Texas keeps fucking with us

It was a lazy Saturday back in July of 2010.  My wife had just earlier that week gotten the infamous second pink line on the piss stick which confirmed that in nine months our sleep schedules were going to be seriously fucked.  Living in Austin, TX at the time, I had a daily 60 mile commute that was an hour of open country.  Still blissfully unaware that we would be moving back to the Great White North, we decided to drive down to San Marcos, TX and look around.  I figured that at least San Marcos would cut half an hour each way off of my drive but still keep us near enough to Austin that we could partake in the debauchery of South by South West if we wanted.  As we neared the center of town near the university I crossed an intersection only to have some mid 80′s land yacht of UAW iron slam directly in to the driver’s side door.

Needless to say, the Honda was going to need some body work.

Today in the mail I received a lovely little form letter.  After sifting through the lawyer speak I came to the conclusion that it simply stated “We are sorry to inform you that we will not be reimbursing you for your deductible because we can’t find the guy.  If you want to look for him you are more than welcome to.  We know you have a choice in insurance carriers and we are glad you have chosen State Farm.”

Outraged I gave the 800 number a call and the gal on the other end of the line reiterated the same thing to me.  I am fairly certain I said to her “I am still confused as to how your inability to find some guy has anything to do with you paying me my deductible back for an accident that wasn’t my fault.”

Compound this with the sheer terror my wife has of looking inside the mailbox for fear of yet another hospital bill for “Other Hospital Services” related to the birth of our son, Texas still keeps finding ways screwing with us long after we’ve left.

The indignities of the year and a half of our residency keep rolling in.  I can’t wait to see what happens next.

As if putting my son in daycare wasn’t bad enough

So we spent the last two days touring daycare centers in preparation for the fact that my wife starts a new job in a week.  Then this morning I hear on NPR that Nirvana’s Nevermind came out 20 years ago today. If that isn’t a “wham bam” slam in the face telling me that I’ve gotten old and there is no going back, I don’t know what is.

I’m a really crappy son

Yesterday would have been my parents *hrmubh* anniversary and I didn’t even bother to call them or send them a card.  To be honest I’m not even sure how many years they have been married.  Since I am going to be be 35 next month, and they were married roughly 5 years before I was born it has got to be getting close to 40, but I can’t be for sure.  Oh well, at least I sent them this.

I don’t always post, but when I do it is Dos Equis

The problem with blogs is the expectation of regular updates.  The problem is that my bowels are far more regular than my posting ability (those of you intimately familiar with my bowels know what I’m talking about).  So here’s the challenge, can I post something for seven days straight.  These posts are allowed to be mind numbingly boring drivel that has absolutely no reason for gracing the internet, but I figure hey, if Glen Beck is allowed to have a forum where he can spew the random bits of bull shit that comes across his mind, well then so do I.