Your front-row seat to my nervous breakdown
“Hey Dad, what the hell is this website we found containing tons of pictures of, and stories about, us? Also, you’re an asshole and we hate you.”—My children, circa some day in the not-too-distant future
Dear Twitter,
Listen, we need to talk. I don’t want you to get all freaked out, but I have a few things that I’ve been meaning to say to you, so I’m just going to say them, and I’d appreciate it if you’d just listen, m’kay?
Take a look at this screen capture and tell me what you see:
Chances are you see the homepage of Zillow.com, a site where one can go and look up the supposed value of any given home. That’s what I used to see, too.
Now? Now I see this:
Allow me to explain.
There are many downsides to being a hypochondriac … but it does have its benefits. Take yesterday, for example. Yesterday, I headed to my doctor’s office for the third time in about two weeks … which, for me, is unprecedented, since my immune system is basically on par with Wolverine’s. And yet, despite my mutant healing powers, I’ve had a persistent cough for, like, a month now.
How do you land a job whose description is “Build completely humongous Lego sculptures at Disneyland”? Because I’m pretty sure that’s the one I want.
Oh yes I did.
That previous post really set the stage for an exciting, emotional, underdog-makes-good kind of ending, didn’t it? (If you didn’t read it yet, you should.) Imagine it: the shrimpy, non-baseball-playing kid scarred from his less-than-enjoyable Little League experience steps to the plate more than three decades later and belts one over the fence.
Oh, if only. sigh
The game of baseball has become a major part of my family’s life … which, based on the following photo, should come as a surprise to no one. I mean, let’s face it: when your background includes playing on a team of this caliber, your family is pretty much guaranteed a baseball-rich life:
I’ll point myself out in a moment, but first: How ’bout that coach, huh? He makes Morris Buttermaker look like Anthony Robbins. Of course, in his defense: Look at the collection of misfits he had to work with. I would suggest that his lack of enthusiasm was well justified.