Tag Archives: Bas

Return Of The Prodigal

by Richard

Today is the day that Zippy the Monkey Boy returns home. He’s been away with a bunch of his schoolmates and teachers on a trip to, among other places, Venice, Vienna and Paris. The lucky little bas– dude.

Seriously, where was this kind of thing when I was growing up? My idea of a wild, exotic time was riding my bike to the other corner store. You know the one, it’s almost a mile away from home. Yeah, like that.

Young dudes these days.

It’s funny, though. We rented him a phone that would work in Europe so he would have some means of contacting us if something went wrong and I think the phone usage showed how he has become more comfortable over there.

When he was on the plane, I sent him a text telling him there was a six-hour time difference so he shouldn’t call when he gets in because it would be 5 am here in Charlotte.

So, at 5:17 am, I get this: “Hey, Dad, it’s Zippy. I got your text and just wanted to give you a call.”

Me: “Did you read the part of the text that said don’t call because it would be way to early for me to get up?”

Zippy: “Um, no?”

Then I proceeded to get two more calls from him during the rest of that day. I got calls at least once a day for the next four days and all was good. And then Zippy the Monkey Boy dropped off the face of the earth.

I’ve got the feeling that he was a bit homesick at first, missing the comforting familiarity of home and wanted to connect a bit to get some of that good feeling back. Then, as he got used to being away and basically on his own without parents breathing over his shoulder all night and day, he realized he didn’t have to waste time calling back when he could be looking at what was in front of him.

Good on that young dude.

Of course, his lack of calls could indicate that he used up all his minutes and texts and has driven us into the poor house from flirting with all the young dudettes who text him constantly. I guess we’ll know later today.

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Tweet Your Face Off

by Richard

Just in case you’re stopping by here and you thought — to yourself — “Dude, I’d love to read more about this kind of stuff, but, really who has the time? What with all the secret trips to the moon and defending humanity from extradimensional incursions of thought beasts from beyond the stars? And stuff?”

Well, maybe not that. Maybe that’s just me.

I do, however, have a solution for you dudes.

You can check us out, not only here at your beloved repository of all things father-y and snarky, but you can also find us on the Twitter and the Facebook. You know, the stuff all the kids are talking about.

On the Twitter, you can find my feed by looking for rjones64 (Yes, I know, highly original and very descriptive. What can I say? I got on early and didn’t think I’d have to keep that moniker for all that long. I was convinced the Twitter was going down the tubes in a matter of months. So much for my fearless prognosticating.). You can tell it’s me by the picture. Yeah, that’s me doing my best impression of an Easter Island head. What? I’ve got issues.

On the Facebook, you can find our page for A Dude’s Guide just by searching us out by name. The name of the site — A Dude’s Guide — that is. Or just, you know, by clicking that link there. Go there and like us. Who knows? There might be something in it for you.*

And, as always, if you’re enjoying the writing here, but you’d like to read more from me where I’m just totally making things up, — as opposed to the strict truthiness here — you can always head over to my fiction-based website.

Finally, if you’re at all interested in giving me money (and, really, who wouldn’t want to do that? [Other than most people on the planet. But I’ve always said you were special]), you can find my business website for Web Words, an internet-based content-generation consulting service, just by clicking on the link there.

Who says we don’t offer far too many ways to waste time on the internet, just for your pleasure? No, really. Who says that?

*probably not


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Shouldering The Load

by Richard

I get it. By jimminy, I get it. I really, really do. You dudes can all stop now. Please.

Here is a typical conversation with a stranger, pick a stranger. Basically anyone who I bump into during the course of my day. Anywhere. Anytime. Anyone.

“Hey, what’d you do to your arm? Shoulder?”

Me: “Shoulder,” trying to move on because I know what’s coming.

Stranger: “Rotator cuff?”

Me: sighing, “Yeah, among other stuff. Had the biceps tendon reattached and had some of my clavicle bone shaved off.”

Stranger: “Wow.”

Me: “Yeah,” trying to leave, but knowing it won’t work.

Stranger: “You know, a (insert relationship here; friend, relative, acquaintance) of mine had that kind of thing. He said it was the most pain he’d/she’d ever gone through. I mean, it’s agony on wheels.”

Me: “So I’ve heard. I’m doing all right, though.”

Stranger: “You must not have started the physical therapy yet. Boy, that’s when the pain really kicks in. I mean, she/he told me she/he was crying like a baby every time she/he went to physical therapy. And it kept hurting all the time. For months. Said it was like having a knife jammed in there and then stirred around for good luck.”

Me: wincing in anticipation and starting to feel sympathy pains for my future self, “Um, yeah. Thanks for sharing.”

Stranger: “No, really. I mean, he/she had (insert some horrible, appallingly invasive surgery or medical procedure here) and he/she said that was nothing compared to getting his/her shoulder done and the rehab after.”

Me: feeling nauseous all over again, “Uh, yeah. Thanks for sharing. Again.”

Finally feeling my oats enough to be rude, that’s when I turn around and walk away. Very, very quickly. And normally bump my shoulder into something hard and unforgiving.

So, yes. I get it. I understand that it’s painful. I also know I don’t need to be reminded — constantly — of that fact. You’d think people would get the hint.

Unless — you don’t suppose? — it’s some sort of conspiracy, maybe. Maybe they are all out to get me. That must be it. I’m sure of it. You’re all trying to hurt me. I see it all so clearly now. I —

UPDATE: I’ve cut down on the meds a bit now and I think I should be all better. Just sort of ignore the previous. I know that’s what I’m trying to do.

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