Wake up with me
I once heard an interview with somebody in which, in response to a question about how he played poker, he said, “I don’t let anyone out aggress me.” Or something like that. The point is, the dude somehoe turned an adjective into a verb and it made it on TV like it was the most correct thing in the world.
TV is stupid. I think I’ve said that before. What’s more, it makes us stupid. Well, it gives our stupidity greater credence. For instance, last night, I watched David Blaine’s water-sphere-hold-his-breath-dramtically event. Don’t ask me why. My fascination with illusionists ended about the time I watch my wife shoot a 7 lb. 11 oz. screaming mass out of her crotch. No illusion there. And yet, I watched Blaine. Then, I watched what was likely the worst CSI: Miami ever produced. And, yeah, I realize my mere commentary on the relative value of last night’s episode speaks volumes about my credibility in the first place.
This is what happens when I stop tooling around on the computer, which I suspect is also making me stupid.
The only smart one in the house, it seems, is the thing that shot out of my wife’s crotch. To wit: It’s early on Mt. Willis. Too early. About 5am, L’il Otis decided he wasn’t tired anymore. Somehow, and I’m still unclear how this happened, I ended up getting up for the final “getting him back to sleep is a hopeless endeavor” trudge. Now, we’re downstairs. I’m watching the news. The kid is not. Because he is smart. Instead of learning about how a local news personality cut out her “emotional eating,” he’s acting as foreman for the plastic construction crew. He, unlike me, isn’t wondering what the news personality is doing up before sunrise when she has to work until long after sundown.
“i,i,\” he said.
Actually, that’s not what he said. It’s what he typed while I was in the kitchen making a whole wheat waffle. I’m not sure what “i,i,/” means, but I know it is smarter than anything I’ve thought yet today. To be clear I understood, he pointed to my ass and said, “Monkey.” As it turns out, I forgot to put on pants and I’m wearing boxers with superhero monkeys on them.
When I woke up, I was in the middle of yet another night of wickedly vivid dreams. It’s been like this for days now. I often dream hard and wild when I go to sleep with lots on my noodle. This morning, I woke up thinking, “I’m a genius!”
To make it short, I was involved in the formation of the venture capital firm “NBT” aka “The Next Big Thing.” Somehow, Ruth, her father in-law and I had discovered a way to pinpoint the next pop culture fad and find a way to get our money in it before anybody else. The last thing I remember was Gary (Ruth’s dad in-law and my second father while growing up) saying, “We have to get Jack in on this. What role can she fill?”
“Director of Communications,” I said.
Brilliant.
I’m about to begin Bachelor Otis week…which more than likely will be a series of days in which I work too much, sleep too little, and don’t do anything really interesting. Which is pretty much like every week, now that I think about it.
Now, it’s nearly 7:30am, David Blaine has somehow made the Today Show, and the little one is indicating he’s ready to go back to bed.
Of course, now I’m awake.
