|15 September 2003
So I was talking to my buddy Trooper Dave on the phone this morning. We were comparing notes on fatherhood and he was advising me on the correct way to transport someone else's handgun across state lines.
"You haven't updated in a while, man," he said.
"Dave," I told him, "I haven't done dick this summer."
And it's true. I know you thought I'd have all sorts of adventures, what with being unemployed over the course of my last childless summer, but you're wrong. When I leave the house, I spend money. It's like New Orleans has a cover charge that's collected every time I go out the door.
So I've stayed home.
I mean sure, I could have told you about the occasional trip to the doctor with Sonya - those have been pretty interesting. To me, anyway. The doctor assures us everything is fine and Sonya's pregnancy is dull as church. And did I mention we'll be having a boy? I think that's pretty exciting.
(Funny: Sonya and I were at Walgreen's tonight. I was loitering about and Sonya started butting into me with her belly, pushing me down the aisle and on towards the check-out.
"Stop bullying me with your belly!" I demanded. She ignored me.)
Where was I? Dull summer. I've got lots of games for the PS2 that I borrowed from friends. I go to the library regularly - I haven't read this much since I was in college. I spend a few hours every day on the internet, job hunting. Sometimes I go to the post office to mail bills and resumes. The house is usually clean, and I mostly take care of dinner. We've been to Memphis several times over the summer. It hasn't been bad, I assure you. If there wasn't a kid on the way I could have enjoyed my idleness a lot more, but it hasn't been horrible. I've kept busy, really.
But it wouldn't be very entertaining to talk about.
Today, though, I had to go to Biloxi. My sister and her boyfriend were there last week for a trade show, and they had made it almost all the way back to Memphis before they realized that the boyfriend had left his gun in the hotel room. They called the hotel (the Beau Fucking Rivage, no less) and told them I was on the way to collect the gun, eventually.
I'm pretty neutral on guns. Like most southern boys I learned how to shoot when I was young. I know how to handle a gun and I'm a decent shot. Unlike most southern boys, though, I don't feel any need to possess or fire weapons regularly. Sonya doesn't like 'em and doesn't want 'em in the house, and that's fine with me.
It was all very cloak and dagger. A security guard showed up at the front desk, carrying the gun under a file folder and wrapped in a rag. I dropped it in my backpack and didn't look at it again until I was in the car.
Trooper Dave had told me to unload it, break it down and put it as far away from me as possible. Once I made sure the gun was unloaded (security said they wouldn't give me a loaded gun which made me happy, 'cause I couldn't remember how to get the one in the chamber out to save my life) I popped all the ammunition out of the clip and tossed the bullets across the parking lot. I put the gun back in the backpack and put the whole mess in the trunk. Now it's in the closet, but the only thing I could do with it is use it as a club.
Siobhan got laid off, and that's just a fuckin' joke. I mean, come on. We all knew I was a fraud and that I was going to get shitcanned sooner or later. But I think Siobhan actually worked for a living.
And she lives in Brooklyn, for Christ's sake! New Orleans is Mexico City compared to Brooklyn, cost of living-wise. I hope you're happy, President Bush, when Siobhan has to blow hobos for quarters!