I am a prostitute. There. I said it.

After mentioning yesterday on Facebook that I would be having lunch with one of my doctors who is a homosexual and hates my drug, some questions arose from a few readers. Therefore, today, allow me to briefly explain.

You see, I am a medical representative for a pharmaceutical company. I can't divulge which one, nor can I talk about my drug. But suffice it to say, for better or worse, this is what I have done with my life...so far. When I started blogging I wrote a Dear Mr. Healthcare Provider...sir... post long before anyone but Deb and Nannette were reading me. So being a pharma whore, I am largely looked down on.

Now, I have a tendency to be long winded, which I swear I won't do today. I just wanted to point out one thing that I love about my job. Yesterday my lunch was at a clinic whose doctor does not make appointments. If you want to see him, you come to the clinic, sign in, and wait. Most times, up to FOUR HOURS. His waiting room is standing room only, and people love him...which is fine. But yesterday, one woman was irate in the waiting room due to the duration of time she had been waiting.

Now, I HATE to wait. For ANYTHING. So the greatest part about my job is that I get to spend so much time with so many doctors that I know EXACTLY who to take my kids to, and who to avoid. It really is an unbelievable benefit to having a job that is heartbreakingly demeaning at times.

So today, my friends, I say this to you, as well as that woman in the waiting room yesterday...if you hate your healthcare provider, there are hundreds of thousands of them out there to choose from. And if you REALLY want to find one that will have little waiting room time, go camp out at a high volume primary care clinic, and wait for a rep to come through...stop them and ask who they love in the area. I'm telling you...we aren't just annoying pharmaceutical dirty pirate hookers, we actually may know a thing or two about a thing or two.

TWT - Adding to my Age and Girth.

One year older.
3000 calories heavier.
One family growing. and whining. and screaming.
One blog happier.

Thank you...all.

WW - Extra large, please...you know, like my ass?

Look. If you're gonna do it, just do it.
Don't make 6 "just one more nibble" trips back to the pan.
Just cut a good one. Make it count.


Home is where the heart attack is.

PS - When did my damn hand start wrinkling like that??!!
What am I, like 90?


By the way, I awakened to an amazing gift from my dear friend Deb...
make sure you go see what it is.

Thanks again to Angie
for another ragin' Wordful Wednesday...

Also Thanks to 5 Minutes for Mom for "Wordless" Wednesday...I always have such a problem being wordless...

A letter to my son.

Today is about you, my friend.

I want to tell you some things, things that you probably won't understand until you are much older. Maybe you'll even be a Daddy yourself when you feel what I'm going to tell you, and I hope you feel most of it for yourself.

Boys think their Daddys aren't scared of anything, but I have to tell you, I was scared of you.

See, I had a bit of a rough time as a kid. I was younger than the other boys, and had some stuff happen, and so I was afraid that if I had a little boy I would have to guide him through some of the things that life puts in the way, and I wasn't sure I could do a very good job.

It's easier for Daddys and their daughters, and harder. And your sister was such a pill, she really had me scared of adding to the family. But Mommy and I wanted to make our family grow, and wanted to make sure your sister could have a friend to love, so we tried again.



On the day you were born, the doctor asked, "Would you like to help?" Thinking he was just having fun with me, I replied, "Sure! But I could use some help!" And then as if to silence my arrogance, he handed me a gown and gloves, and took me to where you would join us. He took your head, and led it to the light of the room, and then asked me to step in, and take my son. You barely resisted before you entered my life, falling into my grasp. And you were born.



Any fears or insecurities I had about having a son have mostly gone now. You arrived as if to push those fears to the side, and accept what I had to offer without question. While I look into your face and worry about what has yet to come, you stare at me with eyes that could care less. Unconditionally accepting eyes. If I am going to disappoint you, I am really gonna have to want it. And I don't. I sometimes feel like I'm supposed to be tougher, and not hold and kiss you as much. I just can't seem to stop.



I promise you I will try to let you live your life without telling you how it will be, as long as you ask for help when you are confused. There is a lot I will not be able to give you, but a lot I can. All you ever have to say to me is, "Dad, can we please talk?" And we will.

I didn't know what I was going to be able to teach you if I still had residual doubts in my own life. The thing is, I'm going to try to not put my past on you. I want you to find your own way, and I want to help, too. There are things that may not be easy for you, and I may be able to help. But I'll try not to make my struggles your struggles.



After your sister was born, I thought I might not have enough love to give to another. And then you came. And I had enough love for you both, and Mommy too. Any fears I had before of having a son are now gone, and so are any memories of a full life without you. I'm only going to put pressure on you to do one thing...be happy.

So today I try to put down my own baggage, and help you avoid your own.

Happy Birthday, sweet boy. On this, your second birthday, I wish for you a life filled with the kind of love your Mommy and I feel for you.

Yet Another Jay and Deb Production.

What am I wearing? My kids' college fund.

Not to be outdone by my dear friends Deb and Angie, I present to you my attire today. Perhaps this photo looks like any other, but for me it tells a number of stories.

Vans, 7 years old, $40. I love Vans. They make me feel like I'm 40 and a half again.

Shirt, Steve and Barry's, $6. I ABHOR spending money on clothing. But this little number is a perfect ride, until the bus screeches to a halt in wardrobe hell at...

Lucky Jeans, I have no idea where, $100. Yes, my wife buys me jeans. I tell her not to. She does it anyway. I tell her to take them back. She won't. I tell her I'd rather die than wear something called Lucky Jeans. She says whatever. Then I wear them, TO CUT WOOD. $100 jeans to cut wood. Yup, perfect.

Respirator, $18, Harbor Freight. My fav article of clothing today, since sawdust and smoke give me a lung infection and make me sick for 2 weeks. Not kidding. Both my neighbors smoke, btw. In their driveways. I'm buying a gun.

And one final point tonight, my wife and her friend went shopping on Saturday. I fully prepared myself to see her come through the door with her arms full of bags. Hell, I expected it. Instead, she walks in with ONE bag.

Guesses? Anyone? C'mon, push yourselves...

Yep. Jeans. For me. $100.

It's kinda like when that tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it fucking scream that it doesn't want any more fucking $100 jeans.




Hey. It's Tuesday's Tribute tomorrow...are you gonna play? I'm thinking of tributing my neighbors, clutching their packs of Lucky Strikes, and giving me the finger from their yards as they make every effort to exhaust the bulk of their lung butter in the direction of my kids. Or maybe I'll tribute that little hooligan who I saw break a bottle at the base of their driveways tomorrow morning. Sure, I'll go looking for him with you, just gimme a call after you change those tires.

Still a moron, but evolving.

Last week I charged you lovely souls with coming up with birthday ideas for my blushing bride, and you came out in force. Many of you felt that the way to her heart would be a day at the spa, which I thought was a great idea. Almost ready to pull the trigger on that idea, I was suddenly approached by my nosy little gal, who informed me that she had been reading the post, and although she likes spa treatments, she is already sitting on a gift card to one that she has had for almost two years. I asked her, "Well then, sweetie, is there something else you have your heart set on?" She replied, "Yes, I'd like an electric griddle for when I make pancakes", something she loves to do.

So I went out today and got her the griddle she asked for, which I kept hidden upstairs tonight while she opened her real present...which was wrapped in a griddle box. I thank you all for your suggestions, you really came out strong for me. In the end, I thought the safest course of action was not to give her what she asked for, but what she wanted.

Ok, somebody owes me something good.

Last week, like a supportive husband, I sat with my wife and watched Mamma Mia. Effectively, I discarded the remaining shreds of my manhood, and sat painfully through the worst of all Meryl Streep movies.

Fast forward to last night, where I found myself on the couch again with the missus watching Sex and The City, The Movie. One step better, although a pretty frickin' small step.

So now I sit and contemplate the sacrifices I have made in the name of love this week, and I want you to know that I AM keeping score. And you owe me. And you know what currency I value. Yes, I'm done being romantic. Pay up.

Oh crap...here she comes...

"Hi Honey! I know...it was great wasn't it?! Good ol' Carrie Bradshaw...love that gal. Aww, love you too, sweetheart. Foot rub?"

I'm fucking dying over here. Just a little at a time.

3 Issues in Need of Female Intellect

Good evening my sweet, soft, smart and WHITE HOT female friends...

I again need your help. Today, with 3 questions...so here we go.

1. In my last post I showed you my new Acer Eee pride and joy, about which my fantastic-commenting friend Beth from What I Should Have Said asked, "Does she have a name yet?" And No, she doesn't! Will you think of a name for her?

2. My wife's birthday is SOON. She is beautiful, girly, and I will be leaving to go out of town ON her birthday, so I REALLY need your help here...what should I get her? Please keep your suggestions out of the diamond jewelry case. And no sleeved blankets, Kristina.

3. My daughter is 4.5 years old, and has a May birthday. We have had a number of people ask us if we plan to put her into Kindergarden this year, or hold her a year more before she goes. Have any of you faced this dilemma? I was a year and a half younger than everyone else in my grade right thru college, and I believe it created an unfair challenge for me, developmentally, that other kids simply weren't faced with. I tend to think that if I can give my daughter the advantage of being in the OLDER half of the kids in her class, wouldn't that be putting her in a more advantaged place to succeed? Will you share your thoughts?

Thanks, smartypantses. In all seriousness, I love your comments, and value your opinions. If I didn't, I wouldnt drop my issues in your lap like a carcass being dragged into the lion's den.

TWT - Roadie.

But soft! What light through yonder Netbook breaks? It is Halftime, and the Asus Eee 1000 PC is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the nosy Starbucks voyeur who is sick and pale with envy.



You thought I was stalking you good before? Wait till you see how stealthy I can be with THIS baby...

WW - Dear Mr. President...

First, I received a disturbing phone call on Inauguration Day.

(ok, ok...yes, Margie is me...don't get all freaked out like Melanie did...;-) ok, now let's get down to the real reason for this post...)


Dear Mr. President,

As my friends so eloquently pointed out, I did not vote for you. And unfortunately, many of those who did not were made out to be Obama haters, rednecks, well...republicans. I hope to set the record straight with you.

First off, let me just say how proud I was of you today, the same pride I feel when any man from any party takes on this service to his country. I'm sure you would agree that the presidency is bigger than any one man, but that being said, you again conducted yourself with the air of a leader, and focused on bringing people together, and that behavior commands the respect of all.

Now, the facts.

I did not vote for you. I voted for another man who I admire and believe in. I didn't vote AGAINST you, I merely voted FOR someone else.

I am not a republican.

I am not a democrat.

I am not conservative.

I am not liberal.

And more than all that, I am not a racist. It's alarming to me that I have to make this statement, but after seeing some footage of dyed-in-the-wool haters using the "N" word to describe you, I again feel the need to distance myself from some of those who would oppose you.

I do not dislike you, or hate you. In fact, I like you a great deal. You ran a groundbreaking grassroots campaign, and made people care about our electoral process who never had before. You write and speak like few others, and that brings people together. That being said, you have made a LOT of promises. Promises of programs that you made it sound like would be a no-brainer to create and execute once in office. I hope you make good on your word on many of those promises, many of us are watching to see if you will be able to get them approved by Congress...no easy challenge. Hopefully your dynamic oratorical skills can sell the American people on your ideas and make it easier to push by those in Congress who would hold out their own hand to try to collect for themselves first, or their party.

I don't believe in everything you do, but then I didn't believe in everything my candidate believed in either. You have big dreams for our country, and huge challenges ahead of you, and now that you are my president, I will support you wholeheartedly. I know you want the best for us, and you want to initiate many new programs to help us all...I only ask you to remember one thing.

As you pointed out in your inauguration speech, much of our future lay on our shoulders, and Americans who want the best for our families need to work hard and create their own success. I am a capable man, with a family to support. I am willing to work, and save, and spend, and pay taxes. So please consider those of us who try with all our might to create our own success before you try to hand us all programs we don't ALL need, and charge us ALL for them. Please just try to give us the FRAMEWORK to allow for personal achievement, and we will work hard to do just that...achieve.

So today, your first full day on the job, I wish you all the best of luck. I admire your energy and determination, and I am excited to see what you can come up with in the years ahead. And I, with many, will be working with you, and not against you.

I absolutely HOPE...for you.


Jay @ halftimeLessons


PS - And good luck with Congress. You have my permission to slap 'em silly.

My Mum.

Hi Luv.

I have a few things to say to you, and I know that you may not ever read this, but I'm throwing this out into the universe all the same.

The thing is, you're probably gonna have a bad year. To position it any other way would belittle what you are going to go through, and I won't do that. Physically, mentally, emotionally, you've been here before, you know. So I'm gonna make this about me for just one minute, and then we're gonna talk about you.

Since you told me, I have had some time to reflect on this, and think about how I'm feeling compared to four years ago. And the thing is, the more I reflect on what happened, the more I feel shamefully guilty about how much more I made it about my feelings than yours. I was frightened, sure, but more so I was in denial about what you would be going through. Plus, never having been through all those new feelings about watching someone you love struggle with their health, the more I emotionally hid from the whole thing. The more I pushed it back in my mind, the more I physically backed away from your pain, your fatigue, your physical changes, your shame.

I made it more about me. I know that now. It took watching your bravery to understand how little I was being, how selfish.

How unbelievably selfish.

And how understandable that you want to now spend all your energy worried about how your kids are going to cope with it this time. That's the flip side to raising kids who care so intensely about their family...at some point those kids are going to point that emotion at you. But that is who you are, and that is the family you have created. The proof of the amazing woman that you are is in the eyes of your grandchildren...they are here because of you. We watch their faces absolutely light up when you are around. You are bringing into their lives the same love and caring you tried to instill in us, and they will be remarkable human beings because of it.

So it's time for you to focus on yourself. We will be fine, because we know you will be. And this time, it won't be about me. This time, my only hope is that you don't worry about anything but yourself. I know you will be fine. You were a survivor of the first bout, and you still are. There will be new emotions, new challenges, new pain, I know. But in the end, you will continue to beat this thing, of that I am sure.

Please try not to be scared, and please try not to think about us. Instead, lean on your husband, lean on me, lean on us all. You always hold us up, Mom, this time it's our turn.

Yet Another Jay and Deb Production.

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To participate in Tuesday's Tribute, Fill out a Mr. Linky below with your name and URL address to your Tribute. Need a details, or a button? Go Here.

I need your help.

First, having some camera fun this morning. I just cant seem to get in the middle of the picture. Don't get excited, I am not doing MeMes still, I'm just throwing up a pic of my ugly mug to help others feel better about themselves.

Note the crow's feet, the 80's ear piercing that would never quite heal over, the unshaven rebellion signifying a day off, and the "I'm supposed to be cleaning the house" smirk that will soon be slapped off.



Here's today's topic of conversation:

How many of you are making money from your blog, and know a little something about doing it?

Do any of you make $10 per month?

$100 per month?

More?

Do you use Blogher? Adsense, other?

I joined Blogher (pay per impression) almost 2 months ago, and have made a whopping $12. And my traffic is pretty damn good. One of my fav bloggers jumps on Adsense this weekend, encourages her readers to click for her, and is up to $78 in 3 days.

So if you will, lets spend some time spitballing all of this, and figure out how all of us can make some money from our soul-sharing, if that is what interests you.

Tell me if you have had any success at this, and what has worked.


Also, just want to thank Young Momma, Jenners, and Tena for nice linky mentions of me recently, hop over and see what they are up to as well.


And finally, you know what tomorrow is...Tuesday's Tribute. We will be throwing up Mr. Linky tonight, we are excited to see who (or what!) you are honoring this week. Remember, you don't HAVE to Tribute President-Elect Obama. I mean, one or two might be nice, but if I find 40 tributes to the man, I'm gonna call for a recount in Pennsylvania.

Happy MLK Day.

Ok, ok...I'm here...dammit...

Hi.
I've been absent for a couple of days...you probably haven't noticed. The thing is, the wife and I have been involved in a project, and it has utterly consumed us.

Yeah, I set that up like we're curing cancer or feeding sick malnutritioned babies or something, I know. And, if you believe in the seven deadly sins, we continue to have Pride and Envy nailed down pretty good. Oh crap...and Gluttony...and Sloth...dammit...

No, dear, judgmental friends, this is about a floor, and the things you place on it. You see, we saved our little pennies, and bought a new floor. Dave Ramsey would be proud of us, we actually paid cash for the sucker, and didn't contribute to any national bad credit decisions. Here she is.



Took us four years, but we saved up and bought a floor. To go on top of a floor. The irony and waste of that I choose not to address, instead, let's focus on what has been an increasingly frustrating for us...a complete lack of talent and ability to decorate.

And I mean, we suck hard. To look at the picture above, that looks ok, right? I mean, it may not be your taste, but it looks ok? I cannot describe to you what it has taken to get to this point...Trial of 100 things that look horrible, and in the end, it just looks...ok.

How do you talented souls out there decorate so well? We have a neighbor on our street who puts rooms together in a random, eclectic manner, and they look fantastic. My wife and I stand in a showroom like a couple of neanderthals screaming "UUUnnngghhhh!! Me need BROWN!!

Truly frustrating process. And by the way, who the hell wants to pay $2000 for frickin rug that sits under a table that only gets used when the frickin POPE comes over? NO. THANK. YOU.

Anyway, I'm back. Happy Frickin Sunday. Sorry, I had a really bad night's sleep, and now I am on Daddy Duty for the day. I'm gonna start with coffee, and see if I can improve this mood...bleh.

One more thing...Tuesday's Tribute was an even bigger success in Week 2...you think you might wanna play this week? We'd love to read you...

Kat's Workshop...Regarding Kat.

Unless it has escaped you, our fearless writer leader shares the same nickname as my wife. Tonight, I sit to tell you about her. Not MamaKat, MY Kat. I dont really know MamaKat. I mean, all that well. whatever.


The assignment? To identify an inner quality in my spouse that I admire. Which is easy, especially since I elected to marry the gal. There is plenty that draws me to her, endears me to her, holds her in my place that is designed for only one. But I'm afraid, because I'm a conflicted shit, this will be a double edged sword. For there is something that I both admire about her, and am dragged over the coals by...and that is her ability to put emotion aside and do the hard things.

When I brush my son's teeth, I regularly make a game of it...make him laugh, try to squeeze some semblance of fun out of a painful act for a 2 year old. Do I get them sparkling clean? Well, not really...we do ok. When my wife brushes him, I can hear her putting him in the thumbscrews from the next room. Blood-curdling screams abound, but those baby teeth are getting PRISTINE.

I often come in to judge her, as most parents would who get to witness their son tied down having the steel wool applied to his infantile bicuspids. And I often feel like she is treating him like one of her patients at the hospital, who she is administering treatment to despite the howls of pain. Her face clouds over, she puts her Mommy mind aside, and does the work for the betterment of the child.

But it's your son.

That's where my immediate mind goes. My overprotective mind, my parent mind. And I almost forget what I admire about you. Your ability to put it aside. The ability to put it all aside, even for a moment, and do the hard thing. At first I thought you were cold. Unfeeling. And then I realized what blessing that feature is in a Mommy. Our kids are better for your ability to do what needs to be done. It's hard to watch sometimes, but in the end, I know what kind of care my kids are getting.

Thank you, Love.

Thanks to the lovely MamaKat for her creation of the Writer's Workshop, and for putting out a pail for my mental diarrhea.

WW - Moonies R Us

Just a quick heads up...I am starting a cult. If you are interested in joining, please liquidate your assets, send me the cash, and practice the facial expression below...it will be required when the spaceship picks us up.

Thanks again to Angie
for another ragin' Wordful Wednesday...

Also Thanks to 5 Minutes for Mom for "Wordless" Wednesday...I always have such a problem being wordless...

Tuesday's Tribute - Sweet sustenance, thy name is Wendy.

How do I justify thee? Let me count the ways.

As a strapping man of many stone, I understand my worth, for yea that mine own intake may not exceed 2800 calories on the morrow.
As well my morning coffee cost me but a trifle, a mere 50 calories in nonfat milk, and four sweeteners sent to adorn and please my palate from the very Gods above.

Upon the path to the stable, I was confronted by the stealth and savory wit of a banana, and I laid with it for a time. She was sweet, but she cost me. 110 calories, save I return to the bunch.

But only 160 into the warmth of the morning sun, my gait was strong, my fears unrealized, my intent noble, for I knew my luncheon fate lay ahead as the sun rose to its peak. A tireless seductress was sure to tempt me with the fruit of her loins, and my will to resist would be no match for the strength of her greasy fill, and her chocolaty ambrosia.

What woman is this, who can see the breadth and depth of a man's need? What heartless siren takes the very will of a man in trade for her delights? One could barely push her name past one's lips for fear of utter surrender.

Hours passed, and as if summoned by my wanton spirit...

she suddenly laid in front of me.



Her garments trembled in the breeze beneath her, as if they themselves were aware of her undeniable strength over a man. As the world behind me blurred with unimportance, and without regard to any consequence, I knelt to take her with the warm sun on my back pushing me down, down, down.

I paused, and held still for a time. And as if to softly return me to the moment, she whispered, "950 calories...that still leaves 1700 for dinner, My Lord. Please don't make me beg, sir?"

I fell on her again with a savage fury, satiating my every urge until the scrape of my plastic spoon began to yield waxy disappointment, and I fell back in exhaustion. In a prideful swoop I adjusted my belt to recover my girth, and looked at her remaining garments not with guilt, but with the eyes of a man who had found freedom. She had pushed me, and I had taken her. There was no remorse clinging to my spirit, nor would there be...

until I found her sister...


(PS - Yes, this post may seem like it is about me, but it is ultimately a tribute to the Wendy's Single and Large Chocolate Frosty. Yes, we are pretty stringent with the rules around here at Tuesday's Tribute...Have fun!!)

Yet Another Jay and Deb Production.

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To participate in Tuesday's Tribute, Fill out a Mr. Linky below with your name and URL address to your Tribute. Need a details, or a button? Go Here.

Me and Annie sittin in a tree....

I have to say, I was deeply offended yesterday at being called a liar so many times on one Sunday. That being said, it just goes to show you what remarkable judgment you all have. Yes, that picture is a tad old...it was taken 10 years ago on the beach in Puerto Rico. But I mean, how much can one man change in one decade??



Ok, no, that's not me. But if you are interested, my sweet friend Annie at Cookies, Chaos and Conversations, in an unprecedented show of pity, has featured ME today on her blog!! And actually, I sent her a recent picture to post as well, so go see!! And you'd better hurry...Annie is shuffling me down the page pretty quick...my comments must be bad for business...

Unless, you don't want inside my head...which I would totally understand...

Oh and one more thing...remember what tomorrow is?? Come show us all how you like to point and giggle at people by participating in this week's Tuesday's Tribute...