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That’s what this book is about. This isn’t just a book, it’s an act of defiance. Everyone in my life is trying to shut me up. But when I shut up, so does my wallet. This is how Daddy pays for all the events you drag him to that a
It isn’t just Natalia. One weekend in 2012, Lynette was out of town (again. See a pattern here?) and I was taking care of the kids. But we called her to check in and say good night. She asked So
Another time, I was sitting down for di
My initials are ALC (Adam Lakers Carolla) but they might as well be ATM. My kids experience, but don’t appreciate, the nonstop stream of money and stuff in their lives. There is zero co
One night, I was going between jobs. I had done The Soup that night, and had to go straight to the studio to record the podcast. This was around eight, so I called the kids while I was driving to touch base and tell them I loved them. I told Lynette to put Natalia on. She said, “Hi, Daddy,” and, before I could start to do the good night, I love you speech she started putting in a gift order. She wanted a Rapunzel doll. I told her I was just calling to say good night. She followed up, “But you’re working, right?” She was so used to me calling her from the road, which meant I would be bringing back some crap from the airport gift shop. I explained I was still in town, and I had just had a busy day and didn’t have a chance to come home. She kept going. I had to stop her, “You’re not getting anything, I’m here.” When the phone got handed to her it was like she pulled up to the speaker at the Jack In The Box drive-through. She just started firing her order at me.
I think everything I’m talking about here — the zero appreciation from our kids — can be summed up in the story of a New Year’s Eve gig in Reno. The New Year’s Eve of 2011 going into 2012, I had a stand-up show in Nevada two nights in a row.
Since I was going to be working over New Year’s I decided to make it a family trip. Instead of staying at the Nugget, where I was playing, we’d get a suite in an upscale hotel in Tahoe and have a little family time during the day. I used the American Express Platinum Card, so we got stepped up to an even bigger room, one hundred dollars in WAM (that’s Walking Around Money) and we had comps to the buffet. And because it was New Year’s Eve they were pouring glasses of Champagne at the counter. After we checked in and got to the room Lynette said, “You know, I’d like some of that Champagne.” I asked, “Why didn’t you get some?” She brushed it off. Then, a moment later, she said she wanted to go to the store and grab some crackers and junk for the kids, and some Champagne. I told her to grab me some, too. I settled in to watch a little SportsCenter before it was time for me to head out to Sparks to do my show while she hit the store. A little while later, she came back with the kids and the cookies and a mini-bottle of Veuve Clicquot.
I asked her, “Where’d you get that?” She said, “I got it at the store.” I shot back, “You didn’t want to go to the counter and get the freebies?” She replied, “I was at the store.” Against my better instincts, I followed up, “But you paid for it with the hundred-dollar credit from the hotel, right?” Of course, her answer was no. Then, to make matters worse, I asked, “Where was the store?” She said, “Right next to the front desk.” So she got a thirty-three-dollar minibottle of champagne containing three glasses’ worth when she could have gotten two for free, mere feet from where she spent my money instead of the WAM from the hotel.
Whatever. I tried to move on as she poured each of us a glass. Then she sat in a chair to leaf through a magazine and put the glass on the floor. I suggested that probably was not a great plan with two kids walking around. As predicted, three sips in, the glass was knocked over by So
I woke up about half an hour later and said, “Let’s go out to di
Cut to the following morning and time for breakfast. They all want room service. This is a nice hotel with a very nice buffet upstairs that, again, is free. So I say no, we have a free buffet, let’s go check it out. I win that battle and we head upstairs to the buffet, which is a horn of plenty: five different kinds of sticky buns, omelet bar, fresh fruit and so on. Of course, in the face of all this food, there is only one move for Natalia. She scans the entire buffet like the Terminator analyzing the room looking for his target. She’s trying to find the one item they don’t have. She does so, and a
It’s not the money. That was eight bucks or something. It’s the principle. We have this whole spread in front of us that, again, is free and they still want more. There was a Mexican guy in a hat who would make you any kind of omelet you want. Nope. She needed the one thing they didn’t have. There were Belgian waffles, toast, sticky buns, biscuits — every combination of flour, eggs, sugar and butter imaginable, except pancakes. Come to think of it, there might have been pancakes but no chocolate chips. Thus, she needed the chocolate-chip pancakes.
The next day, Natalia wanted chocolate-chip pancakes again. I put my foot down. I wanted to send a message. The terrorists hate us because of what was in that buffet. There were two hundred and thirty-three food options. I wasn’t going to let something that would have been the greatest day of my childhood be so wildly unappreciated. I told her to go find something and eat. She walked in, grabbed a sticky bun and a little melon and was fine. But I got a heaping helping of the stink eye from Lynette.