Sunday, October 28, 2012

Tom and the Mystery of the Vanishing Purple Underpants


I bought Tom a gift online at Fab.com.  

Thursday Morning: A kind of large box arrives and Tom pounces on it with a pair of scissors and single-minded intent. He loves a gift. In short order, Tom reaches into the box and pulls out one pair of electric purple underpants on a hanger. He takes the hanger, with the dangling underpants, up to the closet and hangs it next to his work shirts.

Friday Morning: Tom forgets about his new hanging underpants until after he's already pulled on an old pair and has both legs in his jeans. Go-to drawer habits are hard to break. Tom decides he will be late for work if he disrobes to switch up his underpants. But he wants to wear his new ones at the first possible occasion-- meaning Saturday in new york city. So he unclips the underpants from the hanger and throws them in one of the bags we take with us to the city.

Saturday Morning: Tom cannot find his purple underpants. He settles for an old pair after finally conceding that he probably somehow left his new ones in New Jersey.

Sunday Mid-Afternoon: We are at the grocery store stocking up on hurricane canned goods. The place is packed. We brought our own bags, as usual. Tom reaches inside one and pulls out a handful of material. He thinks it is another bag so he shakes it open and sticks his hand inside. Except it is not another bag, it is his new pair of electric purple underpants. The cashier girl is very impressed, along with many other nearby shoppers.

Vanishing underpants mystery solved.

Monday, October 22, 2012

If only the rest of the world worked like this...

My nephew Jackson and I were hanging out by a garbage truck. Watching it parked by the curb. Its dusty green exterior not glistening at all in the sunshine.

This is how we roll.

Every five minutes or so, a very African American twenty-something guy walks by us carrying a bunch of empty produce boxes and tosses them in the back of the truck. He wears I-work-in-a-kitchen checked pants and a white T-shirt.

At some juncture, I have about enough of the starry-eyed garbage-truck gazing, so I suggest to Jackson that we consider moving on. The kid looks up at me and asks, "Can we just stay here until the white guy goes by one more time?"

I am momentarily confused. Only one guy keeps going by and he is most assuredly not white.

Then I realize the guy has on a white T-shirt.

Thursday, October 04, 2012

Tom's Head Slightly Injured during Hardcore Ape Caper


All I hear is some thrashing around and Tom shrieking like a little girl with a vile potty mouth. I sprint into the livingroom. Tom stands amidst an explosion of broken glass. Some blood trickles off his cheek at a non-fatal velocity. Alex the Cat hovers nearby, puffed up like one of the more gigantic Uggs spaceboots.

It all began innocently enough.

Tom had been lushing on the sofa watching the prequel to Planet of the Apes, starring James Franco. Alex nestled on his lap, sound asleep. Suddenly, an Ape let out a wild Ape wail. Alex, in a singular apoplectic freakout, popped straight up in the air and landed on the top of Tom's head. His claws clung to Tom's face and he perched up there like a demonic koala.

With some quick battle reflexes, Tom yanked Alex off his head. The cat landed on a glass bowl and broke it into a million pieces.

Luckily no one was injured beyond the Lord, whose name was definitely dropped in vain amongst a cluster of soaring f-bombs, the noted flesh wound, and the Orrefors candy dish which I purchased at the factory in 1988.