Dad Brog (#160): overstimulated is another way to say burnt [the fuck] out

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George Carlin once did a routine where he talked about how society has a tendency to try to rename harsh things to sound less severe and more generally acceptable to society.  His primary example was how the term shell shock was renamed to post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).  Shell shock was at some point deemed to be too shocking for sensitive people to hear, and therefore PTSD came into vernacular, and yes it probably helped at making it slightly less scary to talk about, I get this impression that PTSD itself is climbing to that stature where shell shock was, and soon we’ll probably get another, softer, replacement term to replace it but I’m straying off topic here.

Whenever I get into one of my moods where all I see is red, I’m mad at the world, I hate everything and everyone and want nothing more than to be able to stop time all around me and take a deep breath and relax in complete isolation, like that movie from 20 years ago (Cashback), the only phrase that comes into my mind is: burnt [the fuck] out.  Everything pisses me off, just about nothing is capable of bringing me back, and the only thing that comes close to helping is going to sleep and hoping it’s not still around when I wake up.

Over the last few years, I’ve been spoon-fed a whole lot of content that definitely caters to the fact that I am married with children, and I’ve noticed that in that time, a phrase I’ve seen a lot of, is overstimulated.  Most of the time it pertains to all the mommy content creators who really love to declare themselves or hypothetical stressed out other mommies as being overstimulated, but because I can relate to overstimulated mommies way more than I’d like to admit to, I get it.  However, I also recognize that most of the time, the symptoms of a mom that’s overstimulated it is, seeing red, being mad at the world, hating everything and everyone, and probably wanting nothing more than to be able to stop time all around them and take a deep breath and relax in complete isolation like that movie from 20 years ago (Cashback).

It occurred to me that what’s probably happened over the last few years is that the phrase “burnt [the fuck] out” has been used so much and so hard, and that peoples’ eyes have begun glazing over upon hearing it, is that society has basically invented a replacement term for it, in order for it to get people to listen and be curious and think about it, and that term is obviously, overstimulated.

It sounds less harsh than burnt [the fuck] out, and because there’s no optional profanity to attach to it (inherently), it’s like there’s a ceiling to how piercing it can be used with some venom behind it.  Overstimulated, is a gentler and less severe word on the auditory senses of weak people, but I think I’ve unlocked the bullshit spin behind the word, and refuse to see the phrase for something other than what it really is, a descriptor for people who are feeling burnt [the fuck] out.

But it’s good that I’ve realized the truth behind it the bullshit.  It gives my own personal vernacular a softer and less scary option to use if I feel like I’m speaking with some particularly pussy people, and surmise that telling them that I’m burnt [the fuck] out won’t scare them off entirely.

Hopefully the next time I write a dad brog, it won’t be about some overstimulated subject matter.

Dad Brog (#159): PSA to parents of students

This is probably a little bit of a stretch as far as classifying this as a dad brog, but my kids are students and have teachers, and obviously mythical wife is a teacher and deals with kids and whatever, this is a dad brog, fucking deal with it

But back to the subject of this post, this is a PSA to all parents of students, specifically those who wish to get holiday gifts for their children’s teachers:

Stop buying mugs and candles.

Unless your children’s teacher is celebrating their very first holiday season as a teacher, it’s safe to assume that they already have no less than four holiday mugs and three scented candles, most likely from Yankee Candle or Bath & Body Works.  Otherwise, multiply these numbers by the number of years in which said teacher has been teaching, and that’s how many fucking mugs and candles exist in their homes.

And if the teachers are anything like mythical wife, they have no earthly idea on how to remove them from their domiciles, so they end up accumulating and taking up space, and I, as a teacher’s spouse, end up creeping closer and closer to a breakdown from our house slowly descending into becoming an episode of Hoarders: Buried Alive, covered in so much cliché crap that is pawned off onto my wife under the guise of being in the spirit of the holidays.

This goes quadruple for my wife, who has the olfactory abilities of Wolverine, so she’s extremely sensitive to scents and therefore doesn’t like 80% of the candles given to her because they’re wonky and smell weird or bad, and they never get used, and currently just exist in a giant stack behind our Keurig.  And she doesn’t drink or even like coffee, so any mugs that comes with a coffee mix or a Starbucks gift card is pretty much lost on her, even though I like it when she bequeaths any Starbucks gift cards to me, the accumulation of yet another mug makes it not worth it.

Yes, I understand that any form of gifts to teachers are voluntary and are given with the best of intentions, and I’m not trying to put a kibosh on my wife from getting free shit with thoughtful intentions.  It’s just I’m challenging all other parents to be better and be aware that the teachers of their kids more than likely have a ton of fucking mugs and candles, and they are probably long past no longer welcome, even if they’re not allowed to say it.

Gift cards are always welcome, even if weirdos like mythical wife don’t drink coffee, thus making Starbucks ones pretty useless, but places like Target, whatever grocery chains are nearby, or even the American Express ones that nobody likes to buy because they’re usually an activation fee included on those.  Chick Fil-A, or whatever chain joints are around the area are welcome, and of course, Amazon.

Baked goods, be it completely homemade, or shit purchased from the local grocer or commercial bakeries are always welcome.  Snacks or treats in general are pretty welcome, but always a risk, not knowing what dietary restrictions the teacher may or may not have.

Failing all else, holiday cards, with just nice messages or greetings are welcome and superior to moar mugs or candles.

The point is, please please please stop buying teachers mugs and candles for Christmas.  It makes me think that these are cruel re-gifts, or were add-ons from larger purchases, that these parents are cleverly disguising as unique gifts for the educators of their children, with passive hopes that getting in their favor will prove beneficial to their children in the future.  Obviously I’m not the teacher in my house, but if I were, and I sniffed out a potential re-gift, yeah, it might influence my attitude towards their kid; but not in the way that they had hoped for.

Just like my attitude towards gift giving over the recent years, if you can’t give a thoughtful gift with genuine intention, don’t feel obligated to get one.  It’s better to give no gift, than a shitty thoughtless one, and I’d personally rather receive nothing, than receive something that contributes to the existing clutter in my home.

In other news, there is such a thing as the National Lacrosse League

YT: two lacrosse goalies fighting at an NLL game

When I first saw this clip, one of the first things I thought to myself was, how old is this player that took off the jersey with the logo that look precariously similar to the Washington Capitals logo?  When he turned around, the male pattern baldness on his head shone like the fucking diamond on top of the pyramid in The Mummy Returns, and I thought to myself, man, high school boys got it rough if they’re going bald this early in their lives.

But then I learned that the NLL at the corner of the screen stood for National Lacross League, and it wasn’t an abbreviation for some city or province in Australia that I’d never heard of in my life, so that meant that these guys were somewhat grown men, playing lacrosse professionally, and I’d just learned that there was such a thing as the National Lacrosse League, that actually affords a bunch of Chads, Trents, Jaxsons, Rhetts and Wyatts the opportunity to get paid to play lacrosse.

The only thing that I can fathom being whiter than the NLL is the crowd of people who stormed the Capitol on January 6th.

Secondly, I wondered what in the world had to have been said or done in order for the two goalies to get so triggered to where they thought the absolute next and only option was to start throwing hands?  I admit that I don’t really know anything about lacrosse* beyond it’s a bunch of white guys using nets on sticks to try and get a ball into the net of their opponents.  But I do know that said nets are a substantial distance away from one another, and a quick Google search says that they are 100 yards apart, which is the same distance between endzones in futbol americano (a real sport), so that’s quite a distance between nets, and their goalies.

*to the point where my hands don’t even have the muscle memory to type out lacrosse properly; seriously, I’ve forgotten to write the ‘e’ at the end of it at least six times at this point, and I keep having to correct it

Needless to say, I’m curious to know what the heck possibly could have been said or done between these two Chads from so far apart, to where they mutually agreed to meet up and start swinging.  Surely, there had to be a preexisting beef that just needed a spark to ignite physicality; maybe they had a disagreement about a Charlie Kirk podcast or one accused the other’s dad of insider trading or something, either way, the wussiest fight in the world was still the result of it.

Seriously, when both guys shed their MegaZord’s worth of armor, it was basically two guys whose offseason regimen is clearly 2-3 cycles of P90X, and they really had no business trying to throw punches.  Neither guy went down, there was no blood or even the slightest indication of a bruise, and I’m guessing even before the first punch was thrown, one or both of them probably felt the sense of wtf am I doing, but because they had started it, it had to happen, regardless of how pathetic it ended up being.

Regardless, poor form though, from both Luke and Trey.  This fight was enough to get NLL some ESPN exposure to where people under rocks like me can learn of their existence, but not nearly to the quality to where I talk about it any other fashion than ridicule and airing out my grievances with white guys.  Had they gone a little more full R-word and maybe hit a good pro-wrestling move like this kid dropping an avalanche head-scissor Fame-Asser, then people might be willing to put a little bit of respect on the NLL’s name.

Money woes, the 2025 edition

A little while ago, I got an email that was clear to be pertaining to the settlement of some class action lawsuit that I clearly put my name in the hat in, some time ago.  I do that when I can, sign up to be a plaintiff for class action lawsuits, when they are applicable to me.  Sometimes, the eventual payoff is nothing more than a few bucks, if even currency at all, but there have been some in the past that I’ve actually gotten some substantial money from–a true set it and forget it kind of reward that’s always welcome if and when they inevitably settle.

This particular settlement wasn’t paltry; it was like $129, automatically deposited into my PayPal account.  Ordinarily, this would be something that’s I’d be happier about, since a basically free $129 would be welcome at any time of my life, and it’s not that I’m not welcoming any sort of monies incoming, it’s just that especially over the span of the last month, I’ve been hit with constant atom bombs of expenses, and I was already two feet underwater before December started, but now I’m basically in the line of sight with the Titanic currently, and $129 is going to do absolutely dick or butt as far as my current levels of debt is concerned.

Years ago, I used to have this thought process that when shit was going poorly, expenses would just start coming in from out of nowhere, at around $300 at a time.  Unexpected bill, car issue, pet emergency.  Eventually, it kind of went up to $500-600 an incident; needing tires, appliance malfunction, unexpected kid-related expense.

Over the span of the last month, it’s clear that the rubric has once again changed for the worst, and it’s like the array of unexpected expenses are just starting at $1,000 a pop, with no ceiling on them.  The fucking bus-passing ticket cost me a grand, new tires for my car are exceeding $1,000, another critical expense that I had no lead time to prepare for was like $6,000+.

Naturally, like many people who understand what the concept of economics is have pointed out, the rate in which people are compensated at the rate in which expenses globally have increased are not even in the same galaxy of being commensurate, and it all leads to the conclusion that this has basically been the worst financial year of my entire life.

And I say such without any hyperbole, or trying to deliberately exaggerate for effect, this year, twenty twenty-five, has been the worst year of my life as far as finances go.  I have never racked up as much debt in my life as I’ve racked up this year, and there are very long and uncertain futures as far as paying such debts back without them suffocating me any worse in the future as they are doing in the present.

My outgoing expenses are obliterating my incoming earnings like Georgia Tech vs. Cumberland, and an ungodly amount of expenses typically just fall back onto my credit cards, neither of which have a particularly favorable interest rates, and it’s in my best interests to pay them back as soon as possible as to not get sucked into the vortex of interest.

And the worst part is that almost none of these expenses are really the case of me being an irresponsible shithead and having overleveraged myself or living way beyond my means.  I have a wife.  I have kids.  I have an au pair.  I have a family member that seemingly absolutely refuses to help me help him.  I’m basically everyone’s fucking ATM and everyone’s fucking safety net.  All of which amounts to everyone vacuuming up my money, leaving me with absolutely nothing but scraps, debt, anxiety, depression and a whole lot of pent-up frustration.

So as one might be able see, getting a free $129 at this current juncture of my life doesn’t really have much impact.  It merely scratches at a mountain of debt that has materialized massively especially over the last month.

Needless to say, I’m depressed as fuck, which is kind of sad considering we’re in the throes of holidays currently.  I can’t afford to Christmas shop, and even if I could, I’m so over gift giving again, because I’ve been in such financial peril for so long now that I can’t get in the right headspace to where I can be happy to give gifts because I could afford them without jeopardizing my ability to survive.  I’m sick of feeling obligated to have to get gifts, and I would rather receive nothing so I didn’t feel like I had to reciprocate, and the only gifts that I actually want to see are those going towards my children.

I’ve been so depressed that I can’t bring myself to write about the number of things that under normal circumstances, I’d want to carve out some time to write about.  The John Cena retirement.  Philip Rivers’ return to football coincidentally timing with his existing retirement benefits nearing expiration.  Mick Foley vs. Politics.  Pluribus, the latest Vince Gilligan masterpiece.  The Braves actually not having a shitty offseason for once.  Notre Dame being bitches about missing the CFB playoffs, and the shitshow that the CFB playoffs are doing to bowl season outright. 

These are all things and topics that I notated to myself as things I might want to brog about, but I just can’t seem to bring myself to do so, because when I’m not working, I’m parenting, when I’m not parenting, I’m fretting about finances, and when I’m not fretting about finances, I’m cleaning up my house because nobody else gives a fuck to help out.  And if I’m lucky, I get a little bit of time for me to get my daily exercise and Duolingo in, and then it’s off to bed where I have to be the first one up every single fucking day because nobody else is going to ever relieve me of, duty.

I’m always operating against a clock of some sort, I have no time for myself, I’m drowning in debt, with no relief in sight.  I am a tiny solitary planet of stress, anxiety, depression, frustration and rage, with no relief in sight.  Everyone in my life deserves to get a better version of me than what’s currently in existence right now, but short of the momentary glimpses of light that my children bring me, without more help than the nothing I get from the world, this is the only version of me that is available.

Happy holidays, everyone.

Well this is going to make a real lean Christmas

Today, I got a ticket it in the mail.  When I saw the words “traffic violation enclosed” I winced because I knew that there was an extremely high chance that it was not me that was the driver at the time of the violation, seeing as how I barely get to drive my own registered vehicle these days, as my au pair uses it to do all of hauling of my kids to school and extracurriculars.  However, I was not upset with them because I’m sure it was an honest mistake, and it was more than likely to have occurred in the process of while they were taking my kids somewhere they needed to be.

Bringing the envelope into the house, my mind raced at what the possible fine was going to be, the last time I got a traffic camera violation, it was like $55, and when I got a school zone camera violation that was overturned on account of it not being a school day, I still saw that it was somewhere in the neighborhood of $125~ish.  I hoped it was closer to the traffic camera, and not the school zone.

Turns out that the violation was that of passing a stopped school bus on a multi-lane road with a center turning lane, which I’ll admit that I had to stop and think about the rules on that one, but I probably would’ve stopped out of doubt.  And the time stamp confirmed that it was at a time in which it was the au pair taking my kids to extracurriculars, so it wasn’t my own doing; but seeing as how the car is registered to me, that’s who the ticket is directed at.

As for the violation, I imagine my face looking as close to possible as Jim Carrey’s The Mask as humanly possible when I saw the comma in the number: $1,000.  One thousand (fucking) dollars.

My knee-jerk reaction was that, this most definitely had to be a fake, a scam.  Even with the accompanying photo evidence of my car before and after the bus, this fine of a thousand dollars couldn’t possibly be right, especially seeing as how I’ve never had a violation of this nature in my record before.

So searching for it on my own on the internet, I find the city municipal site pretty quickly, and sure as shit, it’s no fake.  It’s an actual program, that’s been softly rolling out since like 2022, and any semblance of lower first violations all flew out the window as of July 2024, where the program rolled into the territory where all first violations are one thousand fucking dollars.

$1,000 for a school bus is absolutely draconian.  This is some Commonwealth of Virginia-levels of extreme punishment.  I’m fortunate enough to be in a position to where I can figure this out, but it doesn’t change the fact that the timing of it, and the flagrant intention of it is going to really ruin my life a little bit right now.  I’ve spent all of 2025 in some of the worst financial standing that I’ve ever been in my adult life, and I’ve been digging and fighting and persevering all year long, and just as I’ve been able to clear some debts right in time for the holidays, getting this ridiculously large fine just feels like I’m being kicked while I’m already down. 

This just reinforces the feeling I’ve had most of the year that I’m just this gigantic fucking punching bag for life’s cruel scenarios sometimes.

I get the whole idea of the program, and I am all about increasing safety for children.  I’m not butt-hurt over the notion of buses having cameras equipped to catch and penalize those who don’t follow the laws of bus safety, I’m just in a state of being flabbergasted that the fines are just so astronomically high. 

While venting my shock at the high violation cost, I came across this news story that echoes my general concern, and this quote is the best/worst/most ironic part of the whole thing:

A fine needs to get people’s attention, yes — but it shouldn’t be so high it’s impossible to pay,” (State Rep and who helped write the law Don) Parson said.

Additionally, this same person was quoted saying:

What we’re doing here is trying to protect children —and it is very important — but I also think $1,000 is too high,” he said.

I’m just in a state of disbelief, honestly.  This $1,000 fine is going to absolutely kill me.  No, I’m not going to lose my home or anything, but it’s not something I can just shrug off.  In all likelihood, it’s just going to be put on my credit card, adding to the debt that has been going in the wrong direction over the last two years, and it’s going to live rent-free in my head for a little bit.

I’m not going to shirk off the accountability and put it onto my au pair, because she got it while in service of my family, so beyond a cursory discussion to be careful of stopped school buses, I’m going to eat the burden, because the last thing I want is this to lead to her visa getting revoked because America sucks and I’m sure there have been foreigners deported for less.

But a $1,000 fine, this time of year, due by Christmas, absolutely blows.  I already stress over the obligation to buy gifts, but this basically consumes the vast majority of my gift buying budget.  Nobody is going to feel sorry for me, and I don’t think it’s really going to be accepted if I just nope the fuck out of gift giving outright because of this, and I’m trying really, really hard to keep my composure in light of this, and not let it ruin absolutely everything in spite of its extreme efforts.

I want to ask the rhetorical question on when will life start to get any easier, but the real question is if it ever really will at all?

This shit gets ridiculous sometimes

A few months ago, I chronicled how the week in which I was on a cruise with my family, was a week in which the whole fucking universe decided that they needed to get in touch with me, there were emergencies, there were fraud alerts, and I had no less than 69,000 emails, messages, chats and other alerts that took an inconvenient amount of time to sift through and deal with the most critical of issues.

Since I realized that the world most certainly does revolve around me, it’s been comical at just how predictably reliable it’s been that basically, when I am indisposed, unavailable, busy, or just plain not in a position to communicate, is when the whole fucking planet wants to communicate with me.

Case in point, I’m on a flight, connected to shitty WiFi.  I can receive texts and check email, but most all else is woefully unreliable, and I feel like I’m on the 2400baud modem that my old 486 was equipped with.  While on this flight, my boss DMs me despite my out of office being on, and since I’m not as smart as I think I am, I haven’t disabled notifications from Teams so I’m seeing them come through; additionally, there’s a ping for an impromptu business meeting, to which this sudden nature means something substantial, like someone critical leaving or having gotten shit-canned.  I don’t know and won’t know until I get back to the office but I am curious, but not curious enough to reach out to a colleague on a day off to find out.

A voicemail comes through, and it’s apparently my doctor’s office wanting to reschedule my annual that’s in two months, scheduled a month ago, because the American medical system is completely fucked, and I have to figure out what shitty appointment time probably three more months out I can get in on and hope the doc doesn’t schedule an out of office then too. 

And then I get a text from my sister telling me to call when I can, which is honestly these days tantamount to ask me to cure cancer as much of an aggrandizingly obnoxious ask to make of me.  But I can only imagine it pertains to my dad whom I just left after a fucking week of babysitting, so now I’m curious but can’t call because although I have shitty WiFi, making calls is still not something we do in the air.

It’s been like this fairly regularly since I realized that I control the universe.  No matter what I do, it’s when I try to take some time for myself is when everyone in my world starts trying to get in touch with me.

When I’m at my desk, available, ready, and willing to communicate?  Fucking crickets

Hit the gym during lunch?  Ping
Go out for a run on WFH Fridays?  Ding
Spending time with my kids?  Bing
Driving anywhere, any distance?  Be-doop
Running errands with an objective?  Boop-boop

And so on and so on.  It’s one of those things that sure, nobody knows what I’m doing at any given time but all the same I still feel that fucking everyone needs to give my time some more respect and just leave me the fuck alone.

One of these days if I ever get to have a single god damn day sabbatical, I think I need to hole up in a hotel room all by myself and just sleep, shotgun a show, eat whatever I want to eat, and put my phone the fuck away except for to do shit that I want to do, because the conclusion I’m coming to while I’m blathering all this shit out in that I need to just not be so god damn plugged into so much shit.

I don’t believe he didn’t know how poorly this would be received

ANF: US Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy basically says the majority of airline passengers are a bunch of slobs, encourages people to start dressing better when they travel at airports

Honestly, when I read the headline to this story, I couldn’t imagine that it was headed in any other direction than mass defiance, triggering and straight up rage-baiting from the federal fucking government.  To which it’s kind of sad, yet entertaining, but really more sad, that the federal government would go to the trouble to immaturely rage-bait as if they were a low-tier Instagrammer trying to get shock views with a poor take.

There’s no way Sean Duffy wouldn’t have known that posting a video, calling out primarily everyone who goes to airports in sweats, pajamas or otherwise comfortable clothes, and essentially blaming them for the uptick in disorderly conduct incidents at airports and on airplanes, wasn’t straight trolling.  As if he himself actually ever goes to airports for any other reason than to do his job, but he’s most definitely not flying commercial, with the rest of the pleebs, when he probably flies private, when for his own personal needs.

I mean it goes without saying that Americans today, more than ever, hate being told what to do, but telling them how they need to be dressing, that’s a tier above as far as triggering the defiance of modern America.  The response from the masses have been predictable and not at all surprising.

I’m sure all the fights and incidents have nothing to do with the fact that over the last two decades, the airline industry has been stoking the flames of passenger dissatisfaction, with all sorts of bullshit shenanigans such as cramming more seats into planes, reducing leg room, personal space, charging for bags, charging for snacks, and of course, the escalations of fares in general with absolutely no justification for doing so other than to line the profits of companies that are already billion dollar companies, among other things.

It’s totally because people are rolling into airports wearing sweatpants or pajamas.  Yep, makes total sense.  Hey, perhaps if we’re being encouraged to go back into the golden age of airlines, why not allow smoking on flights again?  Why not fire all the male flight attendants, and make sure all planes are staffed by attractive stewardesses instead?

The more I think about this whole thing, the more I can’t believe that this was absolutely anything other than a classic rage-baiting troll job, except that it’s coming from within our own government.  Like some defiant shit influencer who wants to throw shade, except in this case it’s coming from a 54-year old man(-child).

Honestly, this is all probably part of a larger, more nefarious plot, in order to force more martial law into things that ordinarily never needed it.  Duffy rage-baits the traveling nation, many predictably start dressing up like even bigger slobs at airports in defiance.  Airlines have little choice but to enforce their own dress rules, leading to more irate customers, passengers, and causing more incidents.  The National Guard suddenly has to start showing up at airports, and funding somewhere more essential is depleted in order to support.  Hashtag ‘Murica.