The Bruise

By the way Skipah’s Realm loyal readers you all disappointed me last night and today, FIVE CLICKS, is all you gave my dad blogger buddy some love.  I know out of the 123,434 visitors I get daily, I thought more than five of you would show some love.  Where the Hoosier spirit?  I know Indiana has been punched in the mouth over this whole RFRA bill passing, but since none of us agree with it we could at least try to change the perceived notion that we are to gay rights like 1950s Alabama was to civil rights.

Let’s take you behind the blogger curtain for a bit shall we, when I or a fellow blogger lists links to another person’s site we do it for a variety of reasons.

1.  It’s just frigging funny as all get out, or really strikes a chord with you.

2.  The world of blogging is a scratch my back I’ll scratch yours world.  Luckily I’m in Indiana and I don’t have to do any back scratching in the shower.  JOKE, JOKE, JOKE.  For the most part we are part of some cyberspace fraternity/sorority and really just help and look out for each other when we can.

3.  Some bloggers strictly do it because they love to write, or just get their thoughts off their chests.  Others are strictly for monetizing their blog.  FYI, most of those blogs are purely informational posts with cool charts and vivid graphics and boring shit.  You know, the reason I’m going back to school so I can learn how to do all that.  However guys like him, and me, and most of us in blogger world do our little hobby in the hopes that one day we can actually say we do what we like and make some coin of it.  In order to do that when an advertiser contacts us or we contact them we sometimes have to give them traffic stats.  We don’t have to give that information out, but if you just click on that little link for one second that blogger gets to credit that traffic as a unique visitor hit in their stats and the more pages your view then a little thing called “Bounce Rate” doesn’t nose dive.  If you are on a link for less than a minute and you “bounce” then that is a 100% bounce rate.

My only point of all this rambling is I can’t believe only FIVE of you clicked it!  Sorry Going-Dad I was just trying to help you sell more of that martian concoction of Nuttzo, and shoes that would get me gang raped (because you know I live in Indiana), but hey my lawnmower wouldn’t start this evening for some reason…..just saying!

I might have made a friend for life today, he weighs six ounces top, has a slight drinking problem, hacks my computer, and sends American secrets to the KGB.  However, with me being the warden of Hammy’s personal prison I get to make executive decisions about the staff.  When Sloane suggested tonight that we take him with us bike riding and he could ride in her little travel bag that hangs off the handlebars.  This bag barely holds two 12 ounce can’s it’s not exactly Samsonite quality either.  I had to argue with Sloane briefly before she relented.  So little hamster friend I saved you and hour of absolute hell today, you remember that next time you decide to hack into my Amazon account!  As Sloane and I were walking out the door he looked at me and said “Vodka”, I told him if he behaves he can have some Saturday for the Final Four games.  Then he broke into tears because he’s still not over his adopted team of the Irish losing that heart breaker.  I might let him log back into HotHamsters.com later on.

So the little one and I took a long bike ride, we decided to go visit her grandpa (yeah that person’s father) at his little booth at a local flea market.  We were in need of S hooks to hang up my new hammock that has been sitting in the living room behind a chair since oh um October.  Being single has some major perks, namely you can stick a hammock behind a chair and treat it like furniture, oh I did mention I was single moving on.

Sloane:  Do you think mom will care if I’m on that busy road

Me:  It has sidewalks and no I don’t care what your mom thinks.  Remember you are on a 7:30 lock down when you are with her.  (Hence why all the softball practices have been missed I learned today)

Sloane:  AWESOME, you’re the best dad in the world.

Me:  (big puffy heart and shit eating grin)

I mean shit who else is going to teach her how to ride a bike and navigate traffic.  That day is coming as she gets older and spreads her wings.  We made it to the flea market and lo and behold her grandpa wasn’t there nor did they have the S hooks we were looking for.  We stopped at the Dollar General Store in a faint hope they would have them (they didn’t), and then this dimly lit bulb went off in my head that the hammock came with S hooks.  By the time we got home that dimly lit bulb was up to 100 watts because I just knew they were in the house.  Luckily my memory served me correct because they were I thought they were, next to the sock dating pool of course.  So Sloane chilled on the hammock while I grilled hot dogs and we sat outside and talked about who is the coolest Disney princess of them all and how large her farm was growing in Hay Day.  I’m going to remember today as “The Ride” because that was the farthest she had ever gone on her bike and definitely the longest I had been on a bike in many years.

      

Were running a bit long tonight, but it’s been a trying day.  My post divorce battle just got a bit dicier and I’m fucking pissed.  During pick up tonight of the blonde bomber things got “testy” but I didn’t even raise my voice.  All I can say is the other party I was with was talking louder than me because my daughter heard her.  Liar, liar pants on fire!  In the course of this impromptu reenactment of the Civil War, just call me Ulysses S. Grant on steroids minus the scandals and drinking problem!  It’s my new Vicksburg!  For my foreign readers back in the day we fought against each other and General Grant was a big war hero and a shitty president.  Back to the point, I couldn’t help but notice a list eerily similar to when I moved to my domicile.  Drapes, lamps and various other household items that you need when you move.  My advice is cover that shit up if you don’t want me to see it!  I’m a well versed spy myself, and this is well before Hammy moved in.  I’ll help move the furniture to my daughter’s new house that is only going to be every other weekend during school.  Because that’s all it’s going to be, I’m going to have to lawyer up again probably but after tonight I have no choice.

Exhibit A.  (for evidence purposes, yes it’s got this frigging stupid!)

My daughter today when I picked her up had a massive bruise on her knee, I asked her what happened and she gave a vague answer.  I pressed her but she wanted to talk about school instead so roll with it babe.  I’m not insinuating abuse at all, let me make that perfectly clear!  Young kids fall and trip all the time is the burden of growing up.  For some reason though my extra “spidey” sense was on alert.  That alert was vindicated when I texted Sloane’s egg donor and asked why she had a bruise on her knee.  The response set off 1,000,000 receptors in my head, “I don’t know I didn’t see it until Monday.”  Implying that it happened on my watch since I had her all weekend.  What the fuck!  So this has turned into a white trash custody battle?  You can’t own that our daughter got a nasty bruise on your watch and want to pin it on me?  For the record it happened on a Tuesday right under your nose according to our daughter.  Please enter this blog post into evidence and tell me I’m wrong.  What is next?  This co-parenting shit is a foreign language to me.  Tonight’s good night text between Sloane and egg donor.

     

Since I don’t trust the egg donor to so much as  to flip her the middle finger anymore when it’s warranted I have no freaking idea what’s next.  Not owning up to a bruise, and trying to pin it on me!  This is my new world, but she is ready to move south of the Mason Dixon line and last time I check the North won that Civil War!