Day at the Museum

I thought it would be a good idea to take the baby to the Baltimore Museum of Art. It made sense, kinda. In my head, we were walking together, I point at statues and explain the history and the social conditions that created the background to this or that piece of art, and even though he doesn't understand, he gets the general idea that art is something to be revered by mere mortals.

But as much as I tried to keep a straight face through it all, and as much as I love Asian art, for example (and not sure why), I just couldn't play the game. So much of the museum is basically a Hard Rock Cafe of dead rich Baltimoreans, only instead of Keith Richards' guitar you have some dead merchant's desk.

And there's art too, don't get me wrong. All the big ones. Like what's her name who painted flowers that looked like vaginas, and Matisse and Picasso and all them Euros. But I've seen it all before... And the African art and the Native American art... Really? How old do I have to be to be able to stop pretending I'm in awe of a mask?

Listen, I don't mean to be controversial or anything... Hey look, a gay teapot!


Liam, Baby, what do you think?

Mr. Freeman's Interview Thingy

Here's the story. I got the interview thingy from SJ, and about six weeks later I answered his questions and offered to interview others. A Free Man answered the call of duty and then restarted a different interview thingy that was initially on Citizen's blog, where every commenter interviews the next commenter.

I know. It sounds really confusing, which explains two things:

1. Mr. Freeman did two posts about the interview thingy. This is the first one, and it includes my questions to him, and this is the other, the more official one, I guess. Go there if you want to participate. It'll be fun.

2. When I commented on his post I didn't realize I was going to be interviewed. When people start explaining stuff I think about clouds and puppies. I think Timothy Dalton was good as Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights, but he sucked as James Bond. My baby is cute, but if he turns off the computer again I'm sending him to the basement with a black and white TV and some Baby Ruth. We went out today but it was windy. Our neighbors are moving. Hooray!

But then Heather emailed me eight questions and added some really nice words and I'm completely humbled and take it all back. She dug deep into this obscure corner of the virtual world and found more of Me than I thought was in here. You know what I mean?

But before I answer her questions, let me link to the answers I got from others:

Freeman

Frosty (she will be Penny Margolis on Life on Mars on 2/25!)

Ginny

Kristen

Aimee

SJ

Lola

And there should be two or three more coming, I hope. I'll update this post if I see more.

Now, the interview:

1. I noticed that the abbreviation of your screen name creates either the word PIS, PITS, or PS and as I try not to insult people before I know them which version do you prefer?

One day I started a blog, not really knowing what I was doing, and then suddenly I had an online identity. It's still strange. I probably should have established my name at the beginning. But I didn't, so now I get Peeps, People, PIS (from Freeman), and mostly PITS. A few days ago I got Eric. Not sure why.

2. I also have pleasant memories of Prospect Park; when you adopted your two Pit Bulls did you have any misgivings due to their bad reputation? Do you concern yourself with reputations?

When I moved in with the dogs I didn't know anything about Pit Bulls. All I knew was that all dogs were evil and they all conspired to eat me. All dogs had bad reputation. And nothing angered me more than a dog owner letting his dog jump on me, watching me pee my pants, and saying, "Don't worry, he's just playing." Yep. I was that guy. And then we moved in with the dogs (our roommate was actually given the dogs by the guy who found them in the park), and I was okay as long as he was around all the time to make sure they didn't attack me. And then one day he asked me to do him a favor and take them for a walk.

By the time I found out about people's fear of Pit Bulls, it didn't matter to me because now they were my friends.

I'm careful around them. Especially with the baby. They both will give their lives for me, for Honey, and for the baby, but they were fighting dogs, and they'll always be a little unpredictable. What can you do.

3. You are the stay at home parent of a lovely young boy how do you do this? How are you able to do it? What is your opinion of working fathers? Do you sometimes find yourself telling them, “I didn’t have a child to let someone else parent him?”

I think that if you, man or woman, leave a place that pushes you and challenges you because you want to stay home you might end up resenting your baby. Maybe blaming him later in life for your own choices. But I had a job, not a career, and it didn't pay much. It was pretty much a no-brainer.

But it's much harder than I thought it would be, and I'm mentally exhausted most of the day. But then Honey comes home and automatically I'm back to normal. Okay, it takes a couple of minutes.

4. How were you able to navigate the difficult world of international military, odd jobs, bass playing, and Brooklyn dog ownership? The paperwork alone seems impossible.

You just do what you do, you know? I've always tried to go with the flow. I know it's a cliche, but I can't find a better way to describe my life. And it wasn't always a good thing. After all, it ended with me in the military for three years. But it also sent me to my Honey. There are times when you have to wake up and take control of your life, but I think people are too obsessed with that. When things are bad, change your circumstances. Otherwise, when someone tells you, "Come to England. I'll teach you to play bass and we'll play in a band together," you buy tickets to England.

5. You like the band Mogway and were in a band in Europe how do you reconcile those experiences with this American life? What do you want us (American, non-band members) to know or notice? What parts do we get right?

When Honey came to visit me in London, sometime during our two years long-distance relationship, she took me to see Jets to Brazil. And I couldn't believe what I was seeing. People from the warm-up band were sitting onstage, the crowd was happily chatting with the band... It was blasphemy. When you play in a band in London, and it doesn't matter if you're on at 5pm in front of the barman and his wife in the Bull N' Gate, you're still a Rock God. You live your life waiting for the NME to acknowledge your greatness. And here was this band that seemed more into the music.

So I'm generalizing here, but that's what you do right here. You can be in a band in this country and not be a dick.

6. You were born in Israel and in the military there and now you are a dad in Baltimore what is the best part of that journey?

Like I said earlier, I think the best part is taking chances and watching good things happen. We had doubts about everything. How long can people keep a long-distance relationship? As long as they need. Because what's more important than love?

Then the roommate moved out with the dogs and a few weeks later told us he was going to put them in a shelter. So we thought about it. But what are we going to do with two big dogs? It's a big responsibility. There was no way we were taking the dogs! But we did, because they needed us.

And then, how can we have a baby? Can we afford it? What will he eat? Well, we have credit cards. And I learned to cook.

7. I am also in an international marriage with children and we struggle with keeping our “foreign” identity and keeping the kids language skills up; how are you doing?

I talk to the baby in Hebrew, but I'm also not much of a talker. My mom is French but I speak very little French. I don't know... Hopefully he'll continue to talk to his Israeli family on Skype. Or we'll send him to classes, although I don't think anyone can learn a language in a classroom. And as for Israeli identity... When the people in Israel find their identity I'll have something to teach him. That was a joke. But not really.

8. Desert Island Top Five?

Honey
Baby
Buddy
Ginger
Nutella

I will not write a Valentine's post

I've been sniffing around some of my favorite blogs and all I could find were these Valentine's posts. Shit drives me crazy, just so you know.

But not me. I will write about anything but.

And no pink hearts neither.

I've got better things to do.

For example, I can write a post about that night you talked in your sleep. You said, "Happy Birthday."

So I said, "Happy Birthday to you too, Honey."

And you said, "Happy son of a bitch."

Or I could talk about the night we watched "Once Upon a Time in China," and how you punched me in the shoulder while we were both asleep. I sat up and said, "Aww!"

And you said, still sleeping, "Kung Fu Master!"

Or I could put up a couple of pictures of this thing we did together:


So I could do all these things, but I won't.

I will not say how proud I am of the work you do, because that would be sappy and out of character for me.

And I will not talk about how much I believe in you. About the fact that you bump into chairs and you can sing entire songs without getting a single word right and you talk in your sleep, but when you tell me what you do at work I'm completely in awe of you. And proud of myself for being with you. You do know that, right?

But I will not even mention that, because we're not foolish teenagers, are we? We're adults, which means you don't need me to tell you I love you. Which is why I've decided to ignore Valentine's Day and not write a corny post about love.

Latika!

A few weeks ago I saw this interview thingy on SJ's blog, so of course I asked for an interview. Here are the cut and pasted rules:

1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me."
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

So, let me know if you want me to ask you questions. I don't know if I'll do a good job, but it could be fun anyway.

If you become the president of the USA what would your first action be?

See, already I'm stumped. I should probably give a nice speech and thank some people, like my wife and child. It'll have some jokes, too, because the people love jokes. But nothing racist or making fun of Chinese people. People don't like that. Not anymore. It'll be inspiring, with some memorable moments. I will talk about mountains and rainbows, but not in a gentle way, if you know what I mean. Maybe I shouldn't talk about rainbows. Mountains are okay, though. I should talk about the troubles ahead, with no sugarcoating. People don't like sugarcoating. At least that's what my TV tells me. I guess I need one of them flag pins. I should get a few, in case I lose one.


Would you kill someone to get hair back on your head?

I don't think I would kill anyone for hair. If I were really desperate, I would have just transferred some hair from my ears.

I don't have ear hair. That was a joke.

But I will do what it takes to save my Honey and my baby and my doggies. I might even shoot a monkey and wear its skin to fool another monkey into handing me my doggie in exchange for a hat. Like Tintin did.


Pitbulls or people?

You mean, as food?

Do you see a solution to the Israel-Palestine conflict within the next 10 years?



Dude, where's my car?

Ah, I see you truly read my blog! (Man, who are all these people commenting there? How come they left me? Ricardo and Tom are still around, but the rest of them didn't make it. Did I write too much about politics? Too many baby photos? Too many doggie photos? Not enough? Offensive language? Fragmented sentences? Where did I go wrong? I could have had it all!!!)

Two stories (with punchlines)

On Sunday, we went to Babies 'R' Us. We went through all the aisles, pretty much. We got diapers, and wipes, and some new bottles, with straws, and we looked at some strollers. I said to the little guy, "Ching Chang Ching," to make him laugh, but then Honey said, "Honey," and I remembered I was in public. We separated for a while, then met again near the toys. Then we went to the register and I talked to the lady about us not receiving our coupons in the mail, and What's up with that?

From there, we went to Trader Joe's, where we met a friend and bought organic milk and yogurt. It was very crowded. We also bought cookies. Again, we separated for a while. I wondered around the fruits and vegetables and stared at clementines. Then, just before we left, I ran back to the dairy section to replace the milk with one that expired a week later.

And then we got home and I realized my fly was open the whole day.


The next day I went with the little guy to drop off some dry cleaning, but it was actually a beautiful day, so I thought I should take him to the park, because if I miss the only nice day this winter, then I'm out of the competition for Father of the Year, and it's only February.

So we went to the park, and I put him on a swing, and he was having fun, I guess. He wasn't complaining.

Another father was pushing his baby next to us.

And I started fooling around with the swing--pushing it really high and letting it fall, and then pretending that the baby was kicking me while he was swinging, because why just swing when you can swing and laugh at the same time?

But then I thought, "This father is going to write about me on his stupid blog. He's going to write about the guy who lifted his baby too high, and then taught his baby that it was okay to kick people. And nowadays you can't do anything without some asshole writing about it on his stupid blog!"

And then I got it: I am that asshole!