Told ya Owl Bee Bark...

Sometimes besides trying to instill good moral values, manners, etc. in our kids, I personally feel that one of the most important things for a person to have is a good sense of humour and take it upon myself to impress upon, nay, force feed my kids with funny shit.

And hey, I need to keep myself entertained for personal sanity's sake.

Case in point; I walk into the bedroom at 1am last night and find my 3 owls wide awake, gleefully chatting away on a school night. Bear in mind we are up at 5:55am on school days.

They tell me that they can't sleep and my eldest (my mini-me who has inherited my twisted humour) says they want, no, NEED, a bedtime story. Having not done the bedtime story thingy for years I knew that this was him having a laugh.
But I said "Ok just a nice short one so snuggle up, and listen up."

"Once upon a time, there lived three brave boys.
If they didn't go to sleep immediately, they're going to get such a good whacking on their backsides that they will have to shit standing up for a week.
And for the rest of their days they slept on time and lived happily ever after."

- THE END -

Owls numbers 1 & 2 both instantly said it was THE best story they'd ever heard so I chalk this one up in the 'Parenting Win' column.

I'm rocking this daddy gig methinks. 

"Few there are that will endure a true friend." ~ Henry George Bohn

I'm not rich (LOL!!!) or famous and definitely not a 'must have' as a friend, but at least with me, what you see is what you get. No act or two faced-ness and some would say overly direct and 'too' honest in my opinions.

That being said, I have always tried my very best to view others as an optimist, always giving the benefit of the doubt and always trying to see the best in others; until they fuck me up personally that is.

I have found one upside of being 'me' however.
That is that two faced pieces of shit avoid me like the plague for fear of being called out straight to their faces.

Of late I have been stumbling upon quite a few people who I know personally in real life who have quietly unfriended me on FB.
Yeah I know, it's only a social site and of no import, and let me make it clear that the act of un-friending is no big deal to me whatsoever.
What irks me is how they 'act' like my long lost friend when they see me in person, with all the fake "how are you's" and "we should have lunch 'ONE DAY'"!

To put it simply, cut the crap and man the fuck up why don't you? Stab me in the front for a change..

All I have to say about that is that I KNOW who my TRUE friends in this life are; who have helped me through thick and thin, and whose friendship I will treasure till my last breath, and I spot the 'fakes' a mile off.

"If you have one true friend, you have more than your share." ~ Thomas Fuller

I am blessed that I actually have a few very good friends who have helped me stand when all I wanted to do was lay down and give up.

Who have offered me a shoulder to lean on, an ear to listen and good kick up my arse when I needed it!

And I wouldn't trade 1 of my true friends for a thousand fake plastic dog shits.

But that's just me. :)

So Long Suckers!

I think I'm afraid of dying.

No, I'm pretty sure about it. Took me a millisecond to confirm it.

Of late though, I think I'm more afraid about not dying well.
You know, like screaming like a scared bitch or crying out for your mama thingy.

Which of course is a result of the fear taking over and your mind getting paralysed with fear rather than the acceptance of your situation.

I mean put aside the worries of the well being of the loved ones you leave behind and even for that matter the age old mystery of the after life.

I'm talking about the very personal occurrence of your own death.
I seriously hope that I am able to grasp the situation and face my own death "like a Boss!".

Of course having put this thought and hope in writing for all time preserved in cyber space, I'd probably make the next day's front page headlines of the guy who screamed and died like a cowardly bitch in front of his disgusted family and friends.

I've always admired the old civilisations that wished their dying comrades "a good death".
However it could be a major con job by the Hollywood fantasy machine and no such crap ever happened in the history of the world.

(And maybe I watch too many movies huh...)

Like in 'The Last Samurai' the Jap guy (who was also in 'Inception') told his sister that her husband died a good and glorious death.

And another example is in 'Apocalypto' at the Mayan sacrificial altar, the blue men wished each other "Die well!".

I get the Samurai good death, as in dying in glorious battle, sacrificing your life for your people/clan/family blah blah blah..

But I have to say the Apocalypto scene really seemed stupid as shit to me at the time.

I mean you're about to get your heart cut out and shown to you followed by decapitation  and some half naked Mayan shit heads playing netball with your severed head.
How exactly do I "die well", fuckers?

(Yep, I watch too many movies!)

But I'm getting the gist of it lately.
I think it's more to do with checking out with dignity.

I mean think about it, who would you admire more?
A slouching sad guy complaining, whining and crying his way out the door, or a winking and smiling 'chap' tipping his hat while saying "So long suckers!" whilst striding out the door?

I kind of picture myself as the guy who is being 'escorted' out the door by 2 hard ass bouncers and I steal a smile to the mobster boss' hot girl and give everyone else the middle finger as I step out the door.

See you on the other side, suckers!

Drama roll please! Ba Dum, Tiss!

So I'm back.

I actually turned myself off blogging after reading my last post. But I promised myself that I wouldn't censor or delete whatever came out of my heart and mind at the time of writing so I left whatever was written there for the world to read, judge and whatever.

I'm basically a positive person but I've noticed an underlying negativity that seems to seep out in my blogging. (and the masses scream out "You think???"...)

So in this 2nd half of 2013, I'm going to be making a conscious effort to leave out the drama, self doubt/loathing not only in my blogging but in my very perception of me, myself and moir.

Just got myself an iPad (2nd hand and old model) and wonder why I didn't get one sooner. 

Makes my work so much easier and am finding blogging on this to be a joy. And just in time too, coz my pc crashed and life almost lost meaning to my nerdy mind at the thought of not being able to go online! 

Lol, sad sad sucker of an Internet junkie... ;)

Life Force(d)

I was one of those people who have always loved kids. At 18 when my buddies were just trying to get laid, I was imagining what my kids would look like and thinking of names for them.

I knew deep down that there was something a bit off tangent in the way I thought and felt but still I went on fantasizing about having kids of my own. People who I shared this with always told me to bide my time and that I was right to think that having children was the best feeling in the world and about how they inspire you to be a better human being and blah blah blah...

Like so many idiots with their heads up in the clouds I was in love with the 'idea' of seeing the fruits of my loins made flesh before my eyes.

 I had no fucking inkling that it was a lifetime gig you didn't walk away from and that essentially your life as you once knew it, was over.
Well, you 'know' it of course, after all you have 9 or so months to get used to the idea of it. But the reality (and maybe gravity) of your situation starts to dawn on your ass when you realize that the person you'd always thought you'd be, things you always thought you'd have, places you always thought you'd go, are now either improbable or impossible.

Example: Never in my wildest dreams did I ever envisage myself a single dad (ala soccer mum) sitting outside a school waiting for children of my own.

One thing 'they' never tell you, is how your offspring will eat your dreams of grandeur and drain your energy like 'Lestat' (the non sparkly type vampire for those out of the loop) sucking the blood from a Creole whore in New Orleans.

With my 42nd birthday racing to choke hold me at speeds of light, it was supposed to be recording '3 albums at a time' contracts, sold out concerts all the time and Limo rides to the Grammy's with groupies by now.

Instead, it's washing 3 bums after they take a crap, sold out my pride and dignity some time ago and practically a school bus driver fitting in nicely with groups of other loser dads.

Take today, Wednesday, for example.

All 3 of my boys finish school in 3 different time zones.
The period between each final bell is not far enough apart that I can leave each time one of my boys 'decides to come out and grace me with his presence', but long enough for me to bake medium to well done in 40'C temperatures depending of course on cloud formations.

The fact that my car air condition is busted is just the whipped cream on my yummy bowl of dog shit served by life.



I sometimes wonder: If I had 'that DeLorean', would I change a single thing?



Not a single fucking detail.




Well, maybe my car's air con would work.


That would be nice.

Bah, humbug.

Well, it's Christmas eve.

It used to be my favourite day of the year, alongside my birthday of course!
It always meant great food, presents, midnight mass with the family, presents, oh and did I mention, presents!

As I got into my teens it meant seeing my parents putting aside their sometimes months long fighting to be civil with each other for the 'festive' period and that in itself was a present enough for me.

My twenties were of course a time to party with my friends and Christmas Eve, Day, Boxing Day, New Year's Eve, New Year's Day (you get the picture...) were just an excuse, if we needed one, to get drunk and have fun!

Losing my dad when I was 27 however changed everything Christmas meant to me.

It just seemed to bring back memories of his larger than life character and my mother has since then never celebrated Christmas at home again. It was left to my sisters to carry the torch of big Christmas dinners and to be honest, it's just not the same.

My thirties were a blur of marriage, 3 children and the end of my marriage.
Christmases were quiet family affairs with my wife and kids with most, if not all Christmas Eves with me away at work.
Presents were by now, only for the kids.
Christmas dinners were all bought.
And church was just too much of a hassle with 3 constantly fighting boys in tow.

Try as I might, I could never replicate for my children the euphoria of what Christmas used to mean to me. And raising them on my own these past 3 years have made it even more difficult for me to 'find' the Christmas spirit with me away at work on Christmas eve and they asleep when I get back.

Ironically, I realized that Christmas should be more about Jesus' birth and his sacrifice for us about the same time I kind of lost my faith.

Celebrating the birth of a 'kid with a magnifying glass over an ant hill' when you're the ant felt too much like rubbing salt in my own wounds, if you ask me.

I keep up appearances for my children's sake and of course the tradition of presents for them.
Anything to keep them happy and distracted from the fact they have only one parent is my present to myself.

So here we are, on my 41st Christmas Eve. Going for dinner at my sister's place.
My mother has locked herself in her room, not speaking to me and is refusing to attend.

Same shit, different year; only turn up the hypocrisy level, thank you very much.

So, Merry Christmas?

Yeah, whatever Santa fuck face...

One Doomsday sandwich to go, hold the Mayanaise.

I'd be lying if I said that part of me didn't believe the Mayan prophecy.
Well at least the version where we all DIE.


Officially, there is still another 2 hours till the exact time it will come to pass but already the "Mayans are shit" and "If they could predict the future why didn't they see the Spanish coming...", "blah blah blah..." posts are rife on facebook and most other social sites.

I said "part" of me. Not wholeheartedly.

I've heard the usual 'friend of a friend' bullshit hearsay stories of how some people took out mortgages on their homes and sold assets to go for a 2 month holiday with loved ones spending it all in anticipation of doomsday.

 I would never even think of doing crazy shit like that.

If nothing happens in the next 1 hour 52 minutes, they're gonna be facing 'doomsday' EVERYDAY for the rest of their shitty lives paying off a 2 month splurge. Dumb fucks.

With satellite and cable TV broadcasting non stop for the past week about 'the end' specials and documentaries, inevitably my kids were asking about it. My eldest boy even said that its not fair that the world is going to end seeing as his life is just starting.


Well he actually said, "Daddy, you're old so it's ok for you to die, but I'm young and it's not fair!!!"

Yeah, thanks son. I'm just sitting my OLD ass here waiting to die.


With all the hype building for the past few weeks it's all kinda fizzled out like a cum-shot after the 3rd round.

 *sput*

I was at least expecting some mini tsunamis, force 5 gale winds or some shit damnit! 

But hey, we're all still here (so far, 1 hour 30 minutes to go!) and looks like the bill paying, kids feeding and posting shit on FB goes on.

THE END ?