ah, back to the mind numbing reality of being useless

Okay, so it’s Tuesday. Last night I went to a pretty hilarious bar/club type place to see about getting a job. I felt, erm…uh…old in there, to say the least. Lots of headbands and neon sleeveless v neck shirts and lots of people dancing really jerkily to kind of attempt to mask how awkward and insecure they were clearly feeling. I’m sure that place turns into an everyone-find-someone-to-fingerbang-in-the-bathrooms type place about one am, but I took off before that bell tolled, thankfully.

I was there to meet a manager, but I couldn’t find her. I hung out and asked around for her for about an hour and then, faced with the impossibly early morning that is part and parcel with having a child, I pulled the ripcord and went home. Every person I asked said the same thing: “oh, she should be here. I’m sure she’s around,” but that wasn’t the case at all. Oh well. Stupid failure. There’s probably a lesson to be gleaned from trying and failing, right? Probably. I dunno. I’ll figure it out another time.

As of now, I’m still unemployed. I’m in workout clothes and my kid’s watching Jack’s Big Music Show in his pajamas. Just got an extension on our taxes. I’m tired from hanging out with a bunch of hipsters…no. that’s not right. I’m tired from standing in the same room as a bunch of hipsters. I didn’t so much as make eye contact with any of the patrons of that place. Not that they seemed like bad kids. Just…huh. I gotta imagine that I seemed like a creepy old dude. Regardless, the end result is today I’m feeling a little bit useless. Also, I keep reliving my Saturday in my head, which was pretty fucking intense. Here’s the story:

My kid got up at 645. I got up with him and let my old lady sleep in. We cruised down the road and got some coffee and then went to a playground. Then we went and did some off-road downhill stroller race stuff that was pretty cool for a while and then we headed back to the little playground right by our house to do a little last minute climb/swing type shit before breakfast.

Well, at this point, it’s about 745 in the morning. My kid is on this series of metal blocks that sort of resemble a large area of indeterminate Escher-esque stairs and he stepped off one, missed the one he was trying to step on and wound up tumbling down these metal steps, got flung onto the monkey bar platform, bounced off that and hit the ground. It was gnarly. Not the worst fall in the world. I wasn’t concerned that he was dead or anything, but it looked like it hurt pretty good.

He started to cry and I picked him up and that’s when shit got a little bit crazy. When I picked him up, I realized that he was bleeding. I realized this because his entire chin and neck were so covered in goopy red that I couldn’t see his skin, and his jacket and shirt had blood ringing the neck out to the shoulders. This huge amount of blood escaped from this kid in under two seconds.

So yeah, shit was terrifying.

I ran him home and threw him in the tub and when all the blood was off it was revealed that he had a pretty decent gash under his chin. I put a band aid on him, but he wasn’t really having it, so I had to wear a band aid on my chin too all day, you know, in solidarity. I felt like Nelly. (remember nelly?)

After his nap, there was this yellow fat cell thing just kind of hanging out of the hole in his chin, so my old lady and I decided maybe to go down to the hospital to get him patched up.

Everyone has been telling me that they glue kids up now. That sounds okay. We get there and the doctor says, ‘nah. That’s gotta be sutured.”

Know how they stitch up a baby’s face? Let me tell you: they strap his head and body to a board and then they give him nine shots of lydocane in the chin and then they just go in and sew him. He screams the whole time. His dad becomes very pale and dizzy and the doctor looks at the dad and says “dude, you’re already pretty pale. How bout you wait outside.”

Dad almost passes out in the hallway. Dad talks to an 82 year old woman to kind of take his mind off the screaming terror/torture sounds coming from behind the hanging sheet that’s like 8 feet away. Dad is actually feeling dizzy RIGHT NOW just recalling this shit.

Kid comes out of the whole thing just fine and gets to eat taco bell and ice cream as a reward for going through Civil War style surgery.

Lemme tell you, you need some sort of exciting way to fill your day and get your blood flowing, just poke a hole in your kid and watch the doctors in the ER fix him up. Better than coffee and an apple. No shit.

Glad that’s done, to be honest.

Oh, and the other night I saw K’naan. He was incredible. I feel pretty bad for Wale, who had to go on after him, as there is NO WAY that anyone could follow K’naan’s last tune. He did this version of Wavin’ Flag that absolutely blew my mind. One of the most captivating live performances in recent memory, for sure. Am I rambling? Well, fuck, man, there’s lots going on.

Whatever. I’m going to the gym. Fuck all y’all.