Encore post: One for Father's Day

I first posted this piece about 7 years ago. The kids sure don't look like this anymore, and I'm certain that beautiful pooch has crossed over the Rainbow Bridge by now.

Be that as it may, the essence of the words are the same.

It's hard not to feel like my life is becoming a Harry Chapin song, especially now that they have successful, happy lives of their own in progress.

But damn if they don't love their old man. When they were young, I used to ask them, "What's the one thing you know for sure?" And their answer would be, "That you love me."

Now that I think about it, some things never change. Happy Father's Day.

They don't look like this anymore. I don't know about the dog. He might if he's still around.

The thing about being a parent is that, as time goes on, I begin to realize all the clichés come true. How fast it goes. How fleeting it is. How one day they're riding tricycles, and the next they' re driving my car (with the same lead foot they must've inherited from their mother). One minute I'm driving them to kindergarten, the next they're off to college.

Father's Day isn't the only time I ponder these thoughts, but it hits a little harder today for some reason.

Here's the thing: I won the kid lottery. I look around at some of our friends' kids - who shall go nameless - and all I can think about is how fast I would've left them on the steps at the firehouse. Don't look so surprised. Think about some of your friends' kids and tell me I'm wrong.

I have two beautiful, smart, funny kids who still kiss their parents goodnight no matter what time they get home. We tell each other how much we love each other all the time. Their pain is my pain, and their joy is my joy. Their successes are my pride, and their failures are my heartache. There's nothing in the world I wouldn't do for them, with the possible exception of loaning them my American Express card.

Bill Murray put it best in Lost In Translation: "It's the most terrifying day of your life the day the first one is born. Your life, as you know it, is gone, never to return. But they learn how to walk and they learn how to talk, and you want to be with them. And they turn out to be the most delightful people you'll ever meet in your life."

Anyway, the days' activities will be getting under way any minute. I know they'll be giving me cards and a few gifts today (new Stephen King book, hello?), and I have a sneaking suspicion the family's going to hijack me to my favorite breakfast place (it's the Coffee Cup Cafe in case you get the urge to treat me sometime).

Whatever they have in store for me this Father's Day, I want them to know the very best gift they can give me, the one I'll never get tired of, the one I want most, the one I'll always want, is more time with them.

So maybe take the tie back.

"I couldn't pick it up"

I started thinking about my life today. I know, I probably should've put some thought into it earlier, but we are where we are. And let me give you some advice: there's no percentage in it. Introspection, highly overrated. Like someone said, ignorance is bliss (see the irony?).

Anyway, as anyone who knows me will tell you, I much prefer floating aimlessly from one experience, one job, one car to another, and not trying to add up what they all mean or say about me as person.

I may have gotten off track here. In fact, forget I said anything.

But while I was in deep thought about my life, I was also finishing up the latest Stephen King scarefest, The Outsider. I highly recommend reading the first 400 pages anytime, and only reading the rest in the daytime. I was looking at the blurbs for the book on the jacket, and thinking what would the blurbs be about me, my life and my career (laughing hysterically for using the word "career").

And while I can't reach out to all any of the people I'd like to and ask for a blurb, I have a fairly good idea how they might go.

"I'm a master of horror, but nothing scares me as much as Jeff's writing. And not in a good way." - Stephen King

"He's always been there for me and the band, no matter how much we charged for tickets. There's one born to run every minute."- Bruce Springsteen

"Actually no one ever saw the show. Our ratings were so high cause Jeff binged it nine times. Might've been ten." - Bryan Cranston

"He likes the salmon very much." — Taka San, Koi sushi chef

Storm watch

Years ago there was a funny commercial for a now defunct airline that satirized local news and their panicky Storm Watch weather segments by showing a storm cloud that looked like this one.

Now, making fun of consistently warm and sunny weather in the City of Angels isn't exactly a new idea. But it's always a sure bet. And an easy laugh.

The minute there's a mist (a real mist, not like Stephen King's The Mist - that would be another kind of "watch" altogether) or drizzle in L.A., news programs immediately shift gears and start competing frantically for ratings.

They don't waste any time breaking out their state-of-the-art, scientific, grotesquely expensive Doppler Radar. Mega Doppler Radar. Doppler Radar 2018. And Doppler Radar So Accurate It'll Make Your Head Explode.

As I write this, it's raining outside. Not a hard rain—light and steady. Just like my high school girlfriend. And in a curious case of life imitating wanna-be art, the news weather people—excuse me, meteorologists—are all on Storm Watch for real right now.

It's as if the city was populated entirely by relatives of the Wicked Witch of the West, and newscasters feel they have to get the word out before water hits any of them.

One of the best commentaries on L.A. weather and the way residents react to it was in Steve Martin's L.A. Story. Martin played a whacky weatherman (aren't they all?) who always tried to find entertaining ways to report weather in a city where the weather never changes.

Until one day, it took a terrible turn for the worse.

Random comment: even though it has nothing to do with rain or Storm Watch, the Prius key joke in La La Land is one of my favorite L.A. jokes. Ok, back on point.

Anyway, rain. L.A. You see where I'm going here. I was thinking I'd wrap up this post by writing my way into an end line like a hard rain's gonna fall. Or who'll stop the rain. Maybe rainy days and Mondays. Something like that.

Instead I've decided to abandon the whole Storm Watch/L.A. thing, and leave you with one of my favorite rain-related songs ever.

Dry humor? You're all wet? Nice day if it doesn't rain? How about a ripped from the headlines one like Stormy Daniels. No, I didn't think so. Oh well, I tried. Not hard, but I did try.

Please to enjoy Flight of the Conchords I'm Not Crying.

One month later...

Tomorrow is one month since my last post here at Rotation and Balance.

Although you may not have been consciously aware of it, I'm sure you felt a disturbance in the force. An unexplainable void in your life, you know, besides money, a loving relationship and worthwhile employment. For the last thirty days, you've had that creeping feeling the world was a little less entertaining. A lot less funny. Deep down, on the inside, a small, quiet voice was telling you something was missing.

Well now you know.

This isn't the first time I've taken a break from posting. I've done it before, although rarely for this length of time. Sometimes it's pure laziness (most times). Other times it's that I just don't have anything interesting to write about.

Of course, if I let that stop me I'd never write anything.

I have to say that, like you, I haven't exactly missed it. For starters it's been a busy month what with a home remodel going on. Do to refinishing hardwood floors in our house, we've had to move out, move into an airbnb, move out of an airbnb and move back into the house with kids and dogs in tow all in the space of the last ten days.

So that's a hectic third of the month right there.

I've also been enjoying taking time to read and catch up with other ad-bashing blogs, like Round Seventeen, the Ad Contrarian and Ad Aged. They all say a lot of things I'd have said if I'd been posting the past month. Only they're saying them better than I would have.

The truth is I've started to post a number of times in the past month, but nothing really interested me enough to see it through. To quote Stephen King, one of my writing heroes, every false start felt like I was shoveling shit from a sitting position.

Not that it's ever stopped me before.

All of this is to say the month of no blogposts is over. I'm getting back in the saddle, and ready to ride into better metaphors than this one. I think all our lives are going to be better now that I've made this decision.

And if that turns out not to be the case, there's always next month.

Don't ask: Borrowing a book

I'm not gonna lie.

My Don't Ask series of posts - Don't Ask: Watching Your Stuff, Don't Ask: Working the Weekend, Don't Ask: Loaning You Money, Don't Ask: Writing a Letter For You, Don't Ask: Sharing a Hotel Room, Don't Ask: Picking Up at the Airport, and the perennial Don't Ask: Moving - is one of the most popular and requested of all the random musings I slap up here at the last minute.

Even more than Guilty Pleasures, Things I Was Wrong About and The Luckiest Actor Alive. Even more than Why I Love Costco.

To the untrained eye, it might look like linking all those prior posts is just a blatant act of shameless self-promotion. Actually, I prefer to think of it as making quality writing available to the general public.

Anyway, since Don't Ask is the most read series, a new Don't Ask it is. Tonight, it's Don't Ask: Borrowing A Book.

It strikes me odd that for all the huffing and puffing about Kindles and iBooks, people still love the feel of a real hardcover book in their hands. Especially if they didn't have to pay for it. And it's mine.

It's still a free country, and you can ask whatever you want. But if the question is "Hey, can I borrow that book? I'll get it right back to you." the answer is no.

The world is lousy with Kindles, iBook apps and, yes, libraries. Go on them and in them and choose your own book to read. But this brand new hardcover copy of the latest best-seller, the one I've been waiting months for, the one I'll be adding to my Stephen King, Dean Koontz, Anne Ursu. Jonathan Kellerman, Gillian Flynn, Scott Smith, J.K. Rowling collection? This one's mine.

I reserve the right to be the first to smell that new book smell of fresh ink on the pages. To bend back the binding, and hear it crack as I turn the pages faster and faster because I can't put it down.

It's not that I don't trust you. However I believe that all across the city, there exists a library in my name, made up of books I've loaned out in the past. Except instead of one building it's spread across dozens of houses one book at a time. It took me years to build that library. I don't plan on building another one.

So kudos for wanting to read a good story, a tall tale or an educational volume. My heartfelt suggestion would be for you to learn the Dewey Decimal System, break out that Barnes & Noble Gift Card you got last Christmas, or perhaps find another friend who hasn't been shocked and scarred by the ever increasing space on his bookshelf.

However you get the book you want, I hope you enjoy your copy. I know I'll be enjoying mine.

Drinking problem

I think the same thing every time I eat at one of those restaurants that has a menu with more pages than a Stephen King novel. Exactly how many choices do we really need in life?

Especially when it comes to something so seemingly simple as water.

The case you're looking at overflowing with water bottles is at a store called Lazy Acres (no it wasn't named after me - but it could've been). This store replaced our local Bristol Farms. When we bought our house the sellers (don't get me started) must've told us a thousand times there was a Bristol Farms a few minutes away. Apparently this was a very big selling point. My theory is they thought if they kept saying it often enough we'd be distracted from the water damage in the back of the house that, ironically, they didn't mention even once.

I know I'm still talking about water but I may be veering off into another post.

Anyway, it just seems to beg the question: how different can all these waters really be?

The one that caught my eye was this nice, expensive bottle of essentia water, which says it's "super hydrating water" right on the label. Color me old-fashioned, but I thought all water was hydrating. I guess super hydrating means it's wetter than other water.

If I wanted to be super hydrated - and I'm not saying I do - wouldn't I just drink more of my regular water?

There also seems to be a kind of water intimidation happening in certain restaurants now. Waiters will offer patrons a choice of bottled water or tap water. The question alone is designed to pressure you into bottled water because obviously people of refinement and good taste would never choose tap water.

On Penn & Teller's Showtime show, they did a great exposé on the marketing fraud that is bottled water. You can see it here (it starts at around the 16:47 mark, just after the piece exposing the fraud that is Feng Shui).

If you're thirsty for some good advice, here it is: fill your bottle up from the tap. City and state municipalities have much stronger laws and safeguards regarding drinking water and what does or doesn't go into it than the bottled water companies.

Of course if you like your water super hydrating, alkaline infused, vapor distilled, with added electrolytes or negative ions, then by all means keep dipping into the college fund and buying bottled water.

But don't be surprised when your Starbuck's money dries up.

You're going to need a smaller car

I believe I speak for many people when I say clowns have always scared the living bejeezus out of me. I think you'll find that any nightmare worth it's weight in true terror usually has a clown in it.

Oh sure, I can already imagine all you red-nosed squeezing, boutonniere-squirting, floppy-shoe wearing, bicycle-horn honking clown fans greasing on your sad faces in protest. Alright, alright. Never let it be said I'm not being fair. I'll agree I shouldn't stereotype all clowns (he says coughing to conceal his laughter). Because as few and far between as they are, I have to grudgingly admit there are actually some that're enjoyable.

For example, Fizbo from Modern Family? Love him. Hysterical every time. And if you recall the scene at the gas station with Mitchell (which YouTube has pulled for some reason), you know that Fizbo isn't just hysterical. He's also an ass-kicking clown.

Chuckles, the clown from the old Mary Tyler Moore Show was also a good one. Not only is his name the quintessential clown moniker, his funeral is one of the most classic scenes in all of television history.

But for every Fizbo and Chuckles, there are a thousand clowns with hell for their home address.

I think the first time this one shows up in the kid's room in Poltergeist, we all know nothing good is going to come of him. Who was fooled at the beginning when he was benignly sitting on the rocking chair? Anyone? Thought so.

Not that imagining what might be lurking under the bed isn't already every kid's nightmare. But this little feller just kind of cemented the deal.

Under the bed isn't the only place evil is lurking. It's also hanging around in the sewers, waiting to drag little children under to an unthinkable fate. Pennywise over here, the clown from Stephen King's IT, always liked to remind children that, "We all float down here." If that doesn't make for sweet dreams I don't know what does.

Perhaps the most perverse take on clowns is Heath Ledger's Joker in The Dark Knight. Using clown makeup to represent the actual decay within the character, I think he also shows a side of clowns most of us don't want to believe is real.

But for all the kids reading this, especially the young ones, it is.

So the next time you're at the circus, try not to focus on all those clowns popping out of that impossibly small car. I'm sure they're not really rehearsing the way they'll spring out from under your bed or the closet in your room late at night after you've floated off to sleep.

"We all float down here." Goodnight.