When you're back in your old neighborhood cigarettes taste so good

Yesterday I received a text from my ex-wife:

Your son just said that I need to exercise more and eat less because I'm getting bigger, not smaller.




I would say I've never been more proud of Mr M, except my ex also sent me this picture the other day:



We are simply the best parents* in the entire world.








*It's fake.

Girl why not take out the trash and once you get him out tell him not to come back again

Me (to Tortellini): And to think, your mom had all of this.
[said while motioning to myself with my hands]

Togers: And she threw it all away.

Tortellini: Because it was garbage.

It's nothing personal, you saw to that, you're just a person who does her best work on her back

I've mentioned before how answering a question with the words "Your mom" can sometimes get a person in trouble. I don't care. I still say it because it's funny. It's one of those things I'll probably be saying when I'm 80.

That said, I recently had another instance where it could've gotten me into trouble. It didn't, but it could've.

My kids' step-dad: You get all that for the low, low price of twenty-five cents.

Togers: Wait. What only costs twenty-five cents?

Me: Your mom.


I have to say that nothing beats implying that your ex-wife is a cheap whore in front of your children**, your ex-wife and her husband, and getting laughs from everybody.






*This just happens to be the song stuck in my head right now, so it's not meant to be a statement about my ex.

**Not that they'd understand the implication.

Take a chance on me

I called my ex-wife yesterday to wish her a happy Mother's Day. As we talked she said she had to tell me some of the funny stuff Mr. M's been saying lately. I particularly liked this one about playing it safe.

Ex-Wife: Mr. M, is it safe to go with strangers if they ask you to go with them?
Mr. M: No. Not if he has a knife.
Ex-Wife: Well, what if he didn't have a knife but had candy instead?
Mr. M: Candy? Yeah, that's safe.


He must take after his dad.

We are brash, we all fall down, we take out our brains and shake 'em all around

My ex-wife called yesterday to tell me about Mr. M.'s take on pre-school based on a conversation they had.

Her: [Mr. M.], you have to use a can opener if you want to open that can of pineapple.
Mr. M.: I know that, Mom. My teacher told me that. She teaches me everything she knows.
Her: Good!
Mr. M.: Yeah. But she never wants to talk about what I want to talk about, only what she wants to talk about.
Her: What do you want to talk about?
Mr. M.: Fighting and guns and stuff.

Should I be worried?

Where'd you get your information from, huh? You think that you can front when revelation comes?

You often hear people talk about how they have a problem that, try as they might, they just can't seem to come up with a solution for. You know, like ending their sentences with prepositions. Sometimes it will take weeks, and still no solution, and then suddenly their answer will come to them in a dream. A revelation, if you will (or even if you won't). Well, I don't have much experience with that, but it did happen for me once in my life. I'll relate the tale to you now.

When my ex-wife and I were newlyweds, our "job" was to keep watch over a marina that closed down for the winter. After all, there's not much point to keeping a marina open when the lake it sits on completely freezes over. The marina owner let us live in a trailer that overlooked the marina for free, so long as we established a presence at the place. Basically, anytime we saw somebody out on the docks, we had to go down and talk to them, or at least let them see that we were around. That way the owner didn't have to worry as much about anything getting stolen or vandalized.

However, the only people we ever saw was the occasional weekend ice fisherman, so as you can imagine, things got a little boring. Especially considering the fact that we only got two TV channels: The Sci-Fi channel, and whatever the owner of the marina left his satellite dish on (usually the Playboy channel). So, for our first Christmas, we bought ourselves a Super Nintendo game system and a couple of games. We spent a good portion of our day playing Super Mario World:



Some of the game's levels were more difficult than others, but there was one in particular that I just could not beat. It was a fortress, and I could get to the end of it, but the very last thing to kill off was a spinning wheel full of fire breathing rhinoceri:



Sure, it doesn't look like much. You just run under the wheel, and bounce the rhinos off their perches by jumping up and hitting them from underneath, right? Well, that worked for the first one or two, but then the floor Mario is standing on began to slowly fall apart and fall into the fire below. Try as I might, I just could not knock them off fast enough to avoid falling into the flames myself. I don't know how much time I spent trying to figure a way to beat the level the first time I encountered, but if there was a way to beat it, it was clearly beyond me. After many futile efforts, I gave up for the night and went to bed.

That's when it happened. In the wee hours of the morning, the answer came to me in a dream. To knock the last rhinos off, I would have to jump on the wheel itself, dodge fireballs while waiting for it to rotate, and then jump and knock them off once I was underneath them:



I awoke, and immediately went and turned on the game to give it a try. It worked. And there you have the story of the only time in my life that I've had a revelation in a dream. Too bad it couldn't have been for something important.

Cut a slab of melon and pretend that you still love me

If there's one thing Thanksgiving is good for, it's bringing people together so that they can be humiliated in front of a large group. At least if you're in my family.

For example, this year I learned that over the years my ex-wife . . .

- showed my mother the first place she and I ever had sex.
- bragged to my sisters about the size of my penis.
- talked to my mom about how I had a knack for "getting [her] there every time."

I only wish I were making this up.

Lucky ones are we all 'til it is over

Since I haven't been very good about keeping everyone updated on the situation with my daughter's eye, everything looks to be fine now. She still has several check-ups that she'll have to go to, and there are some potential problems down the road that we may run into (she's more prone to glaucoma now, but there's nothing that can be done about it other than to keep screening for it and try to catch it early), but considering she could have lost her vision completely, we feel like we got real lucky. She still has to take it easy for a couple of weeks, but the doctor has cleared her to go back to school on Monday (but no gym class - she's not too upset about that), and to travel to Grandma and Grandpa's house for Thanksgiving.

The kids are excited that they get to see their grandparents again. I don't know how I let it get this long, but the last time was about five months ago. But they're not the only ones excited to be going there. While I'll be happy to see my family again, I'm also excited about getting out of my ex-wife's house after staying here for nearly a week. It's not that we don't get along, because we do, probably better now than we ever did when we were married, but I start getting antsy after spending more than a couple of days anywhere that isn't my house. While my parents' house isn't mine, it'll still be a change of scenery, so that'll be nice.

A couple of days ago I was talking to someone on the phone and happened to mention where I was staying.

Him: That's got to be pretty awkward.
Me: You'd think so, but it's really not that bad. We get along pretty well now.
Him: Well, if you need somewhere else to stay, you can always come stay here.
Me: I know, but it's easier if I just stay here. Plus, that gives me more time with my kids.
Him: Alright, but I don't to hear about any menage a trois breaking out between the three of you.
Me: I think you're safe there. If I were going to do that, there wouldn't be another guy involved, and it sure as hell wouldn't be with my ex-wife.
Him: Ok. Just checkin'.

The everliving ghost of what once was

The other night I was sitting in my car in the parking lot to a movie theater listening to music while I waited for a girl to show up. We had agreed to see Wristcutters: A Love Story (great movie by the way), but I had miscalculated the time it would take to drive across town, and arrived twenty minutes early. I didn't mind waiting. I just sat in the car listening to music to kill the time, which is something I enjoy doing anyway.

However, as I sat there listening to music, it occurred to me what day it was. Nov 11. Also known as the day my ex-wife and I officially separated. It took nearly three years for the divorce to be finalized. Those were the most emotionally draining three years of my life. It won't come as a surprise to anyone who knew me during that time that I was extremely depressed.

Flash back to that time period a few years ago, when I first moved to Vegas. I already knew a guy in the Ph. D. program because we'd worked on our master's degrees together, so I stepped into an immediate group of friends who did a lot of things together. A couple times a week we'd all meet up after school, usually at a particular bar that was close to campus which had great happy hour specials. On one occasion in particular, I was listening to Ryan Adams' Demolition on the way to meet up with them, and just broke down in tears on the way. I ended up being quite late because I just sat in the parking lot listening to music and sobbing. Once I got it all out, it took a few minutes to compose myself and go inside. I offered up some excuse about how I was sorry it took me so long to get there, but it was because I got caught up responding to an email or something like that. Of course, they knew better, but they never said anything to let me know that they knew.

I never told any of my friends (or family) thanks for getting me through that difficult period of my life. I don't think most of them can even comprehend how much they helped me. So, for the few of you who were there for me that read this, thank you. I've come a long way since then. Now I listen to music in my car to kill time, or because I want to hear the rest of a good song, not because I'm trying to get myself together before going into a public place. That's a big difference.

And I miss everyone, but most of all the children and their shiny toy guns

Yesterday was my youngest's birthday. He turned five. For most people, September 11 is a day of tragedy, but to me it just marks the day that one of the best things to happen to me actually happened.

I called yesterday morning to wish him a happy birthday. My ex-wife answered the phone and I talked to her for a few minutes before he got on the phone.

Me: Did you get the presents I sent? There were two packages.
Her: Yeah, but he hasn't opened them yet. What did you get him?
Me: One is a toy gun that makes a bunch of different sounds. The other is a sword that does the same thing, but lights up with different colors too.
Her: Oh good. He's been going around telling everyone he was getting a gun for his birthday, but we didn't get him one.
Me: I always feel like I get him the same thing, but I honestly didn't see anything else I thought he'd like, so I went with the toy weapons again.
Her: Well I'm glad you did. He'll be happy with those.
Me: What did you get him?
Her: We got him a little desk.

Oh yeah, I'm the cool parent!

She also told me that the other day he asked how many more times the sun would go down before he turned five. Then, yesterday morning when she told him he was five he went and looked at himself in the mirror to see if he'd grown any. As if it would somehow happen overnight. Knowing this, I asked him about it once he got on the phone.

Me: Happy Birthday. Are you excited to open your presents.
Him: Yeah. I have to wait until [Step-Dad] gets home.
Me: So how does it feel to be five? Are you bigger? Stronger? Faster?
Him: Dad, I'm just five.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - EDIT- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

By that logic, I'm not getting fat, I'm just thirty-two.

I'm lonely, but I ain't that lonely yet

Ex-wife: I think you should date my biology teacher.

Me: You do huh?

Ex-wife: Yeah, I do. She's not that pretty, but she's well educated and seems to be really cool. She has a lisp, but you don't even notice it after a while.

Me: Um. I'm pretty shallow. Plus, she lives in Salt Lake City so I don't really see how that would work out.

Ex-wife: I just thought that you'd have a lot in common because you're interested in the same subject. I said she was smart, but she's not arrogant.

Me: But I am, remember? I heard that from you for years.


I don't know why everyone is suddenly feeling the need to find love for me (I mean, obviously I'm incapable of doing it myself, but still). I'm finding it to be a little annoying. Strike that. Make that QUITE annoying. I would like to take this time to add another rule to who I will consider dating.

New Rule: NO LISPS!!!

When thoughts are all you dream of, and falls are all you take

The other day I sent an email to a girl stating the following:

"You're going to think I'm a total weirdo for telling you this, but I had a dream about you the other night (no, not that kind of dream). I don't remember all the details, but I remember that you did something to diffuse a situation between me and my ex-wife where she was demanding that I do something that I didn't want to do.

This morning she called me at 6 a.m. wanting me to fax her some papers. Where were you when I needed you?!

Texas, that's where"

Her response:

"I am happy to hear you were having dreams about me, I got a little disappointed when you said that they were not "that kind"

I call shenanigans!!! No girl ever wants to be told by email that a guy has been having "that kind of dream" about her unless they are in a relationship.

So let's keep things neutral, stick to topics that won't bug us

I mentioned the fact that I was giving a Christmas present to my ex-wife to a friend of mine the other day. He acted a little surprised, and I guess that's a normal reaction, but I don't think we're like most divorced people. We're actually still pretty good friends. At least most of the time.

As is likely the case with any divorced couple, there are certain topics that still bring out very strong emotions when they come up. Things that she and I will never see eye to eye on, and still fight about at times. Of course, the things that make me upset are all valid. The things that upset her are all stupid (just agree with me on this). Without getting into any details about what those things might be, just know that one of them came up last night while I was talking to her on the phone after we'd discussed Christmas plans. It got to the point where I just hung up the phone because I didn't feel like dealing with it any more*.

Then I had to go wrap her present. When I placed a label on the package I really wanted to write down one of the following:

To: My ex-wife
From: Thank God for the prefix

To: The bitch I used to be married to
From: The saint who can do no wrong

I just wrote our names though. It is Christmas time after all.


*we talked again this morning and she said her apologies after I'd had a chance to explain some things to her, so we're back to being friendly.

Thriller

I just got this email from my ex-wife:

"Your kids are singing karaoke to Thriller. [The youngest] is break dancing alongside them. I’m scared."

I am too. But at least it's not Billy Jean.

Holding on to always just seems irrelevant now

The other day my ex-wife emailed me the link to her wedding photos. I'd like to post some of the best ones, but she gave me express instructions not to, so I'll honor her wishes.

When she first told me that she wanted to get married in a bikini on the beach I thought it would be the trashiest thing ever (probably because I'd envisioned something like this), but it actually looked like it turned out nice. It still wouldn't be my first choice of locations for a wedding, but it worked for them.

I have to admit, she looks really good in the photos, and they look happy together. In fact, as I was looking through the pictures I doubted that she'd ever looked at me the way she was looking at him. That's ok, maybe that means this one will last.

It's definitely a strange feeling though. I don't want her back. We weren't all that happy together in the first place, but the main feeling that came over me as I looked through the pictures was "she was mine first."

I miss the innocence I've known

Most of you know that my ex-wife re-married last month. They went to Mexico and everything was quite nice from what I've been told. That is, aside from the fact that everyone's return flight got cancelled (they could only get back into the U.S. in small groups), and the fact that a big wave crashed over the beach during the ceremony (I'm told that the wave was large enough to get people scrambling up the beach to get away from it, yet it still knocked everyone but the bride and groom over - memorable to say the least).

It was the first time flying on a commercial airline for both my boys, and my four year old was able to get away with things that you or I could never hope to on the flight down. As soon as everyone was on the plane he thought it would be funny to start yelling "We're all going to die!"

What can I say? He's a funny kid. I only hope that he didn't cause a panic attack for someone who already had a fear of flying.

How much is that doggy in the window?

My ex-wife is moving again. It's only going to be a few houses down the street so the kids don't have to switch schools, but they're tired of fighting with the landlord to try and get him to take care of maintenance requests. The furnace has been out since May. It was red-tagged, so technically he shouldn't have been renting to them in the first place, but he still won't fix it. It's a big problem now that it's cooling off, and since he hasn't bothered to do anything about it in 5 months they've decided to move. I can't say I blame them.

One problem they have is that they aren't allowed to have pets in the new place, so they have to get rid of their two dogs. She's going to take them to they Humane Society, but she's quite sad about it. The puppy should find a new home pretty easily, but she's certain that the older dog is going to end up being put to sleep. She called me yesterday to see if I knew anyone who would be willing to take him. I don't.

My youngest son is taking it pretty hard. He's pretty attached to both dogs, and probably doesn't understand why they can't keep them. He said to my ex, "But Mom, they're both good puppies. You're breaking my heart."

I'm pretty sure that about broke hers.

You tell them that they're good kids, but you know that it's not true

Yesterday I called my kids to see how their first day of school went. I was especially concerned about my daughter because it was her first day of middle school, and she's been nervous about it all summer long. She was concerned that 5 minutes between classes wouldn't be enough to get there on time, and she had dreams where she didn't get a locker and had to put all her stuff on some shelves in the hall. You'll be happy to know that everything went fine. In fact, I ended up talking to my ex-wife, and she said that for the first time ever they were able to have a first day of school without any major drama.

While I was talking to her my three year old kept coming up and asking these questions:

1. Can I use the hammer?
2. Can I pee in a bucket?
3. Can I say fuck?

He didn't use the hammer, or say fuck, but he did pee in a bucket in the bathroom. I guess he was just trying to get permission after the fact.

What else should I be? All apologies.

I spoke to my ex-wife on the phone again today regarding the permission slip for her to take our kids with her to Mexico for her wedding. We've finally got it all figured out, and everything should go off without a hitch, once I can find myself a notary that is.

However, during our conversation I realized that the only times I mention her on here are times when I'm frustrated with her for some reason. That's not entirely fair to her because I think I tend to portray her in a negative light. Sure, old habits die hard, and we still end up arguing about stuff, but I do still care for her. I'm happy for the changes she's made in her life and I wish her all the best.

I don't know if she reads this blog or not. She does know about it, I'm just not sure if, or how often, she checks in, but I'd like to apologize to her for giving her a bad reputation on here. You know, just in case she does stop by.

(I'd offer her the apology in person if I knew for a fact she reads, but why admit something to someone who may not know you're guilty?)

Don't get sentimental, it always ends up drivel

Somebody stop me, over the past week I've been getting nostalgiac for the days when I was first married and starting college. I think it has to do mostly with the fact that I've been a lot of different places where music from that time period has been playing. It's funny how nostalgia works. You only end up remembering the good things, and often forget about how completely miserable you really were at the time.

Another reason for this wave of nostalgia could be the fact that my ex-wife is getting remarried soon. I'm not jealous or anything, it just puts another stamp of finality on the situation. They're tying the knot in Mexico, so I won't be going, but my kids will. I've been talking to her a lot on the phone because I have to write a note, signed and notorized, that grants her permission to take my kids out of the country. She just has to provide that, along with the kids' birth certificates when she goes through customs in order to show that she's not trying to kidnap the kids and leave the country. I'm not worried about her skipping out and never coming back. If she did that she'd be walking away from the child support I pay, and there's no way she's going to do that.

Normally this would be something that could be handled with a single phone call where she calls me up, tells me she needs the note, I agree to to it and send it off. Done deal. Normal would be the key word there. The circumstances surrounding our divorce were nowhere near normal, and that is where the complications arise. She was impregnated by someone else shortly after the two of us separated, but he abandoned her and the baby while the baby was recovering from some complications he had and was in the newborn intensive care unit. I know, such a classy guy, but hey, he was more fun than me so what's a girl to do?

Our divorce had not been finalized at the time, in fact, the papers had not even been filed yet because I was still trying to convince her that I could get past everything that had happened and work things out. Looking back, I'm glad we didn't because it would have just prolonged the inevitable, and I'm much happier now, but hindsight's always 20/20, right? Anyway, since we were still married, Utah state law required that my name be put on the birth certificate even though she and I both insisted that the baby wasn't mine. The problem for me is that this would have required me to pay child support on him as well as my other two, which is not something I was willing to do. I told her I'd be his father figure, but shelling out another $250 or so a month was where I had to draw the line, so I took a paternity test. Once the state got those results back they started to go after the real biological father for child support.

Now that you have that background you can see how this little jaunt of hers to Mexico is more complicated than it's worth. She wants me to grant permission for her to take all three kids out of the country, but I'm not sure I can legally do that. She told me that her travel agent said that all they need is a signature from the person listed on the birth certificate, but I'm not going to sign off until I'm absolutely sure. It wouldn't be the first time I'd signed something on her behalf and had it come back and bite me in the ass.

I expressed my concerns to her in our last phone conversation.

Her: "Well, I'll double check. If you can't then maybe I'll just have to have my fiancee go down and see if he can get a signature from [biological father]."

Now, this highlights one of the things that used to drive me crazy about my ex-wife. She would never take care of things that had the potential to be awkward or uncomfortable for her. She always expected me to do it for her, and now apparently expects her fiancee to as well. I decided to say something to her about it.

Me: "Or, you could go down and talk to him yourself."
Her: "I know, but I've tried talking to him before. You have no idea what it's like to try and have a conversation with a child."
Me: "Oh, I know exactly what it's like to try and have a conversation with someone who acts like a child."
Her: "Shut up, you big dork."

Hey, I have to get my digs in when I can.