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Happy birthday, Poppy. You're a true friend.

My big man turned five last week. I feel a little guilty about writing a full blog post celebrating Nicholas turning two, then completely ignoring Owen’s fifth for a week. On the other hand, the number of photos and videos I have of Owen’s first two years makes it seem like I lost my camera when Nicholas was born, so maybe it evens out.

After cohosting (with the parents of one of Owen’s best friends) what was generally considered by all in attendance to be the best fifth birthday party of all time, we took Owen and his friend to the circus the next day. Not some new fangled Cirque du High Concept Performance Art, but the O.G. Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus. Yeah, I know, it’s not PC to keep elephants in train cars and make them do tricks. But whatever, it’s the circus, and it’s still pretty darn cool. Now, to be fair, they have made some changes since I last saw the greatest show on earth when I was a kid. They’ve taken a few elements from the Playbook du Soleil. They’ve mostly bailed on the three-ring format, and their costume designers have clearly been looking to make the spandex look a little more “now.” But despite the updates, some things are almost exactly as I remember them.

But this isn’t really a post about the circus. Or about Owen’s birthday. (Sorry, big man. You know I love you, and it’s crazy that you’re already five and starting Kindergarten. There will be more about that in other posts, I promise.). This post is about the circus as a metaphor for my life. Most of the circus wasn’t actually in three rings. It was one act at a time, allowing the audience to focus on that rather than splitting their focus trying to decide what to watch and not miss anything really good. But at a few points during the show, they did do more than one thing. There was some three-ring action. At one point there were FIVE acts at once. I tried to watch all five, but multitasking is a myth. You can only really pay attention to one thing at a time. I think I caught some good bits of at least the four performances closest to where we sat, but I’m sure I missed a lot, and I have almost no idea what that fifth act did.

Here’s the metaphor part. Sorry for the lack of slickness in the transition, but there are two or three other things I’m supposed to be doing at the moment, so the badass writer chops are not what they could be. A year ago I was jobless, overweight, drinking more than my share of margaritas, and trying to figure out what to do next. Oh, how things change. Now I have three jobs, of a sort, each of which I’m exceedingly grateful for, none of which yet pays enough to quit any of the others. Plus there are my kids, my marriage, and this obsession with running which I’d worry was a problem if it weren’t so beneficial to both my mental and physical health. Oh, and this blog. You may have noticed there haven’t been so many posts of late. And in case you’re curious, I’m off margaritas, but haven’t given up wine or chocolate.

I’m fairly certain none of these endeavors is getting what amounts to my best work. That said, I’m pretty darn good, so even with split focus I’m holding my own. But there are times I’m not sure which way to look. Which act to focus on. And sometimes I slip up. I suppose more than anything I hope it’s not my marriage or my family that suffers, though some days I know my fuse is shorter than it ought to be and my attention isn’t where I’d like it. But the occasional slip is to be expected. The dude on the trapeze didn’t manage to hit the quadruple somersault, and the missed attempt was actually pretty exciting. If I do miss one of these days, I just hope there’s a net down there.

This weekend was pretty full, and I'm too beat to try to write a recap, so here is my holiday weekend, bullet style:

• For those of you who purchased raffle tickets to the Piper raffle, we raised $1500 in one week, and I will be drawing the names and announcing the winners tomorrow or Wednesday – basically as soon as I can get my act together and randomly pull 20-something names out of a virtual hat. Thank you to everyone for the support – the blogging community has shown once again what it can do when it works towards a common good.
• Friday night, after a long day of not really working because it was a gloomy, rainy day and I felt like reading instead, a few of us went out until much later than bedtime for old people our age should be. And a potent combination of liquor and Sir Mix-A-Lot occurred:

• Saturday was the birthday of one of the coolest New Yawkahs I know: NYCWD. He turned 108.
• 
  Saturday night, I went out to Hard Rock with a friend, and we went to the Hole concert. Courtney Love put on a good show, and anytime you get to hear live music, it's fun, but the real treat of the evening was the opening act. Foxy Shazam has a really unique sound, and they put on a great show. The lead singer looks like a cross between a young Mick Jagger and the V for Vendetta protagonist, and between running across stage on all fours like the wheelies from Return to Oz, eating cigarettes, and encouraging people to stab him, he was really entertaining. The keyboardist is even more interesting. His name is Sky White, and half the time he was playing, it was with his feet or his face or some body part other than his fingers. At one point, he jumped up on his keyboard with both feet and danced on it, staying in tune! I shot some video, but their official video is much better:

• Sunday was the birthday of one of my favorite Canadians ever, Karen! (And lest I forget, Friday was the birthday of another awesome Canadian, Shannon.)
• Sunday was also the 30th birthday of one of the prettiest men I know, Jared, aka Mister Britt.
• My day Sunday was spent being berated for talking about my divorce, the biggest personal upheaval in my life, on my personal blog, getting told to go fuck myself by an obnoxious client, and feeling very alone. It improved after some dinner at Chili's and M&Ms that night.
• Today is a special day, because it's the birthday of the only person I know who makes Pittsburgh seem worth visiting, Becky! She embarks on her very last year before she turns the big 4-0 and officially becomes old.

What did you do this weekend?

Dearest Dad,

Thank you.

Thank you for that time you only took me to EPCOT and left my brother and sister at home. We had a good time, and I still remember stopping at Perkins for the Mother Butler pie on our way home.

Thank you for going with me to the state spelling bee and not being disappointed that I missed such an easy word.

Thank you for teaching me how to drive a stick shift even though I accidentally confused the brake and the clutch and drove into the back wall of the garage, almost into our living room.

Thank you for helping me bury that old lady in the swamp when I killed her while practicing throwing ninja stars.

Thank you for shaming me with your awesome mustache that I can never achieve.

Thank you for going with me back to 1855 where we saved Doc Brown.

Thank you for coming to my baseball and flag football games, even though I hated playing and was about as bad as anyone could possibly be.

Thank you for never raising your voice consistently, making it necessary for me to learn to plan ahead for every eventuality.

Thank you for watching USA's scary movies with me when they used to air on Saturdays and thank you for watching Twin Peaks with me even if I didn't quite get it as a kid.

Thank you for selling me your car at blue book value.

Thank you for showing me how to kill a man with a pen and a lighter.

Thank you for letting me talk on the phone for hours to my girl friends even though you couldn't understand how I could possibly talk that much.

Thank you for buying me my first prostitute, even though she had an Adam's apple and her name was Steve.

Thank you for managing to stay proud of me even if my interests vary so greatly from your own.

Happy Father's Day, Dad.

In other news, today is the birthday of someone very special. From her womb clawed my VVBFF, and if that fast-talking little blonde tornado didn't kill her upon exit, you just know that she's gotta be one tough mother.

Happy 50th birthday, Melissa!

loving life, as usual

Nicholas is two years old today! Our littlest boy. Our baby. Our amazing, adorable, irrepressible little dude, with an unrivaled enthusiasm for all things that makes the rest of us look like we’re phoning it in.

It’s hard to believe it was two years ago you were born. Two years ago last night I went to the opera to sit through opening night of La Rondine, because your mother was the calling stage manager, and despite having had regular contractions since around 3:30 that afternoon, she was pretty sure she could get through the show. So, with the show clock on one side and the contraction timer on the other, she called the show.

meeting little brother

I went back at each intermission to check in, asking, “Uh, think maybe we should go to the hospital now?” But not until the curtain came down did she decide it was time to head out. Even then we didn’t go straight to Cedars, but stopped at Chris and Becky’s to make sure it was REALLY time to bother going to the hospital.

When we finally did get there, after waiting for a room, they had your mom lie down, which of course slowed the contractions. They were almost ready to send her home when the nurse convinced the OB on duty to check her. She was around seven cm, I think, so we weren’t going anywhere (thanks, nurse). About three hours later you were born.

no fear, and no stopping him

Life since then has been a bit of a blur. Watching you grow is a joy, if a maddening and stressful one. You aren’t the cautious child your brother is, slow to take any unnecessary risks. Instead, you hurl yourself into each new adventure with little concern for the inevitable facial bruises. People might think we abuse you if everyone you meet didn’t witness you whirling about, careening into any solid object slow or stupid enough to get in your way. You walked at 10 months, and ran at about 10 months and a week. You were a bit slower to talk, but now that you do you speak with the emphasis of a preacher. We believe, little man, we believe.

he's a lover AND a fighter

Bam Bam, you continue to live up to your nick name. We know you love us from the force with which you smash us with your fists, your toys, your head. It’s a good thing Owen adores you, since you make him cry far more than ever you get upset about anything he does to you. On the few occasions he does do something to upset you, it’s almost never intentional. You, on the other hand, whale on him as though he’s indestructible. I imagine in your mind, he is. As are we all. And you hug us with as much zeal as you beat on us, so we know there’s no lack of love.

If nothing else, your mother and I are certainly thankful you’ve survived your first two years. There were times we weren’t sure it would happen, the way you throw caution to the wind. I think it’s fair to say you’ve gotten a running start at the terrible twos, though I’m sure they’ll also be spectacularly awesome, in addition to terrible. You can be all four seasons in one day, little man. Who knows what you can accomplish in an entire year. We can’t wait to find out.

treasure

Happy Birthday, Nicholas. We love you so.

I have something to admit, dear blog world.

I have a crush on Father Muskrat

Here are six reasons that I want to throw my manties at him:

1. The man can sing and dance.
2. He is in the military and still manages to be open-minded and intelligent (Yes I know I'm stereotyping. Bite me.).
3. He's a lawyer, but not an asshole. Well, he's an asshole, but not THAT kind of asshole.
4. He took a risk and left his firm to start his own business and he's been successful.
5. He's got a great ass.
6. The most important reason of all – he's got great taste in women and is married to one gorgeous genius of a woman.

Happy birthday, lover.

I haven’t been particularly excited about leaving marketers’ “most coveted age bracket” (although this guy thinks the boomers are changing that).  I like knowing companies spend millions of dollars trying to figure out how to please me and how to catch my attention.  It’s like dating a Rockefeller.

But not any more.  Tomorrow I hit 35.  No longer lumped with the 20-somethings.  No longer able to tell people “early 30s.”

So, I’ve been trying to curb the effects of aging by refusing to act my age.

How?

Per these clips discovered by local law enforcement on an abandoned iphone in Buckhead, I’ve been encouraging fellow distinguished members of the GA bar to engage in strange behavior involving poles and microphones:

Make that “formerly distinguished.”

I found signs of abuse the next day on my legs and back:  indicia that this activity was not without danger:

If ever there were iron clad proof that this behavior was not voluntary, this is decidedly it.  Awful:

I like how the dude in the glasses doesn’t even know where the screen showing the lyrics is.  It’s like he’s channeling Bret Michaels:

And if ever there were evidence of crossing into the “mid 30s,” it’s breaking out the Biz Markie:

I’m hoping to leave the office at lunchtime to do something I didn’t do a single time during my 34th year:  go to the movie theater.  I’ve missed it.

Hell, maybe I’ll get a senior discount.

I stole this meme from Dave. He took a meme designed to be done over 30 days worth of posts and merged them all into one. Brilliant!

• Guilty pleasure: Cheesy pop music. I love listening to music like Ke$ha, Kaci Brown, Avril Lavigne, The Millionaires and The Veronicas, to name a few.
• Something that inspires you: Nothing inspires me more than my friends.
• The five songs you would have with you on a desert island and why: 1. Sinead O'Connor's "Nothing Compares 2 U" for when I was sad. 2. Phil Collins's "In The Air Tonight" for the times I needed to be energetic. 3. Rob D's "Clubbed to Death" mix from The Matrix soundtrack for when I need inspiration. 4. Weird Al's "One More Minute" for when I needed to laugh. 5. NIN's "Something I Can Never Have" for all the rest of the time.
• What you imagine paradise to be like: The chocolate churning room in Willy Wonka's factory.
• A thank you letter to someone who has changed your life: You know who you are. Thank you for everything.
• Earliest thing you can remember: Climbing out of my crib at 2 to watch Sesame Street while my parents slept.
• Favorite cover of your favorite song: Johnny Cash's cover of "Hurt".
• Someone you think would make a good president: David Palmer from 24. Alternate answer: Me.
• Five things you want to see change: 1. Jay Leno off the air. 2. Ubisoft needs to redo their copy protection so it doesn't require a constant internet connection. 3. Marriage for all who want it. 4. Teachers get the same salaries as doctors and lawyers. 5. China's political system collapses.
• A dream you had this past week described in detail: I dreamed that Jack Bauer from 24 crossed over into the Fringe universe and saved the world again.
• Favorite picture ever taken of yourself: It would have to be the one where I parodied the Levi Johnston Playgirl pose.
  
  

  Avitable and Levi Johnston

• Your favorite musical artist's life story: I don't really care about this, although I love Oliver Stone's "The Doors".
• A memory that never fails to make you laugh: The time I saw my grandmother in the rest home.
• Best mashup you've ever heard:
  

  Billy Joel vs Jay-Z- Big Shot (Brat Mash-up) from Abe Twist on Vimeo.

• A moment, phrase, or song that has changed your life the most: "I don't judge you, fucker."
• Something that you want to do within the next five years: Write a book.
• What you want to be remembered for: Something. Anything.
• A picture that makes you feel: It's actually a panel from an alternate reality comic book where Superman's dad is killed. Makes me tear up every time.
  
• A passage from a book that has touched you: I can't find it here, but Robert Parker's Susan Silverman describes his main character Spenser in this perfect way that just resonates with me.
• A band that you immediately liked and the song that made you like them: NIN, Something I Can Never Have. Also, Toad The Wet Sprocket, Hold Her Down.
• Your favorite medium of art: Comic books.
• Someone you would give your life up for without question: My best friend.
• Most awkward first impression you feel you've ever given: I'm pretty unaware of the first impressions I give, so I have no idea, although somebody told me that when she first met me, I looked like a creepy comic book geek who lived in his parent's basement and had never kissed a girl.
• Something you did as a child that other people remember you for: No idea – masturbating in the library?
• Something you would do if no one stopped you or if you knew you wouldn't fail: Do stand-up comedy.
• Your definition of love: That feeling when you think of someone even when they're not there, when you don't feel whole unless they're with you, when a smile from them feels like it can sustain you for months without food.
• Your definition of the meaning of life: Try to make the world a little better than when you entered it.
• A moment you remember being completely happy in and a description of why you believe you were: It was a private moment when all was right and everything felt safe.
• What you live for: The laughter of others.
• Ways you believe you have grown over the past thirty days: I'm figuring out who I am, who I want to be, and what I need to make me happy before worrying about anyone else.

In other Avita-news, my friend Liz celebrates some anniversary of her 25th birthday today! Happy birthday, Liz!

Today, my friends, is the 32nd birthday of the hilarious Ali Martell. If you don't read her, you have a huge gaping hole in your life of which you are completely unaware. In her honor, I have written ten things about Ali some of which may or may not be true. But let's just pretend they're all true!

1. If you remove her glasses and if she had gray old man's hair, she looks like George Herbert Walker Bush.
2. She'd rather BE Jon Hamm (Don Draper from Mad Men) than FUCK Jon Hamm.
3. If anyone else was as finicky an eater as she is, they'd be dead from starvation. It's only because she's able to derive enough nutrients from her daily coffee to fuel her tiny, tiny body that she is still alive.
4. She used to have four children, but she sold one of them to get these hawt glasses.
5. Just like me, she hates vomiting more than she hates Sayid from LOST (pre-sacrificial explosion).
6. Also just like me, Ali will not poop anywhere but home. And that's why we will both probably die from impacted colons. It's a skill, people.
7. ALSO ALSO like me, she'd much rather drink a fountain soda than a glass of wine.
8. Ali rarely wears deodorant, but up close, she still smells like fairy dust and cinnamon.
9. Ali once starred in an adult film called "Farho", in which she had lesbian sex with a Frances McDormand lookalike.
10. She can beat any man, woman, child, or monkey in arm wrestling, even while drunk. If you see her out, challenge her and see!

Happy birthday, Ali.

Happy Birthday to one of my great buds, Sybil Law. I hope today brings her lots of gumdrops and gingerbread, maybe some Dave Grohl. Sybil was supposed to be my guest on 2HRadio the other night, but there were technical difficulties, so we had to reschedule. Have a great day, my friend. I’ll be sure to drink one in your honor tonight.

For weeks now, the damn anhedonia has been maddening. Nothing seems to make a dent. When everything you enjoy doing is unenjoyable, believe me, it’s disheartening, to say the least. I’m hoping to kick the anhedonia in the balls tonight.

Tonight, I go to see OK Go. You know, the guys that did the video on the treadmill, plus that other video with the giant Rube Goldberg device? Yeah, them. They don’t like people embedding their videos, apparently, which is insane. I’m really digging the new album. One of my faves is WTF.

I managed to pull this classic Dancing in my Boxers video from my hat (or my Youtube account), which is me dancing to one of their many great songs. Be sure you eat before you watch. It IS me dancing, after all.

If this concert doesn’t work and snap me out of it – at least, temporarily – I’m gonna be highly upset.

UPDATE: I’m highly upset. No concert tonight. My car died. Won’t start even with jumper cables. Grr.

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan