No lying this morning.
I’m freakin’ exhausted! Allow me a quick recap.
Friday Night: I try to make Friday night movie night for the family. I usually Netflix a family type movie and decided on ‘Encounters at the End of the World’, a documentary about life at the South Pole. While I thought this would be about the wildlife and include some cool underwater camera work, I was horribly wrong. Instead we’re greeted with a never ending parade of people talking to the camera about why they decided to live in the coldest place on earth. Shockingly, nobody seems to be running from parental duties or on the lam.
There are some moments (the bucket head scene is hilarious and troublesome at the same time), but we were all bored with is and shut it off after an hour. Once the boys were in bed and wifey fell asleep on the couch, I popped in the latest ‘X-Files’ movie only to realize halfway through I was rip roaring drunk and couldn’t follow what was going on .
While we’re here, ways to know you’re too drunk to watch a movie:
1: You talk yourself into thinking it’s a movie effect when the screen starts wavering and shimmering.
2: You’re watching with one eye closed to prevent double screens.
3: You intensely remember certain scenes completely out of context but have no idea what the hell is going on. In this case it was the guy’s eyes bleeding into the snow. I don’t know, either. Will have to watch it again.
4: You get up to refresh your drink and walk straight into a wall.
After the wall meeting, I went to bed. Still don’t remember if I actually turned the television off or not.
Saturday: Wifey and I agreed to watch two other kids for the weekend (double the fun!). They were dropped off at 8 am (before I was even out of bed – please refer to Friday night for details) and spent the night. The twist is one of them was a girl. We’ve never taken care of a girl for extended periods of time, so all we have are boy toys. Trucks and guns and superheroes and ninja turtles. No princesses or doll houses to be found.
Thankfully, Mother Nature was kind enough to grant us a spring sneak preview the entire weekend and we spent much time outside. We went sledding, had a massive snowball fight (I won!) and built a mini snowman that melted down to a small hump in less than 24 hours. The dog ate the carrot nose, too.
Still, we learned early and often that we are very lucky not to have a girl. Or maybe this specific girl. Every time I was doing something, she would be right there. ‘What are you doing?’ This question was answered with the following statements throughout the weekend:
- Washing my hands
- Going to the gym. No, you can’t come with me.
- Sorting laundry
- Going to the bathroom. You stay here.
- Getting a drink
- Making a sandwich
- Going to my happy place
There were probably 50 other instances of this, but I’ve blocked them all out. Thankfully, all the kids were asleep by 10 pm and wifey and I meekly crawled into bed.
Sunday: Whatever I was fighting off (and it could quite possibly have been a hangover) on Saturday was gone by Sunday. The temperatures went above 50, which had a positive and negative effect on the day.
Negative: all the dog shit in the back yard from the past 2 months was revealed after 20 inches of snow had melted away.
Positive: Got the kids out of the house for a bit for another snowball fight. The opening shot was from my son who managed to lob a perfect shot over the truck and nail me right in the back of the head. I was impressed, pissed, and shaking snow out of the back of my shirt at the same time.
That night, my eldest complained about not feeling well. He came into our bed at midnight, forced me down to the couch at 2 am, where I tossed and turned for two hours before getting back into my bed around 4:30. Eldest was awake by this point, finally fell asleep around 6, woke up at 7 and vomited all over the bedroom floor.
- As sad as it is to admit this, it's looking more and more like Jose Conseco is the Deep Throat of our generation. We scoffed when his book came out, we scoffed when he told everyone A-Rod was juicing, and we scoffed when he estimated 80% or more of baseball players had been using steroids or HGH during his playing days. Granted, the timing and presentation of his ‘revelations’ are suspect, but the more we learn the more he’s validated. If that’s not a sign that baseball is hurting, I don’t know what is.
- I agree with Curt Schilling: Don’t just release A-Rod’s name. Make public all 104 players who tested positive. It’s the only way to get past everything. We can’t help but wonder who else is on that list. I, for one, want to know even if some of my favorite players are on the list. So be it.
- A-Rod did himself no favors by interviewing with Katie Couric and denying up and down that he never used PE drugs. Now comes word that A-Rod knew about the positive test at some point. Did he know about it before his interview and, if so, did he think nobody would ever find out about it? Just when you think he couldn’t out douche himself, he surprises you.
- Between free agents, Torre’s book and now A-Rod, Yankee Spring Training is going to be a fucking zoo!
I can’t wait!!
Today’s distraction: Pitchers and catchers report this week! Fuckin’ A, brothers and sisters!! Baseball is nearly here. Check out ESPN’s list of the worst free agent signings in baseball history. I think Barry Zito should be higher on the list, but I guess they’ll have to wait until it plays itself out.