I was going to call it "Minor League Hockey and Minor League Uncle'n", but despite the clicks it could produce, I think minors and uncles should not be in the same statement.
Not quite 20 hours into the work week, and the fantasy football and news have all been caught up on. This means I have to come up with something that seems meaningful to the rest of the world. With the previous week feeling devoted to the lack of girlfriend (I don't like aches, I want the pain all at once), all I got out of those seven days was trying to relate to my seven year-old nephew at the Rivs' home opener.
He was seated between my dad and I, so I had to refrain from commenting about all the familiar faces in the line up. "Returning" to Peoria for the love of the sport (as I rush from my afternoon retail shift to watch them)? Are you sure you are not living here because of an ill-advised night with a puck bunny (thanks Google and Urban Dictionary)?
That would have to be a nightmare scenario for so many people. As a player, you are probably in your late 20's hoping for one last shot at the ECHL. Instead, you end up having a puck fuck with no net minder. As the biscuit basket's parents, you may feel shame that because your daughter is so dim that she thought a Southern Professional Hockey League player was going to make it to the big time. At least there are some groupies who have their thumb on the pulse of music when they start looking for a rocker to support them for the rest of their lives (It is a small some from my experience). If they are not in the AHL, do not go chasing sweaty balls.
That is two blogs in a row with attempted parodies. I really got to focus on writing my Rage Against the Machine's "Killing in the Name of..." knock off. These blogs are still decades behind Weird Al.
When it came to stuff that I could talk about with my nephew, I am only frustrated by my sister's over protective parenting. Damn teacher thinking she knows everything.
A Naïve Coworker:
My parents were teachers and they were great. It is also great because in the summer, they could spend all that time with us.
Me:
Out of area code grandparents?
They went on about how they are obsessed with their niece. I joked about putting 90 miles between me and my sister's spawn. After finding out that my nephew has yet to experience Buffalo wings, my absence is worth considering regret.
Nephew: I am not a chicken guy. I mostly eat vegetables.
The world is going to end with your generation. Facebook is trying to push its cryptocurrency at a federal level. If Trump is reelected, we are going to have to put Ruth Bader Ginsburg in suspended animation and fight the court battles to keep her in it (as she is still of sound mind). At least enjoy 11 herbs and spices. Appreciate parmesan and garlic. Enjoy sweet, yet hot sauces. And feel powerful looming over the stack of remains left in front of you after consuming any lingering essence of their life force.
Then there was not being able to encourage him into cheering the college flunkies' (at least learn from "Super Troopers") in the A&W Chug a Mug competition.
Me: Do you like Root Beer?
Nephew: No.
Me: Have you tried it?
Nephew: Well no.
I can appreciate not letting children have soda, but if there is a tap, they must have root beer. It looks like I will have to bring a gallon of it my next trip home. That will be the real test to determine if they are over parenting.
It is not like the little bugger is not smart. When there was a phantom elbowing call against the Rivermen after a QC Storm twat flopped:
Me: Get that guy a mouth guard!
Nephew: Or a face cage.
Me: Good one.
He does not get clever English from my sister. But otherwise, how much does he know about himself.
Me: Where was that penalty?
Nephew: He pushed him.
Me: Oooh, a shove.
Dad: They cannot do that in Mites.
Me: So when are we going to sign him up in wrestling or karate, despite my lack of fandom for that art?
Nephew: No thanks. I play with the eight year-olds.
Me: You aren't tough until you get floored with a front kick.
Yes, how much do you know about yourself if you have never been in a fight? I guess the moral of this rant is that I need to abandon trying to get my pro-wrestling zombie comedy "Main Event of the Dead" (but if you have any ideas on how to promote the idea or would like a treatment, email me at russthebus07@gmail.com) off the ground and focus on a direct-to-streaming nihilist children's film about toxic masculinity.
Again, the world is heading towards destruction. If Damon Lindelöf's "Watchmen" has not already shown us enough to back that up that prediction, we might as well start educating them the evils of being manly. Otherwise, I am just going to wish for the machines to take over. At least they do not have a stake in our destruction/restoration.
I have picked my side, and its that new Google quantum processor. Perhaps they should fund my film. YouTube Red needs content.
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