The boy and I had a nice father-son lunch at The Cheesecake Factory. And by nice father-son lunch, I mean the boy played with his Nintendo DS between bites of his buttered pasta, while I fiddled with my iPhone and pushed my meatloaf around on the plate. Our lunch was awight.
I guess we’re just practicing for the day when the boy is a sullen 16-year-old. Little does the boy know that I’m shipping him to boarding school when he’s 12 so I can avoid that whole my-dad-is-so-lame stage of his development. Bawahaha!!!
For the past few weeks, the boy has asked if I would take him to the arts & crafts place in Uppityville to paint some ceramics. I’ve told the boy that I’ve been too busy to take him, but today I finally gave in. I realized that I’ve been dragging my feet because, knowing me, I feared that I would spend the entire time imposing my art direction on the boy. Turns out I was too distracted by work e-mails and commiserating with mywildloves via text about our respective one-third- and mid-life crises that I barely paid any attention to what the boy was doing. I guess his ceramic painting was awight.
In the 12 or so years that we’ve owned the Busy-Lazy junkmobile, we’ve probably taken it to the car wash only about six times. I guess that why it’s the junkmobile. With our new car, I’m determined to take better care of it, so after breakfast, the boy and I took it to get washed.
Whenever we go to the car wash, the boy insists on buying one of those horrible Christmas tree-shaped deodorizers. I don’t get those things. Are they supposed to make your car smell like the inside of your grandma’s purse on purpose?
Driving to the gym this early morning, it struck me that I’ve been heavily preoccupied with Too Many Things, most of them outside my control and definitely beyond my pay grade. Thus, over this long weekend, I vow to refocus my life back on, well, my life, and let the chips fall where they may.
I’d sort of forgotten how much I like working out early in the morning, sleeping be damned. I just got a fascinating new book about sleep, and the book’s central premise is that as we age, our sleep patterns change—often dramatically. As a recovering insomniac, it’s cold comfort to know that I can look forward to even less sleep than I’ve been getting.
I’m sure a new baby at the Busy-Lazy Shack help won’t help matters. Still, maybe I can squeeze in quik-e workouts when the baby wakes up in the middle of the night? That, or I’ll just eat a lot of bonbons and go back to being fat lazy dad, at least for awhile.
As busy daddy was leaving to catch his train into the city, he asked me, “So are you going to tell me what you and the boy have planned for the day or do I need to read about it on your blog like everyone else?” I said, Shaniqua says what? And busy daddy said, “What?” And I said, Exactly.
When did Al Sharpton become the Voice of Reason?
When did Clint Eastwood lose his mind?
What has happened to the world when Al Sharpton is the Voice of Reason and Clint Eastwood is the Voice of Insanity? It’s like we’ve entered Bizarro World or something.
I ask this question seriously: are the Republicans intentionally trying to throw the election or what? Seriously.
Busy daddy had a farewell party this evening for his company’s Summer interns, so it was just me and the boy for dinner. And you know what that means: we had Japanese eats, since busy daddy
hates doesn’t care for that shizz, even though it’s the boy’s favorite.
I didn’t get a chance to mail bills and stuff this week, but it turns out that the post office in town closes at 7:00 PM, so the boy and I were able to make a quik-e stop there before we picked up our Japanese takeaway.
As we were walking from the post office to the Japanese restaurant, the boy said, “Dad, you should take a picture of my tongue.” I asked, Why? The boy said, “Because I had a lollipop.” I asked, What color was your lollipop? The boy said, “It was pink.” Then I asked, What color is your tongue normally? The boy said, “Pink.” Then I said, I don’t think the pink lollipop made much of a difference. The boy said, “Just take a picture anyway.” So I did.
BTW, I’m not sure this watermarking thing is working out for me. Maybe I’m not doing it right? Oh well.
I don’t know about you, but I’m off from work for the next four days, thanks to the long Labor Day weekend. For me, it means that I can finally kick off my corporate drag and shed the cruel (but fierce) Christian Louboutin shackles that I’ve been sporting all week. I’m kidding! Of course I’ll be wearing Louboutins throughout the entire weekend, sho’ nuff!
Actually, I have a shizzton of work to do over the next few days. Mostly planning for 2013. Are most busy business ladies starting their 2013 planning now? Because that seems to be the Most Pressing Issue at my office right now.
The train on my commute home seems especially crowded today. I’m surprised because lots of peeps in my office called it a day way earlier than me. It was practically a ghost town at work by 3:00 PM. Whatevs. I guess the suburbanites all decided to take the same train home tonight, so that’s why we’re stuffed like sardines in this sweaty, smelly car.
There’s a guy sitting across from me who has been nodding off to sleep for the past 15 minutes. Each time the train jerks around, he is startled awake and his hands quiver like he’s having a seizure. I want to say to him, Dude, you need to get one of those neck-pillow things that people use on airplanes. Actually, have you tried one of those things? They are really uncomfortable, IMHO.
As I was leaving the office, a few of my busy business lady colleagues asked me what I had on tap for the long holiday weekend. I said, Cleaning my house, playing with my kid, rolling up in a fetal position in a discreet corner of my house, and crying myself to sleep. You? And then they’d look at me like, “You are so weird.” And I’m like, You don’t even know the half of it.
One of the many
challenges joys of my life as a busy business lady and Professional E-mail Writer-in-Chief is that I am forced get to communicate Very Important Things to my colleagues at work.
Take for instance: if there are donuts in the kitchen pantry, it’s helpful to send out a companywide e-mail blast telling peeps that said donuts are 1) available to all takers and 2) not poisonous. Plus, peeps really appreciate the reminder to use a napkin when extracting a jelly donut from the Tim Hortons box rather than picking one up with their grubby, dirty hands. No, it’s not patronizing at all. Your mother is patronizing, is what I say!
My busy business lady colleagues sometimes say to me, “Hey lazy dad! Aren’t some of the Very Important Things that you tell us kind of, um, you know, obvious?” My usual response is, Pshaw, young Padawan! When it comes to internal communications, nothing is obvious. When you assume, you’re simply making an ass out of U and Me, yo.
Some protips for Professional E-mail Writing:
- If something is unclear, it’s always useful—nay, it’s a requirement—to S-P-E-L-L I-T O-U-T.
- Illustrating e-mail messages with cute pictures (i.e., random pics of puppies and ice cream cones) is 110 percent effective. True story.
- Subject lines are (often) more important than the messages themselves. I like to lead my subject lines with “IMPORTANT:” or “MUST READ:” or “SHANIQUA SAYS WHAT?”
- No one reads shizz that’s “below the fold.” And by no one, I mean peeps who don’t know how to read and/or are Too Damn Busy to click on the link and/or don’t know what a fold is and/or don’t know what a link is.
- Frequency times reach divided by attention equals messages received!
BTW, I didn’t create the amazeballs donut note, pictured above, although I did take the photo. Still, it was just too good not to post. Now back to my TPS reports!
Maybe it’s a function of gearing up for the start of first grade next week, but lately the boy has been talking a lot about what he wants to be and where he wants to live when he grows up.
He seems to have outgrown his desire to be a Ninja or a Storm Trooper, two careers he coveted not so long ago. Nowadays, he’s been leaning toward being a teacher or a firefighter or a chef or an architect or a construction worker or an artist. All admirable professions that I can fully get behind.
Last night before he fell asleep, the boy told me that as soon as he’s old enough, he plans to move to San Francisco. I told him that I won’t be far behind.
The boy said, “You’ll need to get me another suitcase.” I asked, How come? And the boy said, “Because I’ll need two suitcases to fit all of my toys and clothes and books when I move to San Francisco.”
I said, We can send everything in the mail that you can’t fit in your suitcase. The boy said, “I’m going to need everything, so you might have to buy three suitcases.” I said, OK, we have a plan.
According to Senator John McCain, rather than work toward international diplomacy, the United States should have gone to war with Libya and Iran, we should stay at war with Iraq and Afghanistan, and we should go to war against Syria, like, RIGHT NOW.
Ladies and gentlemen, the most Terrifying Speech Given at the RNC So Far.
Oh, what happened to you, Maverick John?