So Brenden, my oldest son, is getting to that age where he has friends come over to play. This is not fun, for me. I can begin to see why my parents, and the parents of my friends always seemed insane. Dealing with other people’s kids isn’t fun.

Brenden’s friend is over now, and it’s good on one hand because they play, and keep each other occupied, thus keeping Aiden occupied as well…and leaving me some free time. The problem is, you see this other kid too much. His friend lives next door, and he’s a decent dude for the most part…it’s just I’m not really used to friends yet.

This kid just shows up. Not only does he just show up…he walks right in. Right in…I could be butt-naked watching sportscenter (thank God I’m not) and he’d walk right in, “Can the boys play?” (my sons, not my BOYS)

Seriously. He’s not over all the time, but I’m not home a lot either. Today he was here for about 2 hours. He convinced the kids to pour toys ALL over my house, spied on me, asked/hinted for soda numerous times,




[me]”It’s not good for you. You don’t need any more sugar anyhow.”


He asked for other things too.

[kid]”Do you guys have any snacks?”


[kid]”Why? You guys need to have snacks, I’m hungry.”

[me]”Go home then. Snack your socks off.”

Brenden, tried to offer milk, or water…but he didn’t want it…just soda.

Then it was comments lke…”You should ask your dad to build us this thing…” or, ” Hey could you help us build this hot wheels mountain?”



[me]”I don’t want to. You can figure it out…looks at the picture.”

[kid]”I don’t want to…you need to help us.”


Finally, I gave in to help them build the mountain-thing, only in a span of about 3 minutes the kid had lost a vital piece of the contraption.

[me]”You had it 3 minutes ago, where did it go?”

[kid]”I don’t know, maybe it’s in your bed…I was hiding in there.”

[me]”You were hiding in MY bed?”

At this point, I’m like thinking, WTF? This kid is never coming over again. He asks for my food and soda, hides in my bed, and tries to make my kids do his bidding…

The best part of the whole experience, was, he finally decided on milk to drink, and went and got his own, because he obviously thinks he friggin lives here. Funny, but I guess checking when the milk expires is a foreign concept to him…he chose. he chose UN-wisely. He picked the milk which expired on August 4th. HAHAHAH

(Pre-story) When I moved in I wasn’t told I needed to contact the city for trash purposes. They had several cans avaialble that I could see, with no markings leading me to believe they belonged to any ONE family, so I assumed they were community property. I used them. That is until owner man informed me I needed to get my trash set up. I had been told originally, I only needed to contact PG&E for services, everything else was provided. I assumed that meant trash. He informed me it’d “be about $18 for trash service.”

F- that, I think. I’m already on a tight budget…I am not paying $20 a month for trash, when I only have about 2 small bags of garbage a week. I’ll just run them to Raley’s 2 blocks from my house, or to my wife’s when I go over there.

Back to story.

I had old milk in my fridge because it was large, and I didn’t want it to take up can space, so I had been waiting until I ran a load of recycled stuff to my wife’s, and it had just sat there…being old, waiting for me to remove it.

That is until neighbor boy decided to gulp down a bit. I guess it wasn’t too rancid, he drank the whole cup. I smelled it, and it wasn’t too soured yet.

But to wind up my morning with him, I waited until I completed the car mountain, then told him to scram it was lunch time.


I had a dream about this kid. He and I were racing. Down this hill. kind of like that horse event where they jum various crap. We were jumping little fences, etc. I have no idea what the goal was, I just know the little turd wasn’t going to beat me. So we’re running…and he’s chanting taunts the entire time…and eventually he’s right behind me. I see the fence up ahead, (we need to jump over) only I notice it’s covered in barbed wire. F- That I say to myself, and stop running. Kid doesn’t stop.

[kid] oooooooh you’re going to lose, I GOT you now!!!

he can’t see or something because he jumps, and gets his foot caught in the wire.

it flips him over and he gets caught up in the wire more. He’s screaming like I assume any 7 year old would who was grossly tangled in barbed wire. I’m taunting him.

[me] HAHAH HA! that’ll learn you to look before you leap. HAH! how was that rotten milk!

[kid] help me! gaaaawwwwwd!!!! help me.

[me] no.

He’s thrashing around like a cat in a bath tub, only he’s getting more and more tangled with each thrash. Finally, he can’t even move.

I wake up. Happy.

I must confess, I do feel a little bad that a dream about my sons friend being tangled in barbed wire made my morning…but it did. Then I wonder, did Pecos’ dad ever have dreams about me tangled in barbed wire. I bet he did.