The Beatles? Really?

I'm 37 years old, and I've never been a Beatles fan. I mean, I've always been aware of them, and I've always appreciated (from afar) their contribution to rock 'n roll. I've always liked "Twist and Shout," but only because it was used (to great effect) in Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Oh, and it's also worth mentioning that one of my all-time favorite songs is "Watching the Wheels" by John Lennon. Other than those two things, The Beatles have never really blipped on my radar. A few years back, my good friend Bill Huelbig hooked me up with a strings-only instrumental recording of "Strawberry Fields Forever," which just blew me away. However, I remained relatively unmoved when it came to the ol' Fab Four.

Something's changed. I can't even begin to explain how or why. About a week ago I inexplicably borrowed a copy of their second album With the Beatles from the library and listened to it on the drive home from work. And yep, I was hooked. My OCD tendencies kicked in, and I embarked on a mission: I would collect everything they ever recorded for the ultimate mp3 archive (I've done this many times with many other recording artists, which explains why my poor iPod is just about busting at the seams). In one week's time, I've amassed eight of their albums. The library appears to carry their entire catalogue, so it shouldn't take too terribly long to complete the mission. The process is simple: I borrow the CD, rip it to my computer, and put it on my iPod.

So sue me, I'm a total music pirate. But wait, it's not like I'm making any money, so I guess I'm not a pirate… a common thief, I guess. But in all fairness to me, it's rare that I've ever ripped a CD instead of purchasing it. If it's something I want to own, I buy it (and I've got the iTunes receipts to prove it). And hey, music is ART, damn it. It should be enjoyed by the masses for free, especially when it comes to past artists (like The Beatles) who aren't producing new material anymore. John and George don't need money where they are now, and hell, Paul and Ringo are billionaires anyway, right? I ain't hurting anybody, fer Chrissakes.

My favorite song (so far)? It's a tie between "Taxman" and "Eleanor Rigby," but I'm sure that'll change as I delve deeper into the Beatles goldmine. Wow, I can't believe I lived 37 ½ years without loving them. I guess it's never too late to wake up….

The upcoming movie Across the Universe, which didn't interest me before, is now suddenly piquing my interest. Probably the OCD rearing its ugly (cat)head….

"Cat Head"...explained!

I was once called "Cat Head." Fear not, I'll explain. I am cursed with an incredibly bushy, kinky, thick head of hair. A high school friend of mine (who shall remain nameless… oh fuck it, it's Jason Ulven), upon observing my unfortunate hair, stated that it looked a cat was curled up on top of my head. Thus, "Cat Head" was born.

I must point out that, as I've aged, my hair has thinned out somewhat and, when properly trimmed, looks nothing like a cat. However, the Cat Head legacy lives on in my unfortunate son Isaac. I keep telling him that it'll be more manageable in 20 years or so, but he remains inconsolable. Poor guy. At least he keeps it short.

I'll actually be seeing Jason next week (7/03) for the first time in almost 3 years, so it'll be interesting to see what HIS hair looks like now. I'm hoping he's balding like a motherfucker and has a bad comb-over.

Holy @$#%!!!!

So the worst possible thing has happened. Okay, maybe it's not the absolute worst. But it's shitty. Oh hell, is it ever shitty. You know that wonderful hammock that my wife 'n kids gave me for Father's Day?

Stolen.

Yeah, that's right. Stolen. Some heartless, dickless fuck walked onto my property in the middle of the night Wednesday (6/27), cut the rope, and walked off with it. Naturally we have no money to replace it right now, but even if we did, it wouldn't be the same. That hammock meant a great deal to me... and poof, it's gone.

I've only had things stolen from me twice before. Back in the 7th grade, my locker partner Brian Reymore stole my Creepshow comic. He swore he didn't do it, but he magically had his own copy a few days later. Then, in college, I had a shoebox fulls of tapes stolen out of my VW bug. That's it. I guess I've been lucky in the theft department, all things considered. Maybe I was overdue. But... aw, fuck. This sucks. I got to use it a total of ONE time (on Father's Day, see previous blog entry). I've been depressed ever since.

Father's Day '07

So the Sunday before last was Father's Day (6/17). I usually get DVDs or something, but this year Teresa said she was getting me something different, something she knew I wanted, but not something I'd specifically asked for. I started getting worried that I wouldn't like it, because I'm usually pretty good at asking for EXACTLY what I want. As the day approached, I attempted to gather clues with a series of subtle (and some not-so-subtle) questions, but the woman refused to crack. What a meanie.

I'd pretty much decided that I would probably like the gift but not quite love it. So imagine my shock and surprise when the day arrived and she gives me a larger-than-life honest-to-Christ HAMMOCK. And not one of those newfangled canvas things with some big-ass support structure underneath either… we're talking old-school ropey goodness that you gotta tie between two trees. Well, I just happen to have two trees and a strong desire to sway gently in the breeze, so I was happy. Yeah, it was undoubtedly the best Father's Day gift I've ever received. I should also mention that I also got Scrubs season five (see, I got a DVD after all) and an assortment of beer glasses.

Later that day I spent a couple of hours in the hammock, listening to my iPod, chilling out and enjoying hand-delivered beers (speaking of which, rope hammocks are perfect for beer bottles… an endless supply of holes tight enough to hold 'em!). Pure bliss. Thanks, baby… you rock (as usual). Easily my best Father's Day so far (15 and counting….).

I should probably talk about the kids a bit, since they're the reason the holiday exists in the first place. Sierra (15) and Isaac (13) are my biological offspring, and they are awesome. Logan (14) and Kendyl (6), who are equally awesome, are technically my stepkids, but I consider them my own flesh and blood. The four of them are a true blessing…. They each have their own ways of cracking me up and driving me crazy, oftentimes in the same moment. Each has their own unique talents, and each makes me indescribably proud. To say "I love them" doesn't even begin to cover it.

2nd Anniversary

Monday (6/25) was our second anniversary. Pretty low key this year, especially since it fell on a friggin' Monday of all days. We did manage to have a night without kids the previous Saturday (6/23), so we went out for dinner at Chili's (yes, I had the Presidential Margarita in case you were wondering) and caught a movie (Knocked Up, which I heartily recommend… FYI, any movie with the line "Steely Dan gargles my balls" gets an automatic thumbs up from me). After the movie, we imbibed a healthy amount of alcohol under the stars on our back deck with No Doubt blaring from inside. A nice evening… hell, any evening when all four kids are gone is nice. Nicer than nice. Here's how fine she was looking that night:

So yeah, we've survived two years being married. Any honest person will tell you that marriage is hard work, and all that "eternal wedded bliss" crap is just that… crap. It's damn hard sometimes, especially when you're combining two families. It's been uphill and rocky, but we're still together. I absolutely adore Teresa, and I cherish the family we share. I'm not going anywhere. I love you, baby.