Sorry, I Can't Go To Your Thing

I'm more depressed than Catherine Zeta-Jones with an empty bottle of Lithane over my current station in life.  But I don't need a stint at Trembling Hills….I got this blog to self-medicate.  Here, let me explain:

The Social Net-jerk

I gotta get off Facebook.  You singles, childless couples, gays and youngsters are bumming me out.

Believe you me:  I would LOVE to go to your concerts, art openings, skate jams, keg parties, film debuts and such and such.  But I can't.  You see, I am the proud parent of two wonderful children.  Who are slowly sucking the life out of me, one day at a time.

Now, I love you all.  I get all your private messages, invitations, emails, evites and phone calls about the latest cool thing going on this weekend.  But I won't be attending.  Being the parent of a newborn, I am serving prison time.  In my own house, to boot.  The only time off for good behavior I get is going to work (yes, work.  It's that bad) or maybe a meal at Friendly's. (On Wednesdays kids eat for $1.99!)

It's Not For Everyone
(Authors note:  Keep in mind I have the maturity level of a 17 year old, so take this next part with a grain of salt)

Now this section is for you younger folks who are on the fence about having kids.  You'll be at a party, work or some other social situation.  And some annoying older person says, "When are you going to have children?"  And they'll sugar coat it and make it seem like it's all rainbows, ice cream and free iPhones.  But I'm here to give you the straight poop.  And yes, there is a lot of poop.  And spit up.  And sleepless nights.  Back to the poop:  By my count, I drag about 60 pounds of dirty diapers to the curb each Monday morning.  I'm not kidding.   OK, let's move on.


So why would they sugar coat it?  My take on the whole this parenthood thing is that misery loves company.  These carpet shark custodians just want to suck you into their world of boogie wipes, play dates, and Coxackie Viruses.

Does life begin at conception?  That I don't know. But I can tell you life ends when your wife says she wants kids.  Get ready for sacrifice. They don't call them time burglars for nothing.  I would love to spend Sunday afternoon drinking beer on the couch and watching District 9.  Instead, I'm chasing a wild two year old all over the Maritime Aquarium and spreading wood chips around the backyard playground.

Hey Mr Career Man, you want to keep lighting the world on fire?  Nooooo way, Jose.  You can cancel that noise unless your idea of a good parenthood is that neglectful dad from the Harry Chapin song.

Years ago, I would hear older co-workers rattle off cliches like, "I remember when I was your age, I had that same go-get-em spirit.  Now I just want a paycheck."  12 years later, I'm that deflated guy.  (Except I don't listen to Frank Zappa or wear denim shirts.)

The Good Ol' Days, AKA 2010

Now when we just had one kid, I could still get away with *some* of my shenanigans.  I was skateboarding, going to shows, even making some short films and music videos.  But two kids?  Absolutely f*cking not.  All that fun just went out the window.  On the off chance I can break away (or "get a pass" as us defeated dads say), I'm too frigging tired.  I can't make it through a single sketch on SNL without passing out on the couch.  You think I'm going to get in a car and drive to Stamford?  And unless I can justify the shoot with an invoice, there's no more fun music videos or short films.

Now for those of you about to type, "Don't worry, it gets better."  Shut up!  There are no happy endings here at The Enforcer.  Massage parlors or otherwise.

So you purveyors of fun,  please take me off your mailing lists.  Don't bother inviting me to the big party.  I can't make it to your CD release concert, unless it's by chance it's children's music.  I am officially a sellout.  At least for the next few years.

But LIVE, dammit!  Live and post on Facebook so that I can vicariously experience your Caribbean vacations, pet anecdotes, your placing in the martial arts competition and your pictures of oversized diner food.  If anyone wants me, I'll be in the back yard landscaping.  Or writing this drivel, since I can't leave the house.

For those of you who read this and said, "What terrible thoughts!"  C'mon, it's me, Scott.  What were you expecting, something heartwarming?  And if you're just some random person who dropped in and were offended…shove off.  We don't serve your kind here.

PS-I saw the movie Bridesmaids this weekend.  It was funny and highly recommended.