Say it isn't so, I'm blaming it on the candy cane

The title of this post will not make sense to you now, but by the end you'll get it. You should also note the time of this entry, there is a story behind that as well. Why so cryptic you ask? Let's call it a case of temporary insanity, but before we get to that let's start at the beginning of the weekend.

My wife and I took Friday off from work, dropped the kids off at my parent's house and headed south to "whoop" it up in Atlantic City. We spent most of the car ride there trying to grasp this concept called "adult time" and about an hour in we finally got it. Wow, this is what silence sounds like? I love my kids to death (more on their shenanigans soon to come) but being able to have a conversation uninterrupted is way way underrated. We were loving life. And when that hits you take pictures like this:

Our real purpose for heading to AC had nothing to do with gambling. In fact, we did very little and won not a thing. We were there to see a concert at the Borgatta. And for shits and giggles, I'll give you a chance to guess who it was.

Think 1980's ...

Nope, not Duran Duran - although I will admit that "Save a Prayer" may be in my top ten list of all time favorite songs.

Nope, not Flock of Seagulls. Think famous duo from the 80's ...

It was Wham ... just kidding. Although I would see them live for the train wreck factor. 

Give up? You can't go for that? What if I told you, private eyes are watching you.    

Hall and Oates baby! Although they look like this now:

Now my musical interests lean heavier and admittedly a bit more juvenile, but you cannot deny that Darryl Hall as an incredibly soulful voice. And he hasn't lost it one bit. They were phenomenal and put on a fantastic show. All of the old hits were much more raw and unpolished live and ridiculously entertaining. Go ahead laugh if you must, but don't knock it until you hear it. Even "Jingle Bell Rock" brought the house down.

We eventually had to get the kids back and I think they enjoyed being away from us more than we enjoyed being sans children. I guess I never really looked at it that way. Anyway, we all agreed to coexist again and took a trip out to cut down the old Christmas tree.        

We get our trees each year from the Rosemont Tree Farm  and they never disappoint. The kids were even more elated when they were given candy canes. But much to my chagrin, they weren't the true candy canes. Nope, they were those bastardized versions or "non-mint", like the ones here:

I've always had an issue with these nasty rip-offs. They gross me out and they aren't even friggin Christmas colors. F'n blasphemy! I kept this ire to myself and we proceeded along with our Sunday afternoon/evening. But the stupid candy canes reared their ugly head again.

A sentence you never want to hear come out of your child's mouth "I don't want dessert, my belly hurts and I'm ready to go to bed." Translation - I am getting sick and there is nothing you can do about it. And when both kids say it, you collapse in self pity. Guess what? At about 7:48 PM you could hear the devilish sound of harmonizing pukers. I'm talking violent and evil displays of barfing. I'll spare you the details, just know I am on the night shift as I write this and I'm equipped with the puking child's survival kit - paper towels, lysol wipes, tissues and water. I've also determined the culprit ... the damn candy canes! Can I prove it for sure? No, but it is the only common thing they've eaten the past two days. NEVER AGAIN.

Atlantic City seems like a lifetime ago, but in a sick way, I am enjoying the chaos. The kids are still young enough that they need us and it feels damn good. 

Good night ... I mean good morning.                  

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