Category Archives: family

The Dangers of Sleeping Naked

Posted on by under family, humor, STUFF

I sleepwalk. I’ve been doing it since I was little. It’s scary and gross. When I was five my father found me in the kitchen squatting on the counter taking a shit. It was dripping onto the floor. My father thought I was possessed, that he’d have to have me committed. But I was just asleep, taking a dump.

I’ve pissed in hampers and hallways and in the corners of countless rooms.

I still do. My wife has found pee in our closet.

She rarely gets a full night’s sleep. She’s always waiting for me to pop up and move. She’s had to chase me down the hallway of our building. Twice I’ve been completely naked.

Some nights she hears me in the kitchen having a conversation with myself. I’ve eaten half a stick of butter, while mumbling, “Good cheese.”

My wife videotaped one of my adventures, made me watch it the next morning. It was me, but not me, more like a zombie. I gestured a few times and kept trying to find a butter knife for my mug of water. It was disturbing and sort of heartbreaking, watching myself functioning with no memory of it.

The worst was when I was eight or nine. I was at Boy Scout camp. It was some jamboree or jubilee or something. All I know is I woke up in someone else’s tent. I was in my tighty-whities and nothing else. Before you starting thinking I was molested, I was simply trying to get in some other kid’s cot. I kept saying, “Get out of my bed.” He kept saying, “Get out of my tent!” I told him it was my tent. He finally woke up his buddy and said, “Craig, ain’t this our tent?” And Craig said, “Yeah, see here’s my canteen.”

And so I left, wandered out into the darkness. I was scared and freezing. It took me almost an hour to find my tent. I’d wandered almost a mile in my sleep.

I’ve read some people drive cars. One guy claimed he was sleeping when he murdered his wife. There’s all sorts of crazy sleepwalking stories.

For me, it comes and goes. I won’t do it for months, and then, out of nowhere, my wife will be dragging me back into our apartment. “Get in here, no one wants to see your dick.”

I’ve thought about restraints, but I’m worried I’ll end up hurting myself trying to break free. I’m like a werewolf, only less hairy. I just hope I don’t try to shit in our hallway.

Have you ever sleepwalked. If so, what do you do?

My Two Moms

Posted on by under family, lgbt, SO GAY

Val was my mom’s first real girlfriend. I liked her from the moment we met. She was sweet and supportive. I wasn’t surprised when she and my mom bought a house together. They moved in with Val’s adopted kids. I flew to Kansas City and spent Christmas at their new place. We opened presents in the living room and stuffed our faces with turkey. Val wanted to know about my standup and writing. We became close over the years. She has always wanted to write. She likes to pick my brain. My mom and Val struggled like every couple. Eventually, they weren’t able to make it work. They decided to split, but when they came to our wedding, they didn’t mention the breakup. My mom didn’t want to dampen the day. I could tell something was up, but I didn’t push it. I shared a dance with Val, and she told me she’s always thought of me as her son. Until that moment, I’d only thought of her as my mom’s girlfriend. I suddenly realized she was also my mom.

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Mystery at Sears

Posted on by under family, humor

Yes, we all have shitty hair, but what intrigues me is that my dad and I are both looking at something off-camera. I have no idea what it was. My first guess was a pretty lady, but my mom’s eye line would NOT be dead center. What do you think it is?

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Posted on by under family

Yesterday I presented evidence of my mom’s shitty haircutting skills.

Exhibit A:

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Today I’ve uncovered the motivation for her crimes. By giving me a crap haircut, she knew she’d draw attention away from her weird perm.

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Posted on by under family

Doc - Mar 3, 2013, 11-25 PM (1) 1979

I’m so proud and grateful my mom came out, but the little guy in this picture is pretty stoked she didn’t do it right away.

Andy Reid and the Chiefs Stole My Dream

Posted on by under BIPOLAR, family, STUFF

I’ve spent my entire morning irrationally angry. I know it’s irrational because I’m upset by a rumor about the Kansas City Chiefs. Today there was a report the team is trading for Alex Smith. I want to punch a wall. I already threw my Chiefs hat in the garbage.

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And I’m not even a diehard fan. I hardly watch the games. Suffering from depression, I’ve learned it’s best not to see something so sad. But I do follow the team. I try to keep up with the stats and scores, because the Chiefs are the one thing my father and I can always talk about without risking a fight.

My favorite memories are of my dad and me at Arrowhead or cheering in our basement. To live in Kansas City during the 90’s was glorious. The Chiefs never made it to the Super Bowl, but they won over a hundred games. We went to the playoffs almost every year. We had Joe Montana. We had Derrick Thomas.

There was reason to believe we’d hoist the Lombardi Trophy.

The Chiefs haven’t given that hope in a long time, but there’s a stretch of four months every year between the Super Bowl and the draft, where we can all dream. We study college prospects and pour over mock drafts. We click on articles about coaching hires, contract negotiations, and free-agent signings. We cross our fingers as the pieces fall into place. We tell ourselves this will be the year we turn it around, the year where our jerseys will be seen on NFL’s final Sunday.

That’s the dream I’ve been holding and cuddling after I gargled the puke of last season. I even started to get those tingly feelings of hope. We fired Scott Pioli. We hired Andy Reid. Then we picked up John Dorsey as GM. They’re proven winners. They have NFC Championships. There was reason to believe they’d repeat that in Kansas City, the town I grew up in, the place where you could be stricken deaf from the roar every Sunday afternoon, or crushed by the sea of red rushing down 1 Arrowhead Drive.

Screw the brave. This was the home of the Chiefs.

Even if they never made it to the Super Bowl, even if we sucked every year, for these precious months of off-season we, as fans, get to hope. We get to dream.

But this morning that died with a report the Chiefs are trading our second round pick for Alex Smith, a man benched last year in San Francisco for Colin Kaepernick.

Is Alex Smith better than our current quarterback, Matt Cassel?

Yes.

Did we need to improve the most important position in the NFL?

Yes.

Did Alex Smith lead all quarterbacks last year in QBR until he suffered a concussion?

Yes.

Does Alex Smith make us better?

Yes.

So why am I crapping and crying over this potential trade?

Because if it’s true, then John Dorsey and Andy Reid stole the small moment when Chiefs fans don’t feel foolish fantasizing about Super Bowls and champagne.

Alex Smith doesn’t suck. He’s “serviceable,” according to most “experts.” But no one dreams of being better than average. No one swoons over the idea of inching past .500.

We dream of parades and glory.

But even the most optimistic fan would never say Alex Smith is going to bring us rings.

And during these wonderful months, that’s all we we want to believe. It’s what sustains us through the worst.

Every human needs a little delusional hope.  It’s what gets us up off the floor, keeps us marching, striving, trying.

We couldn’t live without it. We’d never take a risk. I never would’ve moved to L.A. if I didn’t believe I could make it as a writer. My mom never would’ve jumped in the dating pool if she thought it’d be just as difficult to meet the right person whether you’re gay or straight.

We take leaps because of hope.

But the Chiefs snatched it away from us. They took away our Super Bowls dreams and handed us a possible Wild Card birth. Is that better than what we’ve had? Yes. But during these few precious months, we don’t want Wild Cards. We want confetti.

Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe Alex Smith isn’t a turd Jim Harbaugh polished, like Andy Reid did with Kevin Kolb. Maybe next season I’ll hear Arrowhead’s roar all the way in California. Maybe we’ll do more than make the playoffs. And maybe I’ll pull my Chiefs hat out of the garbage, sit down, and watch us play next February.

Maybe I’ll even win my Super Bowl bet with my wife.

This is How Mom Came Out

Posted on by under family, lgbt, SO GAY, Uncategorized

2001

I’m standing in my parents’ garage and my mom tells me she’s gay.  Her face is red and she’s laughing, which is what happens when she’s nervous or drunk.  It’s obvious she’s both.  She’s talking a mile a minute, but I don’t hear a word.  “I’m gay!” just keeps repeating in my head.

This can’t be how she planned to tell me.  When it’s cold outside, sometimes the garage is where we take the dog to poop.  It’s Kansas City, the day after Thanksgiving, so it stinks.

Other words start filtering in, words like, “I wanted to tell you,” and “I’m still your mother,” and “One time I tried cocaine.”  It’s a floodgate and she’s rattling off every secret she’s had since grade school.

She says she’s been attracted to girls since she was thirteen, that she fantasizes about women at work.

I feel woozy.

My mom starts crying.  “I just can’t keep sleeping in the same bed with him.”

“Dad knows?”

“Of course.”

She says she told him the truth years ago, that they’ve been staying together until my sister finishes high school.  My parents have been married for a quarter-century and they’re still sleeping in the same bed

I hear my buddies outside the garage yelling for me to get my ass out there.  It’s my last night in town.  I head back to L.A. in the morning.  I’m twenty-two years old, but right now, I feel like a child.  Someone starts banging on the garage door.

“So what do you think?” my mom asks.

“About what?”

“About what I just told you?”

“I don’t know… Are you really gay?”

My mom covers her face.  “You hate me!”

“What?  No.”

My father comes in and wants to know what the hell all this racket is.  He hits the button and the garage door crungles up.  My buddies stop punching each other in the arms at the sight of my father.

“Mr. Szpak,” one of them says.

My mom pulls me to the side and says, “We should keep talking.”  She’s trying to whisper, but the booze has removed that particular skill.

My father can tell my mom’s been sharing.

“What did you say to him?” he asks.

“The truth.”

“I thought we discussed that you wouldn’t say—“

“You can’t tell me what to say!”

My buddies pull me towards the car.  It’s like an undertow, but I don’t fight.  I just let them drag me away.  My father’s leading my mom towards the house.

“Get your hands off me,” my mom says.  She runs over.  “Where are you going, Anthony?”

“Strip club,” one of my buddies slurs.

My mom’s eyes widen.

Another friend starts to say it was just a joke, but my mom cuts him off—

“Can I come?”

My father forces a laugh.  “All right, let’s go back inside, Kathy.”

“Come on, Anthony, it’ll be fun,” my mom says.

There are moments in every child’s life, which cause parts of the brain to fizzle and burn.

My buddies give my mom a hug and say that’s why they love her.  She’s so cool, they tell her.

My father finally corrals my mom.  She knows not to push it, because she’s staring into my eyes.

I’m crammed in between two guys who played on our high school football team.  Someone hands me a beer as we drive off.  I watch my father finally get my mom back inside.  The garage door closes.

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