Alumni This!

Every three months my college's alumni magazine arrives at my door to mock me.  Not physically, although I would better appreciate a sentient magazine-man that pops in every so often just to insult me.  Mentally, however, it serves as a torment that knows no equal.  Well, except for Cthulhu.  (NOTE: my top five mental anguish are as follows: 1.) Cthulhu, 2.) DePauw University alumni magazine, 3.) Spiders, 4.) Telemarketers, 5.) AT&T data limits) 

I suppose I should just take the paper instrument of horror and toss it into the trash can -- no responsible recycling for you -- and live my life.  But, I don't.  I sit down with a bottle of whiskey and a carton of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, draw the blinds, put on The Cure and read that damn thing cover to cover.  Then I go to therapy.

Let's dissect the horribleness that is an alumni magazine:

Pros and Gen Cons

Every August the gods bestow an event like no other in the grand tapestry of nerd gatherings: Gen Con.  For those who do not know the awesomeness of the Best Four Days in Gaming, let me first scoff at your ignorance and then patronizingly expound. 

Gen Con is a four-day convention that features everything about gaming.  Over 41,000 people descended on Indianapolis this last weekend to play roll-playing games, card games, collectable card games (yes, they are a separate category), board games, miniature war games, computer games, family games, party games, and drinking games.  They also watch movies about games, attend seminars relating to games, and Live-Action Role Play.  I could tell you the history or why they call it Gen Con, but then I would have to wake you up by hitting you with a saltwater bass.

School: 1 - Me: 0

I secretly wanted my child to hate the first day of school.

Perhaps "hate" isn't the right word, but I'm not smart enough to figure out a word that means "shows extreme angst about going all day without Daddy by holding on to his leg and screaming bloody murder."  Perhaps I'll make one up.  Um...ok, got it.  Feel free to use it in casual conversation.

I secretly wanted my child to dadistickolegate the first day of school. 

But did the Princess have the courtesy to shed one tear?  Did she hang onto my neck a little too long in the farewell hug?  Did she even say goodbye before dropping her lunchbox in the mulch and running to the sandbox?  No!  The nerve of her being well adjusted and eager to start her education!  I'm severely thinking of limiting her dessert to only four M&M's.

Now, I wanted her to go to school, and I'm proud of the little nose picker.  She survived the two week potty training bootcamp.  She's talkative, well-adjusted and incredibly friendly.  She's even intellectually curious (i.e. she breaks my stuff).  I just didn't want her to want to go to school.  After all, what can top all those days with Daddy?

And realistically, I have nothing left to teach her.  She knows her ABC's and how to count to twenty.  She can identify most animals in the zoo as well as all 32 NFL teams.  The Queen won't let me teach her how to bring me a beer from the fridge.  So, I'm done.  Tapped out.  Oh, please dear Montessori School, guide my daughter well. 

So, its off to school.  Tra-la-la, do-si-do, and all that crap.  I'll do without a leg-clutching wail, or a "Daddy, Mommy, don't go," or even an acknowledgment of our existence.  Now, I just go home and sit in the silence eating leftover pizza and playing on Twitter working hard.  Perhaps I'll wear a tiara and drink some pretend tea and relive my memories.  Besides, she'll be home tomorrow.  She only goes twice a week.

At least I still have the dog, that needy bastard.