5 posts tagged “album”

I find myself in the unlikeliest of predicaments.

I do not want to tell my friends how great parenting can be, for fear that their experience will not be so swell and make them feel lesser.

I do not want to tell my friends how awful parenting can be, for fear that their trials will not be so great, and I will have poisoned their outlook.

For myself, I can have anything I want...  and I don't care for it anymore.

I am impossible to shop for. 

Presents are hopeless. 

Though I enjoy the people that wish to give me the presents immensely, for the sheer notion that they wanted to try.

Sure, there are some things I will try when curiosity intersects opportunity... but nothing that I want enough to go out and actually get because I am somehow driven to posses them.

I do not have access to every album or music file that I have ever coveted.

However, this leaves open the door to the magic that happens when I chance across a hearing of one of those tunes.

I have not read and do not own every comics collection that could possibly fascinate me for hours/days on end.

I have not watched every movie that would reduce me to guy-grunts.

I have not read every book that would make me put it down at times and sigh, "damn".

And that is fine.

They are still out there.

I leave open the chance for happy surprises and thrilling encounters.

I want to learn more of the unknown. 

I want experiences. 

I think I want the knowledge of things without possessing the things themselves.

I want to lease life, and always trade it in for the newest model.

I adore reading and returning library books for free.

Listening to college radio makes me nostalgically giddy  (really surprised the program accepted that usage; I was all set to change it to "giddy with nostalgia" but I digress - and need another shot of that Very Old Barton 90 proof 6 Year  - which isn't really all that old, but I am round the bend now).

I am delighted by both of my daughters' imagination and emerging sense of humor.

I am high like an idiot when browsing a good selection at a liquor store... and drunk shortly thereafter.

Did you ever hear the one about what a car and an elephant have in common?  The four year old busts out with that on the way home and I can't stop laughing until we're in the garage.  Just wait until she finds Nantucket on the map.

Apparently, neither one of the two groups want to pay the artists much per album.

Most Radiohead fans paid $0 to download album.

Appropriately enough, it was sunny last Sunday.

The neighbors on both sides of us were gone to the subdivision pool.

I was in no condition to enjoy the water myself, having been sunburned in an odd pattern the day before at the pool.

The shape of the burn looked suspiciously as if sunscreen spray was applied to me by a person of approximately the same height as my wife, as I was carrying a 14 month old in my left arm/side while kneeling down to help a 3 year old into the foot-deep kiddie pool.

So on this sunny Sunday, I could be found in a small patch of shade on the patio,
reading a book and listening to tunes.

My own collection.

Modern commercial radio gives me a rash.

The kiddies were down for a nap. 

It was a beautiful moment complete with birds chirping and the rustle of the tree branches in the light breeze.

The wife emerges from the house.

In a bikini.

I slide the sunglasses down my nose a bit for an unfiltered view.

She lays out several lounge chair cushions and a towel, with intent to lay-out in the sun, just beyond my feet.

This despite the recent article in Newsweek we discussed about the addictive nature of sunbathing.

I think about scolding her, but instead take a pull from the whiskey tumbler.

It's just not proper etiquette to scold a woman in a bikini. 

Just to hit my homemaker's quota of bitching for the day, I made the decision to hound her about turning in her expense reports for reimbursement later instead, when she has more clothes on.  That would have to do.

The album ended after another twenty or so minutes of ogling, and my tumbler contents must have evaporated, because it was dry.

I'd only advanced the book a few pages.

On returning outside, I discovered that the wife had turned over on her belly... and removed her top.

There's only one small step out to our patio, but I still nearly managed to miss it, sloshing a small drop of the precious amber elixir.  Ah, let the angels have their fabled share.

I put the album into the player and resumed my shaded perch.  The show was getting better in the second half.

Maybe those expense reports could wait another day or two before I followed up with her about them.

So, it was then that the wife looks over and winks, "Ya like that do ya?"

"Well, yes."

"We've been together forever and it's nothing you don't get to see everyday." 

I also chose to let the double-negative slide, you know, considering.

"Yeah, but this is, like, naughty."

Another smirk and she turns her head away and back down to sleep.

The tumbler gets empty again, somehow.  I need to get up to go fix that again.

But she's still just laying there, sleeping, topless.

Mischief floods my percolating synapses.

I set the tumbler down gently, and reach for the wallet out of my pocket, finding a $5 bill.

Hello, Mister Lincoln.  I know you're usually found on Mount Rushmore, among other places, but I think that the Grand Canyon would suit you better just now.

So, instead of advice, I gave my wife a tip.

A quick tug from the wrist, up and out, slide the bill in, then let the bikini snap back.

Ah, the outdoors.  Great for developing a deeper appreciation of my favorite national monuments.

If you had a CD or album coming out, who would you thank in the liner notes?

When my CD/album comes out, the inside of the jacket/liner will be lined in horizontal light blue stripes to resemble college-ruled notebook paper.  Aside from that it will be blank.  It will be up to each person to fill in all the people they'd like to thank and what they're thankful for.  Or alternately, they could write naughty limericks on the lines.  Possibly the grocery list.  Or they could even use the blank liner notes for T.P. if they forgot to put it on the grocery list and then discover that they've run out.

Sonic Youth's "dirty" effort

coupled with

 1792

Not the year.

The hooch.

Ridgemont Reserve Small Batch Barrel Select Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey.

Aged 8 years to 93.7 Proof, or 46.85% alc/vol.

A perfect pairing before bed on the night before the wife comes home from the latest all-week business trip.

I didn't even mope at all this time, except for, like, those 30 or so times.

And the kids, the girls, are getting sophisticated.

Eldest, upon my asking if she would like a hot dog for dinner says, "well, I still have three slices of cheese left, and when I finish them I'll be full, so no thank you."

She's three at the end of the month.