Last night we had Little Mitch’s first parent teacher interview. I admit I was nervous about it. As you can tell by what I’ve shared with you in past blogs I really don’t care what others think of me, it never crosses my mind. Yet for some reason I had anxiety about the parent teacher interview. I think it’s the fear that most parents have. The fear that either your kid is struggling academically or that your kid is a fire obsessed sociopath and they finally found all 87 missing Barbie heads from the doll bin…in your kids cubbie hole. Well okay, maybe that last fear is my solely my own. To sum, Little Mitch is doing well in school, makes friends easily, has a creative sense of humour (that’s my boy!) and is a joy to have in class. Needless to say I was pretty proud of the fruit of my loins. Loins, that will officially be my favourite word of 2010.
While we were waiting for our turn to talk to the teacher, Mrs. Mitch struck up a conversation with another set of parents. She asked the Hot Lesbian Moms how old their little guy was. I call them the Hot Lesbian moms not to be horny and sexist rather to be accurately descriptive because they were, both hot, both lesbian and both moms, hence Hot Lesbian Moms. I think they have club jackets, I’ll ask next time. They replied their offspring was 17 months. Then it occurred to me. Capital idea! I’m going to refer to my own age in months from now on. In fact I just recently celebrated my 395th month. That sounds much more interesting than saying I’m 32, or my standard answer these past few years; 29 with X years of experience. Why wait a whole 12 months to celebrate my birthday? Lets celebrate every month I put on the Mitch odometer. The fact that I survive another month with my love of fast food, poor sleep habits, and sedentary lifestyle really is cause for a monthly celebration. And this way in April I could have a 400 Month Mitch Spectacular! I haven’t worked out the particulars of what this will involve but I do know there will be barbecue meat, naked women, bouncy castles and hair metal involved somehow.
On a completely unrelated note I have decided to add a new terminology to my sexual lexicon. Why you ask? Three reasons.
1. Sex is funny as hell and provides me with loads of comedic material.
2. This metaphor is comedy gold.
3. Out of scientific curiosity I want to see how long it takes for this metaphor to catch on with day to day society.
Without further ado ladies, gentleman, and hot lesbian moms I present for addition to your sexual lingo:
“Circling the Airport.”
How did this come to be in the Mitch lexicon? The other day my lifelong wingman and completely non-sexual platonic heterosexual life partner, Andrew texted an ethical moral dilemma for me to ruminate upon. He posited, “what has better odds? The Texans (our favourite NFL team) winning this weekend? Or you getting laid?” I didn’t really have to ponder upon this for too long and replied immediately “The Texans. I’m on a a dry spell right now. I’m circling the airport waiting for permission to land.” There it was. I accidentally pooped comedy gold. If I had to define “Circling the Airport” I would say “When one is in a sexual relationship and due to unfortunate circumstance and/or scheduling conflicts one enters a sexual dry spell due to having constantly reschedule or delay sexual gratification with a partner for an indeterminate period of time.” For example your work schedules are not complimentary, your kid is sick, your having a rough week at work, groceries need to be done, and the van needs to be taken in; it is inevitable the sweet lovin’ gets bumped down the bench for a while.
We riffed on this back and forth for the next twenty minutes. I won’t bore you with the banter but here’s a sample: “Running on Fumes,” “Down an Engine,” “Co-Pilot is out with food poisoning,” “Landing gear won’t deploy,” and eventually a few days later “The Eagle has Landed,” if you know what I mean, but of course how could you not with this heavy handed metaphor?
I’m going to encourage all my readers to drop this phrase into your regular slang, and let’s see where it ends up; other blogs? Magazines? Newspapers? A TV sitcom? A press conference? A lame Hollywood Romantic comedy? A funeral eulogy? Who knows? But it will be fun to see where it turns up. This is kind of like the first time I watched a hardcore european porno; I’m equal parts excited, terrified, bewildered, sweaty and wondering where the hell this thing is going to go.
Or not. It could just as easily die a quick slang death even before it takes off and end up as a smouldering pile of twisted metal at the end of the runway. While we’re on the subject, can the use of “Awesome” just die a peaceful death please? It’s officially overdone.
No need to thank me, I’m an idea man, it’s what I do.