Wednesday, March 23, 2016

I am Actively Fighting the Transformation of My Home Into a Kiddie Crack House and Jacking Tom Cruise's Style While I'm at It

The young protagonist on the show Breaking Bad is a meth cook fuck-up who, at one point in the series, moves into his parents' old house and turns it into a flophouse for junkies.

That's sort of what I felt like might be happening at my house when, after a recent gathering of particularly rowdy children, I discovered a broken futon frame, Legos in the woods, and graffiti. Graffiti! Someone under the age of ten had actually tagged up the outside siding of our house with Paige's name in purple marker. 

When confronted, Paige plausibly denied being the graffiti artist, and I was proud of her for: (1) not drawing on our house; and (2) being held in sufficiently high esteem by her peers to be the subject of their tagging. Notwithstanding, I licked my hand and attempted to smudge it off, which as you can see was an epic fail (Fig. 1). Shortly after this discovery, I snapped a picture of my kids playing in a front yard that looks like the riverbank in Deliverance. (Fig. 2).

Well, this week I am taking charge. The other three members of my family are away on vacation while I remain in Juneau for work, but that doesn't mean I'm not getting my Risky Business on while the cats are away. Yup, I'm pulling a Tom Cruise, with a few notable real life differences:

Tom Cruise in Risky Business: Raids liquor cabinet, plays stereo loudly, and dances around the living room in his underwear to Old Time Rock and Roll.
Me IRLRaids liquor cabinet, plays stereo loudly, and folds three baskets of laundry in my living room, in my underwear, to Fight for Your Right (to Party).

Tom Cruise in Risky Business: Calls a hooker, asks her to come over, and they have sex all night long for $300.
Me IRL: Calls a Juneau sister wife, asks her to come over, and they clean out the playroom and living room of all sorts of shit no one will ever notice is missing until 10:00 p.m. for free.

Tom Cruise in Risky Business: Turns parents' house into a brothel in order to pay for car repairs.
Me IRL: Turns my house into a Juneau sister wife shelter in order to drink, clean, and do adult coloring while alternately binge-watching Forensic Files, talking, writing, surfing the Internet, listening to podcasts, and eating gluten-free/dairy-free cookie dough ice cream (it's as bad as it sounds) for dinner, straight out of the carton, in bed.

I am SO making a documentary about this week called Straight Outta Carton.

Fig. 1

Fig. 2

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