Pop

What's the most important thing your father ever taught you?

Reading this thread on FARK this morning has got me thinking about men in general and fathers in particular, and what my father taught me about life:

*If you cheat you're not a winner.

*Your intentions are what really matters.

*It's important to always do the right thing.

*Any game with a time clock is inherently unfair.

*People who litter are idiots.

I wish my son had one iota of the respect for his father that I have for you.

We miss you every day, Pop.

Mailbag

I'm so witty that some days I just can't stand myself. Cut and pasted, fresh from my email this week, for your viewing pleasure...

Sometimes I talk about my cat (like every day, ad nasuem) Tubby:

"Sissy told me Tubby was in her house about five times Sunday. Little B@st@rd.....she found him under her bed! The nerve! He stands at her back door waiting for one of the kids to open the door so he can slink in. When he doesn't come when I whistle, I walk across the street and he's sitting on the wicker couch on their back porch, ALL BY HIMSELF. I take that back, he's not a B@st@rd....he's an @sshole."

Sometimes a two year old needs to tell me what to do:

"I babysat last night and the baby was so cute I couldn't stand it. He was kinda sniffling and snotty and I asked him if he thought he needed some medicine.....and then (of course) every other minute he'd look at me seriously and say, "I think I need some medicine." So I go out to the kitchen and I'm looking at the daytime cold stuff on the counter and I'm thinking "Will this keep him up all night?" and I'm like, "Is this your medicine, baby?" And he's like, "I have the blue kind." Well there was no effing BLUE kind of medicine. I didn't know if Sissy had already given him some or what so I said, "Maybe I should call your mommy before I give you any medicine," and the little snippet goes and gets the phone, hands it to me and says, "Call Mommy."

Apparently I'm very worried about the state of my hair...affectionately known as "The Haystack", because I've become a septogenarian in recent weeks:

"I did the hot oil gig on my hair....it feels much less straw-ish, thanks. I hope I don't have to do that every shampoo to keep it from looking like a haystack. In ten minutes I'm going to be one of those old ladies that gets their head washed (that's what Gramma used to say) once a week. What's next? A bi-annual perm and a weekly wash and set??"

The answer is of course, yes. I need a standing weekly appointment because I am officially a thousand years old.

But of course Tubby Cat dominates my life and my email this week; ungrateful B@st@rd Cat that he is:

"I saw the attached (picture above) in a FARK comment and thought your Ding-Dong kitty was posing for pix in the tree in our d@mn back yard while I was busy working my tail off to buy the ungrateful little beast his kibble.

Obfuscate This, Tubby Mofo.

ET

I flip on the TV in the kitchen every night around seven; after working all day, after the supper gig, after walking, and my choices are (without even my LIMITED FRICKIN cable connection) Inside Edition, I Hate That Stupid Frickin Raymond and Entertainment Tonight. As the lesser of three evils, I usually have ET blaring in the background as I unload the dishwasher, fix the coffee pot for the next morning, make my lunch, throw in a load of clothes, as I wait for prime time to begin. Because I have no life.

Honestly. Isn't Anna Nicole dead? Because I swear I thought I heard that she died.

Apparently ET has no idea she's dead because they talk about her EVERY DAY. Ad nasuem. For months now. They show video of her family. They show lost videos of her "career". They show videos of her baby and the two Baby Daddy's. They talk about how pitiful and painful her life was. I think if they show me the picture of her kissing that Grampa/Husband one more time I will lose my mind.

Today they're reading lost pages of her diary; "her secret thoughts that she never wanted anyone to know." They're showing her "lost" high school photo, "with soft brown hair and bangs curled under". They're showing video of her talking about what a dim bulb she was in school and how everyone was mean to her.

Is America really that starved for celebrity news? Any publicity is good publicity?

No wonder the world hates us.

But I will say, in her skinny years, Anna looks an awful lot like Reese Witherspoon.

I'm just saying.

Yahoo

I've tried to post a couple of times in the past few months and couldn't seem to put a cohesive paragraph together. Don Imus. The Virginia Tech shootings. George F Bush. How the IRS is persecuting me. The custody fight over Ana Nicole's baby.

The list of what's been on my mind is freaking endless, but it hasn't translated well outside of my own head.

So this morning I'm perusing Yahoo Personals instead of firing up the pressure washer and getting the patio ready for outdoor living, and some of these ads are like staring at a car wreck. You just can't look away: the misspellings, the improper use of pronouns, the Harley riders looking for @ss, gas or grass, the pictures of men without shirts. And I'm thinking about the fact that I've been divorced for 17 years. And when I'm really honest with myself, I have to at least respect the fact that these poor bastards are in the game. I haven't really been in the game since 1985...the year I married D's father.

I'm thinking a lot lately about what I want in a partner and a relationship and I've determined that knowing what you don't want is just as important as what you do want. With that in mind, cut and pasted directly from Yahoo Personals, are the men I do not want to date.

The Grammatically Impaired:
John “Your, it....”
Tom “Good Man that is Real. Are you?”
Paul “I.m looking for a nice women”
Michael “im here where are you.”
Chris “What do U 4 C?”

The Animals:
Thomas “Lone Wolf Looking for mate”
Brad “Like a cat, cuddly with sharp claws”

The Desperate:
James “looking for someone to fill the void”
Kenneth “Hoping second time around is better!”
Ted “True love, Fling, Whatever”
Ron “I Won't Fear Love”

The Teddy Bears:
Paul “Sweet little Teddy Bear”
BARRY “BIG TEDDY NEEDS A LADY TEDDY”
Greg “Teddy Bear Looking A Sweet Treat”
Michael “big teddy bear,needs cuddling!”

The Loons:
Brian “easy going guy looking for a sane woman”
Gary “i gotta a big one”
Danny “Fun w/grandpa”
Bob “hi i am barneys fifh brother”
Larry “Space creature seeks earthly woman”

And just like any room full of men, I find two or three interesting. And what these men have in common is that they are not the beautiful. Or the skiiers. Or the CEO's. Or the bikers.

They're the clever, smart, quiet, unassuming ones, wearing flannel or ball caps.

And it's Norm Abrahm all over again.

D@mmit.