(Very Very) Small Talk
We've known each other for a long time now, haven't we? So I'm not going to lie to you people. You deserve the simple, honest truth: Pops is a very handsome guy.

I know that sounds shallow and conceited, but you know, some things are opinions and others are facts. I don't think there's any way to behold the splendor that is me and not go "Daaaammmn!" or the like. I get so many gasps and shouts and points as I go down the street that the only real conclusion that can be reached is that I am a startling specimen of physical beauty. Sure, maybe it's the second head growing out of the back of my neck, but who hasn't seen that before?

So I'm not counting those involuntary eruptions of recognition as contact or conversation with people I don't know, which is the topic for today's discussion.

Out of the blue from perfect strangers, I get one of two types of comments.

The first is somewhat annoying, but it's my own fault. See, my shoes don't match. One is white and the other is black. Yes, I know they don't match. Yes, they came that way. No, I don't have two pairs of the same exact shoes in different colors and then purposely mismatch them. Initially I bought them mostly to annoy my wife. They brought them out from the back at the Sport Chalet, she made a horrified face and I said "I'll take 'em!" Exactly that much thought went into the decision.

I thought it would be a goof, something small to set me apart. From the comments I get, though, you would think I was wearing a coat made of baby skin. People cannot handle the idea of someone with mismatched shoes. I've stopped entire businesses by simply walking in the door. My kid's school is right next to a high school and the high school girls scream and run when they see the shoes coming. Again, I know it's my own fault, but please people, they're just shoes.

The second type of comment I always get is when I'm pushing the City Bus-Sized Double Stroller loaded down with 2/5 of my entire family and the oldest boy trailing on foot. Always, always I get the same exact comment word for word:

"Looks like you got your hands full."

Knowing smile and a nod. No no, not an opened door or any kind of practical help, just a knowing smile and a nod.

You know what people really really don't like? When you say what they were going to say right before or as they say it. I can see the knowing smile forming, the chin start to dip into the nod and their lips part to speak and then I'll blurt out very loudly, very quickly "LookslikeIgotmyhandsfull". And then I keep right on walking.

So if you see someone like me struggling with all my kids, please, it doesn't help to point it out. It only makes me slow down slightly to hear what you're trying to say, which lessens the momentum of the City Bus-sized Double Stroller, which is actually detrimental to my physical and mental well being. Those things run almost entirely on momentum. I'd rather take my chances charging across a busy intersection against the light than have to stop it and then try and start again. Just let me pass unremarked, please.

And if I do stop to engage in any kind of chit-chat and the topic of "what I do" comes up, people always, without fail, manage to work the phrase "Mr. Mom" in there. Just so you know, we hate that. If I'm Mr. Mom, who's the dad? And what's my wife if I'm the mom? I blame that fucker Michael Keaton and that stupid ass movie. But that's a topic for a whole 'nother post.

Just to be safe, in the future, please just don't talk to me. If you need to hear me say something, you can read it here. That way you can respond in any annoying way you want and there's almost no way I can punch you in the throat.


This post on the Narcissus Scale: 10.0 (second time ever!)


Pops



PS- Normally I wouldn't say anything, but this is not the first instance. A few days ago, while making fun of Madonna in a comment on my close personal friend Rita's blog, I made a very specific and (I must say) hi-lariously funny comment only to see it pop up the next day on "The Daily Show with Jon Stewart". Jon obviously reads this, so just let me say to him: Jon, I'm not mad at you. I'm a little disappointed as I know you can do better. You don't have to resort to theft. I mean, it's one thing to steal things from my blog, but to follow me around to other blogs and steal my comments, well, that's just pathetic. Seriously, pull yourself together. If you need help, just ask.

PPS- I usually write my weekend post Sunday night, but starting at 9 pm this coming Sunday, I'm going to be at my kid's school helping to put the goddamn festival away. See you back here Monday. Take your methadone regularly to get you through the withdrawals and you should be fine.

- posted by Pops @ 9:50 AM