Tag: kids

A search for talent

One day Asia and I were riding bikes and talking about our big plans.  She mentioned that she would like to shoot a movie.  A few months later Mrs and I bought Asia a video camera for her birthday.  The best presents are ones that you get to use too, right?  For six months Asia worked on her script, “Spy Girl”.  One day she announced that she had finished the script and would be sending out casting invites.  And then it hit her; she had no idea how to shoot and edit a movie.  For the remainder of the week she was a ball of stress.

That weekend I sat her down at the dining room table.  I set a timer for 20 minutes and ordered her to write a two person sketch.  Later that day we shot the sketch – my way of showing her how to make movie.  Not that I know anything about how to shoot and edit a movie.  I probably should fix the audio levels and a bunch of other things, but whatevers, I’ve had enough of the movie biz for now.  Here it is, an Asia Neill original:

Music to blubber by

Two nights ago I was reciting the lyrics of a Dawes song to my wife, and I began to blubber.  The next night I took Zach and Asia to see Dawes and Josh Verbanets.  Josh has a song that also brings out some powerful, albeit strange emotions.  When I listen to:

I feel like I’m 80 years old, laying on a bed surrounded by my kids, weak, but content, having led a life that was full in every way.  That is not an emotion one feels every day.

As we sat in a park listening to Dawes and playing Boggle, I got a text saying that after 5 days in the hospital, my wife and new daughter Katt would at last be coming home.  The intestine that the surgeons accidentally nicked had healed.  She was ready to eat again – no more failed IVs would be bruising up my wife’s arms.  Meanwhile my Pirates were choking the life out of the Cincinnati Reds.  The good old days are happening right now.

Maybe in my next life…

Today the family hiked to a neighboring district.  It’s too bad I’m not a black woman, because every store was either a nail salon, a wig/weave store, or a hair salon specializing in black hair.  And let me tell you, there were some sweetazz hairdos being offered.  Our real reason for being in the 10th, however, was to eat in an alley.  Not any alley, a covered alley, full of Indian restaurants and shops:

So there’s that.

Oh, here’s something great.  Yesterday Asia got really mad.  So what did she do?  She stomped into the kitchen and washed the dishes.  Yeah, beat that.

12 years later…

One side benefit to this trip is no TV.  TV makes you crazydumb.  So do computer games.  A word of advice to would-be parents:  If you let your six year old daughter watch all twelve seasons of America’s Next Top Model, and let your eight year old son play nerdy on-line games like Adventure/Mech Quest, then every picture you try to take of them will end up looking like this:

Yesterday we went on a real life Adventure Quest.  We tried to find this street:

Thanks to a few friendly shopkeepers, and big brother Google, we found the street.  Check us out, twelve years later:

New massage parlor in town

Today Asia opened a massage parlor.  At five cents a pop, (a bargain in these uncertain economic times!) her clients were treated to a three part massage.  First she measured the width of her client’s back with a “Fat Max” tape measure.  Second, a terrycloth bag filled with rotten hard rice was microwaved and placed on her client’s neck/shoulders.  Once her client had fully relaxed, she relentlessly jabbed their back with an orange spiky ball.

Her first client reacts negatively to the smell of hot rotten rice.  This type of massage is not for everyone.

Her second, and final client gets measured.

Nothing beats a spiky-ball massage.  It’s almost as much fun as mowing the lawn.

Two weeks til real food and real cheese.  Anyone in Paris need a massage?

Dad of the year award in jeopardy…

This was the last photo taken before it all went wrong.  While we may have colored outside the lines from time to time, we were essentially a happy family.

At 2:35 pm yesterday, disaster hit.  I turned into one of “those” parents.  You’ve seen them, monsters who coach scream at their kids while their children try to have fun playing sports.  Sure, Zach may have been grossly out of position (right wing) on every play, but seriously, who cares?  Tonight I am filled with shame, and my vocal chords are ripped to shreds.

Domestic disturbance in West View

At T minus 15 on the bedtime clock, my kids morph into wild eyed creatures desperate for one last gasp of euphoria.  Last night’s scene:  Zach is hopping in a laundry bag squealing, “I’m a dead bunny.  It’s dinner tiiiiiiiiiime!”.  Mid hop, Asia shoves him across the room where he crumples to a heap.  The scene repeats until Asia spots a bra hanging on a hook.  Leaping across the room, she grabs the poor bra, and proceeds to swing Tarzan style, shouting madly, “I’m gonna put on my boobies!”.  I do not know what to make of these things.

Partying old school

*Old-people-parenting jibber-jabber alert*

Last Saturday was Zach’s party.  The going rate for an 8-year-old’s party at Chuck-E-Cheese, Build-A-Bear, Cosmic Bowling, or any of those other lame-o places is $150-$200.  No “plastic memories” party this year!  I kept the same bloated budget, but went old school – a house party featuring a decathlon of crack-headed games.  Lordy!  Some examples:  2 teams, 3 boys on each team…each team has a roll of string attached to a spoon.  Ready, set, go!  1st kid drops the spoon down his shirt, then passes the spoon to the next kid.  2nd, and 3rd kid do likewise, then back around to the 1st kid.  Twice around, and they’re hopelessly knotted together.  1st team to untangle wins.  Here’s another:  I took $15 worth of change and spread it over the patio.  Ready, set, git them pennies! 

At the end of the party, the point leader got 1st pick of the prizes.  2nd place got 2nd pick, etc.  The prizes?  Expensive junk!  $8-$35 toys!  Most kids brought home better more expensive prizes than they had brought!  Beat that!

In other “news”, the weather outside is frightful.  Zach and I have moved our hockey indoors:  (Photo by Asia)

Fun with Shut-in.

Here’s a shot of Asia and her ex-boyfriend.  I find her lack of standards to be alarming.

I’ve taken Asia’s ex-boyfriend’s dad under my wing.  He’s basically a shut-in.  Alas, such charity has its rewards.  Yesterday Shut-in carried a 50 lb. bag of rice three blocks for me.  So there’s that.

The other day I dragged shut-in out of his house.  (My house actually!) After slurping up some low grade pho from the one armed bandit, we took our action down to the coffee shop.  That’s where we ran into Mr. Contractor.  Re-examine that photo.  That’s Mr. Contractor’s daughter in the background, readying herself for a mock beheading.  You wouldn’t know it, based on this picture, but last year $45,000 was spent edjamahkating those three scoundrels.

Old Man Neill:  Hey Mr. Contractor.  What are you up to?
Mr. Contractor:  Oh, we’re just finishing up a store-front on Butler, then we’ll be gutting a 4-unit over by the children’s hospital.  What are you fellas up to?  Looks at his watch…it’s 1:00pm on a Monday.
Old Man Neill:  Umm…
Shut-in:  Nuthin’

So there’s that.

The life and times of a trophy husband.

The kids were barfing and whatnot, so I cleared my busy schedule (hahahahaha) and spent the day goofing around with (and cleaning up after) the barfers.  Some (low) highlights:

Zach:  What do you think of this drawing?
Me:  Um, well, it kind of looks like a 2 year old scribbled on it.
Zach:  But Dad, don’t the colors make it look like a Jackson Pollock painting?
Me:  Un huh, sure.

Asia:  I hate this doll.  I’m gonna give it to the poor sick kids at the hospital.  Throws down the doll and stomps on it with her bare feet.  Ow!  That doll just bit me in the toe!
Me:  Un huh, sure.

One more from a week ago…
Lady at party:  So you’re kind of like a trophy husband.
Me:  Un huh, sure.