That's right. Daddy's on the loose tomorrow. Mommy decided she'd rather stay home with the lad than freeze her ass off at Camp Randall while hoping a bunch of douchey Goophers don't seize The Axe. So, as John McCain would say, "my friends," I am off the leash.
What's lamer than a housebroken lapdog at home? You guessed, a housebroken lapdog pretending to run free like a ghetto pit bull. Sure, I'll be drinking before noon on Saturday. Sure, I'll be 75 miles from the wife and kid. Sure, I'll irritate the people who sit near me at the game with my profanity-laced, nonsensical tirades in don't-just-say-it-spray-it fashion. I will probably even join in with some kids in doing a nice, loud ASSHOLE chant at some d-bag Goopher fans on Breese Terrace. I might even wander over to Paisan's after the game and stuff my still half-drunk face with large portions of fatty foods before heading home.
That being said, as a lapdog, you have to pay the price for this debauchery - both before and after the freedom sprint. That's how it works. When you're single with no kids, you just do what you want to do. When you've committed yourself to a family, you have to do what you have to do when you have to do it in order to have any chance of doing something you want to do when you want to do that. Don't get me wrong, all of the things I do with my family are things I want to do. Still, it seems that when what you want to do doesn't exactly jibe with the family, you're going to get a reaction like you just shot Marvin in the face.
Long story longer, we're having about 20 family members (and other hangers-on) over on Sunday for a Bears-Packers party. Thanks to Uncle Al being at his seaside home in Baja California, Mexico, and the recent conversion of my cocksmoking cousin Big Tasty to the Packers camp, my infant son and I will be the only Bears fans in attendance.
What does this have to do with my plans for Saturday in Madison? Everything. In order to receive a pass to leave the house on Saturday, I must make preparations for the party in advance. Thus, I purchased my 8 lb. pork shoulder roast Wednesday. Last night, I went shopping for all of my other ingredients, beer and Bloody Mary supplies. After making dinner for my wife, I slapped my meat around. Not the way you single guys slap your meat on the couch while watching scramble porn. I'm talking about applying a dry rub to the pork shoulder. Today, the wife will throw it in the oven for me at noon so I can shred the pork this evening, concoct a tomato-vinegar sopping sauce, and then spend another hour preparing about 3 lbs. of macaroni and cheese with a nice panko breadcrumb crusty layer on top.
Saturday morning, since I plan on leaving the house by 10:30 to be drinking before noon, I will have to be up very early. I know you guys, when wanting to leave the house by 10:30, tend to get up at 10:45, smoke a cigarette and then wait for your ride to arrive, jump in the car and squeal out of the driveway with your roommate's loaded hashpipe in your pocket, leaving your roommate standing on the front porch looking really pissed off. Out the door cleanly. In contrast, I will probably need to get my son up and changed, get him into his swing, then vacuum the entire lower level,
Then, after I return Saturday night, I will have to take a little bit of gentle abuse over how long I was gone, why I shouldn't have had so much to drink, and all of the shit I have to do before the party pigs start showing up at 11 a.m. Sunday. So, Sunday morning, I will be up early for more cleaning, making up my Asian coleslaw salad, putting the beer on ice in coolers, getting my BBQ meatballs appetizer cranking, moving furniture around, setting up an extra tv. in the living room for overflow crowd to watch the game, etc.
So, you don't give up all of your freedom when you get married and have a kid, but you do have to earn it each and every time. Still, when I come in the door after work tonight, my wife will be standing in the kitchen holding our son. She'll give me a kiss and my son will flash a huge, goofy smile and I will think for a minute that maybe - just maybe - my heart isn't 100% into leaving home on my day off.
Deal with it.
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2 comments:
Tk great post. I dont know how to say this but I am going to go ahead and try. You are a lawyer, with season football tickets, season hockey tickets, a beautiful wife, a beautiful kid, and a beautiful home in Waukesha. You may have trouble balancing your time but seriously balancing your time between all that is fucking awesome! That is like me trying to balance my time between Madden, Halo, the giant stack of penthouse under the coffee table, all while trying to decide which fast food place is going to satisfy my hunger after i get done smoking the biggest joint i have ever rolled. Yeah i have to make some sacrifices. I probably will never make it to the gym again, or probably never finish all the projects on my house, but fuck it I am living the dream.
With that being said I plan on bringing a dish to pass on sunday in case you are too hung over to finish the meatballs, and I promise to leave quietly and promptly after the Packers take down Sexy Rexy and the Bears.
Good luck and go Bucky, oh and dont forget to make some time to Tivo the Badger game on Sunday!
Timmay, sorry it has taken me so long to welcome you to the blog. I think you are going to be a fresh of breath air when it comes to grammer and proper use of the english language! Looking foward to reading your post, they are always very insightful and very interesting plus you are able to dumb it down for youngsters like me.
I am sorry to hear you are a fan of the bears you must of had a pretty fucked up childhood, my condolences.
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