Tom Nardone, My ADD Was Untreated.

 I had to go through this. Your kid doesn’t.

(Book Excerpt)

tom-nardone

By Tom Nardone

First grade; art class; we had a project where we would take a piece of construction paper and write our names on it with glue. Before the glue dried, we would sprinkle glitter on it and it made this shiny glittery image of our name.  Somehow mine came out better than most, and my teacher was very proud.  She held it up for the whole class to see. I was proud for that brief moment.

A couple of days later, we had an assignment. The teacher wrote three sentences on the board and we were to copy them. I carefully copied the sentences and was about to turn in my assignment. Then I remembered how excited my art teacher was and, I really wanted Mrs. Ginn to be pleased with me. I got out my glue and my glitter, and began to write my name on my class work with my glue. I sprinkled the glitter on it and turned it in.  there was no time for the glue to dry since I had to turn my work in.  I turned it in and the bell rang. We got up and went to our bus

The next day at school, Mrs. Ginn was furious. Apparently my classwork/art project idea  had, caused all of the other papers to stick together in a big mess. The second I walked in she got up and said “Tommy Nardone you come with me.” I had no idea where we were going or why. We went to the janitor’s closet in the hallway and she slammed the door. She asked me if I poured glue all over the classwork assignments yesterday.  Seeing that I disappointed her I began to cry as I explained that I just wanted her to be proud of me for making my name look so nice for my classwork assignment. She actually began to laugh and apologized for being mad.

I was just as unique a kid, as I am an adult. This incident at the time seemed completely reasonable to me. I was not trying to hurt anyone or upset any one I was proud of something I did in art class and I wanted to share it with my regular teacher Mrs. Ginn.

Unfortunately, the glue debacle like many other incidents became a source of fuel for the class to tease me about how stupid I was. They got a lot of mileage out of that one. They had no shortage of material. They would make fun of my name, my clothes, my hair, my parents, or anything else that they believed would upset me. I seemed to be a source of entertainment for the whole class.  I couldn’t for the life of me understand why for no reason, so many people took so much pleasure in making me feel bad.  I had, up to that point, never been treated that way.  I would have understood if the members of my T-ball team gave me a hard time. I regularly jammed the whole team up every game we played, but these people don’t even know me.  I tried to get to know them but they just had no interest in talking to me unless it was in the form of ridicule.

The playground was the worst.  I hated recess.  It was the time I least looked forward to.  Many of these kids wanted to fight me. They would constantly hit me in the arm or the chest.  I remember asking my teacher if I could do extra work in the library in order to avoid the ridicule and the harassment I received on the playground every day.  She always said “No!” I hated her for that. I stopped telling my parents about this. It seemed to hurt them too much to hear it, and I could not bear to see that.

I had never fought back.  I did not know how to fight.  I took it day after day. It got to the point where I dreaded going to school. I hated the bus ride. I never had a moments rest. I remember crying in my bed at night before I would go to school the next day.  I would have rather done anything else

One day, I struck back. This is the only good memory I have from my whole first grade experience.  There was this particularly evil son-of-a-bitch in my class named Roman.  I avoided him at all costs. Roman was normally the ring leader.  Every time I thought I might go a full day without any drama, Roman would be sure to get some started. I viewed Roman as the source of all the things in my life that were shitty. Today would be the last day Roman would ever screw with me. Today Roman falls.

I was in the bathroom standing at the urinal closest to the first stall.  Roman came in and went to the first stall and began to pee on my shoe.  I did nothing, except move my foot away from the stream.

I thought all day about all the problems that little bastard had caused me during the entire school year, and I decided that it was OK if I get in trouble, but this little shit was going to give me my money’s worth.

Near the end of the day Roman snuck out of the room to use the bathroom without asking permission. As soon as he left, I went and got permission to use the bathroom. Mrs. Ginn said “hurry the bell is about to ring” I went immediately. I was going in there and I was going to just start kicking his ass, without saying one word. But a better solution presented itself.

As I entered the bathroom I was so scared. I couldn’t believe that I was going to do this. I began to ask myself; should I just punch him first, or should I throw him on the ground and start hitting him.  I knew I would get in trouble, but that day; it was OK.  I knew that Roman would probably beat the shit out of me, but if I could get one hit on him, it would be worth it.

When I entered Roman was in the first stall.  I saw Roman’s shoes pointing forward with his pants pulled around his ankles.  He was sitting on the commode.  I thought and I thought and then it came to me. I called an audible, and completely changed my plans. I would quickly reach under and steal his shoes. I thought that would be funny if he had to ride the bus home without his shoes.  I also remember thinking that he owes me a pair of shoes anyway. I quietly moved into position, and just as I grabbed his shoes, the bell rang.  I jerked my arms back to recover them, but I got more than I planned for.

The shoes were sort of connected to his pants and underwear which also came off.  He started yelling.  I quickly turned away and just stuffed all of it into my book bag as I left the bathroom.  I walked slowly to get on my bus, so as not to draw suspicion. I sat there on the bus shaking with fear that I would get busted.  I thought about police men coming onto the bus to arrest me. It seemed like an eternity until those buses started moving. I thought they have stopped the busses and are looking for me.  I hid under my seat and prayed this bus would leave soon. I heard the air brake release and the bus started moving.

I was still scared when I got home. I got a plastic bag and put Romans clothes, sox,, and shoes into it and went to the creek about a mile from our house. I added rocks to the bag and tied it up.  Then I just threw it into the deep part of the creek.  The anxiety I felt vanished as soon as the bag hit the water and sunk to the bottom.

The next day, I felt something on the way to school I had never felt. I felt anticipation, and confidence. I realized that I no longer had to be bullied.  I felt like a million bucks and for the first time ever, I couldn’t wait to get to school.

It was better than I could have hoped for. When we got to school, Mrs. Ginn and the principal, and Roman’s Parents were all their waiting for the class to get in and sit down.  The day started out by explaining to us that Roman ended up stranded in the bathroom until 6pm that night. There were no teachers working late as there were only a few more days of school until summer break.  Roman sat there on the toilet crying when a janitor heard him and called his parents.

His parents were in the classroom for show.  His asshole father (even if only by association) was furious, and his mother was crying.  I know it was wrong to feel this way but seeing that made it even sweeter.  Now Romans mom got a taste of what my mom has been feeling for so long.

Romans Mom pleaded with the class to tell them who was responsible, but no one knew a thing. She even talked about what a sweet boy her Roman was, and that he would never do anything like that to anyone.  I just held my tongue.

I figuratively kicked his social standing, right in the nuts. Roman was in school the next day and I enjoyed the last three days of the first grade watching Roman take my place as the butt of all the jokes. I did not participate in the ridicule. That is not who I was.

Every year, on the first day of school, I would be so hopeful. I remember thinking “This year will be different”, but the only thing that was different about a new year, was the faces behind the piercing words that almost every boy and girl in my class had to say to me.

Don’t hate these kids. I don’t. These are the people who long ago began the construction process and made me the person I am.  Today you have access to this greatness. I am Tom Nardone. Today many, many years later I stand proud as Tom Nardone, and all the kids who ridiculed me are still a bunch of assholes so  I win!

I am Tom Nardone, and you are welcome

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Relatied Articles 

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I am Tom Nardone, and I am ADD

Screw the PTA. Worry About Your Child

Picture11

By Tom Nardone

I have spoken to a lot of parents, who have children with ADD. They all have at least one thing in common; they all care about their children. I categorize them into two groups; those that medicate, and those who do not medicate. I fully agree with those who medicate, and I understand the skepticism for those that don’t.

I am Tom Nardone. When I was growing up I can remember back to some of the things that were done or said to me as a result of being ADD. I had a real hard time understanding simple instructions, because I could not quiet my own mind long enough to listen when they were given.

To this day, the greatest man I have ever known was my father. I remember some of the things he used to say to me; “Tommy, I sure am glad my life doesn’t depend on your speed” or “What? You left your homework at home? Did you think that you were having class at our house?” and my personal favorite is when my father would ask why I did not do something that asked me to do, and I would say “I didn’t hear that part” to which he would reply “Yah well Tommy I guess it is difficult to hear when your head is up your ass” I do miss my Dad.

I had a very tough time in school. It was common for me to work on projects for weeks or just do regular homework, only to leave them at home on the day were due. In spite of my studying for hours I did very poorly on tests.

Sometimes the teacher would be talking to the class about the days assignments and my mind would be somewhere else. I can’t tell you how many times I would come out of a daydream, and discover the rest of the class was quietly working, and I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing. For most of my years in school I was the kid that everyone else made fun of for being stupid or weird. Sometimes the teachers chimed in, and that was more than I could handle.

I would like to tell you that the problems stopped there. But sadly, they went on to follow me at the many, many, many jobs I quit or got fired from. I don’t mind telling you, and I have said this before. I got fired every way you can think of. From “Hey Tom we are sorry but we just don’t have enough work to keep you on” to “YOU!! PACK YOUR SH#T AND GET THE F@#K OUT OF MY BUILDING” (I will tell you a little something about how it feels to get fired. It gets easier.) It is hard to drive through my town and not pass by two or three places that I have worked before. I thought it was funny at the time. It was however a source of concern for the people who loved me. My ADD also made relationships difficult.

During my former marriage, I had forgotten our anniversary two years in a row. The next year I committed to remember it, and I did. I had a card and gifts I went all out on decorating the house, so when my wife came home she would be surprised. She got home and she was quite surprised since it was not our anniversary that day. She was furious and made me take everything back. To make matters worse a few days later when our actual anniversary came to pass, I did nothing. I thought “Hey I blew it I’ll do better next year” That apparently was also the wrong answer. My point is that, to me that sounded reasonable

For those of you, who are looking for an alternative to medication, there you are. Everything you just read is the alternative to medication. The reason parents put their kids on medication is because it works. Yes we tried lists. We tried charts. We tried a system of rewards, reminder notes, and a lot of other things. None of it helped even a little.

Yes, you can micro-manage your child’s life and maybe you will successfully get them all the way through high school. Someday that kid is going to be on their own. It will be just them and their ADD and you won’t be able to go to work with them. You won’t be there to make a list for them. Then, what will they do. Well, I don’t know what they will do. I only know what you will do. Right or wrong, you will probably blame yourself.

The truth is parents are already giving their kids medication for other things. They don’t question it. They march them down to get a stupid flu shot every year. When their kids are sick and the doctor prescribes some anti-biotic that they can’t even pronounce, there they are in line at the pharmacy. Kids are regularly prescribed prednisone without their mom or dad batting an eye. (You should read the side effects for that). There is Tylenol for kids, Vicks for kids and over 100 different other drugs that parents buy right off the shelf and give their kids and why? Usually it is because they saw a commercial on TV where the kids looked so happy while they took their fun new medicine that has a picture of Sponge Bob on the bottle.

Given all of this, it perplexes me, why a loving parent cannot see their way clear to allow a doctor to prescribe medication for their own child who has been diagnosed with ADD. So their kid has the sniffles and they run right out and buy things they think will make them feel better. Their pediatrician tells them that their child has a stomach virus, they will go hauling ass out to the pharmacy to get that prescription filled. But a doctor tells them their child has ADD, and they simply won’t hear of “Oh NOOOOO!!………. HELL NO!!!……… I love my kids. I won’t be a party to pumping them full of meds!!”

I learned that I was ADHD at the age of 29. A man named Chet Smith who, while firing me, explained that I had ADD. I didn’t know what he was talking about. Later I went and checked up on this. I read a list of the symptoms my eyes were opened, but I had never taken drugs before and I did not want to start.

I was committed to doing this without any drugs, but nothing changed. Years later, it occurred to me the current state of my life might be the alternative to not taking medication. I got a prescription for Adderall and it changed my life, quite dramatically, and quite overnight. I started projects and then, Yah. I finished them. I found things that I was interested in and realized that I was pretty good at them. When I was at work, I focused on my job instead of worrying about how much longer it would be until I could leave. Most of all I was not so irritable all the time. Things in my Life have never been better.

I am married to a woman named Yvonne who I love more than I love myself. I have a step-son named Brett who I have watched grow into a man. I have been at the same job for 14 years. I have a website where I catalog my unique and/or humorous observations and stories that keeps me pretty busy. People read them and enjoy doing so.

I was a child at a time when there was no diagnosis for ADD. I had an incredibly challenging childhood in a world where people who knew me simply wondered why I was the way I was. Strange that I have heard parents say “I got some bad news from my son’s school today. They told me he is ADD.”

When I found out I was ADD, It was like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I can’t even tell you how wonderful it was to learn that the problems I had been having my whole life were not for the reasons that so many of my peers and teachers told me. I was not stupid. I was not weird, I was Tom Nardone. Today things are pretty good. I am Tom Nardone and I can tell you one thing about being Tom Nardone and that is that it is fun as hell to be Tom Nardone.

Alternatives to medication for ADD, is what a lot of people are searching for. It is what I have lived through for 29 years and I would not wish that on you. Please don’t do it to yourself or your kids.

My life is not perfect today, and it is not without its challenges. I am on top of it though. I am glad I don’t have to do it w/o my medication, and I am glad I don’t have to do it alone

I am Tom Nardone, and you are welcome

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I Was a Kick-Ass Father

 

Tom & Brett at CrueFest

I had a bad first marriage. I think the only saving grace was that we never made an effort to have children. I always told people the reason I did not have kids was because, I was a selfish bastard and I did not want the headaches and the heartaches. Continue reading

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Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer Strikes Back!!

 Rudolph

Rudolph-red-nose-reindeer-2

Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer is probably one of the most famous Christmas stories in the world. I find that sad. I cannot for the life of me, understand what it is about this story that any parent would like their child to learn.Christmas stories like that typically have an underlying message that teach kids some life lesson or help them to understand things about the world. Rudolph is no exception to that rule. It’s just the wrong lesson. Let me explain.

For those of you who have not heard the story. A beautiful reindeer is born, but he is a little different. He is not like the other reindeer. He Rudolph-red-nose-reindeer-1had a shiny red nose that glows. It, through most of the story, causes him nothing but grief and bullshit; much like anybody who, God Forbid, is different than others and the world just can’t seem to grasp this.  With the exception of Rudolph’s mother, the entire town was on his ass for something he could not help, and something he could not change. He wasn’t like everyone else, so all the other asshole reindeer decide that they don’t like Rudolph because of this shiny red nose. Continue reading

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I Am Perfectly Happy Driving a Dumpster.

I don’t ever want to drive anything, but a piece of shit

 

00aaThere is something about old beaten up cars that I find beautiful. It is like being on the road with a seasoned veteran as opposed to some newb vehicle. While it is maybe not as smooth or comfortable, I do get some piece of mind from the experience this car has over most of the other cars on the road. We just drive down the highway laughing at all the other younger cars, still with there innocence, as they are being driven assholes who cant drive them.[READ MORE]

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He’s Not Heavy. He’s My Blogger

He’s Not Heavy. He’s My Blogger

by Yvonne Nardone

me and yvonne

My husband is Tom Nardone. Anyone in a relationship with a blogger might have the same issue as me. He is obsessed with blogging, but I think he is even more obsessed with bloggers. When I say obsessed I don’t mean He loves to play games or go to the gym (ha ha). I mean he has lost 40 pounds because he’s so busy blogging that he won’t stop to eat.

He not only blogs but now he has joined your community of bloggernaughts to interface with. For him It’s seemingly a blogger love gone cult. He knows and communicates way more online than in real life. But to Tom this is his real life. Don’t get me wrong I’m proud that he’s found a stage for his bizarre and controversial opinions. Blogging also makes him happy.

Tom is obsessed with his blogger stats and checks them like a 60 year old woman playing video poker. 300 hits is an all cherry day. His day is shot if people don’t like him or comment. I really liken it to a gambling addiction. Tom sits in front of his laptop after publishing a post, as if it were a video game. He used to bring me his laptop to show me a map of the world on goggle analytics, to brag to me about the wide span of his readers or as I will call them followers. “Hey babe! Check this out they love me in Australia” or “Hey babe! Look I am storming across Europe!!” He pretends not to care that I don’t read his all of his blog.

This happens to be true. I don’t read all of his blog. I think Tom is a brilliant writer and he connects well with his readers. The problem is that I have heard this shit a thousand times before, and since I don’t agree with half of the shit he says, I find it to be a reminder of the aggravation of his twisted and non-sense views. Sometimes when I read his blog I just want to pretend we are not related.

I have not been working, so I have enabled Tom to spend all of his free time on this. My Tom is ADD so I have been keeping track of the location of his wallet, and keys. I pay all the bills, I beg him to please bring me a load of laundry down to wash, and I am convinced that were it not for my involvement, that he would leave the house and go to work, with two unmatched shoes and not give a shit one way or the other.

I just bought him a new pair of shoes with the child-like Velcro straps (that I hate) which he insists on. Tom continued to wear this other pair of shoes that had holes in them because he says he likes them. I of course exercised my spousal privilege and threw them away. He cried like a girl about it. He actually said “Fine, I’m going to throw something away that you like to wear” Yah right! He doesn’t have the balls. I dare him to do it.

The only thing he has to do is put gas in his car and go to work for 40 hours a week. I have allowed this life style because I was laid off, but I am going back to work and Tom will have to become an adult.

Tom’s life is going to change dramatically. He will have to not only take the trash out to the garage, but also put a new bag in the can. He will have to match his own shoes and keep track of his own keys. He will even have to cook dinner as he will often get home before me. He will even have to take the initiative to put down his laptop long enough to take a shower, as I will not be here to prod him.

The truth is that Tom is a wonderful person, and he always steps-up just like he will when I start working. I have always known that I can depend on Tom to be there when I need him. He loves me more than anyone ever has, and it brings him to tears to see me disappointed in him.

It is also true that he is the funniest person I have ever seen when he gets mad. I am looking forward to the show.

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Tom Nardone’s: Theory of Pants

I’m Right.  I Promise.

pantsThis comes up from time to time in our house. I guess because my wife Yvonne is concerned that I am teaching young Brett (my beloved step-son) a bad life lesson. I call it my “Theory of Pants”.

First, I would like to go on the record as saying that I believe that people should wash their clothes and be clean, but only if they choose to be around other people. If they are going to stay in their home all day and not be around anyone else, then it is obviously their decision. I pass no judgment on them. I see nothing wrong with anyone making a decision to lazily hang around the house; marinating in themselves. I do not judge you people; I salute you.

Most of us don’t have the luxury of living our lives on our laptops, being accountable only to our followers. We have to get up and leave the house. We have to go to our jobs, therefore, we have to be around people. What that means, hygienically speaking, is that we have to be clean.

This is where my wife, Yvonne likes to butt heads with me and attempt to sway me in my unmovable, inflexible, unyielding, sound, well thought-out, and rigidly held theory about the pants I wear. My theory is as follows:

A pair of pants can go several days, even weeks, yes weeks, plural, before needing to be put in the washer machine. I know many of you are making a face. You are cringing, and/or twitching at the thought of this. You would never consider this as an option, but I would ask that you at least give me a chance to explain to you people why you are all wrong.

The human body simply does not treat a pair of pants in the same fashion that it does other articles of clothing. I will give you some examples.

Shirts

People perspire under their arms so it is necessary to wash a shirt before it is worn again. This is no secret. There are companies making millions because of our foul smelling underarm perspiration. Certainly all of us have smelled ourselves a time or two. Of course you also know what a dirty shirt smells like.

Socks

The, afore mentioned, could also be said about our feet. There is no smell like that of stinky feet. It is unmistakable and our socks get a front row seat at that funk show.

Underwear

I don’t think I need to get into all the things that happen to our underwear. It should be clear enough.

Underarms destroy the condition of our shirts. Feet despoil the freshness of our socks. Other unmentionables wreak havoc on our undergarments, but NONE of this can be said about our legs in regard to our pants.smellysocksgrey

Have you ever heard of a person who had smelly legs? Of course you haven’t. The notion is ridiculous. Have you ever told your child or spouse “Oh! Baby you stink. Please go change your pants.”? No, you haven’t, unless of course they did, in fact, drop a load in them.

Here are a few further questions for you non-believers:

When is the last time you washed the shoes that house those stinky socks you wear all day?

When you are in your car in traffic, and it is hotter than hell, do you sweat? I imagine that day after day that sweat gets into the upholstery. When is the last time you had your upholstery cleaned?

Hey, do you own a hat? How many days do you sweat right through it and just wear it days on end anyway before it ever gets washed?

How many years do you where your winter coat without taking it to the drycleaners?

Are shoes, upholstery, hats, and coats magically untouched by your odor. No they aren’t. They get nasty, but you do nothing about it. You just quietly place your head in the sand as you wallow in your own filth, not giving a thought to these things.

That is OK though! Hey I am not judging you. I am right there with you. There is no need to wash your coat, hat, and shoes every day. Screw that! Don’t put yourself through that kind of trouble. That is not a life worth living.

Pants fall into the same category. I think that people wash pants as matter of course, rather than of heartfelt necessity.

I have worn the same pair of pants as long as three weeks, without a wash. I did not feel unclean. I did not smell bad. No one even noticed. I will tell you an added benefit to this is that when you get home, and change your clothes, you can leave your keys and wallet in them so that when you put them on the next day, they are ready for action.

If you are still not convinced, or if you still just don’t get it, I would like to present you with a challenge. Go right now, and smell everything you wore to work today. Smell your sox, your shirt, your underwear, and your pants. Then, ask yourself a question. “If I had to wear one of these items to bed tonight, which one would it be?”

If it was me, taking that challenge, then I will tell you, like I tell my wife.

“I wear the pants”

I am Tom Nardone, and you are welcome.

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Telemarketers, I Am Begging You All. Come Back!!

 

tommyIt doesn’t happen so much anymore. Telemarketers calling you at your home at night between 6pm-9pm, asking for you to join something, or buy something. I can’t begin to describe how much I miss that.

I know many of you find that odd. I would say to you that your attitude toward it is flawed. I believe that the world is a stage, and when that phone would ring, it was like the lights going out, the curtain rolls up and the music ques for “The Tom Nardone Show”

In my entire life, I have never heard a more beautiful sound than that, of my own voice. A sales call was a chance for me to really showcase my awesomeness to a brand new, unsuspecting member of my global audience. I can say anything I can be anyone. It is like a trip back through a childhood make believe wonderland.

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These days it seems that computers do all the work. Machines  call my house with a pre-recorded message. That really is a shame because telemarketers were in my opinion, an untapped source of entertainment.

I did realize that these people were human beings, and they are just trying to support their families. I am also aware that their lives hold a greater purpose than to provide me with entertaining anecdotes, however I work for 8 hours a day.

BUT….To be fair to my family and friends, when I come home from work, I have a very low tolerance for bullshit. I refuse to allow it in my presence.

If I wont take it from my own friends and family, then there is no way in Hell I’m going to allow some stranger to get away with it? SHIT NO! Because I am Tom Nardone, and I am Awesome, and I respect my friends ans family. It is all of them that I will use to justify my assholistic behavior. So now I will present to you “The Tom Nardone Show”

The following are some real life examples of things I have said to real telemarketers.

Olan Mills Photography Studios 

Ring………….Ring…………..Ring
TOM: Hello.
Olan Mills: Yes, is this Mr. Nardone?
TOM: Yes it is.
Olan Mills: Hi Mr. Nardone this is Rachel at Olan Mills Photo Studios, how are you tonight?

Family Photo, Anchorage, AK
TOM: I am wonderful Rachel. How are you?
Olan Mills: I’m fine, Thanks
TOM: what can I do for you?
Olan Mills: We would like to invite you and your family to come down and have a free family portrait taken, with no obligation to buy, and just for coming in you’llreceive a free 5×8 picture at absolutely no cost to you. How does that sound?

TOM: Well Rachel, first off, It was very nice of you to take the time to include my family in what seems to be a pretty amazing opportunity, but my uncle is a photographer, with National Geographic, and he takes all our pictures.
Olan Mills: Wow, National Geographic, I’ll bet you have beautiful family pictures
TOM:Yes they are beautiful. I would go so far as to say they are almost perfect.The only real issue I have with them is that my brother is very insistant that my whole family be photographed naked while squating around a camp fire.

Olan Mills:HA HA HA HA HA HAHA HA HA

Tom: CLICK

I really felt that she was a nice girl. I was not in a bad mood, and i thought that this would give her a nice story to go home and tell her family about. Everybody won and no one was upset in any way. It was a true thing of beauty.

ADT Security Systems

Ring………….Ring…………..Ringburglar tom
TOM: Hello.
ADT: Yes, is this Mr. Nardone?
TOM:Yes it is.
ADT: Hi Mr. Nardone this is Bob at ADT, how are you tonight?
TOM: I am wonderful Bob. How are you?
ADT: I’m fine, Thanks
TOM: what can I do for you?
ADT: I just wanted to call and let you know we will be in your area talking to your neighbors about home security systems. What would be a good time to come by and see you
TOM: Bob I really appreciate the call, but to have one of your security alarms would really present a conflict of interest  for me
ADT: How is that Mr. Nardone?
TOM: I have spent the last 6 years as a professional burglar and as a burglar I don’t think it would be fair to put my self in a position of security, while at the same time depriving others from the same piece of mind that I would be receiving,  But Hey! Let me ask you this. Are you hiring installers? I can think of nothing I could do that would more effectively prepare me than to sharpen my skills, While learning the ins and outs of your security system.
ADT: Sir you are talking about breaking and entering. That is against the law. No. We would not want you as one of our installers

TOM:Bob it sounds like you are judging me. Yes it sounds like you take issue with the way I choose to make my living.

ADT: Well sir, what you do is illegal

TOM: OK  Bob, Point taken. If I am hearing you right, You feel that what I do is illegal. Maybe you think what I do is a disruption to the lives of our community, causing them  to go through an agonizing experience that no one should have to endure. That is what I don’t understand. You are also involved in an illegal act. When you called it was five minutes after the 9:00pm when telemarketers are supposed to cease all calling. I did not judge you for that.

ADT: Uh sir don….(Tom interupts)

Wait Bob. it sounds like both of us have been living our lives in the shadows. We have both been collecting paychecks for causing so many people so much pain. I have an idea, but it is going to require a really big commitment on your part. I put down my crowbar and you put down you phone. Yah that’s what I am saying, I think both of us should quit our jobs. What do you say Bob? Let’s both of us, starting tomorrow, and really make an effort to walk the straight and narrow. Are you with me?

ADT: Shithead!! Click

This was something that I fear I will never again get to experience. I will miss those annoying bastards. I would ask you all to resist the temptation to call me, posing as one of these people. I know your heart is in the right place, but it just wouldnt be the same

I am Tom Nardone, and You Are Welcome!

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ADHD | You Will Find What You Look For.

Tom-Nardone-ADHD-monk

There is much written on ADD/ADHD.  They also almost always address ADHD as a problem, and a problem only. I feel by doing this they are scaring and misinforming their readers.

Many of these articles are written by doctors. Doctors are used to treating problems, so I guess it would stand to reason that they should write about ADHD in that context. There are two types of people who write these articles; Doctors and those with ADHD. I think most people feel better reading something written by a doctor, rather than by someone with ADHD. Because if a doctor said it, then it can’t be wrong. Don’t kid yourself. Believe it or not, sometimes doctors are wrong. They are only human, and while doctor written articles can be informative, and important, they are seldom inspiring. So, as long as you are here, allow me to inspire you.

So, your or loved one is messy and leaves their shit lying around all over the place. People like to quote Albert Einstein who said “A messy desk is a sign of a genius.” Well, I never met Albert Einstein myself. He could have been a giant asshole for all I know. While I may me every bit the asshole that Al was, I speak and write in English so listen-up.

 When you see a beautiful mural painted by an artist, you can respond in two ways. You can marvel at its beauty, OR you can bitch about the mess that was made in the process. I suppose if i had a choice to live in a messy world full of art, or a clean world with no art. My vote is for the mess. You would vote for the mess too.

Oh yes ADHD people daydream. So what about daydreaming? Is it necessarily a bad thing all of a sudden for someone to have an active imagination or a creative mind? When is an appropriate time to come up with kickass ideas? There is no appropriate time. Awesomeness does not indulge anyone’s schedule. It calls when it calls. You can answer the call or you can worry about the petty bullshit you are expected to do.

Daydreaming is often mentioned with kids in school. My question is this: Is it a teachers job to teach the class? of course it is. To simply stand up and read the lesson plan each week as you count down the days until you get to spread your ass out on the couch and get paid all summer might be fun, but is is not teaching. Ask your son or daughter to explain to you, everything they learned in school on a particular day. Perhaps they couldn’t tell you anything about it. HA!, Ask them to tell you about a video game they play. See what takes longer. I’m sure some teachers feel better believing that. The truth is that ADHD people have trouble paying attention to things that are not interesting to them.

Yes, children with ADHD blurt out whatever they might be thinking. I would rather know what is on my kid’s mind, rather than wonder. That beats the absolute shit out of trying to pry information from them. Parents of ADHD kids will truly know who their child is as a result of this. While their outbursts might not be appropriate sometimes, they will always be entertaining. Parents do have to police the actions of their kids as they should. Try embracing their words rather than correcting them for not following the regimented guidelines held in high regard by the rest of the herd . You can either NO your child or you can KNOW your child.

So, your loved one is Hyper-Sensitive. I really fail to see a downside to this. Parents with ADHD kids know better than anyone; some kids are mean little bastards. You should get down on your hands and knees and thank God for your child’s “Over-sensitivity” I spent years in school being picked on. My fellow students seemed to enjoy picking on me more than recess. My entire elementary career was an absolute daily hell. I would rather not ever believe that a child of mine was inflicting that same pain on another child. Why chastise their empathy for others? Is the world not currently a shitty enough place for you?

You have a choice. You can decide that you or your loved one has a problem that will complicate their life. You can constantly remind them that they have some handicap that prevents them from being more than they are. You can continue feeling sorry for them, crying for them, or wishing they were not the way they are, thereby reinforcing the stigma that so many others have drilled into their heads there whole life. You can deny them medication because you are worried about what the other asshole parents will think about your parenting skills.

OR

You could have a backbone, and tell your friends, your piers, your family, or anyone else who believes them less than what they are to just go to hell. You can stand up and be a proud and supportive parent, husband, wife, Mom, or Dad. You can realize,  “The Fleas come with the dog”. If you believe them inferior, they will believe it too.  You can realize that you are fortunate to have someone that will never fall into the cookie cutter mentality the world seems to embrace. You can stand up and be proud to be with some one who is not just another rank-and-file Normal Person. Personally the last thing on earth I ever want to be is normal. I would never teach my child to be so.

You will find what you look for. SO DON’T LOOK FOR A TURD!

I think ADHD People are, in many ways, what others are afraid to be. Some normal people don’t want to change out of their pajamas to go to the store, but they do. Some normal people want to tell other people what they think, or how they feel, but they don’t. They sit there quietly worrying about what others might think. They are afraid to be who they are.

Those of us with ADHD will go down our own path. We will eventually get down life’s highway, but we will stop at many exits where we will create moments, and have adventures, but nothing in life is worth doing, if it must be done alone or in the absence of the people we love and care for. So, your loved one has ADHD. I will give you the best advice that anyone could ever give you, and that is quite simply this.

“Enjoy the ride.”

I am Tom Nardone and You Are Welcome.

tomboy

  • You can join the I Am Tom Nardone Facebook Group by clicking HERE. or ADHDpeople.net Here
  • Or you can enter you email address at the top of this page and click the button that says “BE AWESOME”
  • Or you could risk never hearing from me again and go through life without the benefit of my counsel, but what would be the
  • Twitter @tomnardonehere or @adhdpeople
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Tom Nardone’s Driving Museum of A##holes!!

Nobody loves these people. Where the Hell are they going.

db

Driving affords many things to many people. It can be an important rite-of-passage to a young man or woman to finally reach another milestone in journey toward adulthood. Driving can be a long-awaited trip to take with friends looking forward to spending time together. It can be a time for people to spend catching up or just hanging out. I, on the other hand, see driving as a bunch of bullshit that I must endure because someone or something has required my presence.

Unfortunately, it is also a chance for assholes to take their craft to the stage. It is a chance for the true gladiators to show the world that their life can always get just a little bit harder. Sadly though, they don’t even realize that they are at fault.

I am sympathetic  though. It is difficult to hear with your head up your ass.

First up: “The Inactive Assholes”

These are the drivers who we judge based on their personalities or by the image they want to portray while they are on the road. This asshole is not being judged by his ability, or inability to drive their car. These people could actually be skilled drivers.

Introducing:

“The Bumper Sticker Asshole”

Introducing, “The Bumper Sticker Asshole” Apparently there are those that feel it is necessary to let the entire driving community know what they think about

Bumper sticker car parked in Santa Cruz, Calif...
Lunatic at the wheel

EVERYTHING! (I am not blind to the irony of me speaking out against people who are giving their opinion) I will give them one bumper sticker. Do you think they could use their bumper sticker as an opportunity to entertain me? Can they not try to help me?  I am in my car, with no air conditioner. I woke up and I had a choice to make. I could have either gotten up, and went to my job, or I could have just killed myself. Is it necessary that I be made to feel I have chosen incorrectly?

I don’t want to be reassured that you love your country. I don’t give a shit, how your kid is doing in school. I don’t care what side your ancestors were on during the civil war, or how proud of that you are. As far as I am concerned, your name is “Douche McBaggerson” You can go to hell. Just entertain or inspire me, and don’t clutter your whole windshield up with a bunch of bullshit. I only read so fast and when the light turns green, I have other assholes to worry about.

Introducing:

“The Wannabe Hot Rod Asshole”

Courtesy of cracked.com

Courtesy of cracked.com

Introducing “The Wannabe Hotrod Assholes” Honestly I understand that people should be allowed to spend their money on whatever they choose , but when I see a three hundred dollar car with three thousand dollar rims on the road I have to ask myself a question. Can the degenerate who made that decision possibly be capable of safely navigating his piece of shit through this city without killing someone? So far, I am not convinced.

“Look there is nothing wrong with buying, and driving a piece of shit car. Just accept that it is a piece of shit car. Embrace it. Be proud of it. Flaunt it. There is no need to mask it by spending money on stupid rims, decals, or a skank in the seat beside you. That just makes you and the car look like an asshole. No you’re right, cars can’t look like assholes, but yours does.

Believe me I have never owned a car that was not a piece of shit. I have never even washed a car that I have owned. I even referred to my old 81 Dodge Aries station wagon as a “The Dumpster”, but it didn’t have a spoiler or a hood scoop on it. I wasn’t painted lime green, and I was as proud as shit to be seen driving it down the road.”

Introducing:

“The Car Stereo Asshole”

These are the most annoying bastards that the seed of man has ever fouled the earth with. From where do they come? I can’t imagine a Hell that would admit them. They are dbbnot always around, but when they are you know because you can feel your car rattling. We will just refer to this sound as the “call of the asshole.” They have no self-awareness.

“Hey asshole, please don’t play any Led Zeppelin, Iron Maiden, Motley Crue, or any music that someone might actually want to here. That would screw up the whole annoying son of a bitch vibe you have going on. Why in the Hell are you out here on the road anyway. There couldn’t possibly be any one the planet who cares one way or the other if you show up or not. Why don’t you just put a shirt on, spin that stupid hat around and pretend that you are a man. Who knows? You might even some day convince the world that you are more than just a gaping shit-for-brains. For now, I would be fine if you just went to Hell”.

Safety Note: I will have to get a good look at the driver before I decide to engage him. I value my ass, and I don’t want a cap busted in it. A large or criminal looking driver will get no problem from this driver.

Introducing:

“The Volunteer Firemen Assholes”

Volunteer Firemen, are almost entirely made of heroes. Ned Hicks for example, I don’t know if anyone in the world has ever blurred the lines more between man and super hero. There is however, a small group of people in the south that use this as an excuse to drive around with a police band radio and flashing red lights on top of their trucks. This gives them a sense of importance and/or authority.  Why should I have to alter my driving experience because this son of a bitch feels like he wants to go pretend to be firemen once or twice a year?

Note: While I am on the subject; why do firemen need an entire legion of Bubbas and Jethros to aid them? I personally do not need a team of people to help me eat, sleep, or watch TV. Why do they?

Last: Active Assholes

These are the “Proactive Assholes” or “Trouble-Making Assholes.” These are the people, who by their actions, cause others grief. These are the real problem on the road they are the source of everything that is shitty about driving.

Introducing:

“The Selfish Bastard Asshole”

Picture11

ASSHOLE

Driver-showng-middle-finger2The best example I could come up with for this would be Tom Nardone. Yes that is me. I made the cut this time. I am “The Selfish Bastard Asshole” I do not let anyone in front of me. I don’t worry about waving at you as a way to say thank you. I will block the intersection if I think there is the slightest chance I can make it across.

My “Assholistic” driving issues are not just outward. They are inward as well. When I have my family in the car I am not only in complete control, I am also in complete command. I don’t care who is in the car with me. The air is controlled by me. The seat position is controlled by me. I decide who sits where and I control the damn music selection. My purpose for driving is for me to get from one place to another without getting pissed off in the process. Everybody who is benefitting by my willingness to drive has one job and one job only. They are to make every effort to ensure that I am happy, that I feel good, and that I have zero bullshit to contend with. I am the driver. I if you want to be an asshole fine. You can drive. I don’t consider myself above any other person, but if I am the driver, you are secondary.

Introducing:

 “The Good Samaritan Asshole” (Sure as hell not me.)

no picLet me to paint you a picture. It is bumper to bumper traffic. The sun is beating the hell out of you because your car is going too slow to generate the necessary RPM’s to get the air conditioner to work. Traffic is standing still, and you can’t figure out why. We have all been there. Well, once I do start moving, there is no way I am going to stop and let someone turn left to go into the mall or some silly little restaurant. There is no way anyone is going to pull out in front of me. I will ride a car’s bumper in front of me, and since I drive a piece of shit, let them try to get their car in front of mine.

Their does however, always seem to be some good-Samaritan, or a servant to the driving world in front of me who feels they are making the world a better place one car at a time by being a courteous driver. They will let people turn left in front of them,(and me) they will let people pull out in front of them(and me) two or three at a time.

Sometimes, if I am in the right mood, I will stand on my horn until they realize they are pissing me and many other drivers off in some underhanded attempt to make themselves feel helpful to the world. This forces them to ask themselves “Hey is helping these people worth the embarrassment it is causing me?” The answer usually seems to be “No” Because I stop honking when they start moving

Introducing

 Introducing: “The Cell Phone Asshole”

I hate the sight any driver talking on their cell phones. There is really only one thing about seeing people talk on their phones while driving that infuriates me, but it is a BIG

Person using cell phone while driving.

Hello? Dick McPrickerson here.

one. During heavy traffic I am at a red light with this clown in front of me. The light turns green, but they don’t realize this because they are apparently on some urgent phone call that has is more important than everything I have planned to do for the day. They think I don’t mind waiting for them. If I see them talking on the phone at the light before it turns green, I am anticipating a delay and I have my right hand ready in the honking position. I give them literally 1 second to get their piece of shit moving, and then, they get “The Horn”. Not just a friendly honk either. I stand on it even after we have cleared the intersection. I have given people a single blast of my horn that has exceeded 15 seconds. Yes, I keep honking after they are moving. I want them to know that there is a bigger asshole at the wheel behind them, and that he demands some professional courtesy. It also tells them that I am not interested in a repeat performance at the next light. Sometimes they will actually hang up the phone. That is a rare and sweet victory. It is at that moment I consider myself the hero driver

Introducing

“The Speeding Asshole”

A typical speed limit sign in the United State...

This means you asshole

I really hate a driver who speeds. I am not saying that I obey every law in this country, but I do not speed. My wife hates when I drive because I have an obsessive need to maintain the speed limit. It’s not just because I believe it is safe.

If I get a ticket, then that means I will have a court date looming over me. I will spend a week or two dreading a day that I will have to take off work, and leave the house, so I can go to court and deal with this by writing a check. It just isn’t worth it.

The interstates are usually where these particular assholes come out of the wood work. There are more of them, than all the others combined. What really bugs me about them is that it’s not enough for them to just drive fast. They seem to think that I support their need to put lives at risk. When I drive down the highway I usually do prefer the right lane anyway, however, if the left lane happens to be a smoother ride, I will choose the left lane. The car behind me will wait for an opportunity to pass me in the right lane. Now if they get pulled over, that is two things they can get ticketed for.

One thing I have noticed is when they do end up having to pass me on the right, they always look at me. They just have to see what I look like. I don’t do it anymore, but years ago, I would have a little sign in my car. It was a paint stirrer stick with a piece of card board tapped to it. It simply read “I LOVE YOU” That really made them mad.

Introducing:

 “The Parking Assholes”

Yes, I know parking is a bitch. There are so many cars entering and exiting parking places all day, and that is bad enough, or is it?

Outrageously shitty parking job, SUV at USC, C...

ASSHOLE

Well, not for some people. There is always that driver who will drive around and around until that perfect place opens up that they can cruise right into. They make driving shitty for you and me.

I remember one time I was behind this stupid lady and the perfect place opened up, but she went forward a little too far. She needed to back up in order to enter this magical spot. She (without even looking at me) sticks her hand out the window and starts waving me back as if me taxiing an airplane. I of course, being Tom Nardone, pulled forward even more to ensure that she would be unsuccessful in her attempt. She tried to wait me out. Yah right. When that didn’t work, she only then, tried politeness, but that didn’t matter because she already became a blip on my asshole radar. She stuck her head out of the window and politely said “Sir could you back up just a little so I can have this spot” I replied, also in a polite tone, “No ma’am I won’t but thank you for asking, and please feel free to take all the time you need. That parking place is my destiny and I have nothing to do all day but wait for it.”. I did not know until that day that a station wagon could burn rubber. I did take the spot. It was nice. At that moment I became the “it serves you right driver”

“Turn Signals”

English: Turn signal lamp on 706RTO Česky: Boč...

On turn signals; I do not require any driver to use their turn signal mainly because I don’t believe them anyway. A turn signal just indicates what direction a person thinks they are going. I do not pay any attention to them anymore.

“The Horn”

On the horn; this is a very important part of my car, second only to the brakes. There are several different ways I honk my horn. If I am of good cheer, then maybe I might

just use “The Bump” (this courtesy is not afforded to people on their cell phones). This is a simple quick blast of the horn. It is an almost friendly sound that sort of says “Hey buddy the light is green now just so you know.” It is the subtlest of horns.

There is also “The Push”. This is for people who are day dreaming. There is no real malice a forethought while using “The Push”, but there is also no real acknowledgement of the drivers feelings either. “The Push” is also used if I am picking someone up and I simply need to alert them from the driveway.

My personal favorite is without a doubt “The Stand”. This is for anybody who meets my own personal list of things that qualify them as an asshole. This is the one that calms the angry beast inside me. Sometimes using this horn makes it worth being out in traffic. There is nothing like that long blast of my horn to indicate to the driver in front of me, that they are a shithead. It also provides this moron with all the public embarrassment and unwanted attention they need to help themselves to make better decisions in the future. It also alerts any other driver in the area that there is a stupid ass among us, and that they should be wary of their presence. I do always make exceptions for certain people. Those would be: handicap people, old people, and of course there is no need to gain any extra attention from police officers. Police cars are the only government vehicles that are exempt from my training program. As I said before, I value my ass and I don’t want it thrown in jail. I do consider it a public service to provide this free training to the general driving public, and though I ask no credit for this act of good will, I have probably saved countless lives all over the country. I hope that is something that will always be said about Tom Nardone; “He gave till it hurt”.

Four Way Stops

On 4 way stops; there seems to be a lot of confusion at 4-way stop signs. There are way too many of them in my area. One thing I used to find annoying is when you get to the

STOP STOP STOP S-T-O-P!!!

My Turn

stop sign and nobody seems to know whose turn it is. I finally figured that out. If I come to a 4 way stop and there is any confusion as to whose turn it is, then it is automatically by default, my turn. This has made it much easier.

Thank you for riding with me. I hope you enjoyed the trip. See you on the road.

Feel free to mention any assholes that I forgot.

Tom Nardone.

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