Your front-row seat to my nervous breakdown
It was supposed to be so simple: take the little block of wood, cut it into a car-like shape, slap some paint on it, attach the wheels, ta-dah, done, finished, no sweat.
Of course, when it comes to me, nothing is simple … particularly a pseudo-carpentry project.
I love me a nice bar … and this one here…
In my mind, I am a worldly, tuxedo-wearing, international man of mystery, jetting to and fro, blending seamlessly with my surroundings … by all appearances a high-class, streetwise native of whatever far-flung, exotic locale in which I find myself.
In reality, I rarely leave the house.
Today, Zan completed a rather long and arduous task that we had asked him to complete, and, as it turns out, we told him he could have as his reward a…
OK, so here’s the story with this nonsense:
A few weeks ago, my wife and I took the kids to the comic-book store. While there, my wife, who is on the school council at our son’s elementary school, asked the owner if he’d be willing to sponsor a school fundraiser by providing for the event one of the costumed characters that often appear at his store. The owner said he didn’t have anyone specific he could send, but he’d be willing to loan out the store’s $800 Darth Vader costume.
“Jon’s pretty tall,” Mr. Helpful Comic-Book Store Owner suggested. “He could wear it.”
Well, as we all know by now, no one loves to get himself into ridiculous situations more than me, so I, of course, said, “Yeah, I’ll do it.”
Why, children? Why do you hate us so? What ever have we done to you except keep you warm and dry and protected from the elements?
The title of this post seemed a lot more clever when my blog was titled “Daddy Scratches.” Just thought you should know. -JZ
Hey, everybody! So, yesterday was the first tee-ball game of the season, and I gotta tell ya—
[Ring-ring … ring-ring … ring-ring]
Oh, excuse me for a moment; I have to take this call.
Hello? This is him. Who? Theo? Seriously? You what? Really? Well, um, yes, I’d love to! Thanks so much! OK, great! See you at Fenway next week!
Wow! That was Theo Epstein, General Manager of the Boston Red Sox. He wants me in the dugout for the team’s next home series. Seems the word is out about what a stellar coaching job I did with Game 1.
Hey, a man can dream.
There was a moment during my first few horrific days of Army basic training when it occurred to me that I, shithead extraordinaire, was the one who volunteered to be there, and that, therefore, the misery I was experiencing was, in the words of the great Robert Plant, “na-na-na-na-na-na-na-noooooobody’s fault but mine.”
I experienced a similar epiphany yesterday when I found myself standing in the middle of a baseball diamond coaching 11 youngsters during their first tee-ball practice.
