I've seen Sweeney Todd folks. More than once. Hell, I was almost in it once. And therefore, when a barber comes at the non-hair part of my face hole - the eyenosemouth part. I do not react well. I ain't gonna be no meat pie ya'll.
Facial Penetration
Monday, June 18, 2018 | 0 Comment(s)
And then he took the clippers and came right at my face. The front of it.
I've seen Sweeney Todd folks. More than once. Hell, I was almost in it once. And therefore, when a barber comes at the non-hair part of my face hole - the eyenosemouth part. I do not react well. I ain't gonna be no meat pie ya'll.
This Wednesday was no different. When my man Ky finished evening off my sides, he swung the cord of his vibrating slicer around to the other side of the elevated chair I sat upon, and came at my face. My neck reeled back so hard, if the chair hadn't been driven into the floor with a metal rod, I swear I would have back somersaulted right out of the shop. Look, I figure, if my neck gets a little bloody from the irritated hair follicles, so be it. But I've broken my nose too many times already (3), and that face-bleeding ship has sailed forever.
I've seen Sweeney Todd folks. More than once. Hell, I was almost in it once. And therefore, when a barber comes at the non-hair part of my face hole - the eyenosemouth part. I do not react well. I ain't gonna be no meat pie ya'll.
Wednesday, June 6, 2018 | 0 Comment(s)
Last week was my wife and my sixth anniversary.
*Pause for audience applause*
Anniversaries are like birthdays for your marriage, but they are also unlike birthdays, in that they celebrate an actual accomplishment.
I mean, unless you want to argue that birthdays are a celebration of the accomplishment of your mother giving birth. Because all you really have to do to achieve a subsequent birthday is not die. And since I don't see people having "Mom" themed birthday parties, I'm gonna say that birthdays are like personal New Year's Eve celebrations: Much ado about celebrating the passage of time as an accomplishment.
Now anniversaries are an entirely different beast. Every year of marriage is a legitimate achievement, worthy of celebration. Hell, anniversaries are important. You don't want to take for granted the success of simultaneously negotiating two lives (at least) without complete implosion. Marriage is work. It turns out that "forever," even for humans, is a pretty long-ass time. And so, every year, at the very least, ya'll earned yourselves a cake. More than likely, a night out is in order.
Last year, our dog Grover took us on a trip to the Veterinary ER for our anniversary. It was, and forgive any potential hyperbole, the absolute worst fucking anniversary ever. So, the wife and I decided to bring it back to basics this year. Get our nostalgia on. And since our relationship poked its budding head out of the soil in Boston, we headed back to the Fens for our weekend celebration.
*Pause for audience applause*
Anniversaries are like birthdays for your marriage, but they are also unlike birthdays, in that they celebrate an actual accomplishment.
I mean, unless you want to argue that birthdays are a celebration of the accomplishment of your mother giving birth. Because all you really have to do to achieve a subsequent birthday is not die. And since I don't see people having "Mom" themed birthday parties, I'm gonna say that birthdays are like personal New Year's Eve celebrations: Much ado about celebrating the passage of time as an accomplishment.
Now anniversaries are an entirely different beast. Every year of marriage is a legitimate achievement, worthy of celebration. Hell, anniversaries are important. You don't want to take for granted the success of simultaneously negotiating two lives (at least) without complete implosion. Marriage is work. It turns out that "forever," even for humans, is a pretty long-ass time. And so, every year, at the very least, ya'll earned yourselves a cake. More than likely, a night out is in order.
Last year, our dog Grover took us on a trip to the Veterinary ER for our anniversary. It was, and forgive any potential hyperbole, the absolute worst fucking anniversary ever. So, the wife and I decided to bring it back to basics this year. Get our nostalgia on. And since our relationship poked its budding head out of the soil in Boston, we headed back to the Fens for our weekend celebration.
 |
| Pictured: My wife and my relationship, as a metaphor, in Boston |
Thursday, May 31, 2018 | 3 Comment(s)
I distinctly remember my Mother's surprise 40th birthday party. I was 7. My brother was 10. The reason the image of this particular birthday burned itself into my brain is that I felt slighted by my father. My father had not felt his sons would able to keep the secret of the looming surprise party, so we were whisked off to Hebrew School like some mundane moving part in an Ocean's 11 movie. I wasn't conscious of it at that point, but I have a propensity for grudge holding, a trait I actively work to soften daily. Forgiveness is freedom.
Back at our Ocean's 11 caper, a family friend had taken my Mom out to breakfast, or coffee, or some other lame backstory that I wasn't privy to but surely could have improved upon if I had been consulted. After consuming their unimaginative beverage or food, they swung by the synagogue to pick my brother and me up before returning home. When we got home, as you might imagine, she was surprised. Verily. And so was I. And then I was angry. Super angry. Little kid Matt was a little messed up, but at least I could still enjoy a party. Which I did.
The reason I bring any of this up is that I am turning 40 this year, and it is the first time I will be turning an age I clearly (and I think I've demonstrated both depth of knowledge and clarity) remember one of my parents turning. And let me be clear - this is not that kind of existential crisis. I'm not promising that there won't be future pontification, but it will not be of the I'm that much closer to death!?!?! variety.
 |
| Dear Me, Forgive yourself for looking like this. Forgiveness is freedom. |
The reason I bring any of this up is that I am turning 40 this year, and it is the first time I will be turning an age I clearly (and I think I've demonstrated both depth of knowledge and clarity) remember one of my parents turning. And let me be clear - this is not that kind of existential crisis. I'm not promising that there won't be future pontification, but it will not be of the I'm that much closer to death!?!?! variety.
Monday, July 10, 2017 | 1 Comment(s)
Grover's back-end was paralyzed following surgery. This fact was obscured by the staffs' practiced use of medical jargon that denoted immobility while purposely not using the "P-word." I don't think I fully comprehended his paralysis until a few days later, after he's regained some range of motion.
That said, some dogs regain full mobility (but not strength) immediately following surgery. Twenty percent become temporarily paralyzed. As we covered in part one, if there is a 20% change of a dog having a certain outcome, Grover will have it 100% of the time. He's one in a million, and he puts those odds to use when it comes to medical maladies. Not my favorite aspect of his uniqueness if were being honest.
