.
Then again, sometimes we just get fucking lucky. Saying that, I got pretty lucky the last couple years. So far, anyway.
My wife completed school, graduated magna cum laude and set about getting final certifications and a job within a month of graduation. Now my yummy little mother of 5 is learning how to kick off a career in a challenging medical field (invasive cardiovascular technology) without ending up frazzled and barking. It’s tiring, cute, and quite a ride being married to her these days. It’s good for me, too. I have been a stay at home dad before. When she’s on call I can start singing “I am Woman” with the best of them. All good news.
I was let go from my job at the bank, and got another job at another bank before my paychecks stopped coming from the first one. Double dipping – the way to live. Got enough to pay off my car, which only has 22,000 miles on it. All good news. Better money, too.
Daughter auditioned for her middle school and nailed it – sang “Castle on a Cloud” from Le Miz. Made me cry to hear it. Schools here in Charlotte, North Carolina suck fat yak ass, and this school is like the one in “fame”, with the added bonus of on-campus security and a five star parent5 rating. All good news.
I just got my “camouflage” belt in tae kwon do. I question the ancient history and belting promotion process when we talk about camouflage, but there it is. I can do a fairly pretty reverse jumping butterfly kick, so who gives a shit?
So when does the other shoe drop? Where’s the next catastrophe? How can this be happening?
Idunno. Got to like it while I got it, I guess. It’s all good.
Meanwhile, I enjoyed all three hours of winter this year. I have already turned the air conditioner on once, and if I understand Mr. Weatherman correctly will be doing so again. A pretty spring. Great way to bring on what may add up to another great year.
Onward. Originals here.
***
DP,
I've been happily married for the past 12 years to my high-school sweetheart, who I am quite certain is gay. I could write a mile-long list of the reasons I know my husband is closeted. Even if I had proof he was gay I'd happily stay married to him. Is it terribly selfish of me to just enjoy my marriage for what it is and hope he never comes to the same realization I have?
I've been happily married for the past 12 years to my high-school sweetheart, who I am quite certain is gay. I could write a mile-long list of the reasons I know my husband is closeted. Even if I had proof he was gay I'd happily stay married to him. Is it terribly selfish of me to just enjoy my marriage for what it is and hope he never comes to the same realization I have?
—A Happily Obliging Beard
Dear Chick-Who-Is-In-The-Weirdest-Fucking-Relationship-Ever,
Uh, well. You’re happy? He’s happy? Okay then. Stick to your guns, dude. Few people have it wired as tight as you. Fucking weird, though.
***
DP,
I have a fifth-grade son who is white and plays basketball on a mostly black team. I heard him call his new friends "my niggas." He said that he understood the history of the word and knows that it can be hateful when used wrongly. I don't even know if it’s OK for a white kid with black friends to use that word if they all do, and no one means it in a bad way. I usually feel confident guiding my son, but on this one I have no idea what to tell him.
I have a fifth-grade son who is white and plays basketball on a mostly black team. I heard him call his new friends "my niggas." He said that he understood the history of the word and knows that it can be hateful when used wrongly. I don't even know if it’s OK for a white kid with black friends to use that word if they all do, and no one means it in a bad way. I usually feel confident guiding my son, but on this one I have no idea what to tell him.
—Stumped
Dear Harriett Nelson,
Shut your fucking yap and let Ricky just be a kid in a kid’s world. You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about. Idiot.
***
DP,
I’m a young woman in college who was considered an academically gifted child, and my parents were very proud. I told my father that I wanted to pursue other subjects, but he rejected any proposed career that wasn't engineering. Now I am a freshman structural engineering major, and my father is on my case about my less-than-stellar GPA. My father always says, "I love you and will support you in anything you do." His hypocrisy sickens me. How can I make him take me seriously?
I’m a young woman in college who was considered an academically gifted child, and my parents were very proud. I told my father that I wanted to pursue other subjects, but he rejected any proposed career that wasn't engineering. Now I am a freshman structural engineering major, and my father is on my case about my less-than-stellar GPA. My father always says, "I love you and will support you in anything you do." His hypocrisy sickens me. How can I make him take me seriously?
—Not Gifted
Dear Daddy’s Little Dipshit,
Call him and tell him to go fuck himself.
Wait. I thought you said you were smart?
***
DP,
Sometimes at work, while sitting in the bathroom stall, I hear a weird rubbing noise coming from a neighboring stall. Other co-workers have heard it, too, and after months of sleuthing we discovered that the noises were coming from an older gentleman in the office. Lately the sounds have been getting more graphic, a distinct wet noise. He's either masturbating or repeatedly wiping his behind—the point is, it's really weirding us out. Should we ask him about it, or talk to human resources?
Sometimes at work, while sitting in the bathroom stall, I hear a weird rubbing noise coming from a neighboring stall. Other co-workers have heard it, too, and after months of sleuthing we discovered that the noises were coming from an older gentleman in the office. Lately the sounds have been getting more graphic, a distinct wet noise. He's either masturbating or repeatedly wiping his behind—the point is, it's really weirding us out. Should we ask him about it, or talk to human resources?
—Wishing To Use the Bathroom in Peace
Dear Horror Movie,
Really?
Awesome!
Next time you catch him, you need to be wearing a wonder woman costume, and have a large bowl of anchovies with you. When he starts popping the penile pimple, kick his door open, start peeing on him, throw the anchovies in his face and scream “I’m comin’ home, Martha!”
I think he’ll stop.
And now I shall away to the end of my workday and an evening with wife AND kids, as she is not on call. I think I will toss together that smoked paprika chicken recipe, make a big salad, and sit down while the chicken cooks to sip a big fat glass of Stoli over ice, listening to some Stravinsky with my wife. Spring, all that.
Hmm.
Maybe Creedence?
Cheers!
Schuyler The Cat =^oo^=
