Chasing tail

My four faithful blog readers might have noticed my absence the last week or so. If not, then I'm a worse blogger than I thought. Anyway, I've been chasing my tail while simultaneously looking for an ass to kick... sorta like Obama. Speaking of which, here's a tip Mr. President: If you truly want to kick some ass, how 'bout you start with the advisor(s) that told you to campaign on changing how Washington operates then "advised" you to hire every stinkin' person from the Clinton Administration? Granted Clinton was more of a Republican president than any "real Republican" in my lifetime, but I kinda got a problem with the whole deregulation thing and transnational corporations ruling the world. And while you're in ass-kicking mode, Mr. President, please head on over to MTV headquarters. The writers of The Hills "reality" show need a serious ass-kicking for making me watch six seasons of airhead, Audrina, falling for major douchebag, Justin Bobby, every other week. Seriously. Even Audrina can't be THAT stupid! Or, screw it - just come over to our house and kick my ass for continuing to watch vile people on horrid cable "reality" shows. 

 

So anyway, there's just a lot going on at the Stewart doghouse these days. Claire had her last day of school last Thursday, and I'm now dreading the day I taught her about Alice Cooper and the lyrics to his School's Out song. For the past week, all I've heard out of Claire is:

No more pencils,
No more books,
No more teacher's dirty looks!

Out for summer,
Out till fall,
We might not go back at all!

School's out forever,
School's out for summer,
School's out with fever,
School's out completely! 

Then last weekend we missed out on a Stewart Family Reunion in Illinois - the first time all the cousins/aunts/uncles have gotten together in at least 30 years. I won't get into why we missed the trip because it will sound suspiciously like a lie. What I can tell you is that I got out of skydiving with a couple cousins, and I have no problem with the fact I broke my promise to take a flying leap. Maybe next time, Cuz?

This week, Claire started swim lessons at Foss Swim School, which is like a swimming boot camp for tots. We go two times a week for the next eight weeks. Then today we headed to the park with Grandma Thullner for a kids' concert to see The Splatter Sisters perform, which was a real treat... until they asked, "Do we have any dads in the crowd today?" Near as I could tell, I was one of four dads in attendance, and the lead singer of the group apparently noticed this as well when she said, "How about you, the blond guy in the orange visor pretending he doesn't hear me!" So Claire took me by the hand and walked me to the stage where the other three dads were standing holding their children. And that's where she left me - the only dad on stage without a loving child in his arms. But I performed like a monkey as instructed... doing The Twist, some sort of shuffle, and something called The Splat. I guess I can understand why Claire chose to abandon me on stage. I mean, I could not have been more uncomfortable. It would have been a whole other story had the band played Young MC's Bust a Move. I'm like the Manchurian Candidate whenever I hear that song - something takes over my body, and I immediately start break-dancing while flailing my arms around like any white person trying to find his rhythm. 

So there I was on stage, trying not to look at the crowd of 300+ eyes staring at me (and I'm positive it was ONLY me they were watching). I looked around for Claire, and that's when my heart sank. That's when I saw she wasn't uncomfortable dancing in front of a crowd. No, she just didn't want to dance with me! Because there she was dancing - and HOLDING HANDS - with her (boy)friend from school - the infamous Nick! The fearless boy I've blogged about before. The boy who gives Claire hugs and kisses her cheek at school right in front of me - usually while giving me an evil stare at the same time. The boy Claire was talking about earlier this week when she told me, "Papa, I love Nick." And if that weren't enough, I stupidly asked, "Do you love him more than me?" I'll let you guess her reply.

So my heart was broken yet again today when I watched them dancing together while I did my best robot dance on stage sans Claire. Tomorrow I'm heading to my hometown (Pierre, SD) for an All 1980's High School Reunion. Lord knows it's a bad mistake, but why should I start making good decisions at this stage of my life? Anyway, I'm heading to the chiropractor for a back adjustment so I can (hopefully) endure the 7-hour one-way trip. But back pain is nuthin' in the big scheme of things. I mean, who do I see about this broken heart? More importantly, how do I go about kicking the ass of a four year old boy making moves on my little girl?