Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Teach them well and let them Lord That Stinks


A little more than a month ago I did what the skeptics of the economy thought impossible: I got a job. My bank account stood and applauded(more like clapped sarcastically). I booed. My life since then has been an ongoing debate between working and not working, eating and not eating, and of course posting and not posting. I enjoy having money and eating food, and when the mood strikes eating money, otherwise I would prefer to be dead broke with nothing to do but watch matinee movies and post on the DR.

My new job requires two major skills: the patience of a tee-ball coach and a garbage-mans ability to work amidst foul stenches. No, I am not in fact a tee-ball coach near the South Philly refineries, but a daycare teacher.

Patience is required because tiny kids(18 months in some cases) know three things: mommy, food, and farm animals. That's it. Daddy? Ehh, maybe they know him, maybe not. Toys? Five raisins in a bowl is a toy for a two-year old. Conversation? Please. Because these cute little bastards know nothing about everything, it's therefore only fair you can't get mad when indeed they know nothing. Sure, it's hard to contain pure rage when you wash a youngsters hands, turn around for a quick second, then turn around again to see the same youngsters hands splashing joyously in the toilet water. But for them toilet water is just water; they'd drink the stuff if given the chance. They just don't know. These moments test me but also make me stronger.

And strength is what I need when working on the second skill: the stench ignoring mechanism. As much as we humans have evolved, we still haven't risen to a level where incredibly foul smelling brown FUNK isn't pushed out our ass. Yo, religious folk, do you really think we were created in God's image? You really think God would be reduced to sitting on a toilet wiping his butt with paper? It's crazy. My point is, I change diapers, and diapers stink.

But my larger point is that I change diapers and re-wash toilet touching hands knowing full well that my DR time suffers. So I'd like to offer a few comparisons from my new job to recent events outside of the job.

Don't Touch That! Stop Touching That!! NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!
The redundancy of reminding kids that electrical outlets are bad is beginning to remind me, in a roundabout way, of how frustrating it is to be a Sixers fan right now. They exist at this point in the season as a convenient workout session for good teams. I'd love to believe we will turn it on, improve at all the things we suck at(perimeter D, perimeter O), and make the next two months interesting for all of us. But I don't feel it. Maybe it's the winter talking. Maybe DiLeo has a trick up his sleeve. But I do know this: Sammy isn't happy, and when Sammy isn't happy the world isn't happy.

A Big Diaper of Shit
The Eagles remind me of one. They stink. The BDawk disaster has been beaten to death in Philly, so I'll keep it short. We have the money. He played well down the stretch last season and is hands-down better than whoever will replace him this season. And he was the most popular player on the team, by far. What a doggone travesty.

Weeee're Going Outside!!
When the weather is nice we take the kids outside, which offers both fresh air literally and a sense of time moving faster. It's a happy time. Sort of like Spring Training and the Phillies. No amount of exhaustion will keep me from offering a detailed Phillies preview come April, and since it's early March and the story-lines in Clearwater are mostly boring I just hope you all are getting subtle satisfaction from Johan Santana's elbow problem, as I am.

Where's My Peanut Butter and Jelly!?!?!
Last week I forgot to make a PBnJ for lunch, which nearly forced me to leave work early. I was so hungry. PBnJ is such a simple, bland sandwich, sometimes we forget how important and underrated it can be. Sort of like Tra Thomas. The Eagles are about to let him leave too. It will be fun playing the sack drinking game during Eagles games next year. One shot of cheap liquor for every sack Winston Justice gives up. The Eagles lose, McNabb gets hurt, and all drinking game participants die.

Gooood, you said Dog!! Good Job!!
Bobby Jindal. I would call you Piyush but that would upset our readers with the name Piyush. You appeared after Obama last week and sounded like a stupid person. You were talking to the audience the way I talk to the two-year olds at my school. At least read us a good story with some good pictures Jindal.

I just realized that the combination of a daycare center and Sammy Dalembert is perfect. Sam, if you're out there, and we all know you are, come volunteer with the kiddies for a few days and get your spirits boosted. Jai Ho!!

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