That is what was going through my head as I entered the studios for our local NPR station to do an interview about at home dads and the book Dads Behaving Dadly. I was also plugging our local dads group, KCDADS because why the hell not. If I'm going to be a shill, I'm going to shill for them all.
However, according to my wife, my friends, my family and people that I've never met except for one time at a funereal, I say fuck alot. I tend to cuss at inappropriate times and around inappropriate people. Like kids. Apparently I cuss around children. I'm fucking horrible.
This was going to be fun though. I am riding the initial high of the book. I am soaking up the experience, gathering the most of the memories that I could so that one day in the nursing home I could tell Jim, my roommate that inappropriately grabs the nurses, that once I published a story and someone not related to me thought I was funny. But I can't say fuck on the radio. That would be bad.
I like NPR. I hope they do well. I like the idea of NPR, the people's radio. I do not wish to cause them to have a scandal, much on the scale of the Janet Jackson superbowl, and thus shut down their station, fire staff and basically make it impossible to do a Pete's Schweddy Balls sketch ever again. So I can't cuss and that could be a problem. I, apparently, cuss alot. My wife reminded me before I left for the interview. This could be a problem as they asked me to also read one of my stories on the air.
I say "God Damnit" in the story. Going to have to censor that one. Look at that, only one story published for 10 dollars and I'm already a sell out. I have thrown artistic integrity to the wind for a grand total of 10 bucks. Awesome. I have reached the big time.
The whole experience was surreal though, could it be anything else? Who reads what I write and why would they? My daughter breaks stuff, my son is a pot head waiting to find his weed and my last son may grow up to knee cap people that owe him money. That's what I write about. But apparently it was good enough to get into a book and for a radio personality to want to include it as part of their show.
So when we went into the sound room, I am guessing that is what they called it, the top thing on my mind was not to say fuck. Because that would be bad and my wife would leave me for someone that has had 2 stories published. Then I could say fuck.
On a side note, when I met the "talent", Gina, she looks exactly like my sister in law. No kidding. Glasses, reddish hair, sweater and a big cup of coffee, slight of frame. It freaked me out for a sec, does my sister in law live a secret life of an NPR personality in the Midwest? Interesting, I've never trusted her. She is going to do some gotcha journalism.
But that didn't happen. It was a great interview, thoughtful questions and a good command of the room. I was pleased. I was even more pleased that I didn't cuss, not once. I didn't even say hell. Although I did almost slip up. She asked me how I deal with other's expectations as a stay at home dad. What I said was that my wife's expectations and my children's expectations are what matters. What I wanted to say "Oh, they can fuck off and suck it." But I didn't, I was diplomatic and was able to say basically the same thing without causing the FCC to come down like gang busters.
The interview went well and the hour flew by without me even noticing. I thought I did pretty good and didn't embarrass my group or at home dads nationwide. The producer came in after the show to take us back to the room where my children were waiting. They were waiting with some other KCDADS who came with me to watch them and then do a radio station tour.
They were in there for an hour.
My kids. For an hour. Without me.
The young chap, classy beard and an NPR aura around him told me "That was great. Let's go back. The room is kind of destroyed, you may have to clean up a bit."
Fuck.
And because I'll get asked, here is the link to the interview.
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