i am going to axe the games and put my kids on ambien

i am, in fact, writing a book. i have been for ten years. a smartass, surreal, semi-memiors cum creative license, thirty-odd years of observations tome that i actually think i might be near to wrapping up the way i would like soon. well, soon, if i actually spend some time tackling it. i will let my faithful non-existants know as soon as some (ill-fated) publishing company picks it up. i need to get a few of the stand-alone chapters out to (crappy no-name) magazines to drum up interest in the entire manuscript as well. i really am about as motivated as freeze-dried shitake mushrooms when it comes to finishing some of my projects.

for three days now, my (bratty-ass) kids have displayed extreme signs of sleep deprivation. along with dark circles under their eyes (which actually look like i have done the very thing that i have wanted to do the last few days, but have been too scared of child protective services to actually go through with, and punched them in the face (i really am kidding. i wouldn't do that. that isn't to say that there aren't moments when it flashes across my brain like a quick hint of horrible violence in a trailer for an upcoming slasher flick.), leaving them with nasty black eyes) are accompanied with crying at the drop of a hat, incessant whining, and arguing with anything daddy says, even before the entire sentence is finished (no. 1 loves to do this: i start to say that if he does thing a., he will receive reward b., but he wants to argue with the very hint of thing a., and so receives instead reward c., loud and stern raised daddy voice accompanied by (much cursing and) threats of loss of all privileges).

in another ring of the same circus, my wife has insisted that i will be able to get some sort of pass to mow my way through seatac's (extremely fucking rude) security to meet her at the gate where she disembarks. i have set out to confirm this. initial attempts at assuring me this is possible resulted in a "i've never heard of that." i pass this along to her. she passes along to me another thing further "proving" this is possible. the thought of hauling my whiney, argumentative kids through a long line to a desk for a (less than helpful) airline representative to inform me that i cannot go up to the gate is daunting at best, so i set out today to confirm the veracity of this rumor.

i am no closer, some hour or so later, to knowing for dead sure that it is true than i was when i launched on this search for the holy grail. i have learned a few things though: telling no. 1 to shut the fuck up only makes him argue more, and louder, which only makes that split-second flash hint of violence to pass across the front of my brain. when no. 1 says that the video game console he is playing on is "berry berry boring" and requests another, it is a good idea to put all video games up out of reach, and subsequently ignore the ensuing whining, crying, wheedling, cajoling, yelling, screaming, and threats of violence to all and sundry from the (junkie) kid. ignore all moaning and crying that (whiney) no. 2 does, as he sets himself off if the sun ducks behind a cloud for a moment as of late. there is no number at seatac for a simple informational question of this sort. there is a number for this sort of informational question with united, but their (heavily-accented) answer will be to ask the united help desk at the airport in question. there is no number to this (jodido) desk at seatac.

so, in summary, i will take all the info i need, wait in line with two whiney, argumentative kids who will no doubt be wound tighter than a watchspring at the thought of mommy returning home, wend my way to the desk, and will find out there, once and for all, whether or not i can in fact pass through security to the gate.

wish me luck.

6 more days.

darth sardonic