Samu's Pockets

Boys need pockets like girls need bags. Give a boy a pair of pants with a gazillion places to store things and life's good. He don't care that his crack is showing because his pants are all bogged down from all the shit he's carrying - he found a wing nut on the sidewalk and by God, he needs a place to put it away for later and it has to go in his pants.

Zuki will actually change pants if he discovers the ones he's wearing doesn't have any pockets although, he doesn't really put things in them - he just likes to have them. The other guy, Samu is another story.

He has this knack of finding coins on the floor and believe me, I don't think it's ever too soon to bring home some "grease." I tell him to look for dollar bills while he's at it. But he refuses - he doesn't like them because they don't make noise. Whatever.

He's picked up at least two cents everyday and last Sunday, he racked up eleven whole cents just walking to the park. If he hit that kind of luck everyday, that would amount to an annual income of over forty dollars a year. I'd say that's pretty good for a Pre-K student.

Everything he finds during the course of the day, I find either that night in the washing machine or in the morning when the clothes come out of the dryer. The other day I found a wad of Silly Putty stuck to the bottom of the washing machine. This morning it was a magnetic Bakugan ball brawling with my bra in the dryer. On any given day, I might find a key, plastic seafood shapes or Jesus on a stick because his arms got torn off by the Dyson.

The contents of Samu's pockets make doing the laundry a carnival of wonder for me. I can even say part of my occupation is money laundering although, I might want to be selective of which market I advertise that to.

Armeggedon Fanatasy

I wish the Government would just come out and say it. The world is going to end. That's why we're ruining the economy, destroying our food and letting bed bugs rule the city. I know what they're afraid of: Anarchy. But even if society went all out in a Wild West kind of looting spree, it would still be better than going to a boring job every day - saving money that's deflating by the minute or paying a heavy premium on insurance that ain't worth shit.

Give us the count down guys and we'll handle the rest, that's what I got to say. Instead of stressing out over health, weight and parental discretion, I'd let the kids eat chips, cookies and pizza all day and watch R rated movies. I'd drink myself into oblivion with an endless supply of hot wings and fries all charged to my credit card whilst waiting for the Tsunami that drowned New York.

But that's just my little fantasy. It's as stupid as those fantasies people harbor about what they'd buy if they'd won the Lottery.

In the end, I have to face reality and learn how to deal with this anvil made of taxes, bills and loose Bakugan balls that are weighing down my otherwise upbeat demeanor.

Desperate for good news, I decided to take the advice of a good friend. She suggested washing my hands with salt to get rid of bad karma. It's some sort of Feng Shui, Asian ritual that sounded harmless enough, but of course when I tried it, the result was my eczema flared up.

I'm more than a loser, I'm a nebbish.