AAADD

Sent to me by Ron, this sounds JUST like a day in my life:

Recently, I was diagnosed with : A.A.A.D.D. - Age Activated Attention Deficit Disorder.

This is how it manifests:

I decide to water my garden. As I turn on the hose in the driveway, I look over at my car and decide it needs washing.

As I start toward the garage, I notice mail on the porch table that I brought up from the mail box earlier. I decide to go through the mail before I wash the car.

I lay my car keys on the table, put the junk mail in the garbage can under the table, and notice that the can is full. So, I decide to put the bills back on the table and take out the garbage first.

But then I think, since I'm going to be near the mailbox when I take out the garbage anyway, I may as well pay the bills first.

I take my checkbook off the table, and see that there is only 1 check left. My extra checks are in my desk in the study, so I go inside the house to my desk where I find the can of Coke I'd been drinking. I'm going to look for my checks, but first I need to push the Coke aside so that I don't accidentally knock it over.

The Coke is getting warm, and I decide to put it in the refrigerator to keep it cold.

As I head toward the kitchen with the Coke, a vase of flowers on the counter catches my eye --they need water. I put the Coke on the counter and discover my reading glasses that I've been searching for all morning. I decide I better put them back on my desk, but first I'm going to water the flowers. I set the glasses back down on the counter, fill a container with water and suddenly spot the TV remote. Someone left it on the kitchen table. I realize that tonight when we go to watch TV, I'll be looking for the remote, but I won't remember that it's on the kitchen table, so I decide to put it back in the den where it belongs, but first I'll water the flowers.

I pour some water in the flowers, but quite a bit of it spills on the floor.

So, I set the remote back on the table, get some towels and wipe up the spill. Then, I head down the hall trying to remember what I was planning to do.

At the end of the day:

- the car isn't washed
- the bills aren't paid
- there is a warm can of Coke sitting on the counter
- the flowers don't have enough water,
- there is still only 1 check in my check book,
- I can't find the remote,
- I can't find my glasses,
- and I don't remember what I did with the car keys.

Then, when I try to figure out why nothing got done today, I'm really baffled because I know I was busy all day, and I'm really tired. I realize this is a serious problem, and I'll try to get some help for it, but first I'll write in my blog.

Have a nice weekend!

Sanguine Ridicule

I wonder if hypochondria is something you can develop in your 40's.

My life has been stressful lately, and stress causes heart attacks, cancer, and has been responsible for countless strokes.

I haven't been exactly sick lately, I just feel 'different.' Little symptoms (probably imagined) that make me feel like something's not quite right.

I'm going to the doctor Monday just in case. I'll probably get some blood work and a cancer test, maybe a throat swab or a finger up the butt. Gee, I hope he doesn't get confused.

I realize I'm probably overreacting, but that's what hypochondriacs do... so I wonder if THAT'S my new disease.

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I had the most amazing night.

I attended my subdivision meeting.

Such an incredible experience... the excitement, the divisiveness, the shouting. We read the minutes OUT LOUD, fer chrissake.

You can't buy that kind of excitement.

It was decided that we'd stop allowing residents to lease out their properties, we'd negotiate for better lawn care and come up with a way to hide the electricity junction boxes. By that time, the room was coursing with adrenaline. Afterward, I kicked back with a cigarette.

I was the youngest person in the room. I was probably the only person who had a better place to be.

My life sucks.

'Scuse me?

This morning on my regular drive to the coffee house for my caffeine fix, (venti cafe latte, skim milk) I was behind this vehicle.


Unsolicited advice: Don't name your business anything that suggests that you are into bestiality. People are pretty dead set against you screwing their shih tzu.

Also seen yesterday, a business called "Greater Midwest Auto Plaza." See, I don't think you should call yourself an auto "plaza" if you have 7 cars parked on a grass lot with a mobile home as your office.

Living in O'Fallon Missouri, this blog practically writes itself.

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On a recent evening, in a state of mild insobriety, Violet and I were discussing humorous euphemisms for poop.

In the 80's, my friend Tom Upton and I worked together at the Lake of the Ozarks and were pretty much joined at the hip. One of our favorite things to do was get drunk and invent euphemisms. I am unable to remember many, but one that always stuck with me was "coiled perfume snake."

The gin and tonic had taken its toll that evening with Violet, so I Googled it to see if it was indeed an original.

Coiled perfume snake

Yep. It appears several times, but all by me except once by my friend Ken Dillon, who got it from me.

The downside, it hasn't taken hold like I hoped.
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Happiest of birthdays to my Mom! I love you so much. Happy 49th! (again)

Prepare to feel guilty

The emotion contained in this poster is the stuff man-tears are made of. I think it's what Mom was REALLY trying to tell me all this time.

Inventions by Dave

Things I'd like to see patented and marketed:

• House paint which contains termite poison. Why hasn't this been done already? Isn't it ultra-obvious?
• Deodorant soap bars with a little bottle of actual deodorant in the middle. Use the Lever 2000, then uncap the end and roll on the stink-resistant. Morning prep time will be cut in half.
• Car seat vents. Install a seat bottom with little holes, connected to an exhaust fan vented to the outdoors. Fart all you want with the windows up... who cares! I will buy the first one for my friend Dr. Mike, (heart of gold, colon of sulphur) who could make a hyena puke. The second one will go to Bill.
• Underwear laced with jock-itch medication. Self explanatory. (and why does the same medication treat jock itch AND athlete's foot? Is that totally weird, or is it just me?)
• Wine laced with aspirin.
• Hustler magazines with handy-wipes between the pages. Duh.
• An airplane made of either rubber, or the same shit the black box is made of. Suddenly, no more fatalities during a crash.
• Speaking of airplanes, the restrooms should come equipped with a "changing table"... and I don't mean to really change diapers on. We all know what people are doing in there, so we might as well make it convenient.
• Red Bull with vodka or other mixers already in it. Isn't that the REAL reason we buy it anyway? Who has consumed a Red Bull straight up? I rest my case.
• Roads that are rubber, and tires that are concrete. I don't know why. I guess I'm just running out of ideas.
• Fingernail clippers that catch the nails before they shoot across the room. Another one whose lack of existence shocks me.
  

I will continue examining new ways to improve the world, and report back to you.

Things on this blog have been way too heavy lately...

... So I am going to prepare you for the weekend with a delightful amalgamation of questionably entertaining postulation designed to make you cogitate.

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The lease on my car is almost up, so I set out recently to test drive two cars: the Pontiac Solstice and the Saturn Sky. It is the year of the cheap roadster, and both of these cars come in under 30-grand.

First, I stopped at the Pontiac dealership. After looking at a Solstice for a few minutes, a salesman walked up and asked if he could help. I told him I wanted to test drive one.

They don't allow test drives.

To repeat - They. Don't. ALLOW. Test. Drives.

With a "you're fuckin' KIDDING me" look on my face, I listened... as he told me it's because people don't want to buy a car with miles on it. No shit, Sherlock, but that's one of the real bummers of SELLING CARS.

I asked him how they expect me to buy one without a test drive, and he said I can test drive it after I've signed the papers and given them a deposit.

Obviously, I walked away at that point... mostly because I didn't want to risk the possibility that I would whack him on the back of the head with my elbow for being stupid.

I headed to the Saturn dealership for a look at the Sky. They had none in stock, they only get TWO in per month, and they have FIFTY people on a waiting list who have paid a 500 dollar deposit.

I suppose I will be sticking with a BMW, in the form of a Z4... although I really, really like the Sky... and I was kinda in the mood to save about 30 grand.

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Bummer stickers (misspelling intentional) piss me off.

First: People! They make your car look like shit!

QUICK NON SEQUITUR: Barry Manilow, Looks Like We Made It, just came on my ipod. You're damned right it did... and I'm just man enough to admit I turned it up a little bit.

Second, stop being pious and spreading your "morality" via a plastic adhesive strip on the back of your 1975 Vega... instead, why not try leading your own life. (and leading by example) Who are you to tell me things like "You can't be catholic AND pro-abortion"? Maybe I should put one on my car that says "You can't read this bumper sticker AND have a large penis."

And those Jesus vs. Darwin fish stickers have more versions than Dennis Rodman's panty drawer. I suppose you expect to change my mind about evolution because I'm stuck behind your sorry ass on the outbound 70? More likely, I want to get out and hit you with a stick for riding your goddamn brakes.

Or, "Hungry? Eat your import." (irony, this American car was a piece of shit)

I HAVE laughed at a few:

"Got Pie?"
"Politeness is the most acceptable hypocrisy."
"Hype always prevails."
"Men have feelings too. Just kidding."

And, for whatever reason, I dislike the "honor student" bumper stickers... although, the one that says "My C average student can kick your honor-roll student's ass" makes me chuckle.

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I intend to start an email forwarding campaign:

I sent you this email because you are a fellow victim. Your email address showed up on a list of recipients from a forward I received today.

Please forward this to anyone you wish would stop sending you forwards. Send it to everyone you know, and have them forward it to their friends. Once the message is clear that forwards waste bandwidth, time and resources, maybe we will all stop receiving forwards.

Help me in my quest to STOP THE MADNESS. Forward this anti-forward message to everyone on your mailing list!

The irony is, they probably wouldn't "get it." The campaign would probably be successful... and by "successful," of course I mean "unsuccessful." Catch 22.

Forwards are the scourge of the internet... especially the ones that talk about how Bill Gates is going to mail you a check for $35,000 just because you are stupid enough to click "forward."

Now, if you will excuse me, I need to respond to an email from a nice man from Nigeria, and then go mansion-shopping.

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Interesting addendum: Yesterday's post about the anniversary of my failed marriage was the 666th post of my blog. Unintentional, which makes it all the more freaky.

September 13, 2000

On this date six years ago, I was on a beach in Maui, sweating inside a black tuxedo. I was getting married.

Today, I endure the memory and mourn the day. Mostly for what that relationship became. I never dreamed she would ever be an adversary... an enemy.

I suppose that's how divorce is.

During the marriage, I tried to do my best... succeeded a little, failed a little, and helped father a good young man (of whom I am very proud) as well as I could. I wasn't the perfect husband... I'm not sure if there IS such a thing... but I was decent, moral, protective, loving and real.

But a good marriage takes more than just not intentionally hurting someone's feelings (I never tried to)... not physically abusing someone (I wouldn't)... and just giving love. You need similar goals, personalities, approaches and views of the world. The way I looked at the world and how I dealt with issues sometimes offended her and made her uncomfortable. For that, I am eternally sorry. I am an alpha driver personality, she is an amiable. I should have noticed that more.

So today, I again make a note of my mistakes. I will think about the positives that came from the experience. I will try to ignore what lawyers say, and remember the real story. We both grew from the experience...

My daughter's boyfriend, and the space shuttle. Intellectually as far apart as possible.

First, an update. The boyfriend has been warned. I met with my daughter and him, remained civil and even tempered, and explained the severity of the consequences of a recurrence. He took it well, but that doesn't earn him any points... he hit my daughter. He's lucky to have a functional set of testicles right now. There will be no free passes, if it happens again he will find himself in an impromptu meeting with me and a ball bat.

She was surprisingly appreciative, and later I reminded her (quite fruitlessly) that she deserves better. Sheesh, what is it with kids these days?


What kind of idiot could hurt someone like this?

By the way, she is the new hostess at Bandana's Barbecue starting this evening. It's her first job, and she's pretty excited. I'm really proud of her.

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The shuttle astronauts partipated in a space walk today, during which time a bolt and washer slipped from the astronaut's hand and drifted away into space.

It's too bad True Value hasn't yet launched their orbiting hardware store... that bolt would only cost like four cents to replace. As it stands, NASA will probably pay a thousand bucks for the bolt, and will have to launch a special mission just to replace it. (plus they'll probably bring a 3/8 inch head, when they really need a 25mm metric)

As for the washer, Maytag hasn't yet launched their orbiting appliance store, either...

Reverent silence...

Abuse (update)

Ironically, the word itself is frequently abused.

I've never seen a time when so many people are feeling so abused. Children being made to order from the kids menu or being told 'no' to certain desserts... are now feeling "abused." When a parent draws a line as to how their child's room is decorated (ie, "no, you can't put that picture up in the corner near the ceiling by itself, pick another place") the word recklessly flies. Even simply feeling insulted is now considered abuse by some.

People use it to describe many things that, arguably, aren't abuse at all. In divorces and legal actions, the word is frequently used to extort... which is an "abuse" of the system.

Culturally, when we throw the word around as loosely as we do, we risk the "boy who cried wolf" syndrome. I wish people would lighten up a little and examine their lives. Some are dealing with real, dangerous abuse every day.

My daughter, for instance.

This morning, I had to endure a story from her mother about a late-night phone call, during which she heard my daughter being hit by her boyfriend, being called names and screamed at. My daughter wouldn't tell her where she was, but asked if she could come home. Unfortunately, she didn't have the courage to leave... she stayed in that environment. This morning, I can't reach her, and am going just a little crazy wondering if she's okay.

That is abuse.

As a father, I'm struggling with how to handle it. My first inclination is to go find the kid and give him a mouthful of broken teeth. Jail time doesn't appeal to me, and I think it would backfire anyway... probably resulting in her resentment of me, and pity for him. I'm truly at a loss for how to handle it. This minute, I finally got a text message from her, so she's okay.

I will spend the day and the weekend considering the options. Meantime, it's a little difficult for me to hear the word "abuse" being thrown around so irrationally, when real, actual abuse is touching my life so profoundly right now.

UPDATE: It's amazing how ridiculous the laws of Missouri are. At age 17, she can move out, do whatever she wants, it's her decision. However, if she gets into trouble, it's still the parents' responsibility until she turns 18. This one of the few states where this age disparity exists.

The result is, I cannot issue an police-enforced ex parte of protection against him. It's up to her to do that... and she won't do it.

However, I have formulated a plan and will execute it Sunday evening. At this point, it doesn't involve the broken teeth scenario, but if he even so much as looks at me funny at the time, that could change. It may be her decision to continue seeing him, but I have the ability to make the abuse stop... and I will do just that.

How to tell when Dave has nothing to say:

Another CAPTION CONTEST!



Click 'comment' to enter.

Having built a reputation of giving away great prizes for these, I am beginning to feel the pressure to outdo myself each time. Last time, a hot sausage. This time, this beautiful Piggly Wiggly grocery cart, pulled fresh from the Arkansas River south of Little Rock. It comes with leaves, a used condom and three unidentifiable mammal carcasses. It's only been driven by a little old homeless lady on Sundays. This prize will NOT be delivered via UPS. It's a pick-up-only prize, as usual... but well worth the trip.

Now get busy.

Now that's a crock

First, may God rest Steve Irwin's soul and be with his family during this incredibly difficult time.

Quotes I've heard in the media today include what a great family man Irwin was.

I don't doubt that, but he was also a sensationalist attention seeker, who did things to provoke dangerous animals. You'd think that a guy who really WAS a great family man would do more to preserve his family circle.

It's a very sad story... and I do respect the work he did to help bring a focus on the animal kingdom.

But you can't say he didn't have it coming.

Happy Labor Day

Or, for my Canadian and British friends, Labour. (even though only Canada celebrates it this weekend, I believe England is in May)

The origins of the American Labor Day can be traced back to the Knights of Labor in the United States and a parade organized by them on September 5, 1882 in New York City. They were inspired by an annual labor parade held in Toronto, Canada. In 1884 another parade was held, and the Knights passed resolutions to make this an annual event. Other labor organizations (and there were many), but notably the affiliates of the International Workingmen's Association favored a May 1 holiday.

Labor Day has been celebrated on the first Monday in September in the United States since the 1880s. The September date has remained unchanged, even though the government was encouraged to adopt May 1 as Labor Day, the date celebrated by the majority of the world. Moving the holiday, in addition to breaking with tradition, could have been viewed as aligning the U.S. labor movements with internationalist sympathies.

Okay, is it too obvious that the two paragraphs above were cut/pasted from wikipedia?

Anyway, I just wanted to wish you a copius amount of rest, relaxation and fun this weekend. For a change of pace, go out and do something I would do.