Five Days Alone With A Baby – The Preparation for Armageddon
Mrs. Drew has her own stationery business. I’d leave a link, but I doubt there’s a lot of cross-pollination between the four readers of this site and people who like pretty wedding invitations. As such, Mrs. Drew has to go up to New York for the next five days to man her own booth at the National Stationery Show. It’s like a Dark Shadows convention, but with pastel paper. Needless to say, she will be going alone.
That’s right. For the next five days, I’m in charge. It’s a risky venture. I am, after all, me. Before parenthood, when I had the place to myself for a night, I’d order moo shu chicken, drink a sixer of tall boys, watch the most violent movie I could possibly find, smoke a bowl, and then masturbate all over myself. Twice. A great night all around. But things have changed. I probably won’t be able to smoke that bowl before helping myself to myself this time around.
No matter. Big Drew does not back down from a challenge. I’ve got five days alone to bond with the Girl, and dammit if she ain’t gonna come out of this thing not dead. And I’ve got some goals in mind for her. By the end of this little venture, she will:
-Fully grasp the problems the Minnesota Vikings are having at middle linebacker
-Hear the entire Queens of the Stone Age catalog, acapella
-Find out just how well Daddy can change a poopy diaper after five rum and Cokes
-Watch an NBA playoff game in its entirety for the first time this year (Thank fucking God)
-Possibly get a Husker Du tattoo on her left shoulder blade
-Cry for her mommy like a Marine who just got his leg shot off
I’ve also prepared my menu for the week, which is strictly limited to Italian sausage, frozen Trader Joe’s dim sum, Stouffer’s French Bread Pizza, Skor bars, and Cool Ranch Doritos. I’ve also planned outdoor activities for the Girl. For example, I will take her to the Urban Outfitters in Georgetown and stand around to see if chicks hit on me. That will be fucking awesome. I’ll also be making calls regularly to Mrs. Drew, during which I fully expect to hear things like:
-“Don’t do that.”
-“I told you not to do that.”
-“Why did you do that?”
-“Just don’t do it, that’s why.”
-“I told you she doesn’t like that.”
-“Maybe this was a bad idea.”
-“I miss her so much” (just the Girl)
-“Did you try feeding her?”
-“Did you try feeding her more?”
-“Did you try feeding her again?”
Awwwww, yeah. Get ready for some fucking fun, everybody!
Come back to the site the next five days. I’ll be filing daily reports that will almost certainly not be spell-checked. If you need to report me, DC child services can reached at (202) 328-2191.
That’s right. For the next five days, I’m in charge. It’s a risky venture. I am, after all, me. Before parenthood, when I had the place to myself for a night, I’d order moo shu chicken, drink a sixer of tall boys, watch the most violent movie I could possibly find, smoke a bowl, and then masturbate all over myself. Twice. A great night all around. But things have changed. I probably won’t be able to smoke that bowl before helping myself to myself this time around.
No matter. Big Drew does not back down from a challenge. I’ve got five days alone to bond with the Girl, and dammit if she ain’t gonna come out of this thing not dead. And I’ve got some goals in mind for her. By the end of this little venture, she will:
-Fully grasp the problems the Minnesota Vikings are having at middle linebacker
-Hear the entire Queens of the Stone Age catalog, acapella
-Find out just how well Daddy can change a poopy diaper after five rum and Cokes
-Watch an NBA playoff game in its entirety for the first time this year (Thank fucking God)
-Possibly get a Husker Du tattoo on her left shoulder blade
-Cry for her mommy like a Marine who just got his leg shot off
I’ve also prepared my menu for the week, which is strictly limited to Italian sausage, frozen Trader Joe’s dim sum, Stouffer’s French Bread Pizza, Skor bars, and Cool Ranch Doritos. I’ve also planned outdoor activities for the Girl. For example, I will take her to the Urban Outfitters in Georgetown and stand around to see if chicks hit on me. That will be fucking awesome. I’ll also be making calls regularly to Mrs. Drew, during which I fully expect to hear things like:
-“Don’t do that.”
-“I told you not to do that.”
-“Why did you do that?”
-“Just don’t do it, that’s why.”
-“I told you she doesn’t like that.”
-“Maybe this was a bad idea.”
-“I miss her so much” (just the Girl)
-“Did you try feeding her?”
-“Did you try feeding her more?”
-“Did you try feeding her again?”
Awwwww, yeah. Get ready for some fucking fun, everybody!
Come back to the site the next five days. I’ll be filing daily reports that will almost certainly not be spell-checked. If you need to report me, DC child services can reached at (202) 328-2191.
posted by Big Daddy Drew at 11:26 AM
9 Comments:
Sweet. I'm looking forward to the daily updates. Love the description of your previous "alone-time" encounters.
Good luck! (That's to the Girl)
As for Drew, you should know that yor readership is expanding! You must have at least SEVEN readers! I learned of you from I Ain't No Oprah...Now I'm checking you every day. Love the blog. Glad I don't have kids.
I have a link to your blog from mine.
I also drifted in from I Ain't No Oprah. Us moms in the crowd are big fans of yours too, Drew.
Good luck to you (and the Girl) on your adventure.
I'm in from I Ain't No Oprah too - I see a trend developing.
Next week sounds like fun...for us. Good luck!
I'm just here for the chicks.
nooprah,
You're EVERYWHERE just for the chicks.
And Drew,
I'll bet Pat Boone did the very same things with his kids when his wife was away.
Just don't teach the Girl to sing "You Light Up My Life." I'll use that phone number if you do.
I'll be at the hellish National Stationery show myself. On the buying side though. Now I'll be looking for Mrs. Drew at every vendor's area.
Dude, I stumbled across your site and regularly check it, just 'cause you're so funny. And the site might me more effective than traditional methods of birth control ;) Good Luck on the alone parenting!
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