This is week 137 of The Life of Riley, a weekly post detailing my activities since I ended a thirteen year career as a corporate drone. These posts are usually long, personal, and geared more for my own memory than the reader’s entertainment.

Sunday (Day 952): See You Next Tuesday, Adverbially

We hung around playing with the baby all morning and then went to #1GF!’s friend’s house for a small party. Her friend has a big, boisterous family that is full of really funny, really loud people. Most of the time there are so many funny stories and conversations going on at the same time, that it’s hard to focus on just one. They’re always a good time, but without fail, at least one person will locate and cross any lines that you may have to get you to laugh.

I got roped into a game of Taboo, and ended up so far in the lead that it was a head-shaking shame. I tried to throw the game by pretending that I didn’t know the answers, but I ended up blanking out for real. We still ended up winning, but most of the fun was in the other players yelling and berating each other when they couldn’t get an answer.

After the game, I stepped out to the kitchen and had a piece of a diet cake. It tasted like regular cake, but eating a diet cake just seemed wrong to me. If you’re going to eat cake, eat cake. The baby was great, despite not sleeping all day, and fell asleep on me while I stood in the kitchen. Not even the ongoing yelling an taunting from the current game going on at the table could wake her.

They moved on to another game where one person had to guess an object that the rest of the players decided upon. The players would give vague, single word clues to describe the object, and the less clues the guesser needed, the more points he or she got. I only observed so that the baby could sleep.

Now, during the game, one woman looked for support because she was reprimanded for a clue she used to describe her sister in a previous game. When asked what the word was, she looked down at the table and softly shrugged out, “cunty”.

After the initial explosion in laughter, half the table deemed the clue valid, a quarter disapproved, and another quarter couldn’t stop laughing enough to vote. The children were barred from voting because they know better to reuse any adult language that they might hear.

Now, I couldn’t breathe because I was laughing so hard, so I stood there internalizing my laughter into mild tremors so as not to wake the baby. In the ensuing discussion, the word was repeated no less than ten times by five different people at the table. In a break in all the laughter and yelling, the woman conceded, “I added a ‘Y’.” She shrugged. “I tried to make the word sound…cute.”

“You made it an adverb!” cried her brother through laughter that sounded like it was detonated somewhere near the soles of his feet. Everyone burst out again. I thought about telling him that “cunty” was actually an adjective and that “cuntily” might be considered the adverbial form, but refrained from stoking an already raging fire.

We stayed for about four hours and went home with abs that were tighter than if we had worked out.

I was going to make pesto for dinner, but the basil had gone bad. I opened the cabinet and shoved my hand into a bag of Halloween candy to help me think of what to make instead. I must’ve gone through ten pieces before giving up and throwing vegetables into some tortellini. Maybe it was the ebbing sugar rush, but the dinner didn’t come out very well at all.

After dinner, #1GF! and I sat and watched Disctrict 9. Well, I did. #1GF! fell asleep, and then left the room after she woke up. I sat through the movie, but didn’t enjoy it. It was a heavy handed metaphor for apartheid, and I spent most of the time wondering how I could work the trite, formulaic elements into a book. If you see patterns in the things that sell big, write them down and exploit them, I guess.

Monday (Day 953): Batman Vs. My Bum Crack

The baby slept through the night for the second day in a row, and the fourth time in a week. I thought I was a genius.

The morning was all baby, and I sat down at the PC at just after noon to start writing. I checked e-mail and comments before I got started, and I didn’t get a single congratulatory comment on my blog’s eight year anniversary post. I was a little disappointed, but people who are lax in following blogs can’t expect to be followed. Comments are a two way street.

Other than that, I don’t have a lot of notes. I think Christian Bale called me to just say hello, but I think he really just wanted to take issue with my bad review of Turdinator Shitsation. He was very mature about it. He said something like, “Hey, Jon. It’s Christian Bale, just checking in on you.”

With the monotone gruff voice, I thought it was Batman calling to fuck with me again, so I was like, “What’s up, Batcock? What did you call to brag about some new crime-fighting tech-toy that you and your butler pooped out of your secret cave? What exactly do you want, you rich-boy, waste of space?”

The gruff voice reiterated, “Jon. It’s Christian Bale.”

“Whatever, Kilmer. Or is this Clooney. If it’s you, Clooney, that is the shittiest Christian Bale impersonation I’ve ever heard. You need to be flatter. Talk like you’re in a coma and eating gravel.”

“Jon. Really it’s Christian Bale. I just—”

“What is this a recording? Get a super power, ass juice.” I hung up the phone and went back to my writing.

I found out later that evening from Mr. Bale’s agent that it actually was Christian Bale, and he thought that I was really immature. I told his agent to lick my bum crack before I hung up on him, too. Or something like that. I told you, I didn’t have a lot of notes for the day.

Tuesday (Day 954): How Easily We Forget

The baby got up at 1:30 AM, which broke her two day streak of sleeping through the night. I no longer felt like a baby care genius.

I got up a few hours later, showered, got #1GF! off to work, got the baby to sleep, cleaned the bathroom, got the baby up, fed her, cleaned up the living room, fed the baby again, put the baby to sleep, grabbed a sandwich, and stowed the Christmas decorations in the attic. Ding. It was 1 PM.

I wrote for a couple of hours, fed the baby, cleaned the kitchen, made dinner, scrubbed the stove, froze some pesto, and got LOR 117 ready to post. Ding. It was then 8:30 PM.

We sat down on the couch, and #1GF! read Life of Riley 117, which was written while the baby was in her peak colic phase. She approved it for publication just before we went to bed.

As we lay in the silence, #1GF! turned to me. “I forgot about how much the baby used to scream,” she said.

“I know, me too.”

Wednesday (Day 955): Striving For The Ultimate Mac

The baby woke up at 3:30 AM to remind us that her colic phase wasn’t something that we had imagined. She eventually went back to sleep, and we groggily got up a few hours later.

Once #1GF! was off to work, I followed the general baby routine all morning, and then tried to clean up the house a little when she went in for her afternoon nap.

Keeping up with the baby, the domestic duties, and the writing can only be managed by someone with iron clad discipline and boundless energy. I try to muster that discipline, but there are a lot of times where I want to prop my skull on the back of the couch and stare at the ceiling. I don’t, but man, does it look tempting sometimes. Mostly, what I end up doing is stealing a few minutes of downtime to entertain myself with something stupid.

I was sick of hearing about people’s farms and mafias and aquariums on Facebook, so I made a quick logo for a fake Facebook application called Stacheville, and posted it to my wall. It looked fairly real, but didn’t really suck very many people into clicking the link and visiting the page.

When #1GF! got home, I was making mac and cheese. I was still trying to find the perfect recipe, and this time I added sharper cheese and a half package of apple smoked bacon. Everything tastes better with bacon, but I still hadn’t created the ultimate mac.

Thursday (Day 956): A Porn Star’s Cheeks

The baby woke up at 3:30 AM again, which is always a party.

A few hours later, I got up and followed the typical baby routine (gave the baby a bath, fed her, changed her, etc.). The baby wasn’t as playful as usual. Maybe the middle of the night scream fests were slowing her down, too. Then again, maybe she was as playful as usual, and I was the one in the coma.

Once the baby was for her afternoon nap, I washed down the kitchen cabinets. Really? “I washed down the cabinets” not only gets its own paragraph, but it’s pretty much your only highlighted activity for the day. Are you fucking with me, Dyer? I don’t pay you for this bullshit, dude. I want geeks with beards riding armored mammoths into the battlefields of funny. Can you dig that? What the hell happened to you?

Well, I—

No. There have been times where I shot coffee out of my nose from reading this shit. Do you have any idea what milky coffee and sugar feel like after a few hours in your nasal cavity?

Well, no…

Yea, like an actress’s cheeks two hours into a porn shoot. Yea. Not good. But, that’s what I’m willing to put up with here, Dyer. I’m willing to let you make my nasal cavity your personal playground as long as you deliver the funny.

Can I get on with this?

Sure. Now, make with the funny.

I wrote LOR 118 after a quick sandwich.

Stop.

Okay, now you’re really slowing me down, here. This was a two paragraph day, at best.

Oh, I’m slowing you down there, Commander Snoozebar? Wait, do you have a snooze bar on your site somewhere that I can click, and then you just wake me up when something interesting happens? Is that on here?

All I need is to get out two more sentences. That’s it. Would you let me do that? Can I just finish this day off?

Fine. I’m taking a sip of coffee now. Bring on the funny.

I ate leftover mac and cheese for dinner. Even though it wasn’t the ultimate mac, I still would’ve had sex with that meal if it had a pretty face.

And…we swallow the coffee without issue. Do you have an unsubscribe button on here somewhere?

Friday (Day 957): Who’s A Good Bowoy?

The baby woke up at 1:30 in the morning, and wanted to stay up and play for an hour. That was the report from the field, anyway. I got up at normal time and with only a sense that I didn’t sleep well.

I took over the baby so that #1GF! could get ready, and when I walked out into the kitchen, I noticed a big, brown spot on one of my newly cleaned cabinets.

“Goddamnit!” I said, derailing the “what the fuck?” that was about to exit the station on a one-way track to the baby’s ears. “I just friggin’ cleaned that yesterday.”

“What? What’s going on?” asked a near panicked #1GF!.

I pointed. “There’s a big goddamned brown spot on the cabinets. I just cleaned them yesterday.”

#1GF! rightfully looked at me like I was loosing my mind.

I looked at her sideways and slumped my shoulders. “I’m more domesticated than a lap dog in an argyle sweater.”

“Come on, Mr. Bojangles,” said #1GF!. “You never have to wear a sweater.”

“You are not helping.”

“Do I need to put you in your crate?”

“Not…”

“Who’s a good Bowoy?”

“Helping.”

I put the baby to bed and went in to write. #1GF! was on the other side of the desk working from home. You’d think that it would be easier having the two of us around during the week, but #1GF! is practically chained to her desk, and the baby gets too excited to sleep when her mother is home. So, although it’s nice to have #1GF! in the area, it doesn’t work out to be easier.

I wrote LOR 118 in every spare minute, but once #1GF! clocked out, she took over the baby care. I finally got the post published at 10 PM.

The baby was up and looking to eat a couple of hours later, and afterward, she was wide awake and ready to play. #1GF! tried to get her back to sleep, and I spent the extra time looking over the syntax for the Facebook API. After realizing that I wasn’t going to have the time to build a Facebook application at any point in the near future, I shut the PC down and went to bed.

Saturday (Day 958): An Old Man & A Lukewarm Glass Of Water

We got up and cleaned the house because a new insurance company was coming by to inspect. I went a little overboard on the cleaning, but the house needed it. I cleaned up my side of the desk for the first time in a long time, which is usually designated as a no-clean zone.

The inspection didn’t require a clean house, and lasted only ten minutes. The inspector seemed nice enough, although she insisted on wearing a dust mask to avoid picking up any potential germs that we might be carrying.

Once the inspection ended, we headed over to #1GF!’s mother’s house. We picked up some coffee on the way, and I’ve gotten so lazy about making coffee that I’ll drink Dunkin Donuts and almost enjoy it.

There was a time that I would forgo coffee rather than drink the smooth, watery black cup of nothing that is Dunkin Donuts coffee. I used to be someone who needed a kick from his coffee. A person who liked his coffee to taste how a tug on the short hair feels. Now, I shrug and think that it’s at least stronger than fucking tea. I’m on a crash course that ends with a tired, old man and a lukewarm glass of water.

When we got to #1GF!’s mother’s house, I set up her new PC and gave her some training on it. We visited for a while, and got out of there so that #1GF!’s mother could enjoy the new features and make sure that all her websites still worked on it.

We went home, and after the baby went to sleep, #1GF! ran out to get takeout. We tried to watch Bruno, but ended up shutting it off. I liked the Ali G Show and Borat, but this movie was sort of like watching that kid in class trying harder and harder to do something outlandish to prove to everyone that he’s funny. People can smell when you’re trying too hard, and this movie reeked of it.

Once the movie was off, #1GF! and I played a flash basketball game against each other. All you had to do was hit baskets over and over, and there was a tournament every two minutes to see how we ranked against everyone else playing online. We have a lot of fun with simple flash-based competition.

What I Learned

• After a while, you can forget how bad the screaming was.
• I don’t even know what strong coffee is anymore.
• Just when you start joking about being domesticated, you find out exactly how domesticated you actually are.
• I picked up a little about the Facebook API.
• Apple-smoked bacon is excellent in homemade mac and cheese.

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Posted in Life of Riley