Tuesday, May 29, 2007

darth's vallejo back

yeah, so i made an attempt to post about round number three of the back piece. the shrieking of the kids and their repeated attempts to ignore anything i said that wasn't "by all means, play video games until the end of creation." or "here is food and drink, sup until thy sides burst." made it virtually impossible to focus on what i was trying to say.

so i saved it to draft.

well, the long and the short is, o beloved non-existant readers, it sucked ass.

so the cliff notes:

"hey, ready to get started?"


whirr whirr clackity clackity whirr whirr. (while zoning.)

"i need to go get rid of some taco bell."

"cool, i am gonna stretch my neck and check out what you've done so far."

[never, ever ever ever do this: before i stood up i was happily in the zone. i would even go so far as to say that the tattoo didn't hurt so much as it was just aggravating.]

whirr whirr clackity clackity whirr whirr. (oh my fucking god, is this appointment over yet? what happened between then and now that this hurts so damn much?)

and that is pretty much it.

nine hours into the cistine fucking chapel that is my back, o beloved (and no doubt snickering behind your hands) non-existant readers, and i think i have decided that i will still be working on this blessed thing until the roaches (and keith richards, whom they will worship like a god) have inherited the earth.

the last couple days, the kids have been experimenting with what happens when they ignore daddy completely. they have discovered that not being allowed to play video games at all, as well as being banned from movies altogether, really sucks. i have discovered it sucks for me, as well. the whining increases in frequency and volume. they have also discovered that daddy's stern voice can reach a volume and gravelliness that could be said to be hard on the eardrums. they have also discovered that increasing the amount of whining whilst not playing games or viewing movies also increases the potential damage to their eardrums. they have discovered that bothering daddy over and over again while he is napping on the couch is both hard on the book he was reading prior to dozing off, and their eardrums. they also discovered that after books learn to fly, daddy expands his 6'1" 200 lb frame to something that would rival the giants of old, as well as shooting lazers out of his eyes and emitting a sonic barrage that would fragment lesser beings. they learned that all of this causes an odd reaction within their own tiny frames: the instant appearance of copious amounts of salt water combined with the need to flee to the safety of their room. throwing their own toys around while in the safety of the room only causes the giant, lazer- and sound-wave-emitting daddy to come down the hall at a high rate of speed while the collossul sound waves that precede him reach an even louder and deeper frequency.

so after therapy (and the loss of nearly all priveleges allowed a young boy), i got the great idea that we would wash the car when we got home. i figured this would keep the kids entertained, and that i would be accomplishing something at the same time.

this was a good idea for about five minutes. five minutes is not enough time to wash a car. it is, however, enough time to soak daddy. it is also more than enough time to add dirt to the soapy water several times. five minutes is enough time for the oldest to bogart the hose, and to have it forcefully removed from his grasp a few times. it is plenty of time to get wet, dirty, and then parade in and out of the house, against express orders to remain outside, over and over again. it is enough time that had anyone on my block been home, children's services would no doubt have arrived to cart away my kids. (i say that completely in jest. i never laid hands on them at all, and i actually even overexaggerated the forceful removal of the hose--it's called creative license.)

doggedly, no, no. maniacally would be a more appropriate word, i continued to wash the car. this was completely stupid, as it looks worse than it did before. all filmy and dull and it is clear i am going to need to take it in to a car wash place and pay others to have it done properly.

i am competely unsure how two boys who battle sleep until nine at night before passing out on the floor of their room can wake up chipper and bouncey at five am. i go to bed an hour or two after them, and then am forced to search for binkies at ungodly hours of the morning, and remove toddlers with scratchy toenails that they use to take skin off of my thighs and hips from my bed, and finally drag myself like a half-dead slug from sleep when the alarm goes off a full hour-and-a-half after they have already been up and into shit.

however, this might explain the dark circles under their eyes, and maybe even the loss of hearing that they are both exhibiting.

darth sardonic

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Blogger lady macleod said...

wonderful visuals! jack nicholson in that stephen king movie.."come to daddy."
really quite brilliant.

don't feel so bad, I once thought it would be good if we both washed THE CAT.

4:43 AM  
Blogger wakeupandsmellthecoffee said...

I once tried to wash my cat and I have the scars to prove it. Darthman, we all learn from our mistakes. But I bet the kiddies had a fantastic time soaking Daddy.

5:50 AM  

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