i forgot that i had one more facebook morsel to share, which i do realize takes me further from my seven sentences goal. a friend forwarded a message they received from another facebookian they didn't know. here's a name-protected version of the message:


i fear i'm unable to share the exact wording of my friend's message to me because i don't think i'm able to sanitize it enough for this public space without it losing all meaning or coherence. the gist of his message was simply asking how one should respond to an inquiry of this nature.

as far as conversational mis-steps go i put this right up there with asking a woman who is not pregnant what trimester she's in or when the child is due. i've been lucky enough to witness one of those first hand and for however uncomfortable the next few minutes were, i gotta say i'd rather be dealt that (says the man) than asked if my child, who is not mentally disabled, is mentally disabled.

after pondering my friend's fix for a moment i suggested he say no, his child is not special needs and that after receiving her inquiry he looked at her page and wondered if she is expecting again or is merely struggling with the baby weight from her last child.

and yes, my mother did raise me better than that (she would have asked me to share this point with you).

and yes, these sage advice services are also available to you. and get this, they're completely free of charge. i know, thoroughly unbelievable.

two guys i used to work with ten years ago were recently exchanging emails.

after one guy typed:
... i got a tickling feeling in my colon each time i ran the command that was a bit disconcerting but now that you've explained it ...

the other guy responded to the comment by saying:
I see you stay in touch with Troy!

if you're going to be known for something, i guess there's worse things to be remembered for than colon-centric conversations.

and yes, sure, there are better things one could be known for and my mother would be the first to point this out, but there are also worse things to be remembered for. that's all i'm saying.

nursing homes freak me out.

my grandfather lives in one now. most times when we visit my folks, they bring my grandfather from the nursing home to the house. but times when he's not feeling well or doing good, we go there to visit him. the last time we went out was around christmas time. we arrived late on a saturday night. nursing home late is like 8pm. we set up with our presents in on...

a new TROYSCRIPT was posted today. short-lived

the last week in our house has been unique. i have been laid up in bed for six days now, only getting up to visit the bathroom, and this only when the need becomes dire. my mother stayed with us the first few days, primarily to take care of me. and marty has been doing the whole single parent thing with the kids. in that i'm stuck in bed, the house plays out more like theater to me than life. my family serves as the characters swishing in and out of my doorjamb view throughout the day. this week, i'm going to take a day for each personality and write about what makes their performance noteworthy, to my eyes at least.


let me start with anthony. he's the only one in the house i'm actually afraid of. the older kids understand i can't play or roughhouse. anthony does not. and he is a hooligan. and he is completely unpredictable. and he is the absolute wrong height to be walking around people who just had knee surgery. and he moves about the house with a cocky swagger that smacks more of a ivy league frat boy than a diapered and wordless child. when i see him stop at my door my body tenses. most times though, he just walks directly to my side and rifles through the glasses and dishes sitting on my bedside table. he reaches into full glasses to pull out a little handful of ice which he sloppily moves to his mouth. it is not uncommon for this trespass to topple glasses and crash dishes to the floor. his raids are inelegant and unquiet.

when he's not stealing or upending my food stuffs he dances for me. the style most resembles a little soft-shoe with his feet shuffling about, his arms swinging at his side. while dancing, he watches his feet in a studious manner as if evaluating his technique, although i believe he is just taking in the show as is anyone else watching. after a bit he seems to sense the need to mix it up so he turns around and steals away in our bedroom's double door closet which is situated just behind his dancing stage. once inside he pulls the doors closed, mostly. through the small gap he peeks out. when he sees you seeing him he giggles and waits. after an unpredictable pause in time he flamboyantly throws the doors open, jogging forward to the ohhs and ahhs of the crowd. he will then turn and again disappear into the closet for a repeat performance. and no one will ever question his stamina or dedication to the show given how many encores he's prepared to deliver. he is a consummate showman.

when my mom worked for the CDC in colorado, she worked with doctors who flew all over the world treating epidemic illnesses. in their journeys they met all sorts of folks practicing all sorts of medicine. one technique a doctor brought back was a cure for hiccups. the fix went like this. for someone experiencing persistent hiccups you would pinch them on the arm or leg. the pinch would be firm so the person knew they were being pinched but not so hard it would hurt them. while pinching them you'd ask a series of questions. like the pinch, these were to be hard enough to make them think but not too hard that they couldn't answer them. the other night while putting alex down, he started hiccuping. i asked him if he wanted me to make them go away. he did. so i explained what i was going to do, pinched his arm and began my questions.

TROY
alex, whose house did we eat dinner at last night?

ALEX
sebastians?

TROY
no, not sebastians.

ALEX
uhhmm.

TROY
you don't remember where we went last night? we went there to watch a game. and you played with their little girl.

ALEX
uhhmm. i don't know.

TROY
ok. different question. what friends came over to play this weekend?

ALEX
sebastian?

TROY
no. not sebastian. it was a brother and a sister.

ALEX
sebastian and sophia?

TROY
no. these friends have red hair. and their mom does too.

ALEX
uhm.

TROY
the girls name sounds like heaven.

ALEX
i don't know.

TROY
ok. new question. when we get up in the morning and get dressed, where are we going to go?

ALEX
sebastians?

TROY
no. not sebastians. school! we are going to go to school!

ALEX
(hiccup)

not only was this the first time this has never worked, ten minutes after leaving the room, i found i had the hiccups.

labor began at 6pm, wednesday night. we left for the hospital at 3:30am. marty gave fully natural birth to a six pound healthy boy Thursday, August 17 at 1:54pm. the child is still as of yet, unnamed.

my mother watched the delivery, something she also did for alex. marty has now twice extended this very generous invitation to my mother since she never got to personally experience childbir...

this weekend, bella and alex had a spend the night at their grandparents. when we dropped them off bella said to my mother in a very serious manner.

BELLA
grandma, i'm going to try real hard to not say 'oh my god!' while i'm at your house because i know you don't like it when people say that.

GRANDMA
well that is true bella. i would appreciate it if you did not say that at my house or ever. i think there are better things to say than that.

BELLA
yes i know, father told me. so instead we've been practicing saying things like 'oh my goodness', 'oh dear' and 'oh bother'. but sometimes i forget and still say 'oh my god' but i will try not to.

GRANDMA
well, i guess that's all i can ask.

upon getting the sunday report, bella didn't say it even once the whole weekend. and when she saw the one-legged man at the nursing home while visiting her great-grandfather, she didn't even ask him where his other leg went. so far, five seems way more mature than four.

emma idessia hoffman-rutman
09.01.1921 - 02.25.2006

in late february my mother and her brother drove halfway across the nation to walk into a country-side nursing home in the evening hours of a sunday night to tell their father that his wife of 66 years, and their mother, had died in her sleep the day before. upon tearfully presenting him with the news he sat quietly in his chair before softly saying 'that is the saddest thing i've ever heard'. and then he wept.

last month my momz was in the newspaper. you see, there's recently been a syphilis outbreak in saint louis and when stuff like that goes down, people give my mom a shout because she's all over knowing the score about broken and malfunctioning genitals.

in the articles my mom referred to some 'sex-oriented social events' that took place late last year which were thought to be the source of the city's current dilemma. one thing that people will never be able to say about me is that the phrase 'sex-oriented social event' didn't grab my attention. so when mom was over for bella's birthday party i asked about her comments.

let's just say i got 20 bucks that says my mom has uttered the phrase 'spanksgiving' and your mom has not.

my mom rules rules the universe that contains all moms. why? because she knows more about the underbelly of this country's sex life than me and all of my peeps combined. how many of you can say the same about your tired old mom. if you recall, she works for the centers for disease control, sexually transmitted diseases division in particular.

she recently called and asked if she could talk to a variety of my friends about what they may know about trends and commercial practices within the young gay community for an information campaign they are planning. i gave her a few names of people i thought might be helpful and then called them myself to ask if they would mind helping my mother out with a project she was working on. they all agreed.

the night before one of the couples who were to meet with her called the house and got marty. the guy on the phone said that his partner asked/made him call to see if troy's mom had some kind of ulterior and/or deceptive motivation in speaking to them. specifically were they going to come home the next day to find a gaggle of baptists picketing their home. marty assured them they were fine and no such thing would happen.

i called the night after they met with my mother asking for directions to their house from the baptist church down the way just so the bus didn't get lost en route.

bella spent last weekend at the betty ford clinic, the grandparents house for any newcomers. with only one kid in our care this meant marty and i were free to light it up, get it on, tear it apart. if you're wondering what such an unbridled weekend looks like for such an unbridled guy, let me give you a glimpse into my full-throttle life:

friday night after work i ...
watched the italian job
and then walked up to the local cine to take in monster

saturday i ...
watched episodes 1-6 of curb your enthusiasm
helped to host a marty dinner party
watched episodes 1-3 of the west wing

and sunday i ...
watched episodes 4-8 of the west wing
read 20 pages of my 600 page book

i know, i know. crazy. and had i not had to participate in the previously scheduled dinner party i certainly would have gotten the star wars trilogy in, had i not watched it the weekend before which means i could have and would have watched the godfather trilogy.

without the dinner party i may also have read 30 pages of my book instead of 20.

and did you know that they are finally releasing freaks and geeks on dvd? as if it's not bad enough they had to cancel the show in the first place, they have to torture us with this embarrassingly latent release.

when we asked bella to draw pictures of her great grandparents to be mailed to them, she said no problem. later, when she handed her sketches to us we were pleasantly surprised at her eye for detail and said as much. she then instructed us to turn the pictures over. when we asked what was on the backside she explained and we were pleasantly appalled (see exhibits 2 & 4 below).

after bella returned to the breakfast room to draw more, marty and i had a brief discussion about who was to blame bella's overly thorough renditions. marty's firm belief in the scientific facts hurt her. my conviction to the pedestrian nature of our bodily functions didn't do me any favors. in the end we agreed to consider the other at fault realizing we were equally unswayable.

sorry grandma and grandpa but i'm not one to interfere with another's artistic expression or its public display no matter how personal ... to people who are not me.

exhib 1. great grandma | front


exhib 2. great grandma | back


exhib 3. great grandpa | front


exhib 4. great grandpa | back

man is my mom going to hate this photo. but not nearly as much as i'm going to hate the one my family goes on at an official photo studio, ala olan mills, in the days to come. "you tilt your head this way...now you move a little to the left...you rest your elbow on your knee like you're relaxing...you tilt your head back the other way...now everyone smile...eveyone have fun...can someone make the ...

in attempt to explain some of my lunacy, i've told you how my mom works in the sexually transmitted division of the centers for disease control and some of the traumatizing events to come about from this affiliation (as in, monstrously large and mangled penises painted on our living room wall). should this confession not sway you in my direction, see how they celebrate christmas in the aniseptic corridors of their building as carolers in white lab coast made their rounds last week.

On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me a little luvin’ under the tree.

On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me two itchy bumps from that little luvin’ under the tree.

On the third day of Christmas my true love gave to me three french kisses, two itchy bumps, it’s some sort of STD.

On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me one clinic visit, three french kisses, two itchy bumps and some sort of STD.

On the fifth day of Christmas my doctor said to me … Chla-mydi-a, one clinic visit, three french kisses, two itchy bumps and some sort of STD.

On the sixth day of Christmas my doctor gave to me six penicillin, Chla-mydi-a, one clinic visit, three french kisses, two itchy bumps and some sort of STD.

On the seventh day of Christmas my true love came to me – “how ‘bout a quickie?”, six penicillin, Chla-mydi-a, one clinic visit, three french kisses, two itchy bumps and some sort of STD.

On the eighth day of Christmas my ture love gave to me – a case of herpes, “how ‘bout a quickie?”, six penicillin, Chla-mydi-a, one clinic visit, three french kisses, two itchy bumps and some sort of STD.

On the ninth day of Christmas my doctor said to me try doxycycline, a case of herpes, “how ‘bout a quickie?”, six penicillin, Chla-mydi-a, one clinic visit, three french kisses, two itchy bumps and some sort of STD.

On the tenth day of Christmas the CIS came to me “tell me ten sex partners”, try doxycycline, a case of herpes, “how ‘bout a quickie?”, six penicillin, Chla-myid-a, one clinic visit, three french kisses, two itchy bumps and some sort of STD.

On the eleventh day of Christmas the CIS gave to me eleven HIV tests, “tell me ten sex partners”, try doxycycline, a case of herpes, “how ‘bout a quickie?”, six penicillin, Chla-myid-a, one clinic visit, three french kisses, two itchy bumps and some sort of STD.

On the twelfth day of Christmas I got just me twelve latex condoms, eleven HIV tests, “tell me ten sex partners”, try doxycycline, a case of herpes, “how ‘bout a quickie?”, six penicillin, Chla-myid-a, one clinic visit, three french kisses, two itchy bumps and some sort of STD.

ok, i've got some bad news for you all. well actually it's bad news for me, but in my mildly egotistic world, that extends to you as well. i was recently told my job was toast. that isn't exactly right. i was told my job was moving. to portland. now don't get me wrong. i love portland. i think it's the most centered city i've seen. but let me tell you something about my life (for a change).

after bella was born a year and a half ago, my mom came out to visit and help. she then returned home and promptly quit her very posh job in pittsburgh to take a very evil job in saint louis just so she could be closer to this tiny non-speaking, non-sleeping bundle of late nights. this was one of the many examples of living by your priorities i've witnessed in my mother.

when my boss was discussing the relocation package i explained that it would have to cover 7 homes and 26 humans. when asked to expound on this need, i countered that that is what it would take to move 4 grandparents, 5 of 7 siblings and a whole gob of screaming cousins to portland because i wasn't going without them, cool city or not. the boss blinked.

so i have two interviews today. i have a couple more in the hopper as well should these not pan out. wish me well at 10 and 2 (cst). otherwise, i'll see you in the unemployment line with an unwashed bella and shoeless marty.

and, by the way, when my parents came over for dinner last night and bella went running to the door with flailing arms and indecipherable greetings, i knew my choice was the right one, regardless of today's outcome.

i wear glasses. my glasses cost more that every sock, pant, shirt and short that i own. some may think i'm using these overblown descriptors to simply add import thus emphasizing the point, but i'm not. if this were barker's showcase showdown my specs would be valued higher than my entire wardrobe. although, this info is for those who have never met me, because those that have, know this, tell me this and sadly shake their heads at this routinely.

let me tell you a story. my mother has one hobby: collecting pictures and then finding and placing them in frilly frames all valued under 7.99. for my wedding, she made two photo assortments of marty and i crammed with grainy shots of us growing up. at the reception while walking past some people hunched over these curiosities i overheard the following hushed conversation in reference to my seventh grade school picture:

man: why is he wearing shop glasses.
woman: those aren't shop glasses, those are his regular glasses.
man: oh, damn.

oh damn is right. and as i was saying, my current glasses cost more than all of my clothes combined. but it wasn't just this experience that moved me so. childhood trauma aside, i've simply never understood (some) people's logic in regard to their face hardware versus their wardrobe. assuming you are one who requires eye wear, you are wearing them daily. daily! as in everyday! and unless you are me, that super-rad sweater-vest you got from old navy or the gap or af or the other place where everyone seems to buy their clothes, it may get worn once, maybe twice and on a good day thrice a month and that's of course only seasonal wear. so in summary, many people, perhaps not you, will spend more money on five sweaters which they may, may collectively wear 30 times in a year than they would on something hanging off their face, something people actually look at, each and every day of the year. sometimes i just don't get folks. i love the differences in 'em, don't try corn-holing me here, i just don't get 'em.

and no, i will not be posting the picture in question anytime soon. i'm not that hard-up for readers just yet.

if you wandered into the what i'm hearing section, you may have noticed it has a new look. in spending the last few days hacking on that, i devoted many cycles on listening to music, thinking about music, organizing my music and even laying hands on some new music. in fact, this month's offering comes from bookguy. now this unemployed bloke jet sets all over the planet and the one dirge he returns with has a total of nine unique words in it, and they're not even in english. sheesh. and, of what little spanish i know, these scant words don't even seem right. i asked bookguy about this and he replied: what can i say, bookguy's smart. bookguy also doesn't question native speakers on matters of their own tongue. like i said, smart. once satisfied with its grammatical correctness i listened to this nine-word, four-minute song on repeat for one hour. i'm smart too.

well, anyway, back to these random thoughts on music. one thing i recalled dealt with how my mother never knocked before coming into my room. any women reading this, please just accept that you should not walk straight into teenage boys rooms without some sort of fanfare or ceremony announcing the visit. you'll will hear things going on behind the door before it opens. this is good. you want this to be happening. ultimately i'm just trying to save you the embarrassment my mother suffered when she burst into my room and found me standing in front of a full length mirror singing and dancing to the Grease soundtrack. i was all over every move from the Greased Lightning bit, using my bed as the car. regrettably, i had the music up so loud i didn't hear her enter and continued the mini-production until her laughter overwhelmed my Optimus speaker 'system'. and, yes i had the whole arm pointing and hip bucking thing all worked out too. i don't play when i'm getting my greased lightning going.

amazingly given this trauma, somehow, years later, i was able to overcome the shame of my mother's invasion enough to ask a girl to move around funny with me on the dance floor at a junior high, all-stag affair. jenna something conceded (astoundingly) and we weaved our way through the crowd to the beginnings of hipsway's honeythief. we settled on a spot and marked it as ours by stopping, facing one another and then moving about in a seizing manner. my mother wasn't around so my body was quick to do what it does. falling into the zone, i drifted somewhere else, my head rolling back looking upwards at the tile ceiling and the random streamers coming down as my body fought an invisible enemy. i was really starting to let go, opening it up some might say, but who couldn't, this is hipsway we're talking about. but again, regrettably, my introduction to dance with other humans was cut short when my thrusting hand accidentally struck my partner in the ribcage leaving her slightly bent, holding her side and breathing irregularly. as people stopped to look and a smallish circle formed i could tell that some people may have been embarrassed by this development but those people would not have spent a moment of their life standing in their underwear, soaked with sweat, a musical playing behind them and shouting at their mother to stop laughing, get out of their room and to try knocking next time.

in a roll of film marty recently had taken, she took two pictures of bella and i sleeping. in both of them you can see my goods. yeah, those goods.

my mom asked why i wasn't wearing underwear. that is my underwear i explained. she then asked why i wasn't wearing shorts. i had no defense.

when thin when tan girl looked through the photos she was kind enough to laughingly remark that the mouse needed to go back in the house. not the lion to the den or even the pig to the pen, but the mouse to the house. i just can't catch a break.

and, no i will not be sharing these intimate shots in rockefeller center anytime soon. i have the kids and my reader's sanity to consider.

in the event that you are ever speaking with me and i say that i just returned from the betty ford clinic, i'm not referring to the institution proper, but instead my parents' new home. in answer to your next question, i call it this for two reasons.

first, their new home sits out in the middle of nowhere on a gob of acres and the only thing you can see all around are woods and trees and foresty looking horizons which makes one feel like they are in some secluded drug rehab center for the privileged, not that i've ever been in drug rehab or mistaken for the privileged, but if i were either, i reckon this is what i'd expect it to look like.

the second reason i call my parents place the betty ford clinic is that the only other place it reminds me of is the evil killing guy's house from the 80's film manhunter (some may know it as the original silence of the lambs). this guy lived outside of st louis, just like my parents, in the middle of nowhere, just like my parents, and his house made funny noises in the middle of the night, just like my parents. in fact, i'm not totally unconvinced that my parents aren't living in this guy's place. i know it's vacant cuz william peterson waxed the evil guy at the end of manhunter so i know it was available for purchase and killing guys houses outside the metropolitan st louis area aren't the biggest in demand so chances of it being available were more than reasonable.

and, that is why i call my parents house the betty ford clinic. ultimately is just sounds better than saying i just got back from evil killing guys house. people might look at me oddly then and that just won't due.

In a conversation with my mother recently Marty learned that if my mother's family was starving she very well may sleep with another man for a ride to the supermarket. Not even for food. Just a ride to the market.

My mom rules.

Last week my mother worked in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, tomorrow she begins working in downtown St. Louis. It turns out that I am not the only one bella has wrapped snugly around a finger. Personally, I'm surprised she was able to hold out till now, this being her first grandchild and all. But, while this is great news for us, it is only mediocre news for those who frequent dearmitt.com's franchise page, Rockefeller Center. In that the page was initially designed for my out of town mother, now that she is in town, its continued propagation does not carry the same import. And given this, updates will not happen every Monday, but instead on a monthly basis.

I've also set a pretty high stick for when kid number two comes around. I've often heard that people do not photographically deluge the second child with the same vigor as the first. I hope to not deal that card to my children so want to slow down and meter my enthusiasm because I'm certain there is something to this syndrome so many people talk about. So, perhaps it's a smart move, perhaps it's nothing greater than a cop out but that is the decision coming out of this camp and I hope that all who have made Rockefeller Center part of their Monday routine will continue to do so and share in the latest antics of our little one in the new monthly format.