The Very Worst Driving Instructor In The World (Me!)

The teenage boy is learning to drive.

I’m not helping.

At all.

I’m a bundle of nerves every time I give him the keys. I would prefer that the car be like the Flintstone mobile so I could slam my feet through the non-existent floorboard every time I feel like he is getting to close to another car.

Yabba Dabba…slow down we are going to hit that car!

Sample conversation:

Me: OK, make sure you look left, right, behind you, straight ahead…watch for cars just suddenly pulling out…watch for helicopters…

Teenager: OK.

Me: Watch for semi-trucks. Semi-trucks will squash us like a bug.

Teenager: Got it, Dad, semi-trucks are bad.

Me: And taxi cabs. Taxi cabs are dicks.

Teenager: Right, taxi cabs are dicks.

Me: Hey! Watch your language! OK, now don’t get too close to the car in front of us and don’t stay too far behind it either, watch that car on the side of us…are you drifting in the other lane? I feel like your drifting…

Teenager: I’m not drifting, Dad. I’m clearly in my own lane.

Me: Maybe we should drive more in our own lane, like on the sidewalk. The sidewalk is safe. Drive on the sidewalk!

Teenager: I can’t drive on the sidewalk!

Me: No, no…you’re right. Better let me drive now, the traffic is getting bad.

Teenager: We haven’t even left the Target parking lot.

This parking lot is a little too full of cars for me to take the teenager to practice in. We will have to find somewhere else.

I know, I know, I need to relax. I don’t remember my Dad freaking out as much as I do when he taught me to drive…but then again he might have been drunk. You know, it was a different time…seat belts cost extra in most cars. As a matter of fact, one of the cars my Dad owned didn’t even have a front seat. We sat on the floor and avoided the rusted out hole in it.

The major problem is that I’m in Orlando, one of the worst states for road rage and home to about 50 million lost tourists.

Where the hell is Disney located?! I don’t see a castle anywhere on this map!

I learned to drive in the great winding empty country roads of Ohio.

*singing* Country Road, take me home, to the place where I belong, no teenage drivers, mountain mama, take me home…

I know my screaming like a little girl doesn’t help his confidence. He is actually doing a pretty good job. Orlando is a tough place to drive. Besides the lost tourists, there is a mixture of cultures to contend with, each thinking they own the road, many, many, so many buses, those dick taxis, and a city that grew faster than it’s roadways can handle.

I don’t think I would want to learn to drive here.

I have been kicked off driving instruction duty, the wife is now in charge of teaching the teenager.

I’m also not allowed to cover the car in bubble wrap anymore.

And I’m suppose to replace the headliner of the car where I ripped it to shreds Wolverine style every time we came to a stop that I felt was too close.

I have also been told telling the boy it’s time for his driving lesson if he can find the car keys which I have buried somewhere in the tri-county area is not a good motivational game, and the fact that I created an old timey pirate treasure map to pin point the location of the keys does not count as helpful.

And finally if I’m going to take apart the engine, pretending it’s “broken”, I should learn how to put it back together again.

Truth be told…I can’t wait until he learns to drive so I can send him on errands…so many errands….

*evil laughter, wringing of hands, pulling on invisible curly mustache*

A Seven Year Old Writes My Blog Today

Me: What should I write about?

Seven Year Old: NOTHING!…The Night Before Christmas!….Duffy!…I DON’T KNOW! I’m out! Wait! Watch me jump rope!

*grabs jump rope and jumps for three seconds*

Daddy, I want a phone for Christmas! Can I go play with Whitney? I’m hungry. Can I have some Oreos? Do you know what? I liked Frozen. Do you know what my favorite part of the movie was? When she was knocking, and the snowman said, ‘Is she going to knock? She probably doesn’t know how too.’ That was funny. Here is a fake lemon. Don’t eat it, it’s fake. Can I watch TV? Is Dog with a Blog on? When’s Christmas? Do I have to go to school tomorrow? Fa la la la la LA LA LA! I like spaghetti. Can we have spaghetti for dinner. Where is Mommy? MOMMY! Oh, there’s Mommy. Mommy, Mommy, Mommy. Mommy, can we have spaghetti for dinner? Let’s play restaurant. What do you want to order? We have Fruit Salad and Fruit Cocktail. The Fruit Salad has a lot of strawberries in it and the Fruit Cocktail only has a little bit of strawberries in it. I like Fruit Salad. Can I play on the Playstation? Whitney has the new XBox. XBox is a funny word. When’s dinner? Can we have Fruit Salad for dinner? Watch me jump rope!

*grabs jump rope and jumps for two seconds*

I want some yellow pants. Will you buy me some yellow pants? Whitney has yellow pants. Do you know what’s funny? Chocolate mousse! How can a moose be chocolate? I like Skittles. Mommy likes Sour Patch Kids and you like Reece’s Peanut Butter Cups. Why do you like zombies? I hate zombies! I hate math. Do you know what would be a yummy? Chocolate moose cupcake! But don’t get the antlers suck in your mouth! HAHAHAHA! What do you think Grandma is doing right now? Watch me jump rope!

*grabs jump rope and throws it across the room*

HAHAHAHA! Daddy! The screen on your computer is still blank! Why aren’t you writing anything? You could write about my Furby! He is funny! He has no batteries. I need batteries. Daddy, why are you holding your head in your hands? Do you have a headache? I once had a headache. Hey, my tooth is loose! Look, Daddy! Look at my loose tooth!

*wiggles tooth*

Daddy, are you going to write anything? The screen is still blank. That line thing keeps blinking. Daddy, why did you put your head on the keyboard? HAHAHAHA! You wrote a bunch of D’s with your head! DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD! I can write the word Dog and Cat and Toe….

Daddy?

Are you going to write something?

Grandma De Voss Finds A Trunk Full Of Old Books

Grandma De Voss found a trunk full of books and sent some to me that she thought I would enjoy. I told her I didn’t have much time to read anymore, but she insisted. These books look old, but some look as if they might have some potential.

 

 

The Seven Year Old Learns To Text

The seven year loves to text. She texts from her ipod. She is still learning to read and write. (Like her Daddy.) Her best texts always come when she is upstairs and supposed to be sleeping.

Yes, I allow her to fall asleep to the TV. The frowny face is like the Bat Signal to something drastically wrong. In this case the TV was merely on the wrong channel, thus not allowing the ever present Disney Channel to lullaby her to sleep.

She got in trouble and was sent to her room. The modern parent texts her child when the punishment is over. I’m not sure what the double J is suppose to represent, and I’m not sure why I got a frowny face after I said she could come out. I should have gotten multiple happy faces. If this kid is going to make it in this modern age, she better step it up!

My daughter has invented a new emoticon the winky frown.It cracks me up every time I see it. At the end she is asking for her stuffed bear, Duffy. ;(

The master of the winky frown strikes again. ;(

She is very inventive with her emoticons. I like the second to the last one. I call it the Fu Man Chu. :(-

Awwww! What a good kid! No J, thacker you!

A Lesson In Dutch Pronunciation

My Brother….

Posted this on Facebook…

With this caption….

Ha ha ha! Clever!

Then this happened:

This was just a play on words, right?

A joke you know…

Yes?

Hello?!

Oh really…uh huh…yes…yes…interesting…zzzzzzz…..

This still works, right? Is it still funny?

Huh, Dutch boy?

Oh…good call!

It’s The Simpson’s

I live in the land of theme parks, and that land is named: Orlando.

One of the new big things that has come this summer is The Transformers ride to Universal Studios.

Bumblebee impersonating Tony Hawk.

It’s a pretty good ride. I even liked it when it was called Spiderman.

Spider-Man impersonating Tony Hawk trying to hold in a poo.

I know not everyone has made it down to Universal Studios Florida, so the joke there is that they are basically the same ride with different themes.

I’m actually more excited about something different that has come to Universal Studios and that is: Springfield!

They have had a Simpson’s ride for a couple of years and it is really good (and different from Spiderman/Transformers), and also the Kwik-E-Mart. When the ride first came, they turned a couple of the local 7/11s here into Kwik-E-Marts where they sold Buzz Cola, Krusty O’s, Pink Doughnuts, and Squishees.

To that ride, Universal has added Moe’s Tavern, Krusty Burger, The Frying Dutchman, Luigi’s, Duff Brewery, Lard Lad, and Android’s Dungeon. As well as a couple show themed places, which I don’t think where in the show itself, Cleatus’ Chicken Shack and Bumblebee Man’s Tacos.

You can correct me if I’m wrong.

I’m kind of weird about the show anyway. I’m actually not that big of fan. However, I think Homer Simpson is one of the best characters ever created. I’m a huge Homer fan. I even have a life size cardboard cutout of Homer that watches over the kids in our game room.

My my my my Homa…Kids you need to stop playing video games and go outside…but not too far outside…

For those who are not visiting me anytime soon, let me take you on a brief tour of the come-to-life Springfield.

Android’s Dungeon is actually not a comic book store but a bathroom. Kind of disappointing, but Comic Book Man did take a piss next to me when I used the facilities.

This is Moe’s and yes it is a real bar.

While we were waiting for Moe’s to open at 10:30 am…yes, you read that right…everyone would come to the door and take this picture. So the wife had too as well. I don’t think the tourists knew this was an actual real bar.

Sitting at the bar. The Flaming Moe is actually nonalcoholic. They put dry ice in the bottom of the drink to make it smoke. It tastes like orange soda. You can also get Duff, Duff Light, and Buzz Cola here.

The Flaming Moe up close.

Some more view of the inside of the bar. The guy in the picture works at the Frying Dutchman.

What could almost top Moe’s? Krusty Burger of course!

I don’t know what the special sauce is, but when they offer it, don’t turn it down. Get extra. On the side. It’s messy. Delish! Look closely at the paper lining the basket. This is the real deal.

Duff Brewery is going to be an outdoor bar. In addition to the other fine Duff products, it will also offer Duff Dark. It wasn’t open the day I was there, but it is now.

I don’t know if Lard Lad will be selling donuts, but you can find pink donuts the size of your head at Kwik-E-Mart.

The Air Vent

(This is fiction.)

I was 6, my brother was 10, and we had the whole house to ourselves. Grandma and Mom were at the restaurant getting it ready for the morning crowd. The crowd wasn’t very large, maybe 10 to 15 people at the most, but it was enough to keep the business alive. Those who came, came for the biscuits and gravy.  Grandma was known for her famous biscuits and gravy in at least a three county radius.

We would have about 4 hours in between being checked on through the day to fill with whatever adventures I would device for us to do. The restaurant was just a stone’s throw away from the house so we could not get to crazy.  My brother being the oldest was in charge of me, and I being of little attention span was in charge of figuring out what we were going to do that day. Luckily my brother was game for whatever I could come up with, even if that meant being Barbie’s best friend for an hour.

The house was old, with creaky wooden floors and yellowing wallpaper peeling at the corners. Grandma was frugal with the air conditioning, so the house would heat up slowly throughout the day. She seemed to have it down to a science when to pop the air conditioner on the give just enough relief to the dwellers as to not turn them into melted pools of human laziness. In the older houses the air vents were in the floors as oppose to the ceilings of modern structures. The air would kick on with a ticking noise, and then a grunt from the house as if it was so inconvenienced by the thought of cooling off it’s occupants.  Then with a strong whoosh the floor would blow sweet cooling relief strong enough (in a 6 year old’s mind) to float on to the heavens.

We would grab one of Grandma’s good top sheets from the bed whenever we hear the telltale ticking and run to the nearest vent. My brother and I would duck ourselves under the sheet, holding all four corners down between us as the air would start it’s travel from unknown origins of the inner house workings and into our sheet. The sheet would fill with air encasing us in some sort of air igloo. Our skin would goose bump with the cool air and I would watch the sheet rise as it filled. We had about 10 minutes to cool down and exchange stories in our air tent. My brother’s would always be about pirates or dragons or cars, typical boy stuff. Mine would be about princesses, my future jobs, and how to care and raise unicorns. We would listen to each other’s stories with faked interest if we had too. That was the number one rule of the air tent. No fighting. We couldn’t waste the time with fighting.

I loved the days of staying at my Grandma’s. It felt like we had a freedom there not afforded to most kids our age. I was allowed to let my imagination take over and fill our days with adventures and games.

When we got older, Grandma sold the restaurant when her old bones wouldn’t let her stir the batter to make those famous tri-county  biscuits anymore. My brother and I stopped playing in the air vents eventually. Now when we would visit Grandma we would sit at the dinning room table with the adults and listen to adult topics like changing car batteries, the weather, and stories of the restaurant regulars.

However, whenever the air would kick on in the house, I would look at my brother, and he at me, and we would smile.

Thought For The World

Maybe if we stop fearing the differences between the races of the world and start celebrating the differences, then everyone can just relax and look at the bigger issues of this humble planet…like why are there no flying cars?

The Robots And The Writer

The Robots just suddenly arrived.

They landed on Earth in droves, tall…about 8 or 9 feet in height, dirty metallic bodies, 3 wheeled tank like contraptions on their legs for movement, 3 tentacle-like arms with 6 tentacle-like appendages and on each one, claw like hands and fingers.

They came and they conquered. They conquered in a mere 72 hours.

The entire world in only 72 hours.

After they conquered and killed all the leaders of the world, they kind of left everyone else alone.

Sort of.

The robots made everyone stay inside their dwellings whether it be a fancy million dollar home, an apartment complex, or  a hobo’s cardboard box. It had been about two weeks of the house arrest.

Twice  food rations were left on the doorstep. Apparently the Robots thought our diet consisted of nothing but Spaghetti-o’s. TV was cut down to one channel that just played the same five movies over and over; A Christmas Story, Groundhog Day, Porky’s 3, Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure, and Casino. No one could make heads or tails of the selections or whether their was a theme or message to them. Some thought it might be a some secret symbol of the robots intent. Radio was down to one frequency, 104.1 FM. This station only played Frank Sinatra, but luckily it was his whole catalog and not just five select songs like the TV.

The internet, shut down.

After pretty much everyone in the world could quote Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure from start to finish, an announcement came over the TV and Radio:

“Greetings, people of Planet 279. You will be hearing this broadcast in your native language since you choose to complicate your race with such nonsense as separate languages. Tomorrow will begin your sorting. I will assume, you 279ings do not know what a sorting is, so I will explain. Each one of you will be individually interviewed on your worth to this planet and to us, your new masters. If your skills are deemed worthy, you will live to serve us. If your skills are deemed inadequate, you will be killed on the spot. We have already eradicated Rappers, Weather Men, Fruit Snack Packers, Walmart Customer Service Employees, Mark Zuckerburg, and Network TV Executives.   One of our kind will be knocking on your door sometime between 8 am and 5 pm to begin your evaluation. That reminds me, we need to add all cable installers to the inadequate list. Do not try to run. Do not try to resist. Do not try to fight. Do try to cooperate. Do try to answer the questions truthfully. And if you are deemed unworthy, do try to die quickly and without crying. That is all.”

And then Casino started playing on the TV again.

I was a novelist. I don’t know what Robots would want a novelist for…especially based on their taste of movies, but I couldn’t give up hope. There had to be a place for someone with my skill set for them. I didn’t have to write novels, I could write about anything…be a reporter, keep records, or something. My youngest daughter, who was 6, pulled on my pants.

“Daddy, I’m scared!” she said with big teary eyes.

“Oh,” I said as I brushed her long blonde bangs out of her eyes and kissed her on the forehead. “Don’t be. Daddy will be okay.”

“But Daddy,” she responded, tears running down her cheeks. “Who will pack the Fruit Snacks now?”

I gave her a hug and said, “I don’t know, honey. I don’t know.”

—–

Eight AM came quickly the next day, and you could see the robots lining up along the suburban street. The had enough robots for one to stand outside each and every door, and at precisely 8, a unison single knock hit the aluminum doors, followed by a metallic warning;

“You have 30 seconds to answer your doors. 30, 29, 28, 27, 26….”

I opened the door. The faceless machine looked at me, and it pushed me aside as it bent it’s large frame down to fit through the opening. Once inside it said,

“Are you Planet 279 inhabitant also known as Frank Baum?”

“I am, and it’s called Earth, not Planet 279,” I responded weakly.

“What you know of as ‘Earth’ is no more. You are now an inhabitant of Planet 279. If you are deemed worthy of service you will be given a new name. Your new name will be 279.0943783749894590834590349.”

“Wow, I don’t know if I could remember all of that,” I said a little worried.

The robot responded, “It will be branded to your forehead. No worries.”

“Oh, great.”

The robot pulled out a clipboard. “Please answer these questions, briefly and completely or you will be eradicated. Please answer the questions truthfully or you will be eradicated. I will be monitoring your heart rate and your brain wave patterns. You will be recorded. Let us begin. For the official record, what is your Planet 279 name?”

“My Earth name or the bar code you just gave me?” I asked.

“You have not earned your worthiness, therefor you currently do not have your official citizenship of our planet. Your ‘Earth’ name please.”

“My name is Frank Baum.”

The Robot checked something off on it’s clipboard. “This is just for show by the way, it seems to make you Planet 279-ers feel more at ease. What is your current occupation?”

“I’m a novelist. I write books.”

The Robot put down the clipboard and raised what looked like a big scary laser gun.

“What is that for?!” I screamed.

“Eradication,” the robot replied.

“Why?! For being a novelist?! What the hell? Do you Robots not read? Or think that the people who will survive this won’t want to read?”

“You will be eradicated because all of the books have all ready been written,” the robot replied coldly.

“What?!” I laughed. “How can that be?!”

“Our writers have written all the books there ever will be, every subject has been written about. There is not a story that hasn’t been written that we already don’t have a book for.” The Robot raised it’s gun to my head.

“Wait!” I yelled. “How can you be so sure? What if I come up with a story that hasn’t been written yet. Then you have to keep me to write it for you.”

The Robot said and did nothing for a moment. “I will download all the books into my database. If you think you can come up with a story that I don’t have a book for, then you may live.”

The Robot raised one of it’s arms and shook for 30 seconds and then said, “Ready.”

“Ok,” I thought a moment. I had to come up with something incredibly wild and out there. “Do you have a book about an octopus with 6 dog’s heads that falls in love with a squirrel after terrorizing the citizens of Alabama?”

The Robot holds up a Kindle and says, ‘Yes.” On the Kindle is story entitled, ‘Bang The Squirrel Slowly.’

“I’ll be damned!” I said as the Robot raised his gun again. “Wait! Do you have a story about an octopus with 7 dog’s heads that falls in love with a squirrel after terrorizing the citizens of Japan?”

The Robot once again holds up the Kindle and displays: ‘Bang The Squirrel Slowly II: A 7 dog headed octopus falls for the orginal squirrels Japanese half sister.’

The robot raises it’s gun again. “It is futile. All books have been written except for 5. You will be eradicated.”

“Wait? What?” I stammer. “All but five? Originally you said all books have been written. Now your saying five haven’t. What five?”

The Robot lowers it’s gun. “The sacred five. They have been turned into movies. We show only the scared five on television.”

A dumb look has to cross my face. “Are you saying Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure is one of the sacred five?”

“Yes.”

“And there is no novel form of the movie?”

“Yes, only a screenplay. ”

I scratched my head, “Well then I’m your man to do that!”

The Robot raises his gun and fires. The laser hits me square in the chest knocking me back. I fall as I feel the burning of my heart and lungs inside my chest. I see the Robot standing over me. It bends over to my face. I can barely see it’s head as my eyes darken with death. I hear the robot say,

“We have already spared Steven King for that.”

~Fin~

—–

Editor’s Note:

I awoke from a horrible dream drenched in sweat and drool the other night. Of the dream I don’t remember, I only remember the echoing of these words as I arose from REM state, “We have already spared Steven King for that.”

Thus was the inspiration for that stupid story.

🙂

Reblog Thursday Pt 20

Hello Reblog Thursday. How are you?

Nothing says great times like Holidays, Family, and Egg Nog which is 90% Alcohol, and 10% Nog. Thank god the cavemen invented drinking games, and thanks to Cartopia you can ease your holiday woes with this version.

Cartopia

Ah the holidays, a time for sitting around the fire, singing songs and exchanging gifts. For eating ham and basking in your parent’s love, while everyone shares the joy of the season.

Yeah, well… Some people have families that aren’t quite Hallmark snapshots. As my gift to you this holiday season, I am offering a drinking game that will make things a lot more tolerable and interesting. I’m making this as generic as possible, since my family is a bit… odd when it comes to normal holiday traditions. My next few posts will be about the more unique aspects of my family’s holiday celebrations. For now, enjoy my gift to you.

Holiday Drinking Game for Dysfunctional Families

Take one drink every time:

• A family member makes a comment about why you aren’t married yet.
• A family member sneaks in a disparaging comment about your career choice.
• A family member talks…

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