The Glam-Racket Pregnancy Pact

Death has me thinking again. The sentimental shit, you know, what does it all mean and all that nonsense. If you have kids, you understand this but if you don’t, as clichéd as it may seem, kids tend to put shit in perspective. Don’t get me wrong, it’s hard fucking work: you get relatively little time to yourself or the one you want to fuck. The shit you want to do gets a back seat to whatever the kid(s) want. Like now, for example: It’s after eleven and I will have to get up in six hours or so to get ready for work. This is the only time today that I’ve had to myself, so I’m checking emails, downloading some shit, and writing this on the blog. I need to sleep now, but there are things that I want to do, to keep my identity somewhat. That’s why I’m up past my bedtime.
But part of the identity is being a parent, I suppose, and it’s also about being a student too when you get down to it. You learn dumb shit, like how the most retarded of comments or reactions can suddenly make your fucking day.
The other day, I was at Wal-Mart…I hate going there, but it was next to Lowes and thanks to the cost of gas (more on this later), I combine errands together and try to limit the amount of fuel I’m burning. So it was a trip to Wal-Mart, Lowes, and Aldi’s all on the same jaunt because, essentially, they’re in the same parking lot together.
Digression: I love Aldi’s. I used to go there when I was poor and working in radio. It was within walking distance of my apartment and it was all my girlfriend and I could afford at the time. That was the first time I had ever shopped there and it was a bizarre experience. For those of you not familiar with this chain, you pay a deposit to use a cart (it’s actually fucking ingenious), you have to bring your own bags (again, very eco-friendly when it wasn’t even originally intended to be so) and you shop amongst pallet-jacks worth of off-brand items with weird names like “Sweet Valley” or “Spice King.” It’s run by a skeleton crew and all of this leads to some pretty good deals. Occasionally, they’ll have some name brand specials and every week they’ll have a sale item that is completely out of place. For example: my in-laws routinely by laptop computers at Aldi’s when they’re available, usually around Christmas. You can laugh all you want, but I do believe my brother in-law is still rocking a $400 laptop he purchased a few years ago and swears by it. I take his word on such things because he’s one of those IT dudes, the kind that you call up and go “Why is my computer doing this shit?”
Anyway, I started shopping there again because of gas prices and I couldn’t enjoy the bizarreness of it more. I got tiki torches there for $1.99 each, hoss. They rule!
I learned that the store is of German origin and, get this, the stores there look and follow the same rules as our do in the U.S.! Admittedly, they may not call their shit “Sweet Valley,” but you get the idea.
But there are things that you just can’t get at Aldi’s, which is why I was forced to go to Wal-Mart. While I was there, I was taken in by the glorious image of fishing t-shirts priced at five fucking dollars each. Now, I don’t fish, but I do like kitschy things and I’ve been kicking myself for two years now for passing up a t-shirt I saw at Hy-Vee that read “I Love Shroomin’!” This was around morel mushroom season here, you understand, but from my drug background, it made the shirt take on a completely different meaning. I passed on those shirts; they were only priced at ten bucks each and I talked myself out of that minor investment. I wish I had listened to my impulses.
So I would be goddamned if I was going to pass up a big picture of a jumping fish with the declaration “Walleye Fishing Is My Life,” particularly when said shirt was priced at a mere five fucking dollars. I could wipe my ass with it at that price and it would still be a bargain.
So I’m feeling proud about my purchase while my wife immediately notices how retarded said purchase is and offers a very reasonable “You’re not going to wear that thing in public are you?”
“You’re goddamn right I am…Walleye fishing is my life!!!”
Ethan notices the shirt and immediate offers his opinion:
“That is AWESOME!”
Needless to say, we had to go back to Wal-Mart and get him a fish shirt too. His Mom picked out his, it says “I’m a keeper” on it, but he doesn’t mind because it has a badassed jumping fish on it too.
My point is this: it is moments like this that make being a parent so fucking great that it’s hard to describe. I know that I haven’t really proven anything here or developed a logical reason as to why having kids is awesome, but trust me: go out and have as much unprotective sex as you can and get pregnant. Form a pact if you want to, it’s awesome, and there’s plenty of cheap shirts available at Wal-Mart with fish on them, so you’ll always be clothed.
In reality, I don’t think I would have had this much fun if I had kids earlier. I’d be one of those that would scoff at the fish t-shirts, make fun of those that shopped at Aldi’s or bitched when a baby started crying at Ruby Tuesdays, thereby “ruining” my dinner atmosphere. Fuck that shit. With every dirty diaper, restaurant meltdown, or late night blog updating, there’s nothing like kids and the only dread is watching them grow up too fast.