Coming Clean

There is a life event in every male’s life - an event every male I know to have gone through, even if it were just a matter of a one-time suffering or something made to be a recurring delight. This event is …

Kart.

Specifically, Mario Kart.

And Josh has come of age.

He can make it through the courses now, which makes him now a gamer among gamers even if he still isn’t very good.

If I pump the acceleration like I were trying to shoot in an old arcade shooter, Josh can give me a pretty good run for the money in vs. mode.

How my heart leaps for joy as I see him pull and rotate the remote the way he wants to go! And, as any good gamer would do, I am trying to use this as leverage for purchasing the Nintendo Wii.

My little boy is growing up! I really did get misty eyed by all of this. Lisa’s reaction was startlingly male-ish: “what’s the matter with you - this is what you’ve been waiting for.” Clearly, there are things the sexes just don’t understand about each other.

The short of this post is: if I’m suppose to have faith like a child, someone should have told Paul.

Sometimes, I wonder if Paul would have been different if he had actually witnessed all Christ said and did like the other disciples.

You know, if we’re suppose to have faith like a child, it’d have been nice if Paul kinda tried to at least brings things on-level with Peter such that Peter wouldn’t say, “There are some things in them that are hard to understand …” Translation: Paul says stuff that I didn’t understand when he said it (or which I needed him to clarify because of potential confusion).

Not that that is a bad thing … but … you got to think that Paul’s letters are perhaps not the first place we should derive our system of theology from and then try to harmonize everything else with.

…and have them toss white-board markers, every so often a marker will land on the floor on an end and remain standing.

Last week, I was one of those monkeys.

Thank you.

… is killing other trolls.

I like my new life as a troll troller.

… but sometimes, I get a serious itch to resume trolling the general populace.

You know what trolling is about?

Control, plain and simple. Manipulating people into passionate displays for something you utterly don’t care about (or don’t care about where your trolling grounds is concerned, anyways). The time a troll can make people waste on … whatever … is directly proportional to the thrill he gets.

One of my more infamous trolling escapades was early on in college. I probably fueled a flame war of sorts over my fraternity’s mailing list over whether NASCAR was a sport for a month. Yes, I still smile. I feel no shame. People are stupid (I can’t help it they think NASCAR is a sport ); it’s not my fault.

A Troll is not charitable when charity is in the interest of everyone. A Troll’s charity is for advantage, only. A person to defend, an opportunity to reproach, goes a long way in fueling a flame war.

To troll … ah, to troll. It exposes hypocrisy of all sorts, not least of which is the troll’s own (though few, I’ve found, ever actually come ’round to admitting this). For while he generally wishes to be taken sincerely, a Troll lives a private sort of life where he establishes a firm reason to never be taken sincerely.

So, adieu fair trolling, I shall never see you again … save when you should mistake me for another fool.

Malaise rhymes with Mayonaise, but it’s nowhere near as sweet. In fact, quite opposite.

With Mayonaise, I can enjoy a ham/turkey/meat sandwhich, banana sandwhich, peanut butter banana sandwhich (I know, it sounds gross), cole slaw (yes, I like it), potato salad … ok, that’s the short list. OH! and I get to lick the knife or spoon or whatever other utensil I use to spread it with.

Malaise … is like a mild form of depression. You don’t particularly feel down; you most definitely don’t feel up; you aren’t frustrated, you aren’t relaxed … you’re just stuck … kinda glad you’re not on the negative side of things … but not really. Just about anything would be better than this. If things were down, you could fight it. If things were up, you’d try to keep it going. The malaise … well … you could try to fight it … but you don’t know how because you don’t know what’s causing it … and things aren’t exactly wrong … just a sense of … not-right-ness.

Malaise is not apathy. It’s just a loss of direction - a compass without a needle.

Malaise is where I’ve been since some time in the middle of Lent. My malaise has a taste of wanderlust in it … but I don’t think it’ll go anywhere. I’ve had that wanderlust nigh 2 years now. I can’t do whatever it is I need to do to get out of the funk … and, even if I could, I don’t know what I would do. I tried to do the Deacon thing; Lisa stopped me short (and I don’t blame here in the least). I tried working different ministries at the ol’ parish. I always get the feeling home needs me more, so those things have kinda fizzled. Small groups have more or less been a bust. Soooooooo … I’ve tried a number of things to try to vanquish the malaise … but here I am. So either it’s “not my time” or I’ve not found “whatever it is”.

So … malaise. It’s where I’m at, and I’d like out. My failure rate is starting to become inversely proportional to my desire to “try” … maybe if I don’t try, it’ll better my odds of getting out? … sounds kinda defeatist. oi, but this is just the malaise all over.

Is it too early for this? Oh well.

Sung to “All I want for Christmas (is a hippopotamus)

I want a Nintendo Wii! for Christmas
Only a Nintendo Wii will do!
Don’t want a PS3, No XBox 360
I want a Nintendo Wii to play with and enjoy

I want a Nintendo Wii for Christmas
I don’t think Santa Claus will mind, do you?
He won’t have to mess with a bunch of cables
The power cord is the only one there to use.

I can see me now on Christmas morning, creeping down the stairs
Oh what joy and what surprise when I open up my eyes
to see a Nintendo Wii-mote waiting there

I want a Nintendo Wii for Christmas
Only a Nintendo Wii will do
No Sony PS3’s, no XBox 360’s
I only like the wireless Nintendo Wii
And the Nintendo Wii likes me too

Lisa says the Wii would eat my wallet, even so
Reviewer says a the Wii is the cheapest new console

There’s lots of room for it in our armoir
It takes little room, can play DVDs, and can replace the old GameCube.
I can see me now on Christmas morning, creeping down the stairs
Oh what joy and what surprise when I open up my eyes
to see a Nintendo Wii-mote waiting there

I want a Nintendo Wii for Christmas
Only a Nintendo Wii will do
No Sony PS3s or XBox 360s
I only like the wireless Nintendo Wii
And the Nintendo Wii likes me too!

Okay … so … those of you who know me … this isn’t new.

BUT!!! I’m beginning to believe it is genetic.

Case in point, at Josh’s birthday party a few weeks ago, my extended family was gathered in the den talking about burps, farts, and other bodily noises … at which point Jason turns to me and says, “Well, at least you come by it honestly … POOP!”

But, it gets even better.

One night a few weeks ago, I was tucking Josh in for bed, and we generally say an Our Father (aka Lord’s Prayer) before I head out for the night. So there we are, me lying beside Josh with his back to me saying our prayer. As we were saying it, Josh lets out a little toot as we reach “and forgive us our tresspasses” to which I append, ” and toots,” … cue Josh giggling … but I press on … “as we forgive those who tresspass and toot against us” … at which point Josh’s giggling becomes an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

And it doesn’t stop there.

William has bad gas. When he passes gas, you generally have to check his drawers to make sure there isn’t a little present in there waiting for you - and I’m not talking about a toaster! (… Family Guy reference had to be made …) Well, as with all little habitual routines, when we realize he is still unsoiled, we generally say, “You’re stinkie!”

The other day, William quite audibly passes gas … and says, in his cute little toddler voice, “I stinkie! *giggle, giggle*”

Now, if you’re still not laughing … or don’t at least have some kind of weird smile on your face … I don’t know how we’ll ever be friends … but I’ll try anyways. Just don’t mind the farts, please.