…on vacations

you ever get the feeling that you should have stayed in bed?

your home state?

yeah. me too.

you see, the baby has a stomach virus.

and we made the decision that riding said virus out would be better in a two bedroom house in a sprawling development in west palm beach would be a better plan than flushing three airplane tickets down the toilet and enjoy said virus in our not so sprawling 350 square foot studio apartment.

not the best set of options but, I stick by my decision.

it's sunny and the baby is sleeping and for five minutes, a bastard can get some peace and quiet.

—the bastard

…on tourism

last Friday the bastard took a day off.

and he got a factory recall handled on his ride

the kind that could have blown his car up.

but that ain't why I took the day off.

the wife wanted us to take bebe to the central park zoo but, I got back way too late for that.

and besides, an 11 month old can't really dig on the polar bears as much as a baby.

so we went to the high line instead.

now the bastard can say this about the high line:

1: it's really more of an art installation than a park. it's built on old elevated train tracks and it's filled with little installation pieces that'd make mass MoCA jealous.

2: white people REALLY like the high line. and I can say this as a white person who likes it. however, while the bastard likes the high line, he doesn't like ray ban wayfarers like the other white people who were at the high line that day.

3: the high line is designed for people to see and be seen as it has lots of artsy (read: beautifully designed) park benches for people to read atlas shrugged or eat, pray, love on. there are also big lounges built into the high line so that the womenfolk who do not wear ray ban wayfarers can wear larger sunglasses and look fabulous.

4: Europeans find me as a stroller pushing father, as lame as the bastard finds them.

5: there is expensive trendy ice cream for sale on the high line for white people to spent cookie amounts of money on. I instead bought overpriced gelato at Chelsea market instead because I am a pompous jackass.

6: it is currently a great place to take pictures of the meat packing district for your sex in the city scrapbook.

so there you have it. check it out before the down economy renders it back to it's former state as abandoned elevated tracks. come on white peoples, you know you want to.

—the bastard

...on vacations

you know

one of these days

the bastard will put the phone down.

not report it in

not tell you what's up.

but today ain't that day.

it's too good out to not say "it's good out".

so there.

—the bastard

Sunday morning photo essay

there are just some days where it's just all good.

—the bastard

life's a beach...

...then you get a flat tire

so the bastard spent his saturday with his ladyfriend at long beach...unwinding. well it was intended to be unwinding. and the notion of taking our little fold up bikes was a capital idea. until on the fourth pass, my tired started to go flat.

well let me back up. i also seem to have the uncanny luck of parking as far away as possible most of the time, not intentionally but, it always seems to end up that way.


so i had to truck back to my car. well, first i had to find it. then give my ladyfriend back her bike and truck back to the car, where we got our beach stuff. and this worked out for us for most of the rest of the day until these characters showed up. the bastard took one look at these three clowns and their covertly/notso covertly covered 30 pack of budweiser and three cups from 7 lebben. my ladyfriend told me not to worry about it. one hour later after returning from the bathroom, my ladyfriend was in agreement with my earlier desire to skip out. "it wouldn't be so bad if they didn't start and finish every sentence with "pussy", she told me. then we were off. it seemed like we were escaping an episode of douchebag beach at just the right time.

nice and smooth

—the bastard