Friday, February 16, 2007

what could happen?

Okay, skip Fitness Friday, I have stories.

Sit down, get comfortable, this could be a bumpy ride.

Once upon a time, kids, your dad was a complete imbecile.... No really, let's start at the beginning. It was a dark and stormy night, or bright sunny morning with the kids. We started out with the usual Q and A:

"No you can't drive my car"

"Take up baseball, it's more lucrative then being a 'cooker' at Applebees"

"I think you would benefit from an extra year before you sign up with the NFL draft"

The usual. I left the room for a second ( I swear officer it was only a second). Of course when I returned I find my son holding my daughters ankles, dangling her off the back of the couch. Thoughts of another ER visit and talking to CPS danced through my head. And that's only what I wanted to do to him.

"Hi, Daddy!" my daughter exclaimed. My son looks at me and asks

"Come on Dad, what could happen?"

All I could think of was all the times me and my brother attempted to kill ourselves. Which leads me to.......

doodle doodle doo

FLASHBACK: Haight , Ashbury 1969, the summer of love...Ha, caught you not paying attention. I'm only 34. No, Austin TX. My brother was about 17 and I was uh..OLD ENOUGH TO KNOW BETTER. When he was about that age my parents would have me stay at their house to "supervise". They were a simple folk, my parents, a little naive and trusting. Or maybe they didn't really want to know. Anyway, there we were, Beavis and Butthead, with way too much time and an unlimited budget, thanks to my parents ATM card. It was a glorious week filled with way too many near death experiences. (or lots and lots of material as I think of it now) Today, however, was to be our last day. No, nobody died, my parents were just coming home the next day.

So, we decided to go out with a bang. Off to the store. Of course, being Texas, we were going to grill (and drink beer all day, also because we were in Texas). Around five, or so ,I decided to fire up the grill like I had seen my father do so many times before. Let's see, turn knob thingy to High..hissssss... right , and then....

"Hey, Brian, have you ever done a test of manhood shot?"

Thoughts of Vikings on ships,arm wrestling, went through my head. Hey, wait was my little brother testing me? "No, in fact, I've never done a test of manhood shot."

"Well, let's go."

We went back inside, where, on the kitchen table, where you would normally find my mother's casserole or something wholesome, sat a bottle o Bacardi 151 and two glasses. Not shot glasses, rocks glasses. He filled both of them half way and gave me this look like "you go first I dare you."Having never, ever, not beaten my brother in anything I slammed mine.


"God, Brad, that's like getting maced or something"

"How do you know"

"Just never mind, okay"

He then slammed his. Ahhhh.....Giggle giggle giggle. "Want another?"

Oh, the race was on now. Twenty minutes and three quarters of a bottle later, we looked a little dazed and confused.

"No more yanky my wanky, Tonga need food" Giggle giggle giggle.

"One more" SLAM.

Ohhh I think we need something in our system.

"Hey, Brad what the hell were we doin'?"

Oh yeah, grilling something. SLOW MO: Get up from chair, slowly fall to ground

"Ha ha ha ha Giggle giglgle giggle.. "

"Shut up Brad." Stagger outside to grill.

Hissssss... Find little red button, Click, nope, again, click, nope, one more time, Click!

To say that the explosion came as a surprise would be a gross understatement. Think Lethal Weapon 3, less plot, more explosions. Next came that weird silence, the one where even the birds get quiet, only ended by the laughter of two drunken idiots with their eyebrows singed off.
Don't worry, the fire was put out, and eventually we regained our hearing, But the lesson here, Son, is that, yes,

I know what could happen.

Thursday, February 15, 2007

most boring post ever

For those of you wondering where I've been, I came down with some mysterious illness, Ebola or something I think. I feel much better now, and am heading for the gym today. Being ill gave me a little time to think. Okay, that didn't really happen. My kids never would allow that. But anyway, re-reading my original posts, I think I went a little off course. Originally I conceived of a Blog about my life, a life somewhere between Conan the Barbarian and the Osbourne's ("Sharon, have you seen my protein powder? Not the pre-workout but the bloody post-workout") Before you take me off your lists, never fear , I will still keep blogging about my insane past, present, and future. Just not all the time.
I said this would be the most boring post ever. I say this because today I am catching everyone up about me. You have found me somewhere in the middle of a comeback. I used to be a personal trainer and bodybuilder (hate that phrase "used to be") , but after a personal holocaust in 2005 I lost everything. Now I am on a mission to get it all back, and so far I have.
Actually not quite. During my "dark time" I lost 35 pounds (mostly muscle). I have since gained twenty back and am starting to get back to normal (my version of normal).
Yes, this is my comeback. Think Rocky 3 . Rocky has it all,but he takes it for granted. A young Mr. T comes along and kicks the crap out of him. Apollo comes back and takes Rocky to a rat infested gym in east L.A. to help him get the "eye" back. You get the idea, add two little kids and that's me.
Quickly I'll dispel some misconceptions about my chosen sport and me. 1. NO, I'm not on any drugs including steroids. What this means is that I will never be a professional bodybuilder, because Yes, they all are juiced out of their minds. I know. 2. I hate the question "how much can you bench" I don't know, don't care. I'm a bodybuilder not a powerlifter. I would rather look good than actually do something useful like pick up heavy things (Steph: prima donna)
3. I don't really care about your workout program. I have other interests other than bodybuilding. Ask me about the kids or politics or religion. I am more than a pretty face (that was for Stephanie). Well actually that's not true, if any of you guys have workout questions, ask.
I will also start Fitness Friday tomorrow, but that is mostly to rant about current training, blow off some steam.
4. We are not all self absorbed mindless freaks. Well ok that might be kind of true.
I guess having a dad like me is sort of ,well..different. We get up most mornings and have our traditional breakfast, oatmeal and egg whites. We then do a little yoga to wake up. After this its on to the bathroom where Dad shaves body hair and then Dad and kids practice most muscular shots and front double biceps shots. Then, off to the gym. The kids by the way love the gym. Its a huge kids room with an indoor jungle gym ( a must for Arizona in the summer) movies, video games and other kids to play with. We then come home eat lunch, pick up, you know normal stuff. Later this year we'll add tanning salon. Later we have dinner. Yes, we have a lot of boneless skinless chicken breasts and rice. But hey, I know twenty different ways to cook chicken and rice so no one is being deprived here, buddy. Kids go to bed, wife goes to bed, on to dinner number two. Usually same as number one, but bigger portions.
I suppose everyone reading this is bored senseless. Where's the biting sarcasm? Where's the humiliating story? Where's the explosion? I promise, more of that will follow. I just wanted a frame of reference. Or maybe I still feel the effects of the Ebola.

Thursday, February 8, 2007

a little curious

Have you ever wondered how much what we don't tell our kids outweighs what we do tell them? You respond "Why, whatever do you mean Big Papa, please tell us" Well, okay if you insist.

A few days ago (I don't remember how many) I caught The Big One climbing on the counters to get into a cabinet. Of course I dispensed th usual pearls of fathrly wisdom, could fall, blah blah, hurt yourself,yadda yadda,brain damage, something something. The Oracle, the knower of all things, speaks.

"But Dad, I just wanted to see what was in there."

Ahh yes, curiousity. And of course, being the mature, responsible parent (quit laughing Steph) that I am, I gave him the patented, straight from my mother speech "just because your curious doesn't mean..." I so desperately wanted to tell him the story of when I

....FLASHBACK... think Wayne's World, doodle doodle doo, doodle doodle doo.

We find our intrepid hero as a very young nineteen year old in his adopted home town, Austin Texas. He has just awoken (recovered?) from a long sleep. It's about two o'clockish and he was alone. Oh yeah, wait a sec, before I get rollin' THE EVENTS CONTAINED IN THIS STORY ARE NOT REAL. ANY RELATION TO REAL EVENTS OR PLACES IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL THE NAMES HAVE BEEN CHANGED TO PROTECT THE INNOCENT. If you are pregnant, nursing, having chest pains, take an MAOI inhibitor, or like walking outside sans pants, please consult a physician before reading further. If you are gathering information for my upcoming competency hearing, I deny writing any of this, it was written by a bunch of monkeys in a room with a bunch of typewriters formerly writing Shakespeare.

There, that should cover my ass.

Any way, where was I. Oh yeah, Austin. A lovely town. I get nostalgic every time Rachel Ray goes there with her forty dollars. Yes, I watch that show. I gave up my man card a long time ago. There was a time, however, when Austin's weirdness was a little too weird for my Midwestern sensibilities. The first year I spent a lot of time in my campus apartment listening to the sounds of my neighbors bass and the roaches doing whatever roaches do. This particular morning I had the whole day off and my then wife was on campus studying, leaving me with absolutely nothing to do. (Yes I was married before. No, no kids thank God, clean break).

Any way there I was bored out of my mind, when I received a phone call "Hey,hon, I left my keys,please don't go anywhere. I'll be home about nine." I hung up and spotted said keys on the kitchen counter. Stupid keyes really. the kind only a woman would carry. Way too many pictures and keychains to cram into front pocket of jeans. And a can of MACE to boot. Hang on, when did she start carrying MACE? Oh well, who cares, on with the day. And what day would be complete without beer. Homer "ummm beer"

Flashforward six hours or so. Beer number one a distant memor, beer number nine prepared for take off. If I keep writing and you keep reading you may notice all storys of Austin will start similarly. So there I was, just me, the roaches, the tape player with some new band from Seattle, Nirvana I think they were called, and that stupid can of MACE. MACE can't be all that bad, can it. I mean yeah sure I saw a news anchor volunteer to get maced for informational purposes, but he wasn't a tough guy like me. He was probably a Dad or something, you know, a real wuss.

What does it feel like? The little red button on top spoke to me "Do it. Come on, what kind of tough guy are you?" No, no put it down. Besides, wife will be home soon. But then you"ll never know. She would never let you. Do it! I picked it back up and stared at the small hole where the MACE would come out, my finger on the red trigger. Acting on its own, my index finger pushed down, the can spraying furiously.


Nasal passages searing, eyes shut and watering I stumble into the shower to try and rinse it off.

Big Papa's tip for the day: after being maced, do not rinse with water.

Of course, with timing only seen on bad sitcoms, in walks my soon to be ex. Picture this seen, me naked writhing on the floor,face red, screaming.

Long story short, I could use this as a teaching tool for my kids. But I won't. He'll never know.

Wednesday, February 7, 2007

Yeah, I'm a little distracted.

Today it finally happened. I always knew it would. Sort of inevitable really. wait. Not enough build up. Let's start from the beginning. No skipping ahead now kiddos.

Have you ever had a day where you wake up feeling perfect? You feel like you've alread had the eight cups of coffee you usually need to feel alive. Like those days in your twenties, when after five or six straight days of partying you finally go home to your own house by yourself and just sleep for twelve hours or so. Through whatever magical planetary alignment I was having one of those days. And let me tell you, it did not go to waste. The washing machine was washing. The dishwasher was dishwashering. Breakfast was made. The children were clean and in Oh my gosh! matching clothes.

Yes, I was on top of my game. I even answered the mysteries of life for my son "How can a baby come out of my pee pee dad?" Who can handle his business? I can!

It was a glorious morning. A take on the world and win kind of morning. Who said being a stay at home dad was hard. Ha! I can take on adversity, I can climb mountains (mostly of dirty clothes,but hey..) . I can bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan. It was going almost too perfectly.

11:30 Time to go to the gym. Well not really. I was actually fifteen minutes early. Yeah that's right, EARLY. With two kids I was early for something. Do you believe in miracles? Surely by now my status has been elevated from Dad to Super Mega Ultra Super Dad.

We exited the house and I saw a mother across the street waiting for the school bus. We made eye contact. Yeah lady I know, you are witnessing parenting perfection and cannot contain your petty jealousy. Its the winds of change. A Dad doing what Mom traditionally does...BETTER.

As I stood there basking in my own glory her daughter arrrived. Wait. Why is mom, and now daughter still staring at me. Why are they laughing? Why is mom shielding said daughters eyes? Why do my legs feel colder than usual? Cut to slow-mo. Me looking down, seeing my boxer briefs as if for the first time. Me looking back up, NOOO! Thats it kid look around, see if anyone else has seen your mistake.

I could already hear the phone conversation across the street "Yes officer he's right across the street, and he has two small children with him. I always knew there was something strange about that guy" I could already see my wife's look of shame as she reads the headlines: GILBERT FLASHER CAUGHT AFTER 35 YEARS. But officer, I'm only 34 I swear.

Ahh yes, this is my life and, guess what, I did it by choice.