Another Classic Joe Blog Moment ....

My time is precious lately, so I thought I would just post another one of my favorite blog entries from a previous life. This little, ultra cynical gem was written in Februrary of 2005. It seemed to be a favorite amongst certain friends. One such friend called to ask the Niece and Nephew to play the mentioned duet. I, still to this day, do not find that funny.... Enjoy!

It began yesterday. The sound wafted through the air and landed in my ears. They bled. They bled for hours afterwards. I can still hear the sound echo. I can still feel the pain. She didn't care. She laughed about it. She knew what she was doing. It was a game to her. Some sick, perverted game. I hate kids. I hate kids who have recorders. I hate kids who have recorders and play "hot cross buns" over and over... Yes, my niece got her fucking piece of shit recorder (an over glorified whistle no better then a kazoo) and immediately started practicing. And, yes, the first song, as I knew it would be, was "Hot Cross Buns." I had this discussion in my niece's presence about that fucking, goddamn song. She knew beforehand about my absolute HATRED for it. Especially when it came from a recorder! So, like the little monster that she can be (pretty damn nasty at times too. I am amazed at how nasty she can be! She's TEN!), she made sure I was within ear shot of that damn recorder thing. She knew I couldn't do anything about it. Hot cross buns! Hot cross buns... OHHHH, my blood is boiling just thinking about it! The funny thing is, my niece thinks the recorder is the absolute shit. She has this idea that the recorder trumps the trumpet. My nephew plays the trumpet. In her mind, there is no difference. We have been giving attention to the boy and his trumpet because that is kind of a big deal. That, and he is part of the school band (the niece goes flute next year). So, you know, we've been to his concerts and listen to him play downstairs (near my room. There are times, when he plays, he sounds like he's killing something). The niece is overly jealous. She thinks this recorder thing evens those odds... Her constant tooting of that damn thing is her way of saying, "Now you have to give me attention. I have an instrument!" And she carries the thing around and she constantly talks about it. "Look! I can break it down in two parts!" (The sibling rivalry thing going on around here is really getting to me too. It can be intense.) Not to sound like an ass, but fuck it, I am. The recorder is a fucking whistle you give 4th graders to play hot cross buns on so they can annoy every single adult in the vicinity. She doesn't see it that way. I think she has some bizarre memory of us huddling around the boy when he got his recorder in the fourth grade and gave him hugs and kisses. Guess what? I hated it then too!!! HATED IT!!! In fact it was more like, "Umm, boy? Could you practice that elsewhere? Could you practice that when I am not home?" Now, it's back and being shoved into my cynical face! Some cruel cosmic joke played by dead recorder players to make my life miserable! I think the niece is upset at me because I favor the trumpet over the recorder. In her mind, that means I favor boy over her. She doesn't understand that Miles Davis wasn't a professional recorder player. I don't nor have ever heard of any! Yet, it is a no win situation around here. I have to endure the whistle. I have to make it like I actually care about the Niece's playing of it. "That's good. That's good. You keep it up, Niece. You play. You sound wonderful," I must say through gritted teeth. It's lies! LIES! Of course, it is possible she'll be good at it. However, deep down, I want to take the damn thing and make it four pieces instead of two and then shove those pieces into people I really hate. Thus begins, this day TRUMPET/RECORDER WARS.... The niece is going to demand attention and she is going to make it brutal for us all until she gets it. Stupid recorder! I can see it now. When boy practices his trumpet, girl is going to make it hell for him. "I need to practice!" she'll scream! "Get out of here!" and then starts the yelling and the shoving and the screaming all in the name of attention seeking!!! Yee ha....I can't wait! Why the fucking recorder of all the damn things? Furthermore, it is only a matter of time before boy says to girl (or vice versa), "Let's Duet on Hot Cross Buns!" It is then, at that moment, I know I have entered hell. Later.