Daddy’s Day Off From Adderall

4AM, I get up without the assistance of my steady speedy companion demon for the past 7 years and counting. Hop in the shower for a mixture of hot and cold to jumpstart my brain into working order. Because if lifestyle business 4 hour workweek guru Tim Ferriss can do it. I can do it better. I couldn’t be so Long Island long in the tooth boring if I tired. Cold/hot shower at 4AM in the morning or not.

Although I’ll give credit where credit is due. Like Kettle Bell core strong Tim Ferriss promotes. All you need 1st thing in the morning is minimal weight exercise to get into Eye of the Tiger, energy boost mode real fast. After the shower, I did my 5 pound, girly weight deltoid focused arm, outstretched raises on both sides. Because my handwriting still looks like chicken scratch at 42. And knowing my creative non-fiction book on modern parenting book, The Stay At Home Comedian, “Controlling My Kids With Comedy” will be a monster success.  I’ll have to expect to give out my autograph at various book signings in conjunction with my stand-up comedy tour, Barnstorming Barber Shop USA. It will make a solid reality TV, promotional fare for the book far more  than me promoting the book on my Do It All Dad Year Podcast which is shadow banned up the wazoo.

Yeah, so I must continue to think big and get my shoulders stronger because according to the handwriting gurus on the Internet fluent in linguistic drawing arts. Including old school Hebrew Bible scripture, tagging in bold bubble gum letters on Subways and Chinese Calligraphy in Ivanka’s Trump’s daughter private elementary school yearbook.

My handwriting looks like disheveled, cracked to piece bits of my brain drippings on drugs because I was never instructed by 12 plus English teachers throughout elementary school and high school to write with my shoulders and not with my cramped, jammed, nervous wreck imbibed fingers. Glad I got to give some semblance of comedic justification for going off on my point for doing girly weight deltoid reasons lifts in the morning. In order to sustain your sagging interest in reading any more about how raising my 3 kids on speed as  Stay At Comedian Dad. Finally, resulted in a moment of Zen during Daddy’s day off from Adderall in the 1st place.

For starters, I was never diagnosed as ADD as a kid. I blatantly lied to a doctor at my wife’s old hospital to score a prescription. Do I have excess energy compared to your average Swiss banker at UBS Asset Wealth Management in Jersey City? Obviously, but that’s like asking a Swiss banker at UBS Asset Wealth Management to pick a side when Israel plays Germany next in the World Cup. Knowing how much gold cap fillings of my Polish exterminated cousins he’s got riding on Merkel’s new compassionate Germany murdering Israel in any 1st round elimination contest. But I digress.

Ok, so I’ve got a mild form of ADD but was never technically prescribed for it. So I self-medicated in college and snorted a boatload of Ritalin to write papers for my PR writing course to tremendous acclaim. At the distinguished Roy H Park School of Communications at Ithaca College. Otherwise know as Cornell’s retarded next door neighbor. But I was in the communications program which I worked hard to get into after becoming a useless Pothead at Lake Forest College for 2 years prior. Was a pretty  nasty, alcoholic there if I’m going to be brutally honest about my time there. We are talking about a kid who went to Mardi Gras Sophomore year whose brain took a full 2 semesters to recover.

1 time in college I hooked up with the most homely, trollish looking girl imaginable. Next morning, I wake up in her bed. Thinking, I have no idea what her name is. Then, my bright idea occurred. Freshman dorms still have names of the students pasted on their doors. We walk to cafeteria the next morning. She asks. Do you remember my name? Of course I do Jane. She’s my roommate but nice try though.

The thing is when you become a reluctant, unplanned Stay At Comedian Dad father of 1. You become obsessed with filling your available free time with incredible lofty surges of super busy meaning. Like what I’m doing right now with the rat, a tat, tat bang on the keyboard. Sounding busier than I actually am in real life right now.

After my daughter was born I got my TV writing break 2 years later with VH1 Classic for America’s Hard 100. Writing all the music video intros for WWE great and heavy metal crooner front man of the band Fozzy, Chris Jericho.  I made this break happen through a combination of sheer hard work, relenting belief in my expressive might and divine intervention, It occurred 12 years after I banged out my 1st spec script Passion of Smendell for Curb Your Enthusiasm living in Sherman Oaks at a time. Ending up hitting on a busty Chinese American porn star at the local valley bakery was a welcome morning surprise.

For my TV writing job with VH1 Classic, I did the job on Adderall. The hardcore speed metal edge nature to the countdown justified my continued use in my eyes. Celebrated by smoking weed, naturally. Felt great to know I could write for TV under a high pressured deadline situation for real. Still, I must admit, writing the hundreds of music video intros for Chris Jericho for America’s Hard 100, including my most momentous meaty one for Bon Jovi’s Living in on a Prayer felt like a form of cheating. Which has never sat well with me. Nonetheless, I’ve also subscribed to the theory being performance enhancing drugs are no substitute for being big time clutch. For example, if I took performance enhancing drugs at sleep away camp as a kid. I’d just strike out at a more accelerated speed.

Chris Rock, ranked number 3 by Comedy Central as the 3rd greatest stand up comic of all time admits. If I could take a pill that made me write films like Woody Allen, I’d take it.  Got to love ballsy honest Rock here. Meanwhile, for me I wouldn’t go out of my way to suck off the aura of Woody Allen so much anymore. Especially, after learning he used to stash photos of a pubescent Soon-Yi from old covers of Time Life Magazine in his top sock drawer. To tap for mere screenplay ideation formation inspiration I’m sure. Which reminds me, have you seen the last Woody Allen film? About an older guy who wants to bang an underage girl. It’s a prequel called Crimes and Misdemeanors,  “The Early Years.”

So you have 2 kids, and work in recruitment again for Robert Half in Manhattan because your wife will divorce you if don’t do something but write more jokes on Twitter and more specs and pilot scripts securing 0.0 TV Lit representation in NYC. Regardless of you being a Recommended Writer on TV writer.com for your 30 Rock spec you wrote ages when used to live in Park Slope together or not. Back when Lena Dunham had far skinnier arms and wasn’t so full of herself.

You try to manufacture enough rah, rah, cold calling spirt without Adderall on the behalf of backend PHP developers. After already securing your TV Writing break with Viacom in Manhattan and got to pitch your own Pilot Heavy Metal High to the EVP of VH1 which lead nowhere. Despite the rave reviews your pitch in person received, despite zero talent representation being there to make the meeting happen. My producer Jay Moran and I made this meeting happen.  At the very least, I thought I’d parlay my video countdown host intro writing resume with VH1 Classic. Who hired me to write another 1 for VH1’s Music Independence Day soon after would’ve translated to me at least snagging a staff blogging job with fucking MTV’s Guy Code. Or was it called Dax Sheppard’s secret handshake?

Whatever, my point being here folks. When you become addicted to the speed demon freight train freak Adderall. There’s always an excuse to take it. Especially when it makes cleaning up your kids toys, making their lunches and organizing their books more fun charged loaded activities. Especially, after already a pounding a French Press of dark roast coffee to your head before your wife is up. As I’m sure you can tell. I like my coffee like my comedy, dark and bitter.  Although, now I’m feeling the opposite is true off the Adderall, especially on daddy’s recent day off from Adderall at home with my 20 month old son, Samuel, AKA Chosen Curls/Gorilla Grip/ Chef Samuels.

We made Hummus and homemade ranch dressing together yesterday during daddy’s day off from Adderall. On top of boiling, chopping and seasoning a head Cauliflower later used to  make Cauliflower Cheese Steak Patties.  Take that Ferriss, the one married to Sara Jessica snot to. There’s no steak in the Cauliflower Cheese Steak Patties by the way. Still, calling them lump Cauliflower tits felt a tad too cheesy for my taste. You want a pun off old man?

On Daddy’s day off from Adderall, I had also banged off some jokes about coming to terms with my ex-social life pre-3 kids between 5AM to 6AM before constructing my kids smoke salmon sandwiches later. So now, 12:15 eases on in and I decide to throw on Ferris Bueller’s on a Monday afternoon. Which easily could’ve been my traditional lunch break time when I worked for Robert Half in Manhattan. Except now, I don’t have to run into a cramped coffee shop in Midtown to get my write on during my 1 free ordained hour a day to express the true me.

12:30 rolls around. Ferris has got Sloan out of school already. And my gorgeous, happy wavy baby is falling all over me on the couch.  And for once, I didn’t feel an ounce of guilt from being in the moment and fully enjoying time alone with my pitch perfect son, my lucky number 3. Samuel dangles off my knee. Before I go in for a harmonica rib nosh as Ferris zips around Chicago being a total, pushy, entitled dick around Cameron as usual.

Life does move pretty fast, especially on Adderall. If you don’t stop to take it in the pure good once and a while. You’ll become a burnout, frazzled has been never was, failure of a father. Who refused to get high off the pure love of his children for a change.  I ‘ll drink a Midwestern made tall boy Pap’s Blue Ribbon to that later tonight. I didn’t say I turned into a complete monk over here. Especially, in this case. Because daddy’s day off from Adderall was a profound one. Vince Neil sang it best. It’s time for change. Nothing stays the same.  Jennifer Grey was probably on Adderall when she ended up fucking up her past personality flush face for life.  Goodbye speed demon demigod Adderall. Have fun cranking out more dronage out of precious, heartbroken Taylor Swift.

The End

By,

Michael Kornbluth

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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