They Gave Me Creative Control. Me!

Tom Nardone

by Tom Nardone

I am Tom Nardone. Many of you know that I work at the Home Depot. A few years ago in November the store was preparing for what we call a Goldcup Walk. This is when a bunch of people from the corporate office come in and look at several stores and give an award to the one who is most prepared for the #Christmas season.

I happened to be in earshot of my store manager when I heard her explain that she wanted something big this year that would really bring attention to the store. I saw an opportunity for a fun week rather than the day to day business that I do every day. I love what I do, but one of the cool things about Depot, is that  sometimes you can do projects for the store that are fun.

She wanted two things. She wanted a replica of “Christmas Town”, and she wanted “Bumble”. Bumble was the name of the Abominable Snowman from the rudolph story.

I of course jumped all over this. I told her that under no circumstances should she allow anyone to be a part of the snowman build that was not Tom Nardone. I went on and I said “look you have a choice to make. You can either let someone else spend a whole week to build you a giant disappointment, or you can let me build something that the whole community will come to the store just to see” She could see that I wanted to do it and I suppose my passion to build this thing is what carried the day. I got the gig. I am Tom Nardone and I always win.

The irony is not lost on me. I am building a character from the story of Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer. Yes I am aware of my story where I was critical of Rudolph and rewrote the ending.  It is without a doubt, the funniest thing, in my opinion, that I have written to date. I am just going to ask that you give me a pass on that. In my story I never listed Bumble as a problem for anything.

It was an awesome experience. I got to pick a helper. Jonathan Parker a good friend of mine helped me through most of the build. I had the vision for this thing in my head from the moment I got the gig.

This is what my store manager did not fully understand. She did not understand that I am Tom Nardone, and she gave me complete and total creative control over this project. It took all forty hours of my week, and in the end as I promised, it was a work of art. I created a spot on replica of this monster. It was and I think still is the coolest thing anyone ever did for Christmas in any home depot ever at any store their ever was. To put it simply, it was perfect in every way.

I will never forget the day when John and I rolled this ferocious Christmas icon to the sales floor. I had to remove its head as we entered the lumber roll up door because it would not fit under it. We reattached the head and as this thing rolled down the main aisle, everything stopped. Everyone was standing in the aisle with their mouths open. They were in awe of this thing I had built. For customers and associates alike,  time stood still and I simply smiled as I ate all the attention up with a spoon.

We staged it prominently in front of the paint desk where it stood proudly and every person that walked by it stopped to take note of it. Almost all of them took a photo or had their kids pose in front of it.

And YES!! Of course I have a picture. Behold

#BUMBLE

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 I am Tom Nardone, and you are welcome

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Tom Nardone Vs The Lawn | Let’s Mow Some Ass.

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By Tom Nardone

Before I begin this story of deception, I should point out that my wife is the finest human being that God ever graced the earth with. She is perfect in every way, and I wouldn’t trade her for the world. I have never lied to her however; I would not say any of this about my ex-wife. All further references to my wife will be referring to my ex-wife, who I thought might have very well have been….”The Antichrist”

We had had a 600 square foot addition added to the back of our house that would later become our master bedroom. What I had planned to finish in just 3 to 4 months, ended up taking about (and I’m not kidding) four and a half years.  What can I say?  I’m ADD, and my favorite day of the week is tomorrow, so that is the day that I set aside to do important things in my life.

It was about two years into the project and spring was coming. My wife had been raising hell about the addition being finished, and then she decides to throw in that she  wants the yard do be nice this year. One thing you need to know about my ex-wife and yard work is that my ex-wife did not do yard work. She wanted that yard to look nice that year, but not at the inconvenience of depriving our sofa the joy of having her ass spread out on it, while she watched reruns of Buffy the Vampire Slayer all day. The plan was for my ass to be outside working in the yard all day, and working on the addition al night. I knew my wife, and I knew, just like a day killing freight train, she would never stop.

I had what I then referred to as the ”The Misery Trifecta” A nagging wife, a 600 square foot addition, and now a yard to give a shit about after years of blissful neglect. All of my free time was in jeopardy, and I would not even be able to look forward to the weekends.  The only thing I knew was that there was no way in hell I was going to do all that shit.

Ohhhhh, but something would have to be done.

(ok now fasten your seatbelt)

I waited two days until Sunday, early evening, after a whole weekend without a word of this coming up. I broke the silence and I said “Hey honey. I thought a lot about what you said about the yard and you know you’re right. I am going up to The Home Depot and figure out what we need to do to fix our yard.” she was so happy. I actually even went outside, and (just for show), I dug up a sample of our yard to show the people at Home Depot, so that they could help me. She thought that was great. I got in my car and left. About a mile down the road, I tossed the sample out of my window, and proceeded to the Depot. When I got there a man said;

Home Depot Guy: What can I do for you sir?

Me:    I need to buy something to spray on my lawn that will kill every weed, every blade of grass, and every living thing in my whole yard.

Home Depot Guy: Excuse me sir?

Me:    shall I repeat what I said?

Home Depot Guy You want to kill……….the lawn?

Me: Winner!!!!!

Home Depot Guy:   OK uh, how big is your yard?

Me:   Half an acre.

Home Depot Guy:   One of these bottles of Roundup should do it.

Me: I’ll take two.

When I got home my wife was in bed, but I was so excited that I couldn’t even wait until morning. I got my sprayer and my roundup concoction (Double Strength) together and sprayed the entire backyard (Twice). I felt great. Here is something else that you must know. My wife worked Mon-Fri .She left the house at 6am (still dark outside) she got home at 6:30pm (still dark outside). She would not be home during the daylight hours until Saturday morning.  I don’t mean to give Roundup a plug here, but credit where credit is due. I couldn’t believe how fast it worked. By Friday afternoon my yard was dead. I mean like post-apocalypse, tombstone, tumbleweed dead. For five days I watched my lawn die a slow death, and I could not have been more pleased with myself.

Friday night I went to work. It was just a few short hours until the big reveal. I worked third shift at the time. That night it occurred to me half way into my shift that in all the excitement that I had not thought about what I would tell my wife by way of an explanation. I thought about it all night. I got my friends involved, but all they could do was laugh and try to convince me that there was no way out.

After my shift I drove home and quietly walked around the side of my house into the backyard. Nope still dead. I thought a little and then a little more. I then decided it would just be best to come clean. There was a door into the bedroom off the back deck so I walked up to the door ready to admit my wrong doing and underhandedness. When my fingers touched the door I had what alcoholics refer to as a moment of clarity. This moment of clarity was some like this.

WHAT? Am I about to surrender to a dead lawn? I am Tom fucking Nardone. Nobody beats me. I always win. Of course my friends told me that I was going to be in the dog house. That is how their minds work. I adapt. Most people would see this as a situation as a death sentence, whereas I, on the other hand, will transform this would be disaster, into stage on which I steal the hearts and minds of my audience (my wife). Let the show begin.

Lights, Camera, Action!

An angry Tom Nardone walks onto the scene

“DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT!!!! WHAT THE HELL MOTHER#$@% sh@t” and on and on and on. My wife, hearing my rage, came outside and asked “What’s the matter Tom” I said “What’s the matter? Look at my yard, just look at it I killed the whole thing it’s all dead! I sprayed it with weed and GRASS killer. This is what the guy at Home Depot recommended. All that work and now look at it.” I then kicked something off the porch and knocked over a broom.

She said “Hey sweetie calm down, calm down. You tried. This is not your fault. It will grow back, and look, you will be able to focus on the addition this summer” I said “are you sure you’re not mad?” She said “No. I’m not mad” I said “OK just give me a minute out here and let me calm down” She said “OK I will go make some coffee” I said “Thanks for not being mad babe” She said don’t worry about it sweetie” and then she went inside.

THE END

I will now, figuratively take a bow.

With no rehearsal, no second takes, and no script, I was the writer, producer, and director of a larger-than-life production. I did what would have undeniably brought Broadway to its knees, and I did it on the fly.

This scheme had a two pronged effect. First, I got out of doing any yard work for the entire spring and summer. Second, every time my wife saw the yard, she was reminded that I cared enough to try to make a difference. As it turned out, she was right about that. I made a tremendous difference; especially when the wind blew

I do not dispute that what I did, was deceptive, however if you will review the text, at NO time did I ever lie to her. The only things I said to her were that I would “fix” our yard. We certainly had different ideas about what that meant. The only other things I said to her about it was “look at the yard, I killed it. The whole thing is dead”, and “this is what the guy recommended” all of that was true.

This story is 100% true. Maybe you are the type of a person who likes a good moral to a story. What do you think about this one?

Don’t ever take a step backwards. I did not review my actions and figure out what we talked about and came up with some lie. don’t ever lie to your spouse. It makes for a bad marriage. I did not put this things in reverse. I shifted it into overdrive put the pedal to the floor, and gave the performance of a life time. If I had come clean with my wife; she would have been mad, I would have worked my ass off all summer and you would be on facebook reading a less awesome story written by a less awesome man. Because of me, The past ten minutes of your life have been completely kick-ass.

 I am Tom Nardone, and you are welcome.

****Important announcement from Tom********

There are two ways to be notified of future posts. Click HERE and like or follow my new Facebook page, or you can scroll up and subscribe via email. One other thing; I answer every comment I get. There are a lot of places that you get here from, and sometimes I cant find them all. If I don’t respond to you, that is because I did not see you. If you want to be sure I see it, then comment on this site below where it says “Speak to me”.  leave them wherever you are happy doing so, I just don’t want you thinking that I don’t love you.

 

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The Family Outing. Hell Has Relocated!

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By Tom Nardone

Mankind, over the course of thousands of years, has been coming up with new and innovative ways to make life better, or rather, more comfortable. We have gone from caves to tents, to cabins, to houses. If you think about it everything we buy is for the purpose of our survival, protection, comfort, or entertainment. Why in the Hell would we abandon these achievements. ***WARNING, Swear words ahead!***

Camping is among the biggest bunch of bullshit ideas that I have ever heard of. I cannot for the life of me, understand why anyone would find it fun to pack up a bunch of stuff and go live outside without all the things they have worked so hard for, such as; air conditioning, microwave ovens, TV, indoor plumbing, or their computers.

I guess at some point a group of people get together and start making plans for all of them to get together, and do something really special. Then, some asshole says “Yahhhhh hey lets go camping” I will admit that is that it really does sound like a great idea. It sounds like a nice little adventure. It sounds like a nice little change of scenery. Well let me give you some insight.

It Is Not!

I know that I am on record as not being one for the outdoors. I proudly admit to being agoraphobic slave to my chair and my laptop, but I have been camping a few times, and I happen to be an expert on bullshit. There is perhaps no one in the world more qualified to outline the heartbreaking, light snuffing, soul stealing, pain in the ass that is camping. I will now present my case.

We will take a one day camping trip; Just a typical 24hr hike through Hell’s colon. No need to worry I am Tom Nardone, and I will be your guide.

6:00are – It is time to get up and get ready. The day we have planned for is finally here. It is time to get up and take everything that makes us comfortable as human beings and load it into our car, so we can take in with us on our magical journey to the woods.

8:00am – We arrive. Things are a little better because now our friends are here with us and we realize that we will not have to suffer alone. Misery loves company.

9:00am – we find the site where we will camp and now we have to figure out how to watch and discipline our kids while at the same time putting our tent up. The instructions are long gone and we will be lucky if we can even find all the parts to the damn thing. We also have to put the tent up with one hand because the other hand is far too busy killing mosquitoes.

11:00am – The campsite is up, and after a wonderful morning of packing, driving, working, sweating, and killing bugs, I finally get to rest. Uhhhhh No I don’t. You know why? Yes, because the kids are hungry. OK lets fire up the grill! After all, it is only 92°F how much worse can it get. Well since human beings are not the only life forms who eat, every fly, bee, and insect will be joining you. You have to figure out how to avoid flies, hold a paper plate, and eat at the same time, and that is bullshit.

12:30pm Well lunch is over, so what is next to do on Satan’s honey-do list. You can’t relax. It is 96°F, it is humid, there are bugs, and let us not forget the biggest pests we know. Yes I mean the kids. Because God bless them, they are bored, and we just can’t have that. Can we? Our kids who begged and begged for this nightmare to come true are now bored.

1:30pm – You are feeling pretty smart. You had a wonderful idea. You thought you could take these kids fishing. You are a genius, except that you are not. You will not have a moment’s peace. The only thing you will catch while fishing, are the fresh contents of the can of Hell you just opened. They will expect to catch a fish within the first forty five seconds, and will ask you a million questions, until all you can hope for is that one of them will shit their pants, and close this chapter of the new book you bought from the Hells best seller list.

3:00pm – At this point you will be thinking of excuses to abort the mission. What could you possibly do to avoid this any further. You can’t think of anything rational to convince your wife to deprive the children of their adventure. You will then think of the irrational. You think “I am a 42 year old male. What if I were to just talk about a stomach ache and then wait ten or fifteen minutes and then just shit my pants? The ride home would be miserable, but would it be worse” That won’t work though because you just went after lunch

6:30pm – It is time for dinner, but forget the ease and convenience of the grill. In the spirit of camping there has to be a camp fire. So now you have to find dry would and build a fire. You also have to find sticks that will be suitable for hotdogs to hover over the fire. Then come the marshmallows. You know that the only real purpose of a marshmallow is to hold it over a campfire and then watch it cool and then eat it.

8:00pm – Thank God, it is time for bed, but don’t thank him too soon. The bugs, spiders, snakes, and skunks do not have a bed time. You get to lie in your tent and try to sleep knowing that outside lurks the wilderness. You will try to sleep in that fear, the lingering heat, and the humidity that, will without mercy, continue to whip your ass throughout the entire night as you try to sleep.

12:00am – it has been four hours. Everyone is asleep, but you. You will think about all the comforts waiting for you at home. Your chair how perfect it is, and how lonely it must be without your ass planted firmly in it.

2:25am – Is this Hell?

3:18am – how can they be sleeping?

3:27am – I wonder if anyone is reading my blog right now?

3:51am – I wonder how many stitches it took to put this tent together.

4:00am – is there enough oxygen in this tent?

5:00am – FUCK ……THIS……SHIT!!!!!!!!

Hell enters the campsite

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! WAKE UP FAMILY THIS FUNFILLED ROLLER COASTER OF AGONY AND WOE IS SADLY COME TO A CLOSE. COME ON KIDS GET UP! GET UP! GET UP! WE GOTTA HIT THE ROAD. COME ON LETS DO THIS BITCH! WE GOTTA GO! WHAT? DID YOU JUST SAY THE WORD BREAKFAST?  NOOOOO! FUCK THAT SHIT JIMMY, YOU SHOULD HAVE GOTTEN YOUR ASS OUT OF BED BEFORE 5 AM IF YOU WANTED BREAKFAST WE WILL EAT WHEN WE REJOIN CIVILIZATION. PACK IT UP LETS GO GOD DAMN IT ALL WILL SOMEBODY PLEASE KILL MEEEEEEEEEE!”

At this point your wife will calm you down and help you see clearly. You will take a moment to explain to your 8 year old son Jimmy that you are sorry for swearing at him and that you will make him any breakfast he wants when you get home.

6:05am – Not a word is spoken on the way home

8:00pm – You will most likely be the only one who is involved in the unpacking of the car. That is OK because you are finished with a very shitty part of your life. Your family will think twice before they ever burden you with another request like that again. The trip is over.

OK, now I don’t think there is anything left to say so I will be brief. Go back through this and you will see that everything that angered this man was a result of the absence of something that men spent years and years developing and perfecting so that we would not have to shit our pants or kill ourselves in order to avoid.

I value their struggle and appreciate their vision. I have no desire to live in a fictitious world where I pretend that they never even existed.

I will honor the ancient Egyptians, who are credited with inventing the chair

I will honor men like Willis Carrier, who invented the air conditioner so that we no longer have to marinate in our own perspiration while sitting in our homes.

I will honor men like Philo Farnsworth and Charles Jenkins who invented the television. They did this, because what would be the point of having electricity without TV.

I will honor men like John Crapper, for inventing indoor plumbing, so that when I go number two, the whole house does not have to know it.

These people had my best interests in mind many years ago and I will honor them with my ass in my chair, a clicker in my hand, and a dry comfortable body which will emit no odor that would offend my friends or family.

These men slaved so that you could be comfortable, but you go enjoy your camping trip. I personally do not feel the need to symbolically kick these men in the nuts. It just doesn’t sound like a good idea to me any longer.

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I am Tom Nardone, and I am ADD

Screw the PTA. Worry About Your Child

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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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Yes Dear, We Can Eat Out Tonight. Just get me a shirt that says ”Kill Me Please”

 

tom1My lovely wife used to love going out to eat. Life with me has changed things for her and for her entire family. My wife has just decided that I am a much bigger pain in the ass when asked to leave the house for the sake of a meal, than the meal is worth. Her parents adore me, and I them. She made the mistake of complaining about my shitty attitude about eating out to her mother. Now nobody eats out on their birthday, because her mother does not want me to be inconvenienced. I gotta say “THAT ROCKS!” Continue reading

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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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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.

Help me. I can only spread so much bullshit by myself.
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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.

Help me. I can only spread so much bullshit by myself.
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Man’s Best Friend, or The Spawn of Satan?

barney bannerFor years, I told my wife Yvonne, that we would under no circumstances be getting a dog. I explained to her that I could not understand why anyone would be willing to share their home with an animal. She in turn said “then you will never get a PS3 game console” I thought “oooohh don’t throw me in the briar patch Brer Rabbit” I did not even want a PS3. So I said “Fair enough”

meet barneyYears later, Yvonne was going through a tough time and she felt that the companionship of a dog would be a benefit to her. As it happens I am a weak, and easy to manipulate spouse. I agreed, even though I was not happy about it.

Yvonne was so moved  at my decision to make myself miserable that she named the dog after my favorite character from my all-time favorite TV show, “The Andy Griffith Show” Our dog is named Barney, after “Barney Fife” (it feels weird saying our dog.)

I remember the first time I ever saw Barney. He was cute and happy. I was, for a short time, very happy with my decision to allow this beast to live amongst us within the boundaries of my domicile. My wife thought he was the greatest thing that she’d ever seen. I was so happy to see my her loving that dog; I’ll bet if he were to drop a load on the floor of my den, I would not have even gotten mad. There was a euphoric canine aura around my family.

I was a hero. I, Tom Nardone had, with the approving wave of my hand, brought happiness to my kingdom. I and I alone lifted the veil of sadness that had been hovering over all of us like a black cloud of hopelessness and depression. From here on out, when I came home from work, I would hear the welcoming sound of trumpets playing as I, the bringer of all things that are magnificent, entered the gate of my castle. I even built him a dog houseOLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Well, things did not exactly happen that way.

I wanted to get to know Barney. I also did not think I could handle living in a house with someone who does not think that I am wonderful. I just couldn’t take that. So I thought I would try to win him over with a few Ideas that I learned over the years from watching television. I would simply do the things I have seen others do with their dogs. I thought my logic was sound and calculated. I mean, I learned it on TV. How could this possibly not be work?

I thought “Hey! Dogs love it you to pet them”

Barney does not care for people to pet him. He is not necessarily objectionable to it. He just doesn’t seem to give a damn one way or the other. I have pet other dogs before and they would go into an amazing display of pleasure and appreciation. Barney is completely unmoved by any affection whatsoever. It is strange. It’s as if he is completely unaware that it is happening. I was clearly not going to win him over this way.

I thought “Hey! Dogs like to be walked.”

I came home one day from work with this new idea. I couldn’t wait to get home and put that leash on him. It was win, win. I would get some extra exercise, while at the same time; I would be able to add another life form to the list of people who love me column.

Barney does not have the brain power to walk with a leash around his neck. All he wants to do is chew on the leash lanyard until he gets tangled up in it, or he will bark at everything that moves and desperately try to eat them. It is nothing but a pain in the ass to walk that dog.

I thought “Hey! Dogs like to fetch”

I was out in the backyard one day taking Barney out for an opportunity to do what I call “The S&Pee Show” He finished and then I saw a tennis ball. I threw it and he went charging after it, and then, the unthinkable happened.

He actually brought it back, and dropped it at my feet. I was blown away. I couldn’t believe that this dog wanted to do something that involved someone other than himself. Wow! This went on and on. I went and got my wife and said “Darlin you have got to see this!” she came out and was so happy to see me interacting with this dog.

I would come home from work every day, thinking only of the game I could now play with my new friend. This went on for weeks. I would come in and walk right by my wife without even giving her a hug, because me, and Barney had to play. He actually was excited to see me and would run to the door in anticipation our special game we would play. But then one day he just stopped bringing the ball back.

From that day, until even twenty minutes ago, what was at one time our special game now goes like this; I will throw the tennis ball and Barney will run after it. He will pick it up and run back and drop it in the bushes thirty feet from me. He may or may not decide to pee on it and then he runs around as if I am not even there.

Barney runs around the backyard unaware seemingly unaware that I am there. He will eat devil doganything that he can fit is mouth around, like sticks, weeds, bugs, flowers, lumber scraps, and once I stopped him from eating a toad. (So gross)

He always wants to go outside, and he can’t do it by himself. He doesn’t want to interact with me, but I absolutely must be there. I don’t know why. He does his own thing the whole time.

Recently I was out there with him and he brought me his old tennis ball and dropped at my feet. I took the bait and threw it. He went running after it and I will be damned if he didn’t drop it thirty feet from me and piss on it. I could only interpret that as his way of saying “F U Tom. You just sit there and wait for me to take my dump, and then I will let you take me back inside”

Inside the house he seems to have developed a taste for furniture, like sofas, pillows, socks, hats, or power cords. I think he might have stopped on the power cords because the last one he chewed on was to a lamp. I think he must have received a 120 volt equivalent of a rolled up newspaper. Here is some of his handy work.

There are those who might think me a bastard. I know, I know, but there are other people who do not love me the way you do. At the risk of expanding the list, I regretfully have to say, after 6 months, I will admit, in a weird way I do love him, but I don’t like him. I wish I did, and i try to, but I can’t as of yet.

So basically, I have a new pain in my ass. I make sure that this pain is well fed, cared for, and treated like a member of my family. I don’t regret my decision to get Barney because I did it for my wife. My wife doesn’t read everything I write so my hope is that I will get away with this post, without any drama.

I am Tom Nardone, and you are welcome.

***Attention Readers*****

While i was finishing this post, my wife was sitting two feet from me trying to learn how to play “Freebird” on her ukulele. I just did not have the patience to thoroughly check for any gramatical errors sorry

Help me. I can only spread so much bullshit by myself.
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