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Dear GQ Magazine:

On the cover of your fine magazine, could you please include the page number for the table of contents? After perusing 30 pages of advertisements, I grow weary.

Sincerely,

Patrick

Inglourious BRILLIANCE!

So... It's been awhile since my last blog. Doubling the kid census has forced me to hit the sack earlier than usual. At least a few days a week. Only a few. I mean, I cannot let them win, right? True, sleep is for my survival in this new world, but still...I cannot let that change ME. The essence of patty would be gone. Nope. Not gonna have it. Tonight was not one of those early to bed nights. Instead I caught a midnight showing of the new Quentin Tarantino flick, "Inglourious Basterds". First, I love Quentin. Love him. Great storytelling, great style, great music, great, great, great... "Pulp Fiction" in my opinion will always be one of the greatest films ever made. The way he presented that story was sheer genius. Brilliance. "Kill Bill Volume 1", I can watch every day. Again, pure genius. I can go on and on---"True Romance", "Jackie Brown", "Death Proof"---but I will stop only to highly recommend his new flick. Wow.... Wow. With that said, I am making a movie. What the hell am I waiting for?

Word.

Priceless

Tuxedo Rental: $125

Roundtrip flight to Houston: $300

Pregnancy contractions causing trip cancellation: $425

Reservation reimbursement claim denied: PRICELESS

So.... Here's the deal. Last Fourth of July, my good friend Derryck proposed to his girlfriend, Kristin. YAY!! Obviously, I was thrilled for them both. (Honestly, Derryck needed to settle down; he's not getting any younger.) Along with the news, I was both flattered and honored to be asked to stand alongside Derryck on his special day in June 2009. Of course, I said yes. Definitely yes. That's what friends are for. Incidentally, I believe guys who stand in for their boys at weddings are the same guys who carry that friend's casket. Ironic, huh? (On the other hand, they are also the same people the wife ignores when pleaded to sprinkle ashes over some football or baseball field.)

Shortly after their engagement news, I had news: We were pregnant with child numero two, expected early July. The wedding was scheduled for mid-June, so my plans to participate went unchanged.

Fast forward to June 2009. The wedding was scheduled Saturday, June 20th. Since, our delivery date had been pushed up to induce on June 29th. Yikes. Close but still good. Going about the routine, I made all the necessary arrangements---tuxedo, hotel reservations, gifts, and of course roundtrip plane tickets to Houston. Now, the latter truly concerned me. A couple years ago, I got really burned by flight tickets my dad purchased for a family reunion trip to Ohio. Something came up at work not allowing my departure. The tickets were bought through either Travelocity or Expedia. After learning the trip would not be in my future, I called the one of the companies. They explained all would be fine, that I'd receive a credit for the cost to use for another flight in the future. Ok, cool. What they failed to mention were all the small print rules and tricky tomfoolery involved, like no flights on days that end with 'Y', no flying to reach a destination, must fly before sand runs out of mysterious sand hourglass hidden deep within a cave of the Island of Misfit Toys, etc. Ughhhh, the fine print. Always a stipulation missed. To make a long story short, I ended up kissing $650 down the drain. Poof. Gone. Buh-bye.

Hoping not to do the same with my wedding flight, knowing full well with an incoming bundle of joy anything could happen especially with my luck, I opted for the Access America travel insurance which would reimburse my cost 100% should I not make my trip. Feeling leery about the deal, I even called a representative of Access America to explain my situation in order to determine if this insurance was what I believed it to be. The person on the other end of the phone was extremely polite. She went over every point of the insurance policy and assured I would be taken care of.

The Wednesday before the wedding, baby contractions turned that mutha out. Ouch. Seriously, I am so glad I am a boy. Really, if reversed, could men endure the pains involved with having a child? I absolutely, unequivocally say NO. Are you kidding me? Especially if babies still came out of...that area. Oh my.... Continuing... Not wanting to be away for a long period of time, my flight was scheduled for Friday morning @ 6A with a quick turn around Sunday morning @ 8A. In and out. Boom. By Thursday afternoon, I realized going to Houston would be a poor mistake. If something had happened while I was in Houston, it would have been hellish dropping everything and making arrangements back home. Plus, the possibility of missing the birth of Harper's sibling would forever sting my heart. With those thoughts---not to mention, the woman moaning with a bowling ball between her legs---confirmed my decision to skip the wedding and wait patiently for that hurried drive to the hospital sometime that weekend. If you're wondering, nothing happened that weekend and I could have gone to the wedding---and I still feel absolutely terrible about not being there for my friends, Derryck and Kristin. Sorry :(

Shortly after the arrival of Miles Robinson, I submitted my claim to Access America for my full refund of my Continental Airlines tickets. At first there was some drama as they required I have our OB/GYN fill out information. Such a hassle, I thought, but if it hurries reimbursing my banking account, oh well... With all the necessary paperwork completed, I faxed my packet of information. Like a Nike executive at a sweatshop, I then propped my feet up on my desk waiting for the sound of a cash register. KA-CHING! Now, I had already lost the tuxedo money. Well, I could have not taken it from Men's Wearhouse and been refunded a fat twenty bucks. Instead, being a filmmaker and overall silly guy I could not allow the missed opportunity to goof off in a perfectly fine tuxedo. Especially when I'd opted for the insurance. (Video silliness may soon follow.)

Yesterday, I received a letter in the mail from Access America:

"Thank you for submitting your claim with Access America. We have completed our review and unfortunately we are unable to provide benefits under the coverage purchased for the following reasons - blah blah blah blah blah blah, a normal pregnancy is a general exclusion and is not included..."

WTF?! Are you serious? What about the kind words of advice from the representative who again was told details and ensured satisfaction before purchasing the agreement? WTF?! Are you serious, dude?

Just like that, POOF, the airlines kick me squarely in the baby maker. Added to my list of organizations I will actively plot against and ultimately have my revenge - Access America.

Oh no, we're not done, Access America. Watch your back.

Orphan

So... I've decided to see "Orphan", one of the latest horror/suspense flicks in theaters. As the name suggests, it is basically the story of people who adopt an orphan girl...things start happening...yada yada yada...the kid is not what they expected with all hell breaking lose. Now, we all know I dig the horror movie scene, but I'm not much into those featuring so-called scary children with the exception of "The Omen" and "The Village of the Damned" did spook me when I was little---albeit mainly because the kids looked like every blond haired kid in my music class. I often dreamed the class turning on me during "Row, row, row your boat". Eerie. Movies with scary children, I believe, can be easily remedied with two things: A leather belt and no witnesses. By no means do I condone abusing children, but, let's face it, sometimes a good whuppin' is the answer. One of those spankings where even the parent thinks about calling CPS afterwards. Frankly, this is how my parental units rolled. They understood how to raise children without the interference of a child abuse hotline.

Several, several years removed, I still remember the first, and only, time I pulled the "falling out in the store because my mom wouldn't buy something" trick. We all know what I'm talking about. This favorite kid move is seen across the world in every Toys-R-Us. Scene plays as follows: Kid wants toy, mom says no, kid throws a tantrum which includes kicking, screaming, and tears before losing control of legs and entire body dropping onto the floor. Amateur parents usually cave and appease the child's demands; others immediately collect their melodramatic kid before hurriedly exiting the store, vowing never to take the kid toy shopping again. My parents, mom especially, had her own way of dealing:

It was in a grocery store, I recall. Aisle 16B, breakfast cereals and crappy grocery store toys. Not crappy gadgets to a kid though. These toys were the coolest playthings on the face of the planet. To any kid, those crappy toy sections could have been mini-FAO Schawrz stores. Yo-yo's, Slinkies, army men, generic Barbie dolls... Seriously, who could ask for more? That day, I cannot remember what item flipped my demon switch. Whatever it was, I wanted it, and I WANTED IT BAD. Mom said no. I said yes. Again, she said no. I said I want it, so buy it. No. Yes. Let's go, son. BUY IT NOW. I had the last words of the rebuttal, ending with my head spinning while spitting green goo. Then, the patented kid's move was launched. Boom, onto the floor I went continuing full-fledged tantrum. Imaging it now, I was probably on my side, moving my legs, running/spinning in complete circles while screaming and yelling. No doubt I'd seen it performed by a fellow kid. Perhaps fellow kid got whatever he wanted. My act, however, included a very different variable - my mom. By no means am I old, but back then things were a little different. Back in those days, people weren't scared to spank their kids in public. There was no fear of someone calling the child abuse hotline or directing store security towards the belligerent parent with the broom handle. Oh, the broom handle. Although I never felt the broom handle, it was definitely an instrument of control I feared. In fact, the house was filled with parental weapons. The backscratcher, the flyswatter, the belt, rolled newspaper (the Sunday edition was frightening), shoes - all these tools could be utilized and were readily available anytime a kid forgot his standing in the home. Outside was no better. Switches pulled from trees were highly effective. Being asked to go outside and get a switch was like loading a gun with bullets. Back in those days, if a kid got in trouble at school, the teacher spanked him and anyone he encountered between school and home was allowed to get a lick in. Ouch. Back in those days, things were just different. I mean, back in those days, kids got spankings at school, spankings from grand parents, spankings at church, spankings at a friend's house. It amazes me those days did not bring forth the invention of a spanking machine. Or, maybe it did, but not that kind we're discussing here.

Anyways....

I fell out in the store demanding mom BUY IT NOW. Very calmly she smiled and shook her head towards onlookers, giving that "oh, silly boy" look. Certainly there were several returned nods accepting her unspoken apology for my behavior---not to mention an approving go ahead for any actions that may follow. My tantrum did not last very long. Mom made certain of it. With no homefield advantage, no parental weapons conveniently located, she made do with the most readily available item. Skillfully maneuvering our basket of grocery goodies around the Cheerios display, she reminded me how painful a grocery filled cart felt when mercilessly running over an idiot kid laying on the floor thus really giving me something to cry about. Remember those words: "Don't make me give you something to really cry about"? Those words...yikes. Thinking back, not once do I recall the guardian figure(s) on any scary child movies ever raise their voice or go nuts after the kid pulled some demonic crap the first time around. Maybe later in the movie when the dog was dead and the wife tossed down a flight of stairs. They must get to those demon kids early on. The first sign of diabolical tomfoolery: "DAMMIT, DAMIEN! GET OVER HERE. GET. OVER. HERE. NOW. PUT THAT KNIFE DOWN AND BRING YOUR ASS OVER HERE RIGHT NOW, OR BY GOLLY I WILL BEAT THE DEVIL OUTTA YOU, MY HAND ON A STACK OF BIBLES! DON'T MAKE ME GIVE YOU A REASON TO WANNA KILL SOMEBODY! GET OVER HERE!!" Those words followed by a good whuppin' may have made a difference.

Back to my story... After feeling the wheels of a loaded grocery cart, I learned a valuable lesson about falling out. Never did I allow such foolishness to happen again. For years, seeing other kids pull that trick baffled me. I was wondered how their parents would react. Sometimes, I'd just shake my head and move on.

I'll see "Orphan" this weekend. Friends, knowing how snobbish I am about horror film, highly recommend it so it'll be pretty good suspense thriller, and I am sure I will enjoy it. Still, in the back of my mind whenever the orphan girl acts foolishly, kicking things around and yelling at her new parents and siblings, I will know the solution---and silently thank my mom and dad for raising me not to be a little shit.

Just add zombie

So... This weekend was the first time my Playstation 3 had been powered on in about four months. Sad, but true. Having kids eliminates daddy's playtime. Several months ago, all of us old high school pals and a few new friends would spend every Friday night playing games. Modern technology has come a long way. Sadly, we still do not have any of the cool stuff as seen on "The Jetsons" or a Buck Roger comic book, but, by golly, a bunch of boys can turn on their Playstation 3 systems, connect online and then play one another no matter the locations. After a long week of work, these evenings were always a nice getaway, even if we cursed the young kids who showed no mercy by beating us relentlessly. Sadly, we haven't played in some time---four months for me apparently. Saturday night, I fired up my system, and following a few updates, "Call of Duty: World at War" began playing on the HDTV. Kids today, they have it so much better than previous generations. Not once, in all my Atari playing days, was a game updated whereby enhancing its content and gameplay. Amazing. Ok, ok, this blog is getting boring with all this talk about video games, but I do have a point. Again, my mind works in very mysterious ways. My "Call of Duty" was updated, and I was happy to see new games available. New games featuring, what, oh yeah, NAZI ZOMBIES. Are you kidding me?? Sweet action. Not only can I continue playing simulated WWII battles against the Nazis, but now I can kill Nazi zombies too. Now the point of my blog tonight: This proves a theory of mine I've argued for some time - things only get better when adding zombies.

Examples:

Movies. Who didn't see "Titanic"? It was a huge blockbuster. Huge. One thing always bothered me though: Why couldn't Rose share the piece of driftwood with poor ol' Jack? Really. Kind of selfish if you ask me. After all the entanglements he escaped, both on the ship and in his hard knock life, his end comes by freezing to death while holding on to a piece of wood. Pathetic. Now, what if James Cameron had thrown some zombies in the mix? If anyone steals this idea, you are all my witnesses: So, the survivors drift to a distant island and wait for rescue. Days later, parts of the Titanic float to shore. And then it happens, bodies begin drifting to the shore, but once on land, they become ZOMBIE-FIED!! Seriously, this would be the greatest movie of all time.

Books. "To Kill a Mockingbird" will always be my favorite book ever. Ever. Bonus - it's one of the few books with a movie just as wonderful, starring the late, great Gregory Peck. Again, it's already greatness in my opinion, but what if---go with me here---what if Tom Robinson returns as a zombie extracting revenge on Bob Ewell and the courthouse mob. Before you know it, most of Maycomb, Alabama, has been transformed into zombies. Only Atticus, Jem, Scout, Calpurnia and few others remain un-zombie-fied. How can this madness be stopped? In steps, Boo Radley, a brilliant young man who has concocted an antidote that will end the zombie transformation process. Dude, talk about ZOMBIE-RIFIC! You're feeling it, right?

TV. "Full House" + zombies....'nuff said. Well, poor example. Very little can help that show. Really, what were we thinking?

Music. If someone can make money from dogs barking "Jingle Bells" while another profits by the lyrical masterpiece describing a Grandma getting run over by a reindeer, a zombie Christmas record would be holiday happiness. Maybe even add them to one a Christmas cartoon. Rudolph and zombies, maybe?? Merry Christmas.

Now to review:

1 - Adding zombies to anything makes it better;

2 - Buy your husbands/boyfriends a Playstation 3 this holiday season.

:)