Um...hey...you...
I realize I'm creeping back into your lives like a drunken father. You must not be angry. You must not judge. Sure, I might have blown all your formula and diaper money on liquor and horseracing, and any thought of you going to college disappeared with that Qwikster investment, but you will accept me back, yeah? Look, I know I've been whoring on your mother, and you don't need to call me Dad right away or anything, but just hear me out here.
I've missed the hell out of you, my children.
I know what you're thinking: "So, Mr. Strosnider, you sit there on your self-indulgent high horse and crank out buttfuck wisecracks when the Colts are 14-0, yet you go into hiding and a deep, dark depression when they're 0-7. You call yourself a man?" Let me tackle this: First off, I never once called myself a man. Second, this has nothing to do with the Horse, so leave them out of this. Maybe we'll get to them, maybe we won't. This is about you and me.
Have I been busy? Yeah, I mean, I guess so. I'm in school. I have a job. I got married. I'm moving to Washington, D.C. in less than two months. Does that explain my absence? Not returning your calls? My crippling heroin addiction, which leaves me laughing and spinning in a pool of my own spit, surrounded by muscle relaxers, starting and deleting draft after draft of letters to you? Actually, yes, that does explain my absence fairly accurately. That, and the aforementioned whoring. Other than those things, which take up approximately 23 hours of my work day, I have no excuse.
Listen: You WILL be a part of my life when I leave. You just will, okay? I'm not going to wave out the car window and forget all about you. I'm not Jonathan Taylor Thomas's biological father from Man of the House. No, not Chevy Chase. The biological father. The one who plants the seed of distrust towards unreliable father figures into JTT in the first place. I'm Chevy Chase. And I'm sleeping with your mother, Farrah Fawcett, who is Fake Field Goal Pass 2. Staying with me here?
You came to this website three years ago expecting three things: Karate, guns, and tanning. Whoops, sorry. Flashback. You came here expecting trust, honor, and maybe a laugh in the middle of your backbreaking workday. I can still give those to you, baby.
Give me another chance?
Fine. Words aren't enough. What you need is the power of song.
Allow me to make this clearer for you:
0:04 - Yep, that's me. Packing my bags. Always thinking of myself. I didn't have time for this blog or you and your matching yellow coat and boots, all over some sort of janitor's outfit.
0:11 - I try to tell you that I can give you anything. Can't you sense the sincerity in my delivery?
0:28 - For God's sake, I can't sleep without you. Not writing this blog has been haunting me in extremely subtle ways.
0:38 - Like I said, I've made some bad choices. I've slept with other people, but it was always in front of a picture of you and me. That's gotta count for something, right?
1:10 - This, no kidding, actually happened to me the last time I was on an airplane. I was flying to Montana, and wanted to get a good luck at the mountains, yet when I lifted up the window, all I saw was Russell Hitchcock singing next to Larry Bird nonchalantly playing a guitar.
1:38 - I swear, I always kept a picture of you in my pocket, even while other people were having fun writing other blogs and trying to get me to partake.
1:50 - Ok, no joke here. What the hell?
3:00 - I did this in my time away from this blog. A lot. With lots of dudes.
3:52 - That's you. Coming back to me, honey. You know you want to illegally, dangerously return to me.
4:05 - Don't question it. You're going to drive to the airport in the middle of the night, find a flight right at the exact moment you get there, and fly to my concert, all before the song I'm playing ends. If only there were a way we could tell each other how we felt while I was onstage...
4:35 - <3
4:45 - Welcome back to Fake Field Goal Pass 2--the only place in the world where it feels like you're being held by Graham Russell under smoke and seizure-inducing lighting.
It's good to be back.
