I was driving and listening to the oldies station (I am a man of many vices), and they were playing Morris Day and The Time's "Jungle Love."
First off, there's been no better side band name than "The Time." "The Pips" are a close second, but The Time? Freakin' genius.
"What's the name of your band?"
"I'm with The Time."
"Wow. Solid. Will you please sleep with me now?"
What occured to me, when I heard the song, was that there's a perfect way for Justin of American Idol to win that recording contract. The connection is obvious, is it not?
Justin needs to have someone come out in the middle of one of his songs and have them hold up a full-length mirror so he can bask in his own bad-assitude.
Then at the end of his song, he needs to cackle, laughing all hard at how much he ruled the song; how he had his way with it and left money on the dresser.
That's what Morris Day would do. And if that doesn't scream superstar, I don't know what does.
Today is my parents' 30th wedding anniversary.
We went out for barbecue last night at the Salt Lick, which is the greatest barbecue place in the world. I know some of you people in Kansas City might take exception to that, but here's something you ought to know if you think you have better barbecue than Salt Lick.
Scroll over the following text: Shut up, KC. You're wrong.
We stuffed ourselves on brisket, ribs, sausage and other goodies. One of the great things about being married for 30 years is you get to stuff yourself on barbecue in front of your mate without compunction. Come to think of it, that should be allowed after the third date.
My dad was 19 and my mom was 18 when they got married. I'm 27 now and the concept of marriage is such a scar, big thing, that I can't imagine having done it eight years ago. In fact, I shudder to think what would have happened since I had so much to learn, about relationships, about life, about everything.
It was a different time, but one thing I've always b een amazed at is how my parents have kept it together this long, given all the challenges they've gone through. Anybody from a military family will tell you how tough it is to move every few years. You remember how frantic and stressed out you get when you have to move? Think about how frantic and stressed your parents were if you ever had a big move. Then multiply that by every two or three years. It's tough.
They also had to deal with two boys, which I'm told is an exponential challenge in the world of parenting. One boy is a handful. Two boys is six hands full: you can only really pull it off if you have an extra set of alien limbs between you.
But for me and my brother, it was always good to have that solid base of family; not to be one of the households that had to deal with divorced parents who might not even live in the same town. Even the moving all the time was a good, formative thing for us. It taught us a little bit about the world beyond our home.
For their 30th, they're going out to dinner again, but I don't think that there's a huge cruise or Vegas trip going on this week. I wish I was in a better financial position (or that my brother had won the lottery recently) so that we could treat them to some huge, extravagant, Brady Bunch-style present. I suppose the Brady kids had four more members among them, so they were able to throw huge bake sales and car washes. My brother and I could maybe do a ventriloquist act, or sell plasma.
So the huge bbq feast and flowers will have to do, but also just the sentiment that it's an amazing thing to raise kids, and an amazing thing to be married for so many years. It requires a commitment that frankly, scares the piss right back up into a unprocessed state within me. I admire that they've gotten to where they are, and that I've been a benefactor of their getting together.
Happy anniversary, mom and dad.
One of the challenges of having an online journal is figuring out how much of your life you can talk about and what's taboo.
Several things have been taboo from the start: My personal life (as in dating), most of my work life (unless it's innocuous) and stuff about my family and friends that isn't something they'd want shared.
Which makes it tough when there's something you really want to write about, but you can't because you could literally get thrown out on your ass for it.
I'll just say that my 9-to-5 life has been really challenging lately, with some kinks in the road I didn't see ahead of me. I'm kind of a control freak when it comes to my writing and my work, and to not have seen something coming, or to be put in a position where I don't feel like I'm on top of things always makes me feel small and powerless, as if I've lost the controls to a runaway RC car. And the small part, I suppose is that I'm a midget who's lost the RC controller. Work with me here, people. This is a metaphor-in-progress.
So let me close by saying there's a lot I wish I could tell you guys right now that I can't, but someday I hope it all ends up in a book called, "All the Shit I Wanted To Tell You But Couldn't, Volume Three: The Mid-Late 20s."
I'll let you know when you can pre-order it on Amazon.
Hey, look at this! Stuff to buy! Haaawwwt-Damn!
"You may kiss'a the Pope's ring, yes, but please: No tongue."