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Day 4: The Son Never Rises

5:00am.  Fat One wakes up demanding his Glow worm, creatively named “Glowie”. I assumed this was the end of my sleep but once the pudgy hellion had the irradiated worm in his doughy clutches he went back to sleep.  3 hours later i was awoken again but this time by Loud One and Little One stomping up the stairs.  I tried to go back to sleep but a bizzarre magazine sharing argument thwarted that dream.  I emerged from my doorless bedroom and hastily sucked down some tasty liquid crack to equalize myself.  There would be no elaborate group breakfast this morning.  A bowl of cheerios and a muffin would have to suffice.  Loud One gets in trouble for speaking aggressively.  Its funny to hear someone apologize angrily.

Its now 9:00am and Fat One is finally awake and sweet Jesus is he a miserable fuck!  The Sibling says Little One and Loud one were in moods when they woke up too.  Drama Queen appears to be the only one of the mongoloids that woke up happy.  Grandpa has already gone for a nap with the dog.  The mongoloids are already complaining to go outside.  Fat One hit Little One and refuses to apologize so hes enjoying a timeout now.  Finally got Fat One to apologize.  Now Little One is having a meltdown over the pants he has to wear.  Kids put the F U in fun!  Little One finally submitted and put on the Brown Pants of Despair.  All the little mongoloids went out to play.  Grandpa got the fishing gear ready so he and i could take the hoarde fishing across the bay out of the wind.  We got them all ready loaded into the boat.  Little One alone up front.  Drama Queen, me and Loud One in the middle with Fat One on my lap.  Grandpa in the back driving.  We started out ok but 5 minutes later 5 of the 6 of us were soaked to the skin while Grandpa laughed at us while he enjoyed his warm, dry shorts.  After 10 minutes of crawling across the miserable windy lake we finally made it to the safety of the sheltered bay and set anchor.  A few stress-filled minutes of worming the hooks and telling the impatient little monsters that no they cannot fish until i have wormed their hooks and we were finally ready to fish.  Grandpa and I helped everyone get their lines in.  Christ almighty it was frustrating trying to keep the rods pointed in different directions.  And there was the constant “Do I have a fish yet?”  “Is this a fish?”  “When do I get a fish?”  “All I caught is a worm.”  Loud one caught the first and second fish.  Drama Queen quickly landed 3 and even Fat One got one.  Little One didn’t get any but he got bored super quick and stopped fishing so within minutes so he could practice speaking whale.  I tried to let him real one in but his coordination wasn’t there. A few more whiny outbursts and we headed for home. Thank fuck.  Kids suck at fishing.  Quick lunch and off for naps.  Grandma and Grandpa took stupid dog for a boat ride.  Apparently she was not a fan.  And the wind was still being a bitch.

The tranquility of nap time did not last long as Loud One and Little One slept for less than an hour.  Mostly due to the baby one waking

as they were settling in.  Fucking babies.  Grandma and Grandpa still slumber, as does Fat One.  Drama Queen is now awake as well.  A little bit of playtime in the fresh air while waiting for grandma and grandpa to awaken is my sentence.  But Hark!   I have to poop.  So I tredge up to the outhouse and enjoy a leisurely poop whilst The Sibling wrangles the brood.

Delightful surprise of the day: The neighbours brought over some fried fish for letting them play with our toys.  Score!  It was delicious.  Too bad any fish we might be lucky enough to catch will be thrown back.  Grandpa is no master knifeman and neither am I.  So catch and release is the order of the day. Grandpa has gone into town for some supplies and the kids are watching a movie after wrangling them away from the water.  Lasgana for dinner tonight then Grandpa and I will attempt some evening fishing.  I have my doubts but he seems pretty set.  Also there is supposed to be a bonfire tonight.  Yeah fucking right.  At least the goddamn wind has died down.  There is a pretty epic meltdown at dinner by Little One.  His knack for finding the absolute most annoying pitch for his whining is uncanny.  After 5 or 10 minutes of him complaining about the piece of cheese he was given and than proceeding to shred it to holy fucking hell I took him away front he table for a walk.  Mostly for my own sanity but also so the others could it in peace.  After the walk he seemed to be calm enough and ate some of his dinner.

After dinner Grandpa and I give evening fishing a shot.  The lake is far more calm so I dont get splashed like I’m in the front row at Sea World.  We hit a couple of spots but all we’re landing are fucking sunfish and cunty Rock Bass.  Goddamn shitty panfish.  At least the rock bass try to fight.  We planned out a few more spots to hit up in the morning and head back to the cottage for a bonfire.  As we were heading in we could see the flicker of a fire already going.  When we got out of the boat and over to the fire pit we saw an abandoned fire and the remnants of smores.  Back in the cottage the dinner dishes were still out and Fat One and Drama Queen were just heading to bed.  We sat up for the next 2 hours or so hammering back beers and planning the next day.  Swimming and early morning fishing.  Yeah fucking right.  I’ll let you know how that turns out.

 
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Posted by on July 8, 2012 in Family Trauma

 

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Lets Start at the Beginning. A very good place to start.

I recently went on vacation with my kids, my parents and my sister and her 3 kids.   The next few entries are a recounting of the 4 days we spent at Brule View Lodge in/near Plevna, Ontario.  Kind of a stupid thing to start blogging about, right?  Who the fuck cares about my lame family vacation?  Well fuck you.  My wife cares because she couldn’t make the trip with us.  5 hours in a vehicle with me and our 2 shit demon kids is enough to give me heart palpitations too.  So this is for her.  Not for you.  Dick.

I’ll probably be posting the entries one per day for all 4 days.  But I am a super lazy plug so we’ll see.  I might end up doing it once per week and making this shit last for 4 weeks.  Wouldn’t you like that?  Well again, fuck you.  Its still not about you.

And in case you missed it in the first few 2 paragraphs above, I like to swear.  I think its funny.  I don’t care what you think.  Also, if you are a family member of mine that happens to read this and are insulted or offended, I’m sorry.  Its supposed to be funny so keep that in mind before you get pissed off at me.  ITS ALL IN GOOD FUN.  Besides I’m pretty sure I insult myself/my own kids more than anything.

Also to stop any confusion before it starts, this vacation happened like 2 weeks ago.  I’m back home and still recovering from the last day of that trip.  I still can’t lift my arms over my head without pain.  Anyway enough attempted rambling to make this initial blog post seem substantial.  Sweet dreams you filthy animals.

 
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Posted by on July 5, 2012 in Family Trauma

 

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