Day 35

Unemployment.

I have decided to quit my job.  The pay is terrible and the fringe benefits suck.  Raising these two young men is a daily gut check that I could frankly do without.  When my wife got home this evening and I damned near slapped her in the mouth for cheating on me.  There is just absolutely no way these two little bastards are mine.  I think I referred to them as retarded gangbangers awhile back and I have decided that I would like to retract that comment.  These two make retarded gangbangers look like class president and valedictorian material.  I love them both and would give my life for theirs, but there are days that I wonder if my wife was taking massive doses of meth when she was pregnant with them.  These two crack babies can't concentrate long enough to form complete sentences anymore.  Apprentice human beings, that's what they are.

With the rugged 206 glued back together again, I hit the streets this morning for one final school run for the week.  The youngest decided to make this morning a little extra lively by throwing a tantrum at the door to his classroom.  It was a real Oscar winning performance.  Next to the wet noodle, his favorite ploy is to flail his legs around until his mud boots come flying off of his feet.  On several occassions, I have narrowly avoided brain damage from a Wellie to the head.  My personal favorite is the "lay down on the ground and refuse to get back up" technique.  This usually occurs in the most inappropriate location you can think of . . . like a busy street full of motorists or the public bathroom floor at a 24 hour truck stop.  These are all ancient practices that have been passed down from one generation to the next.  My youngest is a Shaolin Master of these techniques and will gladly train any willing student.  Some of the bodily contortions require a degree of precision that you only find in a fine swiss timepiece.

Fortunately, the long week is over and I can put this all behind me to focus on the weekend ahead.  That being said, I am going to keep this short and sweet tonight so I can go to bed and lick my emotional wounds.  On a side note, a secondary inventory was taken of our personal belongings and it appears that we are missing my youngest's scooter and a box of baby wipes.  If they wash up on shore, would you be so kind as to pick them up and send them to me via air mail?  I have a hunch that pirates might have gotten my bounty.  I would like to think that somewhere in the world is a pirate astride a buzz lightyear scooter with a really clean ass.  Since I can no longer hold my eyelids ajar, I am heading for bed.  Take care and godspeed.