I almost wrecked my truck the other day.
There I was, minding my own business, as usual. Summer break had officially begun and
because of that I wasn’t able to get much writing done. You see, I kinda need peace and quiet when I write, which is something severely lacking when the O-spring is bopping around the house. All good, not a problem. She would soon be starting her summer day camp stuff and this gave us an opportunity to hang out for a bit.
Of course, as O-springs get older – and we parental units do as well – we become an embarrassment and they really aren’t all about hanging with us. Still, we had errands to run and the kid had no choice but to come along, so she had to hang out with me whether I was an embarrassment or not.
This is where the path to near wreck begins.
O-springs have contingency plans. If they don’t want to hang with you, even if they are going to be in the same vehicle, they find a way around having to interact on anything more than a minimal basis. My O-spring’s method of doing this is to immerse herself in a game with her Nintendo DS.
We didn’t have these things when I was a kid. Hell, I was in my tween’s when I saw – and played – one of the first commercially available PONG games at a Shakey’s Pizza Parlor on St. Charles Rock Road. I was a full fledged teenager before video game systems that did anything more than the aforementioned PONG were sold for home use. Now my O-spring has something the size of a checkbook – in a designer color mind you – that has more computing power than the system that put astronauts on the moon back in ’69. There’s something not quite right about that…
But, let’s get back to the almost wreck.
There we were, cruising along taking care of errands. We’d been to FedEx, the Post Office, the Recycling Dropoff, and several other stops in between. Our final stop before heading back home was the local Walgreens and I had aimed the big red truck in that direction. All during the excursion, O-spring had her nose in her DS. Anything I said to her elicited either a grunted “yeah” or more often a “what?”
Silly music was blaring from the pink time waster as the O-spring engaged in untold feats of stylus-on-touchscreen über-skillz while playing something called “Mario Party”. Judging from the somewhat familiar midi tune, I gathered it had something to do with the old Donkey Kong / Mario Brothers stuff.
Suddenly, the kid spoke up, much to my surprise. Seems I was now a necessary part of her day…
“Daddy?” she said with that questioning note all parents have come to expect whenever they hear their “name” called.
“What, honey?” I asked.
With a perplexed tone to her voice she asked, “What are Crazy Crotch Hairs?”
Brakes squealed… The steering wheel spun… And caffeinated beverage sprayed…
We missed the telephone pole at the entrance of Walgreens by something on the order of half an inch. I still haven’t been able to get the coffee stains out of my dash from where I spewed a mouthful all over the instrument panel.
Upon some careful and targeted questioning I came to discover that “Mario Party” is a cluster of games, one of which is named “Crazy Crosshairs”.
The truck is fine, and the O-spring now knows what crosshairs are. Me? Well, I think I’ll be making an appointment with a cardiologist. As I understand it these “holy crap” moments only get worse as the kid gets older, and I’m not sure how much my old heart can take.
Now, if I can just find a way to NOT test the airbags on my truck, I’ll be all good…
More to come…
Murv

Back in the days of vinyl record albums containing recorded concerts of such funny folk as Richard Pryor, George Carlin, and Robin Williams, there was also Steve Martin. Mister Martin is arguably one of the funniest people of the late 70’s / early 80’s, and is still insanely hilarious to this day, albeit with a different bent to his humor. In case you haven’t done the math just yet, the line about “tits” was from one of his comedy routines – quite obviously the “odd number” being the major component of the punch line.
However, sometimes their aim is a bit off – as is the case with this odd number of tits on my screen. Not that there is actually an odd number of breasts, mind you. Just that it is odd that there is any number of them on my screen whatsoever. You see, some of the really major culprits where targeted web ads are concerned happens to be the sidebars of social networking sites. In the case of “Myspank” they tend to get really obnoxious. I can’t count the number of times I’ve been approving friend requests, only to have an embedded shockwave-flash video of some twenty something cutie giggling and smiling at me as she ostensibly carries on a chatroom-esque conversation with yours truly. Problem is, I can’t see what she’s supposedly saying to me… However, my also unseen replies must be pretty damned witty, because she giggles a lot and makes bedroom eyes at me. Too bad I’m old enough to be her father. If I was a hormonal twenty-something single guy, I might be flattered. If I was a hormonal teenage guy, well hell, I’d fall for it in a heartbeat. But, the fact of the matter is none of the cuties they’ve paired with my profile to date can hold a candle to E K, so it’s a moot point. (Just for the record, she didn’t make me say that… This time, anyway.)
However, lately, even though I’m listed as married, the web marketers of the Myspank platform seem to be under the impression that I am single. Either that, or they know something about my marriage that I don’t. Obviously, this is where the “tits” come in.
I mean, what with it being targeted marketing and all, they should already know I’m married. So, if they are trying to tease me into being unfaithful, why in the hell would I care if the other party is single? Just something to consider…know what I mean?
Now, don’t get me wrong. All of the ladies they have paraded across my screen are perfectly lovely. And, in the endowment department they definitely aren’t lacking by any stretch of the imagination. I’m fairly certain they have a good bit of the alphabet covered. In fact, a couple of them look to me like they would benefit from a lifetime supply of Doan’s Pills. (For the younger crowd out there, Doan’s Pills are a pain reliever that was originally marketed for backaches. They are still around these days, but they don’t seem to be advertised anywhere near as much as they were in the past.)
But, you know, the thing that gets me the most about these particular ads isn’t even their frequency – which is high. And, when I say high I mean, as in at least every other refresh, and often times even more. Nor is it the fact that undoubtedly not a single one of the ladies pictured have anything at all to do with this supposed “singles meeting service”. Nope. Even as disturbing in a sense as all that is, it’s not the real kicker.
Anyway, the marketing geniuses seem to believe that I will somehow get a vicarious thrill by placing the mouse pointer over the two dimensional “tits” and watching it turn into a hand. I suppose if I was a little perverted… Well… Wait… Actually I am a little perverted… In a good way though… But, that’s beside the point… If I was into the whole “boob thing” and I was also just a little off kilter in the braincase… Or a little desperate, I suppose… I guess maybe I could get all excited about moving that virtual hand around a bit before clicking on a strategic location or two. My guess is, that’s exactly what they are going for. Maybe I should do a poll of the 18 to 24 year old males with pages on “Myspank”. I bet they could tell me…