I have to stop buying dress clothes at Ross. I do this to myself a lot more often than I should considering how many times I have been burned, but then again, I’m an idiot so what can I really expect from myself. It’s just so titillating. What do you mean wool dress pants are only $10? I’ll take 5 of them! Then I do, and they end up in a Goodwill bag a month later because they dyed the skin on my thighs grey. Don’t get me wrong. I love a bit of Ross. If you sift through that place for long enough you can walk out the door with some decent gear for really cheap. Many of the staples of my wardrobe (mostly T-Shirts) were plucked from those hallowed racks, but about once a year I will forget how ass all the dress clothes in that place are and buy something that I will never wear again. Take the shirt I’m wearing for instance. Just a standard white button down. Calvin Klien even. Piece of shit. I spent 20 minutes ironing this thing last night and it looked like a fucking curtain before I even got to my desk in the morning. Yeah, I only paid $16 for what was (supposedly) a $50 shirt, but still. It’s unwearable. That’s $16 bucks I could have spent on diapers! Calvin Klein should be ashamed to have his name on such shoddy haberdashery. Calvin is lucky I didn’t actually spend the $50 the original sticker suggested I would have paid at a real store because if I had I would seek him out and personally cock-punch him. It would be worth the jail time. Then again, I suppose there is a reason things end up at that place.
Ross does weird things to your shopping standards. It looks like a fucking refugee camp. If you pluck something off the rack and don’t like it you can drop that shit on the floor and no one will bat an eyelash. The dressing rooms look like the French/Serbian whorehouse from Taken that Liam Neissen drives his Jeep through and there are always random ass, unpackaged products lying around that have nothing to do with anything else that is sold in the entire store. Is that a wooden crossbow? And there may as well be a sign on the door that says “SHOPLIFTERS WELCOME!” That place does not. Give. a FUCK. And that starts to rub off on you once you’ve been in there for 5 minutes and get into the flow of things. Suddenly you start convincing yourself that things look better than they do because the funhouse mirror in the dressing room isn’t reflecting right. It’s only 9 bucks so what’s the difference? The difference? The difference, my friend, is how you look on the day you try to wear your new Ross purchase to work. Suddenly the price tag on those pants is far greater than you ever knew. How much is your dignity worth? How much is your time worth? These are the questions you really have to ask yourself. Because when you show up to work looking like I did today people get concerned. Richard looks terrible. Is he on drugs? Why is he dressed like a homeless person? WHY IS HE DRESSED LIKE A HOMELESS PERSON?!?!?! And in addition to your co-workers thinking you are a smack head who can’t be bothered to dress himself for work you have to go through the rigor of throwing the piece of shit item somewhere that will remind you to take it to Goodwill, leave it there for weeks, not do anything with it, put it in a bag that will stay in the garage for another 4 months until you need to clear that space to make room for more crap you are trying to get out of your face then ultimately trudging it to Goodwill and trying to drop off your unwanted Ross gear without having to speak to anyone, which never happens because there is always some perfectly sweet old lady working there that wants to talk to you until you have to pretend you left your baby in the car so she will shut the fuck up and jet out of there before she judges you. It’s a whole thing. And I’ve done it to myself again. So anyway, when you go to Ross stay away from the dress clothes. Learn from my mistakes.
Glad we could have that talk. Sorry to be incommunicado for so long, but this baby situation is really cutting into my nonsense blogging time. Lucy is good btw. Really cute and starting to show signs that she is aware of the world around her, but I’m not any closer to a good nickname. She’s more of a Hulk baby now than ever before. She can stand up on her own. No lie. All I have to do is balance for her. And she can roll. 7 week olds are not supposed to be able to do either of these things. And she is HIGH maintenance. She has a pattern going where she will wake up and immediately demand food. She eats, then give us about ten minutes of awake baby fun time, then she starts flipping out until we rock her to sleep. Sleeps for however long she feels like it. Usually she sleeps just long enough to invoke that first-thing-in-the-morning feeling where your alarm goes off and your brain understands you have to wake up but your body won't move for another few seconds. She starts crying and even though I know I am going to have to get up and do daddy work I will sit there for a second begging for it not to be true. But it is. All too true. And the cycle repeats.
I've burned a lot of calories trying to find different ways to calm her down, which is completely absurd to me. Being held should just do the trick, right? I tell her all the time that she is in for a rough life because it will never get better than having a human hammock that feeds you, adjusts to your every movement, sings to you, rocks, bounces, and basically exists exclusively to please your every whim. Nothing will ever be this comfortable again in her life yet she spends most of her time crying like she's having a tooth pulled no matter what we try to do for her. For a while there we were just in survival mode and everytime she cried it was immediately onto the exercise ball because that was all she seemed to want. That destroys your back though so now when she comes through with the cranky, prove-how-much-you-love-me cry we can kind of wait it out and see if other stuff will calm her down. Like I found out that I can sit with her in the glider, read a book aloud and once she picks up on the rhythm of my voice reading to her she relaxes and eventually falls asleep. And it doesn't even have to be a kids book or anything. I can just start reading whatever I pull off the shelf and she will roll with it. Much easier on my back and I am being forced to read. They call that a win win kids.
Last bit of news, then I will leave you with some pics and a special video presentation of my sweet ass fence that I built all by myself! Well it was pretty much built already when I bought it, but I had to drill things and put concrete in the ground so I am taking the credit for the whole thing. Why build a fence when I already have one? Good question. It's more of a holding cell for our retarded gangbanger dogs. Our back yard looks like a wasteland. It's a shame too because when we bought the house the yard was gorgeous. Great landscaping and beautiful grass. A real pain in the ass to keep up with but we did it out of respect. It was too pretty to let go. Then we got Lou. We may as well have gotten a horse. At least then we would have an Earth friendly mode of transportation to show for the Shantytown our back yard has become. I don't know how he did it but he managed to kill everything. It's like fucking locust got a hold of that place.
Anyway we are going to try and sell the house this summer so the party is over. We had been talking and talking about getting the yard/house ready and two Sundays ago we received an omen. Pam was headed out to do some shopping and I was sleeping in a chair with Lucy. As she was passing by the house on the corner of our street she saw a pallet of sod with a sign indicating whoever got it first could have it. She rushed home and told me about it. The last thing I wanted to do at that moment was get dirty and do a bunch of work but we knew we had to act quick. We didn’t think it would last long and we were right. Having a yard in this state is a constant struggle to keep your grass alive, and that “Free Sod” sign in my neighbors front yard really got the party started. The only things I can think of that would get Floridians to move that fast would be free giantic FL Gators stickers that take up your entire back window of your car, free confederate flag liscence plate frames that say Heritage Not Hate or free coppies of Sarah Palin's book. GOD DAMN THIS TOWN IS FULL OF HICKS!**********Ugh...sorry. I blacked out there for a second. Anyway we managed to scalp about 1/3 of the pallet for ourselves so now we have a little patch we’re trying to nurture before we do the rest of the yard and we can’t let the dogs tear it up. So they are banished to the side yard. I made a little vid about it on my phone but I couldn't get it to upload so you guys will just have to imagine it for now. Here are some pics of a cute baby.
Aright peeps. Until next time…