Tag Archives: Matter Of Time

The Last Panda Post. Promise.

by Richard

Look, dudes, sometimes you just get into a groove. I mean, it’s happened to you dudes before, right? Right? I’m not alone in this one am I?

Well, regardless. Let’s consider this the last panda post for a considerable time. This one is just a whole lot of fun, though.

Kung Fu Panda was a really good movie, both the original and the sequel. Oddly. I mean, most sequels are trash and animated movies doubly so. This one, though, this one actually came through.

And, considering the title, it was only a matter of time until someone merged the visuals with the iconic music of Carl Douglas. You know the one I mean.

Enjoy.


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Ook, Ook To The Monkey Boy

by Richard

Look out, world. Today is the day Zippy the Monkey Boy turns 18.

It’s the day he’s been looking forward to for a long, long time. He likes to think that, just because the law considers him an adult now, that he’ll be treated like an adult here at Casa de Dude.

His mom and I don’t like to disillusion him* about stuff like this, but he’s really not going to be treated as if he’s a house guest. Okay, we’ll probably not cut up his food and wipe his mouth for him, but he’s still a kid in our hearts.

At least until he’s the one who pays for dinner when we go out, but that’s a separate thing entirely.

Today, we come to praise Zippy the Monkey Boy, not to bury him.

With a name like Zippy the Monkey Boy, you’d think he was the one who was always running around, knocking things over and flinging poop all over the walls. He was. But that wasn’t why he got the name. He got the name because he took to climbing like greased-up pigs take to sliding.

He never did learn to crawl. Instead, he kept low crawling until he could stand up and walk. He wanted the extra height, you see.

Once he got up on two feet, it was only a matter of time until he started seeing the fences and stuff we’d put up around the play area, not as a thing blocking his way so he’d better turn around, but as another toy, something we put there so he could have fun climbing and dropping.

That was what we listened to when he was a baby. That thump. We’d hear it and know he’d found his way over another obstacle and we should be expecting his arrival any moment. Diapers were a wonderful thing for Zippy the Monkey Boy. Great cushion. Of course, if it were already a full diaper before he climbed and dropped, we got to clean a lot of flung stuff after.

He’s kept it up. One of my favorite pictures of him shows him high up in a tree, screaming out his triumph for having climbed that high. He was 15 when we took that picture. He likes to climb is what I’m saying.

His other most distinguishing feature through the years has been his love of animals. This is a little dude that has wanted to be a zoologist since he knew someone could actually tell people he was going to study animals all his life and people would be okay with it. Now he’s going off to one of the best marine science schools in the country so he can make the study of sharks his life work. If nothing else, it shows he’s able to find a goal and stick with it.

Zippy the Monkey Boy is getting ready to head off to Wilmington to try his act out down there, along the beaches, among the co-eds and out on his (metaphorical) own. Sure I’m worried.

But only a little. I have the feeling Zippy the Monkey Boy is going to keep on climbing, always reaching for something just out of his reach and finding a way to get it and then seeing the next thing just a little higher up.

It’s been an adventurous 18 years. I can’t wait to see what the next 18 bring.

Ook, Ook, Zip.

*no, that’s a lie. We love disillusioning him. It’s such fun.

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The One Where I Talk About Missing My Own Car

by Richard

Here’s the problem with having young dudes in the house who have driver’s licenses? Other than the huge insurance bills that keep coming and coming with the weight of a sumo wrestler on Jupiter, I mean. No, the problem is that eventually, you’re going to realize that it might be easier to have them drive themselves somewhere while you stay at home.

And once you do that, it’s only a matter of time until you have no choice but to take your car to the body shop to get those dents and dings repaired.

This week, I finally couldn’t wait any longer.

I’d been driving around with an increasingly obvious set of dings and dents and scratches on the car. They made the car look a little off, but nothing I couldn’t handle. (Of course, had the marks been on the car belonging to my wife, known to me as She Who Must Be Driving Just The Perfect Car, well. . . They couldn’t have been there because she won’t let anyone but her drive her car. Smart woman.)

Until last week, that is. That’s when Sarcasmo (who you’ll remember had his first accident when he backed the car up into one of those rare sprinting trees you’ve been hearing about) went to the gym.

Once there, he somehow managed to exit his parking space while not seeing a large mailbox. He says it was below his line of sight and off in an unused area because it wasn’t in use any more, but, . . . Anyway. It might have been down out of his line of sight, but it wasn’t out of the danger zone.

My mini-van (get off my back, they’re cool!) ended up with a nice dent and a hole in the surface below the window on the back of the car. Even though I covered it with camouflage duct tape, it still was too visible.

Thus the trip to the body shop. And a trip to the car rental place next door.

Now I’m cruising around town in a Chevy Aveo, a very small four-door gerbil mobile. I call it that because, when I throw the foot to the floor  and wait a few seconds for the acceleration to begin, that’s what it sounds like: a gerbil spinning madly on her exercise wheel.

I’m used to a lot more room and a lot more height than this thing. It’s strange driving along and feeling like you’re butt is about to scrape the pavement.

I miss the comforting familiarity of my car.

Here, let’s see how that sounds to other people: whinewhinewhinewhinewhinewhinewhinewhinewhine.

Hmm. Yeah.

Well, I do miss it.

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