As I type this, I find myself up a creek with no paddle, tentatively teetering in the current while on a raft made of generic brand of cotton swabs. Did I mention that the creek serves as home to schools of piranhas that love nothing more than tearing into the flesh of wannabe-writers who have one ear that sticks out further than the other? No? Forgive the omission.
What did I do to find myself in such a predicament?
I scheduled a bachelor party on Mothers’ Day weekend.
And every person attending said party – other than myself – is married or engaged.
And 76.9-percent of those attendees have wives who are - or will soon be - mothers.
… Yes, “D’oh!” is right.
Such an error in judgment could have been avoided fairly easily, it seems. After all, I’ve heard that many people use things called “calendars” to track daily schedules and note annual events. Practicing such responsibility would have probably been a good move, but wouldn’t that require moving through life in an organized manner? (Note to self: look into this.)
I should probably just wrap this note with a picture that shows how red my forehead is from the repeated, self-inflicted slapping it received once I realized that how these dates fell on the calendar, but at this point I am afraid that any pictures I post of myself will ultimately serve as dartboards (or worse). Frankly, I’d prefer that we keep games of “Pin the razor-sharp railroad spike to Derek’s throat” limited to girls that I’ve dated. Instead, a quick note to moms out there:
The work that you do is unbelievable;
It’s tireless, endless, and tough;
Chances are strong that your family,
Will never be able to thank you enough.
Someday a fool may foul up your weekend;
Forgetting about the second Sunday in May;
Please know he means no harm, he’s just a fool;
Have an undeniably great Mothers’ Day!
What did I do to find myself in such a predicament?
I scheduled a bachelor party on Mothers’ Day weekend.
And every person attending said party – other than myself – is married or engaged.
And 76.9-percent of those attendees have wives who are - or will soon be - mothers.
… Yes, “D’oh!” is right.
Such an error in judgment could have been avoided fairly easily, it seems. After all, I’ve heard that many people use things called “calendars” to track daily schedules and note annual events. Practicing such responsibility would have probably been a good move, but wouldn’t that require moving through life in an organized manner? (Note to self: look into this.)
I should probably just wrap this note with a picture that shows how red my forehead is from the repeated, self-inflicted slapping it received once I realized that how these dates fell on the calendar, but at this point I am afraid that any pictures I post of myself will ultimately serve as dartboards (or worse). Frankly, I’d prefer that we keep games of “Pin the razor-sharp railroad spike to Derek’s throat” limited to girls that I’ve dated. Instead, a quick note to moms out there:
The work that you do is unbelievable;
It’s tireless, endless, and tough;
Chances are strong that your family,
Will never be able to thank you enough.
Someday a fool may foul up your weekend;
Forgetting about the second Sunday in May;
Please know he means no harm, he’s just a fool;
Have an undeniably great Mothers’ Day!
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