Bank of America (sucks) doesn't have a clue about family nor do they have respect for people's jobs or homes. Long story short Vivian bought an apt in 2008 and has sold it. For the last 2 months Bank of America (sucks) who is the bank for the seller (not for us) has either not responded in a timely manner, has been rude when doing so, or has rescheduled on us.
However yesterday the closing was set up for 2pm and at 12pm they canceled because their computer's were down and they couldn't give out any money. WTF... Vivian took off from work. The seller was ready to move in. The brokers were on the road and the lawyer was all ready with new and fresh lies. Come on. That's it. No sorry. No new date. No complimentary pen. No Bank of America SUCKS Tee shirt. If you ask me... I think they are full of Bank Sh**. Do you know why I think that? Because coincidently their computer's were down on the same day they paid out 8.5 billion to their investors.
Is it coincidence or is it that you @$%^&#$%&*$*$*#$%#!$^&&#@ SUCK???
The other day the family and I were inching down the street when a woman with a Planned Parenthood shirt started to approach. Before she could speak I said loudly you should have spoken to me 3 years ago before I had the kids. I laughed. Nobody else did. Vivian looked at me like... WHY!!!???
Come on... That's pretty funny. Yes I love my kids. I couldn't live without them but come on couldn't I have gotten a chuckle? I know that PP stands for many things but from an airplane or closer an outsider's point of view I see at least a giggle?
Here is a mock conversation...
Rep - Can I talk to you about sex?
Me - Sex? What's that? Honey what's sex?
Vivian - I think she is referring to the one after 5 but before 7.
Rep - NO!!! Not six. SEX. You know intercourse. SEXXXX.
Me - OK ok I got it. Go straight down 11th street make a right on 8th avenue then make a left on 14th. When you get to the highway you will see a bunch of signs that should point you in the direction of intercourse 6.
This happens more often than you think. Sometimes for things she thinks she hears me say. Twice I was able to prove her wrong but today I wasn't so fortunate.
However, yesterday Vivian told me she was going to have to go to Buy buy baby (Bbb) after work to get some stuff like pee pee holders and wet booty towels for the 2 kids. I used to watch some Oprah so I knew to say no worries my Queen I will go. However I am not allowed to go into Babies R U (BRU)ever again. Bbb is 13 blocks and 3 avenues away and BRU is only 3 blocks away.
V & I went to BRU & they were pretty incompetent when I asked them a question and their discount policy has too many rules. They only could answer certain things like do you sell baby products here and are you closed for the holidays. In addition, you could only use their coupons on leap year between the hours of 3:13am and 3:17am. So Vivian made me swear to never go to BRU again...
...and I did but let's be real. I am a man and even worse I am blonde. I figured with my intelligence and their lack thereof I would accomplish everyone's goal and save myself the headache of being labeled lazy. I would then tell Vivian a version of the truth and make it seem as if I were an even better husband and father than everyone already thinks I am by telling her I walked all the way over to Bbb to get the goods.
So I walked into BRU and to build up their confidence I asked a clerk is this a big store or a little store. Either answer would suffice so once I got that out of the way I said thanks and navigated through the store, found the goods, and went back to the clerk that told me the store was old. I showed him a calender from 1996 and a text that I sent to myself that said the numbers 3 1 4 on it.
Everything went great... Except I forgot one thing. I left the receipt from BRU on the table and when Vivian got home it was on. The only thing worse than an angry Colombian woman is an angry Colombian woman raised independent in the USA.
You can just imagine the rest...
Was I right? Was I wrong? Am I too intelligent for my blonde hair? Should dye it black to fit in? These are the questions I will ponder in the next few days to turn things around.
I never got a call from Steven Spielberg to be in one of his films (damn Boost mobile) so I decided to write and produce a short film and then cast myself as the star. It's creativity and narcissism at it's best. So on Saturday night Melanie Torres and I along with Andre Hereford (the director) and a crew of 5 filmed a short film called Perfect Excuses in Brooklyn.
Now I have filmed 30 little shorts that I have posted over the years on youtube (including an early much different version of Perfect Excuses) but this was different. The pressure was greater, the cost was greater (OUCH), and the pain on Sunday morning when my son woke me up after 45 minutes of sleep was like Rocky in the 15th round. Even az I right the end of this blog I feal offf. Let me put it in mathematical purspecktive...
45 minutes of sleep.
18 hour day with kids.
12 diaper changes.
1 Colombian wife.
Am I being lazy or am I justified in my thinking? My son's daycare, which is 2 BUILDINGS over from my apartment is moving 7 blocks away. SEVEN.
Did you hear what I said? Seven NYC blocks. Think about the winter and then the number SEVEN. SEVEN is a lot don't you think? Let me put it in perspective for you.
Everyone CANNOT wait for Friday to role around. So much so that the acronym TGIF was born which can only be said every 7 days. Imagine if everyday were Friday. We would thank God everyday and never be unhappy that it took 7 days to get back to thanking God it's Friday.
Speaking of God, it took God 7 days to create the heavens and the earth. I think that's a bit excessive. I mean he is God. Was the time spent planning? And when he finished did he say to himself TMIF. Thank me it's friday.
And lastly... there are 7 deadly sins. Now we all sin but if we walked around with a number on our backs that represented our individual sins of the past... the number 7 wouldn't be an attractive number on a first date. Imagine a conversation between 2 women.
Girl 1 - I met a great guy last night.
Girl 2 -Really how great?
Girl 1 - GREAT.
Girl 2 - I am so happy for you. You deserve it. How many sins does he have?
Girl 1 - Ah... Well... 7, but he's working really hard on getting better.
Girl 2 - Oh. OK well... I see. Would you excuse me I have to run to the ladies room?
Girl 1 - I'll go with you.
Girl 2 - NO! I mean I am going to be a while.
Now do you see my point?
What are your 7 thoughts?
I have learned that sometimes I need to think outside of the pamper to get Anjali to stop crying just long enough so I can finish watching the Housewives of Atlanta.
Here are 5 ways that have worked for me in the past.
1) Doing a monologue center stage from A Streetcar named Desire.
Works every time.
2) Bad American Idol singing. I can't sing so I mastered this one fast.
Sumwear ova da reinbow wey up hi...
Sometimes she cries if I too many lyrics.
3)A bela Lugosi impersonation with a flashlight under my chin.
I come to suck your toes...
She laughes at me.
4) I fart on her. Usually with my mouth on her belly but one time I passed by her crib and tripped. She was stunned out of tears. Sorry Anjali.
5) My olympic style routine.
I set up like Mary Lou Retton, run around like Bruce Jenner, and hold a final pose like Dorothy Hamill.
If you have an unconventional way of stopping those baby tears let me know and I will try it out.
...and miraculously we managed to get passed it really fast. In fact it didn't even stop the impromptu photo shoot with my little Anjali. I said lay on your tummy and give me something-anything. She said Aaaahhoohhjaaa and came up with this look. Click.
The rest of the day seemed to go pretty easy as I only had to pick her up some 400 times and clean her diaper 20 times. Actually 4 of those 20 times were back to back to back to back so those 4 should only count as 1.
We then made it over to Granna and Poppy's house (my parents) so I could run out to do a quick rehearsal for a short film that I am shooting with the talented Melanie Torres.
We interrupt this program to bring you important information...
Steven Spielberg and Michael Bay you need someone who is pretty and can act too. Melanie has both.
...and now we return to our regularly scheduled nuttiness.
When I came back my mother and step father (if they hadn't already loved her) fell in love with her even more. I said to them if you love her so much keep her for a few weeks...
...so after we got kicked out of Granna and Poppy's house we picked up Jaxon from daycare and ran over to Washington Square park. Poor Jaxon will never know how special WSP was with it's drug dealers and homeless people.
Then Vivian picked us up at the park, rushed us home, threw us in the shower, put the kids to sleep, cooked me a romantic Jenny Craig dinner, and asked me if I wanted to go dancing.
I said yes. And for the next 3:20 seconds we danced at club living room and then at 10 something we went to sleep.
What do you call a person who speaks 3 languages?
What do you call a person who speaks 2 languages?
What do you call a person who speaks 1 language?
During our time at the Bronx zoo Jaxon repeated the names of the animals in spanish as he learned about them. For the most part there is a similarity between English and Spanish.
Cocodrilo is a crocodile.
Leon is a lion.
Girafa is a giraffe.
However, it's the foca (seal) that made me have a nightmare.
Here is an excerpt of the nightmare I had.
Jaxon and I got into an elevator filled with people.
Me-(speaking under my breath) Not now Jaxon.
Me-(trying to stay controlled)NOT now Jaxon.
Jaxon-FOCA. FOCA FOCA...
Me-(putting my foot down in front of the people to sh) How many times do I have to tell you not now? Do you want me to tell your mother?
Jaxon-Mother Foca... Mother Foca... MOTHER FOCA!!!
On Friday, Vivian surprised me with tickets to go see The Importance of Being Ernest with Brian Bedford which was her father's day gift to me and one of the best plays (not musicals) I have ever seen on Broadway.
However here is the breakdown of why Father's Day felt so shitty.
6:30am wake daddy up with coffee and love.
7:00am open cards and presents from my kids and wife.
10:30am eat wonderful brunch at Friends of the Farmer.
12:00pm drive to the Bronx Zoo.
12:30pm-4:30pm have a fun filled day at the zoo.
5:00pm drive home and reflect on a great time.
6:35pm finish nap.
I should have stopped here while I was ahead of the game.
7:00pm convince wife to go get an ice coffee and sit outside.
7:30pm hold Anjali on my leg to show off how cute she is.
7:35pm hear a strange sound.
7:36pm look at my leg.
7:37pm discover a brownish yellowish stain on my leg.
7:37pm switch Anjali from one leg to the other.
7:37pm hear another strange sound.
7:37pm pick Anjali up from my leg.
7:37pm notice another brownish yellowish stain on my leg.
7:37pm get laughed at by wife.
7:37pm hold Anjali 3 feet from my body.
7:37pm run home.
7:38pm take off all of my clothes.
7:38pm take a shower.
7:38pm reflect on how my night was going.
7:45pm exit the shower to laughs.
7:45pm listen to my wife say...
HAPPY FATHER'S DAY...
YES I STILL LOVE THEM>
...for father's day is the continued love and respect that we have been given all year round (Bull Sh**). Gifts are not needed (even more BULL SH**). If you must buy us something, buy us something small (HUGE) and inexpensive (you better spend money). I know last year my wife made me breakfast in bed (What happened to lunch and dinner?)and I thought I am so blessed (but there better be more).
Here are 3 small gift ideas in case you feel the need to get us something.
1. A photo of the family. (a photo of the car you just bought me but hasn't arrived yet).
2. A night out for dinner. (in another country that you flew me over on a private jet plane).
3. An after dinner desert of delicious ice cream. (The only ice I want is a diamond).
Happy Father's Day...
There are 3 things I can't change... my 2 kids, my 1 wife and my 0 rights.