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When my wife and I moved to West Hollywood several lifetimes ago (actually 7 years), we lived on Martel Ave, two blocks North of Melrose and two blocks South of Santa Monica Blvd - Right near Fat Burger.
Great location, great building, and even a famous person or two (Sasha Mitchell of TV's Step by Step lived right below us on the 2nd floor)
Goofy cousin Cody was in unit 209
And outside our 3rd floor balcony was Poinsettia Park with its ball fields, tennis courts, and its playground. It was perfect - Or so we thought.
The very first weekend in our new home, we were awoken just past 7:00 AM to the shrieks of six year-old girls, the shouting of seven year-old boys and the crying of 20+ toddlers - It was awful.
"Who the hell goes to the playground at 7:00 AM," I asked my new bride. "What's the matter with these people? Don't they know this is a Saturday and some people (namely me and probably TV's Sasha Mitchell) need to get some sleep?"
For years this bugged me - Both the actual noise and the question of why in the world ANYONE would go to a playground that early.
Fast forward to this morning. My 2 1/2 year-old son wakes up at 5 AM. And of course if he's up, I'm up. We watch Sesame Street, we play with blocks, and we eat breakfast. Now it's 6:45 and I have NO FREAKIN' IDEA what to do...
Aaah!!!!! There's always the plaground! So I get him out of his pajamas, throw him in the car (proverbially, of course) and head over to the new Shane's Inspiration playground at Lake Balboa.
Upon arrival, I see at least 2 dozen other zombified parents, half-heartedly chasing their kids around. Forget churros, frozen mangos and inflatable animals - Somebody should start selling coffees and Diet Cokes beside the swingset - He'd make a killing.
So, the back to my initial question. The answer is: ME.
I, and other frustrated parents who are at their wits end with their early rising spawn, take their kids to the playground at 7:00 AM.
Needless to say the little punk fell asleep in the car on the way home and is now resting peacefully.
Me??? I'm exhausted, yet simultaneously jacked up a 64 ounce, Super Big Gulp, Diet Coke.
This is the playround - Minus exhausted parents and annoying kids.
My son wants to play with the garden hose, but I don't want him to get wet as we're getting ready for dinner. "It's broken," I tell him.
He wants me to push him around the block in his red car, but the Laker's game is on... "Your car's broken," I insist - Adding, "We'll get it fixed tomorrow," for good measure.
Then he walks off, muttering "Fix it tomorrow" and I can get back to yelling at Kobe Bryant and his backup singers, err, players.
No matter what your kid wants to do, if you don't want him/her to do it, just figure out a way for that thing to be broken. Doesn't matter if it's an intangible concept - Two year-olds don't know that "Outside" can't be broken. As long as you sell it with a sense of conviction and, this is important, SYMPATHY, they'll take it at face value and move on.
I'm not sure how much longer this lie is gonna work, but I do know Son #2 will start falling for it in just a few short months and I can't wait.
"It's broken" may be the greatest lie you can tell a toddler - And I don't feel guilty for a second.
This knowledge is my gift to you.... Happy Father's Day!
As the title of this blog states, I'm trying to have CAREER all the while being a good dad. I've had a modicum of success, but haven't had the home run yet... That is, until now.
With that said, I present to you my newest game show idea, TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT
To get you acquainted, please know my show is sorta like Deal or No Deal with some slight differences. Differences that make it much better, IMO at least.
Those differences include, but are not limited too:
1) After offering a large sum of cash to the player, rather than saying "Deal or No Deal" our host will say to the contestant, "Take it or leave it". I feel it's a little more to the point and kinda funny in a condescending way - Especially since the host will then remind the player that no matter how well he/she does, said player still won't win more money than he, as the host, is earning for that very same episode. Puts 'em in place real quickly!
2) Instead of 26 cases numbered 1 through 26, there will be 26 cases LETTERED A through Z.
2B) The $1,000,000 will NEVER be in case Y --- If Y can't decide whether it's a vowel or not, we're not letting Y have all the glory.
3) There will be no "Banker" hidden in an upstairs office with tinted glass. However, there will be a "Money Manager" behind a curtain much like the Wizard of Oz.
4) Calls from the "Money Manager" to the host will be broadcast to the studio and home viewing audience - Additionally, these calls will be filled with expletives that are "beeped out".
5) The girls with the cases will not be super-hot model types, but rather ordinary midwestern soccer-mom types. This will ensure that male players pick cases based on actual hunches and not because they would like to "do" a particular girl.
6) If players consciously or subconsciously request cases F, U, C, and K in that order (or any other curse word for that matter) they will be arrested and fined $250,000 by the FCC. All this prior to being shipped to Guantanamo Bay where they will rot away in an underground prison.
7) Although Howie Mandel will not be hosting TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT, players may not shake the hand of or high-five our to-be-named-later host either. Doing so will result in the highest dollar amount being immediately removed from play. Doing so a second time will result in a brutal beating from American Gladiators Mayhem, Wolf, Toa, Titan, Militia, and Justice - See that, cross promotion beyotches!
8) The lowest value on the board will not be 1 cent, but rather 3 cents. No reason really other than to further differentiate the shows.
9) If a player chooses to "Leave It" (similar to "No Deal") and play on, risking it all when there's only one large money sum remaining on the board, a fat black woman (Mo'Nique type) will come out on stage and try to slap some sense into the player.
10) Anytime a player screws up and loses a fortune by being too greedy, cameras will follow that player and his/her family backstage and watch as the player's family berates him/her. Divorce lawyers will be on hand. Additionally, there will be a folding table set up with various blunt objects so the families may take their aggression out on the greedy bastard.
The crying, the whining, the pouting... I can deal with my wife when I'm trying to deal with my two favorite buggers (my boys) on the sandy shores of Malibu.
Travel Tip for all you dads: When going to the beach with a toddler, make sure you have a lot of juice, a lot of toys, and a lot of patience.
My oldest, we'll call him K1, can be a moody little bugger. Sometimes he's fun and other times, well, you just wanna give him away... Forget the black market, just hand him over... No exchange necessary... But he's yours... No backsies.
So yesterday, after two hours of whining while on Topanga Canyon Beach, he FINALLY fell asleep. THANK FREAKIN' GOD!
With him sleeping, my wife decided to take a walk.
My little guy finally asleep.
"No problemo," I said. Though, probably not in Espanol.
Anyway, it's me and the two kids. K1 is zonked out. K2 (the baby) starts crying. I have to think fast... And I do.
I pick him up, cover his head and walk 10 yards or so from the sleeping monster.
At that very moment (I kid you not) a GUST of wind comes from no where, lifting both my brand new beach umbrellas from the ground and taking them on a Mary Poppins-esque journey down the shoreline.
It's fight or flight time. Do stay with K1 and I let them go, thus losing the $40 I just spent on them OR do I, baby in tow, dart down the beach after them?
That's right I chose the latter. Sleeping monster would never know and mom wouldn't know either as, let's face it, who's gonna tell her? Not me.
Problem is, she caught me walking back to our "base camp" with the baby under one arm and two umbrellas over my shoulder...
To say she was upset that I'd leave a 2 year-old sleeping alone on the beach is an understatement... As of this typing, she's still mad at me.
Trust me on this, taking two kids to the beach is no day at the beach.
And who do you think dug this nifty hole? That's right, Hollywood Dad... I'm a giver and doer.
Taking my oldest son, K1, to the playground several times a week for the last year, I've seen my share of famous people. Not that I'm a star-f**ker, but it's always fun to see a celeb -- "D-List" and all.
I've seen everyone from Soul Plane's Mo'Nique and SNL's Tim Meadows to the more famous Elizabeth Shue, Slash of Guns and Roses, and David Caruso of CSI: Miami.
I never bother the celebs while out with their children, though I can't say the same for my son. It was our recent encounter with David Caruso that I'd like to share with you.
Picture this... We're at the playground and K1 pushes David Caruso's little fella. Not that I condone the rough stuff, but kids pushing each other happens all the time.
Then things went from bad to worse as, for whatever reason, the Caruso kid begins to cry... And cry... And cry.
I felt sorry... Truly did.
Had to apologize to David, All the while not acknowledging that I knew who he was.
He knew I knew. I knew that he knew I knew, but I didn't budge. I simply apologized and never let on.
It took every ounce of restraint not to look him in the eye and say in that over-the-top David Caruso-sque, signature CSI schmaltz, "Look's like your kid's played out."
So David, if you've Googled yourself and stumbled on to this blog, Again, I'm sorry. But you have to admit, you'd have laughed your ass off had I pulled that line out in your presence.
Can't you just hear his voice now?
NOTE: As I'm just starting this blog, I plan on using a few older stories to get it going. This story is from about one year ago, but is hilarious nonetheless.
Three weeks ago, I bought my oldest son (I'll refer to him as "K1") a little red car and to say he loves it is an understatement. (See picture below)
Every single morning, we take a walk through the neighborhood - down to Melrose Ave., up La Brea Ave., across Santa Monica Blvd. and back.
What I've noticed is that he's captivated by large vehicles (buses, fire trucks, ambulances and 18-wheelers). And whenever said vehicles rumble by, K1 points to them and, at the top of his lungs, yells "truck" - just in case I didn't know, I suppose.
Thing is, he's only 15 months old and can't actually say "truck" as his brain hasn't figured out out to make the proper phonetic "TR" sound. So, while in his mind he is saying "truck", in actuality he is saying "Cuck".
And of course, while I know what he's saying, passersby think my son is screaming "Cock" AND pointing so as to let me know where the "cock" is.
Of course the embarrassment of my son repeatedly yelling "cock" is amplified by the fact that we live in West Hollywood which is, as everyone knows, the gayest city this side of... Well no where. To give you an idea of how gay West Hollywood is, it makes South Beach look like Racine, WI.
West Hollywood, California: Where bizarre is normal.
And there he is, my little man, screaming "cock" at the top of his lungs every 12 seconds in the gayest city in America.
Well, I don't need to tell you it makes daddy proud.
In a semi-relaed story... People always ask me what it's like being a dad. And I always respond the same way. It's amazing and the one thing I've found to be most incredible is that once you have kids of your own, you finally learn just how much your parents loved you... Oh, and how much they resented you.
But how could you not love this guy? He's the best thing that ever happened to me. WAY better than the stroke... That's for sure.
Goofy cousin Cody was in unit 209
This is the playround - Minus exhausted parents and annoying kids.
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