It’s been two days since the media confirmed the one thing that I always knew; I belong in the limelight. Look below for another glimpse of my performance.
Now that you’ve seen it again please tell me how come I still have to do all the same things I did before I “made it”? Today, I changed diapers, did laundry, grocery shopped, had a good cry and ran the dishwasher just like almost any other day. I thought the world was going to be my oyster or at the least my toaster by now, but the only out of the ordinary positive thing that happened was that my daughter had a great potty day.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to be treated differently, but some kind of financial reward would be nice… soon. Some free time would come in handy, too. Maybe I could break 100 on the golf course if I get out more than once a year. That only applies if Putt-Putt’s still in business, of course.
I need to nip this negative thing in the bud quickly because I know the good stuff is on its way. It’s just taking a little longer than I expected for Brad and Angelina to ring me up for a fun n’ sun in a Mozambique Aids camp with the wife and kids. I thought, at the least, I’d be asked to play a rapist on Law & Order SUV, by now.
I guess I’ll go on like nothing happened until something happens. It’s not easy being in demand when no one’s knocking on my door. Maybe I’ll wait outside.
My job occasionally gives me the opportunity to be an extra on television and in this modern age, on the web. I don’t get paid for this, but the possible exposure can only boost my writing career. I never know when the occasion will present itself, so I always have to make sure I look my best while I’m working. I need to take advantage of any chance I get.
Yesterday afternoon the cameras were rolling and I actually made the cut on both mediums. I hate to brag, but I was brilliant. Even though I was only on TV for a second, I hit it out of the park. I was so good that the news station used a still frame of me for its main promo on the web. I’m talking; it was the first photograph on the home page. This is big-time, baby.
I’ve been walking on air all day today because of my new-found celebrity. When I went to the bank everyone acted as though they didn’t recognize me, but I saw them talking to each other about me around the conference table behind the glass partition that said Employees Only. It was almost sickening how they pretended not to notice me.
If there’s a downside to my exposure it’s the way my family and co-workers will probably treat me now. They’ll wait on me hand and foot or shower me with gifts just to make sure I take them along for the ride. I really hope they don’t do those things, but I’m keeping tabs.
I’m reluctantly putting the pic in the following link only because it needs to be seen: Star Maker.
No, we don’t all look alike, and yes, I’m positive it’s me. I think it shows my best side, just like my web log photo: My Best Side. I might want to shave my neck, though.
Just so all three of you that read this thing know I will remain the same humble guy no matter where this incredible stroke of luck takes me. Say hi to all the little people for me.
Why should applause be reserved for athletes and performers? That’s what my boy thinks. He didn’t actually verbalize this, but showed it by clapping when my wife handed him a sippy cup full of milk last night. The gratitude shown by him was the equivalent of giving him a shiny new Lightning McQueen toy instead of a tastey calcium-enriched beverage.
Come to think of it, this might not be his original idea because he watched the NFL championship games with me on Sunday and as I wrote about a while back, More is Caught than Taught. They must have shown the Peyton Manning commercial about a dozen times. You know, the one that has him applauding people performing tasks at their mundane jobs.
Whether or not he came up with this appreciative gesture on his own is insignificant, the most important thing is that he knows how to generate good will toward his fellow man (or woman)… or at the least that he knows how to wrap us around his pudgy booger-covered finger.
My kids and their parents shared a new experience yesterday, a kiddie’s concert by The Wiggles. We weren’t sure how they would handle the spectacle especially since it started during the usual naptime, but they were troopers and actually had a great time… and so did we.
We tried to explain to our three-year-old what the show would be like and she asked if she’d be sitting on their laps. We said not this time or ever. In her eyes they are people that she knows like Dora or Big Bird.
Excitement was in the air as we arrived at the arena and the kids looked pretty happy, too. It shocked me to see how many other fathers were there since it was during a Buffalo Bills game, but then again the Bills aren’t having a good season or decade for that matter. Kids in Wiggles costumes carried their probably overpriced souvenirs with glee. It’s amazing how many people turn out to see four grown men known by their colors of blue, yellow, red and purple and for what they do, eat, do magic, play guitar and sleep. I know way too much about these guys.
Our daughter looked like a deer in the headlights for the first few minutes of the show. She wasn’t afraid, but did have an over stimulated look on her face. She joined in on the fun before we knew it. The boy didn’t hesitate at all. He kept saying car when the Big Red Car drove out on the stage. He looked at it and looked back at me and grinned. Then he smacked me in the face, but that had nothing to do with the show.
Both kids ended up dancing in front of our seats for half the show. The cast has the enviable ability to keep small children interested for a long time. It impressed me enough to want to bring them home with us. Well maybe not home, but in the front yard or the driveway where the kids can see them out the window. When I would get tired or insane I could make the group sing a song and act silly for the kids and I’d get a much-needed break. I know this is unrealistic because these bastards are filthy rich and deservedly so but it’s nice to dream.
The kids managed to remain awake for the whole show, with the boy getting a little fussy here and there. All in all it was worth the $97.00 a ticket and the $6.00 waters because a great time was had by all.
Kids pick up a lot more information peripherally than is taught to them. I’ve come to know this over the past couple of years since becoming a parent and I read about it in an informative email from one of my brothers about being a good father that he sent to me shortly after my daughter was born. The line that stood out the most was more is caught than taught.
We witnessed a good example of this today that made us think about how our actions can have a huge effect on our kids’ lives. This was my fault because I exposed our daughter to something on TV that no one should ever have to see and even more so, hear.
The grievous mistake took place yesterday because I wanted a break from the likes of Go, Diego, Go! and The Backyardigans. I turned on a VH1 show about songs from the ’80’s and naively assumed that it would be acceptable entertainment for the kiddies. The kids were playing with their toys so I thought that they wouldn’t pay attention much and besides that, they like music, even it’s from the ’80’s.
The problem came and went without me, the ever observant father, noticing a thing. It stemmed from the show talking about the song “Under Pressure” by Queen and David Bowie. I wasn’t even paying attention during this excerpt, but obviously the three-year-old was.
My paternal incompetency reared its ugly head at the dinner table tonight when our daughter said something unexpected.
“Ice ice baby! Ice ice baby!” The words flew out of her mouth gleefully. “Ice ice baby!”
It was like I was hit over the head with a memory stick. They must have talked about and played some of Vanilla Ice’s song, Ice Ice Baby because of the use of the music from Under Pressure and she was obviously listening. It’s funny that she kept this song to herself for more than 24 hours because I’m lucky if I keep something to myself for more than ten minutes (I.E. this blog).
Watching television is a bit of a challenge these days because of the numerous programs to choose from. Well, maybe not the actual watching part, but talking about what you watched can be difficult or embarrassing.
Like the rest of you, I too, end up watching shows that I don’t want to admit to. Unlike you, I just stumble upon them by accident, or my wife left the television on The BRAVO Network when she left the room to take out the garbage. Not that the BRAVO Network is only filled with trashy programming. Project Runway can be very enlightening. Before that show I thought couture was a fancy French toilet.
It’s always surprising how many people saw the same crappy show that I did. It usually takes some sort of trickery to get people to admit that they watched Jeff Conaway have a meltdown on VH1’s Celebrity Fit Club 2. Misinformation is a great way to get a closeted viewer to accidentally bring themselves into the light. When they correct you it is an admission to not only watching the show, but also caring about it. This is a fun way to rid a room of a know-it-all that didn’t want his friends or co-workers to know that he watches Dancing With the Stars, but couldn’t keep his mouth shut when you said that Tucker Carlson was the next Fred Astaire.
In some circles, not mine, the stigma of being branded a Reality TV connoisseur can be devastating, so I can appreciate when someone can openly admit to staying in all day on a Saturday to watch a Breaking Bonaduce marathon. Could you believe that she sat there for a male stripper? I hope those two kids can work it out.
Hopefully this post helps those of you that have a problem to admit to the world that you watch Reality TV and like it.
Then the rest of us snobs can laugh at you. That way we can all bring our dirty little secrets out into the public where they belong… in regards to television viewing that is.