Manhood Lost

   I know I was never that cool. I mean, I write a blog that basically chronicles my misadventures as a housemom. I've been driving a '95 Buick Grandma for like 8 years. The first girl I asked to homecoming just straight said "no." There are pictures of me doing this and looking like this (If you ever get tired of me linking to those same two pages, just say so). In college I majored in math, which is basically like majoring in pokemon. You get it, I'm not a cool dude.

   But COME ON.

   Did my ego need this shot? No it did not. It's bad enough that when I would meet students to tutor, they often always drove away in a nicer car than I did. One time my car wouldn't even start, and that punk 16-year-old sophomore drove by and gave me a quizzical, judgemental look. It was as if he was saying "I'm sure not going to make the same mistakes in life he did." But I think I'd rather drive a non-starting '95 Buick Virgin than a minivan.

This is my exact car, except mine has more body
damage and has had fewer chicks in it, I am sure.

   So, yeah, we have a minivan now. You might be asking "Why do you need a minivan, don't you only have one kid?" or maybe you wonder "Why do you work so hard to push away all of your friends, who don't have kids and minivans and spit-up on their shirts?" These are valid questions, and you may direct them towards my wife.

   Still, maybe there are some good things that come out of this. It will now be nearly impossible for me to pick up ladies. It used to be I'd walk through the grocery store and see a girl oggling Wyatt, and I'd ask if she'd want to meet my nephew. But now, when she sees my car, the jig is up. I feel like this is healthy. If nothing else, it will make it more challenging. It seems that I like challenges.

Ugh.

My mood: seriouslywhywouldyouevenask!?

Wyatt's mood: cutting teeth is painful!

Listening to: Everybody Hurts by REM