Little Moby Homemaker: Domestic God

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Motley Two

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Moby Homemaker

I am an out of work "At Home Dad" who has risen from the ashes like an overweight, over worked, under paid phoenix to become a "Domestic God"

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Anyone who knows this Domestic God personally knows that I have an almost sick obsession with rock music-in particular, 80's heavy metal.  One of my all-time favorite bands, without a doubt, is the infamous L.A. quartet, Motley Crue.  I love the Crue!  I have all their cds (even the really shitty ones without Vince Neil and Tommy Lee), go to their concerts (I have the t-shirts to prove it) and have even read all their books (even Tommy Lee's feces put into print "autobiography").  Yes, the great Motley Crue, are best-selling authors!

The greatest of these literary works is their opus "The Dirt" which details the debauchery of Motley Crue in their heyday.  I have read this book several times.  It never gets old to me.  If you are into perverse sexual exploits, massive drug usage, music of marginal quality, legal tangles, more sexual depravity and massive drug usage (I know that I mentioned it already)--this is your book.  I haven't read "The Dirt" in a while, but I was quickly and unexpectedly reminded of its literary genius this morning when I went into my two sons' bedroom.

Last night, our 5-year-old, who we'll call "Little Rusty", woke us up by vomiting--or I should say, the horrible sound of vomiting.  The poor guy had a little stomach bug.  Of course, we got him out of bed and brought him to our room so we could tend to him and so he could spread the disease to his parents.

When morning broke, I went into to wake up Rusty's roommate and brother Colton.  When I opened the shades, the light revealed a bedroom that at the very least could be described as "utterly disgusting".  As I surveyed the area, I thought to myself, "Do I live with Motley fuckin' Crue???"

I say this because any Crue fan who has read "The Dirt" or seen their "Behind The Music" episode would know that a hotel room occupied by any combination of the members of Motley Crue always would be left, at the very least, with vomit on the floor and a minimum of one wet bed.  There it was right before me, Rusty's puke on the floor and apparently he had hit an exacta last evening because when I stripped his bed I was greeted with piss soaked sheets.

Obviously, my young sons aren't on complete par with Motley Crue, I mean there wear no syringes or Jack Daniels bottles in their quarters.  But, there were sharpened colored pencils and dozens of empty and half empty Sunny D and Capri Sun containers flung all over the place.  Dirty clothes were strewn from corner to corner, the tv was left on a fuzzy screen, there was a broken lamp, unintelligible graffiti on the walls and I even found a small bottle of hairspray under some of the rubble.  All this room needed was a passed out, naked hooker and some used condoms for this to qualify for Motley Crue hotel room status. Strike that, no one in the  Crue would never had worn condoms.  So, less the inebriated whore and illegal drugs--my sons' room was a real deal rock n' roll party aftermath scene!

Like those poor chamber maids of the 1980's who had to clean up after Vince Neil, Mick Mars, Tommy Lee and the great Nikki Sixx, I began the horrific task of cleaning up after my "motley two".  In reality, I was used to this.  I've felt like a roadie for my sons since they came on the scene.  I spend countless hours transporting them from place to place, keeping them fed , keeping them out of trouble and dragging tons of their shit around. This was just one more roadie task--picking up after them.

Once Rusty was nursed back to health, I sat down and explained to my sons that they have a responsibility to not live like complete drug addicted, platinum selling animals. Once that conversation was over I immediately marched them right down to the basement.  I placed Colton's guitar on him and sat Little Rusty behind his miniature drum kit.  We worked on the intro to "Dr. Feelgood" until they had it down.  If my sons are going to act like Motley Crue--they better play like them, too.  And, this Domestic God Roadie has given himself a promotion.  I am now Colton and Rusty's Domestic God Manager.

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1 Comment

Daisy said:

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Let me know when their first CD comes out. I want a copy. :-)

I'm still dealing with the messy rooms here, and my sons are 20 years old and almost 16 years old. It never seems to get any better. Mostly what I do anymore is just close the doors to their bedrooms. Helps save my sanity some. HA!

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