My parents have been in town for a couple of weeks. The 8- and 5-year-olds are totally in love with Grandma’s ability to tell them when the coyote will fall off the cliff before eating the Road Runner. Grandma is totally a psychic.
Thursday morning, Mommy (Lynn) drives the grand parents Way the Hell out to Redlands so they can spend some time with my brother. It’s about an hour-and-a-half drive. My parents tell me they are delighted that Lynn self-lessly drove them to visit Uncle Jay. Lynn is more than happy to do it.
Um… Did I mention the nearby Indian casino?
Mommy is up about $150.
(Seriously, Don’t let the hair fool you… She knows how to play.)
Mommy decides to sleep over at Uncle Jay’s place. Which means, Daddy (me) is a single father for the night. For the first time ever. Crap.
Ok. Dinner is ice cream and Ho-Hos. I kid, of course. (Though, that would be AWESOME!)
The girls eat a nutritious dinner of salad and tofu. I kid, of course. (Though, that would be AWESOME!)
I really don’t know what they ate. Some cucumbers and carrots. Some cookies. A lettuce leaf or two. Pudding. Yogurt. I don’t know… They are full and not complaining. Yay, Daddy Rocks! “You’re my Best Daddy Ever!” One proclaims… Whatever, I’ve been down that road before.
Eventually, the girls get sleepy. They brush their teeth and I manage a couple of pony tails. Then, sleeeeeep.
So, I am left alone. With the entire Internet at my disposal. Uncensored. What can go wrong?
Well, first, the WiFi in my house sucks. 40 feet away, I have 2 WiFi bars. Nothing loads. Dammit.
I move to the laptop which is connected by ethernet cable directly to the Web router. Things go downhill from here.
I check my usual news sites: CNN, MSNBC, Fox News (yes, shocking, I know), ABCNews, um… TMZ.
Ok… about TMZ. I don’t usually admit it, but I read TMZ.com. I can’t stomach the TV show. But, they do have actual news items. Sometimes. Rarely.
So, with the girls asleep, I read TMZ. I follow a link or two, and end up at a website called theChive.com
theChive is one of those websites that posts really weird photos and movies. Lots of cats. People falling down. Gorgeous landscapes. Amazing fireworks pictures. Skater Boyz who will never land that trick, and yet they keep trying.
But, mostly, theChive seems dedicated to Hot Girls in Yoga Pants. Or, Hot Girls in Bikinis. Or, Hot Girls in the Middle of Nowhere. Or, Hot Girls in Sports Bras.
I click for a while.
As much as I hate to say it, “Hot Girls in Whatever” quickly becomes, I don’t know… monotonous.
I flip the TV on. Clint Eastwood is lecturing a chair. Will anyone remember this? (Although the chair makes a couple of good points between Clint’s ramblings.)
I flip. Alligator Wars. Storage Wars. Property Wars.
Too many wars… Can’t we all get along?
I end up watching Sir Paul McCartney performing on the Palladia channel. But, after the 25th chorus of “Na-Na-Na-Na, Heeeey Jude,” It gets old. I love Paul, but. Been there, heard that.
I flip some more, and eventually slink off to bed.
The Next Morning comes! Sunshine!!! Woo-Hooo!
Ok, I get up at 6:30. (You’re kidding me?) Quick shower. Girls up by 7. Man, I’m good.
Patting myself on the back: I get them dressed, I feed them breakfast, I do their hair in fresh ponytails (ponytails with BRAIDS!), and I get them to school a whopping FIVE minutes early. Damn I’m good.
Father of the Freaking Year!
By the afternoon, Mommy returns from her visit with Uncle Jay, Grandma, Grandpa. She waves her booty in front of my face. Then her Winnings. (God, I’m funny.)
I am so relieved. The reinforcements have arrived.
(Still, Father or the Year. I mean, Five Minutes Early!!)