stuntedgrowth’s Neighborhood

Now I'm posting on my own at http://stupidtom.com which means that I have broken away from the Vox and Blogger and Wordpress.com motherships.

please update any bookmarks and or links. Also if you link to me and I haven't linked back please drop me a line at stupidtom at gmail dot com.

I thought it was clear but here I go again:

http://www.stupidtom.com

which redirects you over to

http://stupidtom.wordpress.com/thanks

for stopping by

stay stupid San Diego

I am moving this dump back to WordPress for a number of reasons that are really boring and stupid. If you dropped by for the short time that I was Voxing around and liked what you read you can still find me at stupidtom.com.

Thanks for dropping in and Vox-On.

Yesterday I had a great one because I started my morning letting off a little mental steam. When things are slow at work is the time when a good manager earns their money. If things are busy and everyone is running around making money a manager can sit back and wait for supervisor type opportunities to present themselves. Little things are constantly popping up that require attention and there is no time for anyone to think about anything but the tasks at hand.

Slow times are like poison to a business of any size because you have to try and keep all of the plates spinning at a slower rate. This isn’t making much sense but I am frustrated because I have to keep everyone around me motivated and happy while enduring legendary ass chewings from my superiors.

And the only reason they have so much time to beat me up is because its slow all over the country. I do loves me the biddness world.

Last night I was talking with my middle child, Maggie, who is the female version of me. trouble, but a good kid. She is having a slight problem with one of the little girls in her grade and is showing some spectacular restraint by not lashing out at her. I badly want to teach her the ways of the dark side but my wife is keeping a close eye on me. When we were in her room last night I listened to the story and then I heard myself asking what the problem little girl looked like. Mag didn’t really understand but as I was trying to explain how to spot physical abnormalities Liza called me out of the room.

My opening line about teaching her how to verbally defend herself was immediately shut down. This is going to be a true test of my parenting. I must fight the urge to turn my child into an oral flamethrower.

I am being hit with random waves of cranky lately and they all have to do with the mutha effin house we live in. I know I should be thankful that we have a home in a nice area and all but the little bullshit that keeps failing at our place is making me crazy-er.

I am trying not to light people up but with a house full of sick people that is threatening to slowly decompose around me I left this morning loaded for bear. When I went to fill up my truck this morning some a-wipe had stolen my gas cap. Before you jump to the conclusion that I was the idiot and probably forgot it at the last pump I stopped at this was the kind made for idiots like me. It had a plastic tether that made sure the worst I could do was not screw it back on and leave it open and banging against the side.

That wouldn’t last for long because it is right behind my door and I have now taken this boring thought way too far down the side track. Back to the original thinking.

So after I fill up the tank a good neighbor at the filling station informed me that I should really cover the junk that is in the back of my truck because if it flies out on the highway I would get fined. Irritating yes, but not worthy of a confrontation because I thought he was being nice. I thanked him and said I would take care of it.

He then said “no you’d better fucking tarp that shit because I’m tired of replacing windshields because of assholes like you!” I was still calm so I replied with “because of the wonderful things he does.” Which this idiot totally didn’t get. I told him that because he used because so much I thought he was going to break into a Wizard of Oz song. I’m not sure what he was thinking because (now I can’t stop) he made a perceptible attitude shift that was telling me that this could move into a physical confrontation.

A quick review of my outfit told the story. I have an important meeting this morning so I am wearing a full suite and tie as well as my brand new dress shoes. His truck was much bigger than mine and was completely tricked out with every possible bolt on accessory so maybe I was getting some pickup disrespect as well. I didn’t have a lot of time to screw around with this idiot because *cough* of the required meeting prep so I countered his walking-toward-me “FUCK YOU!” with this:

“If you really want to fight over the uncovered junk in my truck let me take my suite pants off first. Because after I knock you down I’m going to sit on your neck and cover your nose and mouth with my stretched out scrotum.”

I do so love shocking people. Especially those who assume that they operate on a baser plane than I. I waited the four count of silence that means nothing was going to happen and headed off to work. I feel a ton better and I only wish I had a number to call and thank him.

But I can’t for the life of me remember what else I wanted to talk about. I know it had something to do with the party but I’m not really sure what exactly. I think it had something to do with our love of throwing parties but our house not quite being up to the task.

It’s not that it’s a bad house. Especially if you don’t mind random leaks and EVERY improvement by the previous homeowner being completely screwed up. Other than those things and the fact that it’s as old as I am it serves its purpose. The problem is that we lived in much better when we lived in Tucson and I sometimes get the feeling that I took my family on one giant step backwards.

The Tucson house was three thousand square feet of two year old ranch. A three car garage and more features that I can list without making myself cry. It was the perfect party house but we didn’t really have anyone to share it with. If I could take that home and drop it on the current half the size turd it would be perfect.

My neighbors would be a little cranky because I would be touching both of their homes and the pool would take up most of the back people’s yard but that’s the price they would have to pay if I got my wish. Man that thing would look really stupid in our neighborhood. Good stupid. Funny stupid. Tom’s house stupid. Stupidtom’s stupiddreamhouse stupid.

Pity, party of one, your table is ready.

I am just whining because that was the coolest house that I will ever live in and most of the friends we moved back to be with never got to share in the fun. Plus the fact that on the way to work this morning I started to go through the home improvement punch list in my head and almost popped an aneurism. I need to stumble upon some life changing money and either improve that shit hole or move into something better.

I had better climb out of this funk ASAP or else I’m in for a bumpy weekend.

A good friend’s father passed away over the holidays and yesterday was the funeral. I wouldn’t normally write about that because it’s a normal part of our time here on the planet but I never leave one of those without doing some major life reflecting. And the thought that was stuck in my head yesterday was that I really need to stop being such a prick.

The path you cut through the world does matter and when you get right down to the end no one really gives a shit how great you were at driving success if it means that you were a miserable c-sucker. (I am trying not to swear as much in the New Year and I am already one shit and a prick deep into this post. Now it’s two each. Nice.) So I have been to two of these father passings in the last year and they have both been from the same family. They were both good guys who walked a great path.

It just makes me think that I should be making an effort to tone down my a-hole a little bit. I am a big fan of ball busting as a teaching tool. Sometimes I take things a wee bit far when it gets right down to it. Not because the deep cuts are necessary but because they’re fun.  Upon further life review I need to curb that particular behavior.

That doesn’t mean I’m going soft I just don’t want the poor sap that has to give my eulogy to lie. Much.

An interesting side note: when one of my guys informed me this morning that he hit a pole in a parking lot my calm non-swearing reaction scared him more than if I would have hit him in the face with a prize bouquet of swear. I think I can make this work for me.

This has been both a blessing and a curse for my entire life. As a kid it kind of sucked because people tend to double up your gift. If you know a child who is born on or around Christmas do me a favor and give them two separate packages. Even if you have to cut your cheap assed combo gift in half, give two separate parcels.

As a teen you were guaranteed a party on your birthday when most people have moved on to a family dinner kind of thing. Then when you finally reach the legal drinking age the fun really begins. Back when I turned eighteen a forty minute drive to Wisconsin made me a legal drunk. Then they moved it to nineteen and finally twenty one but I had a good run.

Twenty-first birthday on New Years Eve in the city of Chicago was a blur. I was showing my ID all night and I don’t think I paid for a drink. I do remember the police bringing me back to the hotel because I had wondered into a neighborhood where I shouldn’t have been and was watching a bunch of my new friends break dance on cardboard in a park.

Once the fun of being in the middle of ridiculous crowds wears off and kids enter into the picture parties at home are the norm.

This year I had a bonus party thrown on Friday night by some friends. It was awesome. Some of the best beef I have ever consumed as well as some good company and not too much alcohol. I even got an awesome present that came out of nowhere. It’s a gift certificate to allenbrothers.com. I stopped by the site yesterday and it gave me a meat chubby. But then my hangover kicked back in and I had to click away from the food. Wait, I’m ahead of myself again.

So New Years Eve Liza decided to throw me a party on my birthday. Some friends of ours volunteered their house for the kid’s celebration and some enterprising young ladies picked up the babysitting responsibilities for $35 a family. Eve Care lasted until 1am so it was perfect. Back at the adult party the Bears game tried to throw a wet blanket over everything but the will to have fun took over and the party was in full fun flow by eleven.

Some observations from the festivities:

• Goldschlager is not really my friend
• Martinis make life interesting
• Pants off Dance Off is not just a show on cable
• Some grinding is good, some is just trouble
• I should not be allowed to operate a sawsall after 10pm
• Oil soaked paper towels in a chimenea are awesome.
• The ashes covering your back patio the next day are not
• If you can’t drink enough to dance at one of our parties you shouldn’t come
• Letting all of the kids sleep over at your house after the party is not the smartest hangover move

 
This is a little long winded and I need to start my day. More later.