Originally posted December 13, 2006...
So I was flipping through CNN.com today, and found a hilarious article by Lou Dobbs that made me reflect on my rantings of a year ago. Just for poops and giggles, I thought I'd copy his article for your enjoyment here, as well as re-post my holiday bitch-fest from last year for a few additional giggles (and their associated poops). Enjoy!
NEW YORK (CNN) -- Merry Christmas! That's right, Merry Christmas. Whether you're Christian, Jewish, Muslim, agnostic, pagan, barbarian or whatever, Merry Christmas! It's what most of us say in this country come this time of year. It's about who we are, where we are and where we've been. And all the namby-pamby, little sensitive darlings among us who can't handle this verbal assault on their delicate senses should immediately begin seeking emergency psychiatric care.
This week we were treated to the spectacle of an easily offended and highly offensive rabbi who walked into an airport, gazed upon Christmas trees all around him and suddenly was overwhelmed with an immense, and apparently irresistible, urge to sue the management of the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport because nowhere among all the Christmas trees was a single menorah. Rabbi Elazar Bogomilsky of the Chabad-Lubavitch movement of Seattle even delivered to the airport's management a draft of a lawsuit he would file if they didn't sprinkle menorahs around the Christmas trees.
Political correctness in this country reached an entirely new level of absurdity some years ago. But occasionally, and the situation at Sea-Tac is just such an occasion, we exceed ourselves. The militant fundamentalist rabbi so flummoxed Sea-Tac management with his threat and their perceived obligation to be "politically correct" that, rather than think rationally or simply tell him to stuff it, they started hacking away at all those artificial Christmas trees and quickly descended into a public relations nightmare in which they managed to offend reason, cultural values and the vast majority of Americans.
As CNN senior legal analyst Jeffrey Toobin told me, "The Supreme Court has held since 1984, the famous 'Reindeer Rule,' that if a symbol of Christmas is mostly secular, like a reindeer or a Christmas tree or Santa Claus, that is not a violation of the separation of church and state." The irony that escaped the rabid rabbi and the timid Sea-Tac management team is that the Christmas tree's likely origin dates back to pre-Christian pagan cultures. The Christmas tree is not by any means a religious symbol, and when we're honest about it, the tree's become a purely commercial symbol more closely associated with shopping, roasting chestnuts and guzzling eggnog than a nativity scene with baby Jesus.
And hang on, Christians, because you're in 21st Century America, and our culture celebrates your holiest day of the year with such insensitive gusto that our economy would suffer a serious setback if your religious sensibilities were as easily offended as those of the litigious rabbi. More than 140 million shoppers spent an average of about $360 on Black Friday alone, the day after Thanksgiving and the unofficial kickoff to the Christmas shopping season, according to the National Retail Federation. And all those Christmas shoppers are expected to spend nearly a half-trillion dollars this shopping season.
Now if I were a fundamentalist Christian, that might strike me as a little politically incorrect. And I think all of you folks should think about suing somebody. You know, get in the spirit of the season.
This mindless movement of political correctness at all costs is one of the most un-American and crazy twists in our culture as anything we've witnessed. Remember, we're Americans, and we have freedom of speech, that whole life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness thing. Or at least we did.
And I hope you'll celebrate the Christmas season by offending someone. If you're Jewish, how about a hearty "Happy Hanukkah" to a good Christian? If they're offended you've revealed a fool, not such a good Christian and someone you shouldn't waste your expression of good will upon. But get ready for a few robust "Merry Christmas" calls to be thrown your way as well. The operators of the Seattle-Tacoma airport quickly righted a potentially dreadful wrong. The rabbi decided not to file a suit, Christmas trees have sprung back up throughout the concourse, and no, not a single menorah has been spotted. I can only hope this is the beginning of a major movement in America, one that regards thinking as paramount to phony feelings and heightened self-centered sensitivities. Common sense and judgment should always reign supreme over political correctness, no matter what the current trend.
And, my gosh, even Wal-Mart this year has abandoned its generic, politically correct "Happy Holidays" greeting in favor of "Merry Christmas." I'm starting to think this may be the season to be jolly after all. Ho, ho, ho. To all, a Merry Christmas. OK, and a Happy Hanukkah, too.
And here's mine...
Welcome to holiday season, 2005! It's time once again for the annual "What do I call my tree?" festival! All over the news this season you're bound to see stories about government buildings and their employees' quagmire...Are they holiday trees? Christmas trees? Happy Hanakwanzamas trees? Non-denominational festival of pine-scented artificial trees trees?Isn't it about time that we started calling them what they are? These are CHRISTMAS TREES ladies and gentlemen! Now I know what you're going to say..."But there are millions of people in America who don't celebrate Christmas, aren't Christian, or just flat don't believe that the government should force the holiday down their throats!" I say, BULLSHIT! While I'm certainly sympathetic to the fact that not everyone celebrates Christmas, the simple fact is that there are a lot of people who DO! The fact that not everyone celebrates the season is no reason to keep ANYONE from celebrating it. That's like saying I can't have cake on my birthday because you feel left out that it's not YOUR birthday!But wait...what about that whole pesky "separation of Church and State" issue? Pretty simple, really. The founding fathers created the separation of Church and State in an effort to snuff out any attempts to create a theocratic government. I'm fairly certain, however, that they did NOT intend to snuff out any and all religious leanings within the people running the show! Plainly put, the lighting of a Christmas tree at city hall is NOT a precursor to some sort of overthrow of the government by God's footsoldiers. It's simply a pleasant reminder that there are in fact people who celebrate Christmas. Time to let go of the anger here, people. Please feel free to celebrate whatever holiday you celebrate when it's time. If you want the government buildings in your area to plant a giant chick pea plant in celebration of Garbonzo Bean Awareness Month or something, it's your responsibility to bring that idea up. The trees are there because the constituency made their voices heard and elected individuals who believe in the Christmas holiday. It's that simple.Have a nice day...
Monday, June 23, 2008
Dirty Little Monkeys
Originally posted March 30, 2006...
So a buddy of mine recently hooked me up with a sitemeter for this blog so I could find out if anyone actually cared. As it turns out, at least 28 people have cared in the past week.
Very cool...until I found out what it was that drove a majority of them to my site. In the past, I have blogged about Pee Holes and The Shocker. While I was familiar with why The Shocker might cause some interest, I was a little confused by the Pee Hole constituency.
I couldn't understand why so many people were interested in what I considered to be a very benign topic...until I Googled "pee holes." HOLY SHIT! I couldn't believe some of the things I was reading, let alone the pictures that came along with them! The first link that popped up was for someone's "pee hole stretching story," and how they'd come to love the act of stretching out a considerably sensitive area.
Now, I consider myself pretty open-minded, but seriously people...you are REALLY whacked out if you're into this kind of stuff! What is it exactly that drives people to:
So a buddy of mine recently hooked me up with a sitemeter for this blog so I could find out if anyone actually cared. As it turns out, at least 28 people have cared in the past week.
Very cool...until I found out what it was that drove a majority of them to my site. In the past, I have blogged about Pee Holes and The Shocker. While I was familiar with why The Shocker might cause some interest, I was a little confused by the Pee Hole constituency.
I couldn't understand why so many people were interested in what I considered to be a very benign topic...until I Googled "pee holes." HOLY SHIT! I couldn't believe some of the things I was reading, let alone the pictures that came along with them! The first link that popped up was for someone's "pee hole stretching story," and how they'd come to love the act of stretching out a considerably sensitive area.
Now, I consider myself pretty open-minded, but seriously people...you are REALLY whacked out if you're into this kind of stuff! What is it exactly that drives people to:
- Even think about how to achieve this kind of activity
- Not think to themselves...that would be pretty F-ed up
- Do it anyway
- Write about it and post it on the WORLD WIDE WEB?!?
Was That You?
Originally posted March 15, 2006...
So here's a thought that I had the other day while taking a whiz... There's another guy in there at the same time, and he's taking a massive dump, the size of which would make an elephant proud. The stench is burning my nose hairs, and the first thing that comes to mind is...I've gotta' get the hell out of here!
The second thing that crosses my mind is this...what would have happened if he'd finished his crapola and left before I had the chance to finish my whiz? I pictured myself walking out of the bathroom at the same time someone else was walking in, and facing the awkward moment where the stench hits them full in the face while they try to put a face to the stink.
Is he really going to believe that it WASN'T me? There's no way to convince him otherwise, so I figure I'm pretty much screwed. 'Course, it could be an awful lot of fun to take credit for the ass-stank, too. Guess it just depends where you work.
Either way, I always wondered what the appropriate protocol is for something like that. Do you ignore it like an awkward moment at a party, or do you stand tall and proclaim, "DAMN! Ol' Steve sure lit one up in there, didn't he? Stinky bastard!"? Think I'll test that one out sometime and see how it goes...
So here's a thought that I had the other day while taking a whiz... There's another guy in there at the same time, and he's taking a massive dump, the size of which would make an elephant proud. The stench is burning my nose hairs, and the first thing that comes to mind is...I've gotta' get the hell out of here!
The second thing that crosses my mind is this...what would have happened if he'd finished his crapola and left before I had the chance to finish my whiz? I pictured myself walking out of the bathroom at the same time someone else was walking in, and facing the awkward moment where the stench hits them full in the face while they try to put a face to the stink.
Is he really going to believe that it WASN'T me? There's no way to convince him otherwise, so I figure I'm pretty much screwed. 'Course, it could be an awful lot of fun to take credit for the ass-stank, too. Guess it just depends where you work.
Either way, I always wondered what the appropriate protocol is for something like that. Do you ignore it like an awkward moment at a party, or do you stand tall and proclaim, "DAMN! Ol' Steve sure lit one up in there, didn't he? Stinky bastard!"? Think I'll test that one out sometime and see how it goes...
Previously Enjoyed
Originally posted February 23, 2006...
I heard an absolutely hysterical ad this morning, and felt compelled to share it. The ad was for a car dealership offering great deals on "previously enjoyed" cars.
I'm officially calling bullshit here. I mean, exactly how many different ways can we call something "used" and still get away with it. Calling a car used means that it is exactly that...a vehicle that someone else has used in the past to get from point A to point B. What/whom else they did in the car is really secondary to the vehicle's ability to maintain is functional use. What exactly was the previous owner enjoying while driving this car? Cheeseburgers? Littering? Road head? Who knows?
Since it's simply a method of conveyance, a car really does not deserve the "enjoyed" moniker. But it does beg the question...what does deserve the title? Leftover pizza? Movies purchased from the rental store? Hookers? I can hear it now... "Billionaire heiress Paris Hilton today received a much needed revirginization of her previously enjoyed beav."
Maybe I'm just reading too much into this and getting a bit off topic, but seriously...let's just called Paris Hilton what she is...used up!
I heard an absolutely hysterical ad this morning, and felt compelled to share it. The ad was for a car dealership offering great deals on "previously enjoyed" cars.
I'm officially calling bullshit here. I mean, exactly how many different ways can we call something "used" and still get away with it. Calling a car used means that it is exactly that...a vehicle that someone else has used in the past to get from point A to point B. What/whom else they did in the car is really secondary to the vehicle's ability to maintain is functional use. What exactly was the previous owner enjoying while driving this car? Cheeseburgers? Littering? Road head? Who knows?
Since it's simply a method of conveyance, a car really does not deserve the "enjoyed" moniker. But it does beg the question...what does deserve the title? Leftover pizza? Movies purchased from the rental store? Hookers? I can hear it now... "Billionaire heiress Paris Hilton today received a much needed revirginization of her previously enjoyed beav."
Maybe I'm just reading too much into this and getting a bit off topic, but seriously...let's just called Paris Hilton what she is...used up!
One Size Fits...Most?
Originally posted January 30, 2006...
I discovered an interesting label on a hat today, and felt compelled to write something about it. The label in question read, "One Size Fits Most." This struck me as odd, as I recalled the good old days of "one size fits all." But it begged the question...when exactly did we lose the "all" part of the equation? I read recently that somewhere near 50% of the US populace is officially considered overweight, but all that means is that being overweight is now considered average. Congratulations if you're trying to be "average," Mr. Fat Man...you've made it! But I digress...
The point I'm getting at is that there are freaks amongst us whose noggins simply will not fit a traditionally-sized hat. Which begs another question...where does someone like this find appropriate headgear? Are there stores out there who, in the tradition of big and tall fashionistas, cater to the melon-headed? If so, what are they called, and where do we find them? Texas has always been a bastion of large-scale people, products, etc., so I'm assuming such a store would exist there. Where else could we get the notion of the 10-gallon hat?
Maybe I'm just rambling here, but there's an image I can't get out of my head after reading that label...South Park's Mr. Mackey (mmmkay?). King of the larger than life cranium, this guy would DEFINITELY benefit from the Texas-sized hat emporium (King Cranium's? Hydrocephalics 'R' Us? Big Head Todd & The Monsters?)!
Just realized that I've made absolutely no sense here, so I'll close for now. Thanks for reading...
The Pissgasm (Revisited)
Originally posted January 9, 2006...
A few months ago my buddy Dave blogged about a unique phenomenon that he nicknamed "The Pissgasm." The phenomenon occurs when you've been holding back a whiz for waaaaaaay longer than you should, resulting in an almost orgasmic rush of urine when you finally let fly. An interesting occurrence, no doubt.
So...being extremely busy and yet more than capable of chugging down a giant Dr. Pepper chased with about a gallon of water, I found myself in the excruciating position of reeeeeally needing to make a pit stop today. Flashing back to the Pissgasm blog, I was really looking forward to this particular trip in spite of the stalking cleaning lady. So in I go to visit ol' john, and things occur as normal...AS NORMAL! How pissed off (pun COMPLETELY intended here) was I to NOT experience the promised Pissgasm?
In what can only be described as a case of urinary blue balls, I retreated to the relative comfort of my cubicle dazed, confused and a little bit sad. My question is this...we all know the various methods of relieving blue balls, but what do we do in this particular situation? Do we chug more and more water, hold it in as long as possible, and pray for blessed release? Do we curse the urinal gods for the cruel hand they've dealt us, or do we curse Dave for putting this idea in our heads in the first place?
Perhaps there is no right or wrong answer, but one thing's for sure...blue balls suck regardless of the source!
A few months ago my buddy Dave blogged about a unique phenomenon that he nicknamed "The Pissgasm." The phenomenon occurs when you've been holding back a whiz for waaaaaaay longer than you should, resulting in an almost orgasmic rush of urine when you finally let fly. An interesting occurrence, no doubt.
So...being extremely busy and yet more than capable of chugging down a giant Dr. Pepper chased with about a gallon of water, I found myself in the excruciating position of reeeeeally needing to make a pit stop today. Flashing back to the Pissgasm blog, I was really looking forward to this particular trip in spite of the stalking cleaning lady. So in I go to visit ol' john, and things occur as normal...AS NORMAL! How pissed off (pun COMPLETELY intended here) was I to NOT experience the promised Pissgasm?
In what can only be described as a case of urinary blue balls, I retreated to the relative comfort of my cubicle dazed, confused and a little bit sad. My question is this...we all know the various methods of relieving blue balls, but what do we do in this particular situation? Do we chug more and more water, hold it in as long as possible, and pray for blessed release? Do we curse the urinal gods for the cruel hand they've dealt us, or do we curse Dave for putting this idea in our heads in the first place?
Perhaps there is no right or wrong answer, but one thing's for sure...blue balls suck regardless of the source!
No Iran, Those are MY Missiles!
Originally posted January 3, 2006...
Has anyone else ever wondered why it is that the US and its allies are the only ones allowed to have nuclear ("It's pronounced NEW-kyuh-ler." - Homer Simpson) weapons anymore? I was watching the news during lunch today, and one of the headline stories was that Iran was looking to re-up their nuclear program.
How dare they? Don't they know that W has strictly forbidden even the slightest THOUGHT of nuclear research by so-called "rogue nations?" What the hell is that about, anyway? That's like the neighborhood bully saying that you're not allowed to have hands because you might be able to fight back against him if/when he decides he's going to kick your ass. Sure, you might be willing to use those same hands for seemingly mindless tasks such as eating, grasping needed objects, etc., but all he sees is the imminent threat.
Now don't get me wrong, I'm not a fan of the notion that Oomgallah bin Waddy Mow Mow may have access to the most destructive force known to man, but it hardly seems fair for anyone to tell him he can't. You know what we did when the British told us we couldn't have arms, tea, or voting rights of our own? That's right...we told 'em to go fuck themselves! Then we doled out a big 'ol helping of 18th century Whoopass and went our merry little way.
The way I see it, these "rogue nations" are a lot like a two-year old. They want what you tell them they can't have. And they'll do everything in their power to prove to you that they can handle whatever it is you tell them they can't have...even if it's something that can kill them and every other living thing on the planet.
The fact is, the Iranians most likely ARE thinking of using nuclear technology for weapons development in the long run, but it's going to be in the interest of self-preservation and deterrance. If we know they have the Bomb, says their logic, we'll leave them pretty much alone in much the same way we did with the former Soviet Union. Ever see the movie War Games (http://imdb.com/title/tt0086567/) with Matthew Broderick? He teaches some wise-ass computer that the only way to win the game of global thermonuclear war is "not to play." Same thing here, really.
So, Oomgallah bin Waddy Mow Mow, go ahead and do your nuclear research. Just know that Uncle Sam is pissed as all Hell about it, and that you'd better not make weapons-grade material out of it. We've all seen what happens when we think someone has weapons of mass destruction hiding out somewhere...
Has anyone else ever wondered why it is that the US and its allies are the only ones allowed to have nuclear ("It's pronounced NEW-kyuh-ler." - Homer Simpson) weapons anymore? I was watching the news during lunch today, and one of the headline stories was that Iran was looking to re-up their nuclear program.
How dare they? Don't they know that W has strictly forbidden even the slightest THOUGHT of nuclear research by so-called "rogue nations?" What the hell is that about, anyway? That's like the neighborhood bully saying that you're not allowed to have hands because you might be able to fight back against him if/when he decides he's going to kick your ass. Sure, you might be willing to use those same hands for seemingly mindless tasks such as eating, grasping needed objects, etc., but all he sees is the imminent threat.
Now don't get me wrong, I'm not a fan of the notion that Oomgallah bin Waddy Mow Mow may have access to the most destructive force known to man, but it hardly seems fair for anyone to tell him he can't. You know what we did when the British told us we couldn't have arms, tea, or voting rights of our own? That's right...we told 'em to go fuck themselves! Then we doled out a big 'ol helping of 18th century Whoopass and went our merry little way.
The way I see it, these "rogue nations" are a lot like a two-year old. They want what you tell them they can't have. And they'll do everything in their power to prove to you that they can handle whatever it is you tell them they can't have...even if it's something that can kill them and every other living thing on the planet.
The fact is, the Iranians most likely ARE thinking of using nuclear technology for weapons development in the long run, but it's going to be in the interest of self-preservation and deterrance. If we know they have the Bomb, says their logic, we'll leave them pretty much alone in much the same way we did with the former Soviet Union. Ever see the movie War Games (http://imdb.com/title/tt0086567/) with Matthew Broderick? He teaches some wise-ass computer that the only way to win the game of global thermonuclear war is "not to play." Same thing here, really.
So, Oomgallah bin Waddy Mow Mow, go ahead and do your nuclear research. Just know that Uncle Sam is pissed as all Hell about it, and that you'd better not make weapons-grade material out of it. We've all seen what happens when we think someone has weapons of mass destruction hiding out somewhere...
The Cleaning Lady is Stalking Me
Originally posted January 3, 2006...
So my office has one of those full-time cleaning people whose job is to go around cleaning up after us slobbish oafs. She's phenomenally quick at picking up on any little mess, and indeed seems to have some kind of radar for detecting them. She has a lovely little conveyance that carries her trash cans, brooms, mops, cleaning supplies, and the like; you can usually hear her coming a mile away with this contraption. The familiar CLICK CLACK BUMP RUMBLE of her cart's approach lets you know that you're not safe anywhere...she could be coming to clean your desk RIGHT NOW!
The problem with this particular individual is that she has a knack for knowing EXACTLY when I have to use the restroom. Here's how the process usually goes: I'll be sitting at my desk minding my own business when suddenly nature calls. I calmly arise from my desk and stroll leisurely towards the nearest restroom (conveniently located about a country MILE from my desk!). I arrive in the restroom and commence the flow, when suddenly (but not suprisingly) I hear that old familiar sound...CLICK CLACK BUMP RUMBLE. "Please let her go to the ladies room first," I think to myself, "and let me whiz in peace for once!" No sooner has this thought crossed my nimble little mind, however, than I hear yet another old familiar sound. In what can only be described as a Tommy Boy-esque scene (remember the old "Housekeeping?" gag?), there is a gentle rap at the door. Never accompanied by any verbal warning, the door swings open ever so slightly to reveal...not a face just yet, but rather a blue feather duster indicating an intention to clean the restroom. I jump ever so slightly (just enough to get a tell-tale dab of whiz on the old pantaloons), and shout out "There's someone in here!" The feather duster beats a hasty retreat, presumably to the ladies room, and I'm left to tend to my whiz-soaked trousers and fragile sense of privacy.
I know what you're thinking...she's got to be on some kind of cleaning schedule, and my dirty little business just happens to coincide with her timing, right? EH EH. As nature is wont to do, the timing of these little episodes varies greatly depending on myriad factors (water intake, work load, conference calls, etc.), and there's never any telling what time I'll be able to arise. The only thing I'm certain of is that three seconds into my flow I'll hear the old battle cry..."CLICK CLACK BUMP RUMBLE."
I'm still trying to decide whether this is just a coincidence, or whether the big urinal in the sky has some greater plan that is drawing our paths to one another. Either way, I'm sure of this... if I ever whiz all over the wall/floor/ceiling/whatever, I'm CERTAIN that there will be a wise old feather duster-wielding sage to clean up after me.
So my office has one of those full-time cleaning people whose job is to go around cleaning up after us slobbish oafs. She's phenomenally quick at picking up on any little mess, and indeed seems to have some kind of radar for detecting them. She has a lovely little conveyance that carries her trash cans, brooms, mops, cleaning supplies, and the like; you can usually hear her coming a mile away with this contraption. The familiar CLICK CLACK BUMP RUMBLE of her cart's approach lets you know that you're not safe anywhere...she could be coming to clean your desk RIGHT NOW!
The problem with this particular individual is that she has a knack for knowing EXACTLY when I have to use the restroom. Here's how the process usually goes: I'll be sitting at my desk minding my own business when suddenly nature calls. I calmly arise from my desk and stroll leisurely towards the nearest restroom (conveniently located about a country MILE from my desk!). I arrive in the restroom and commence the flow, when suddenly (but not suprisingly) I hear that old familiar sound...CLICK CLACK BUMP RUMBLE. "Please let her go to the ladies room first," I think to myself, "and let me whiz in peace for once!" No sooner has this thought crossed my nimble little mind, however, than I hear yet another old familiar sound. In what can only be described as a Tommy Boy-esque scene (remember the old "Housekeeping?" gag?), there is a gentle rap at the door. Never accompanied by any verbal warning, the door swings open ever so slightly to reveal...not a face just yet, but rather a blue feather duster indicating an intention to clean the restroom. I jump ever so slightly (just enough to get a tell-tale dab of whiz on the old pantaloons), and shout out "There's someone in here!" The feather duster beats a hasty retreat, presumably to the ladies room, and I'm left to tend to my whiz-soaked trousers and fragile sense of privacy.
I know what you're thinking...she's got to be on some kind of cleaning schedule, and my dirty little business just happens to coincide with her timing, right? EH EH. As nature is wont to do, the timing of these little episodes varies greatly depending on myriad factors (water intake, work load, conference calls, etc.), and there's never any telling what time I'll be able to arise. The only thing I'm certain of is that three seconds into my flow I'll hear the old battle cry..."CLICK CLACK BUMP RUMBLE."
I'm still trying to decide whether this is just a coincidence, or whether the big urinal in the sky has some greater plan that is drawing our paths to one another. Either way, I'm sure of this... if I ever whiz all over the wall/floor/ceiling/whatever, I'm CERTAIN that there will be a wise old feather duster-wielding sage to clean up after me.
Reply to All
Originally posted January 3, 2006...
What the hell is the deal with people who hit the "reply to all" button when replying to an e-mail? Here I take the good time to be perfectly lazy and send out a blanket message to a group of people, and I expect individualized responses. Not happening, though... These self-centered bastards figure that EVERYONE must certainly care about their response. As such, they decide to share it with the world.
This is much worse in the workplace, as e-mails frequently get forwarded. Now, not only do people have to sift through my original e-mail to get the information they need, they have to sit through 40 pages of other people's bullshit just to get there!
Just a couple of quick thoughts to those of you who are guilty of this:
- If you're going to reply to all, at least have the decency to erase the other hooplah that comes along with your e-mail (ie, original mailing lists, your personal stationery, etc.)
- You're taking up other people's valuable time by being a douche...time that could easily be spent/wasted in other ways (ie, internet porn, hijacking music, etc.)
- Please just STOP!
Say Bob, What Kind of Tree is That?
Originally posted December 8, 2005...
Welcome to holiday season, 2005! It's time once again for the annual "What do I call my tree?" festival! All over the news this season you're bound to see stories about government buildings and their employees' quagmire...
Are they holiday trees? Christmas trees? Happy Hanakwanzamas trees? Non-denominational festival of pine-scented artificial trees trees?
Isn't it about time that we started calling them what they are? These are CHRISTMAS TREES ladies and gentlemen! Now I know what you're going to say..."But there are millions of people in America who don't celebrate Christmas, aren't Christian, or just flat don't believe that the government should force the holiday down their throats!" I say, BULLSHIT! While I'm certainly sympathetic to the fact that not everyone celebrates Christmas, the simple fact is that there are a lot of people who DO! The fact that not everyone celebrates the season is no reason to keep ANYONE from celebrating it. That's like saying I can't have cake on my birthday because you feel left out that it's not YOUR birthday!
But wait...what about that whole pesky "separation of Church and State" issue? Pretty simple, really. The founding fathers created the separation of Church and State in an effort to snuff out any attempts to create a theocratic government. I'm fairly certain, however, that they did NOT intend to snuff out any and all religious leanings within the people running the show! Plainly put, the lighting of a Christmas tree at city hall is NOT a precursor to some sort of overthrow of the government by God's footsoldiers. It's simply a pleasant reminder that there are in fact people who celebrate Christmas.
Time to let go of the anger here, people. Please feel free to celebrate whatever holiday you celebrate when it's time. If you want the government buildings in your area to plant a giant chick pea plant in celebration of Garbonzo Bean Awareness Month or something, it's your responsibility to bring that idea up. The trees are there because the constituency made their voices heard and elected individuals who believe in the Christmas holiday. It's that simple.
Have a nice day...
Suicidal Assholes!
Originally posted December 7, 2005...
In yet another fine example of what Darwin would call survival of the fittest, some asshole recently boarded an airplane in Miami claiming to have a bomb in his bag. He was subesquently shot and killed by federal air marshalls.
A couple of quick thoughts on this: 1. This guy absolutely deserved what he got...what an asshole! 2. The media will go absolutely apeshit over this during the coming weeks.
Point number one really speaks for itself, I think. I mean, really...what an asshole! Not only was he too weak to pull the trigger/pop the pills/string the rope himself, but he inconvenienced an entire PLANE full of people as well. Now all 180 passengers (if the flight was full) have to sit in the plane while they wait for it to be searched etc., all while the people who are waiting for them to arrive have to sit around with their thums in their butts while they wait even longer. To say nothing of the other incoming/outgoing flights that will be delayed by this ignorant boob!
This runs along the same lines as the douchebags who intentionally get pulled over by the police, only to pull a plastic cap gun or something on the officer, leading to their inevitable "assisted suicide." Ladies and gentlemen, if you're too lazy to kill yourself, please just do the rest of us a favor and lay around on your couch until you starve to death or something. Making your suicide a matter of public delay and interruption just makes world hate you more than you already thought it did.
Moral of the story...don't be a douche. If you want to kill yourself...fine. Just leave the rest of us out of it.
Have a nice day...
There's An Evil Monkey Living in My Closet!
Originally posted December 1, 2005...
Not really, but I have to say that the evil monkey living in Chris's closet on Family Guy is quite possibly the funniest thing ever commited to film (or cartoon, or whatever...). The ridiculous thing about this guy is that he never utters a word; he just sits there pointing and grimmacing violently in Chris's direction. No point here, really. He's just fucking hysterical! Have a nice day...
The Pee Hole
Originally posted November 22, 2005...
So I'm in the bathroom the other day, minding my own business, and what do I see? Some big fat guy with his pants practically around his frickin' ANKLES standing at the urinal taking a leak! What the hell is this all about?
The last time I checked, pants came with a zipper. Along these same lines, the majority of undergarments come fully equipped with a "pee hole," a nicely stitched zone that conveniently opens to allow passage of one's johnson. By simply applying the "unzip and flip" method of pulling one's sausage through the pee hole and subsequent zipper hole, any normal adult male can pretty much take care of things without needing to share the spectacle of his ass cheeks unceremoniously flapping in the breeze.
What the hell was this guy thinking? I couldn't begin to say... What I CAN say is that it's time for this particular gentleman (and others like him) to progress beyond the pre-school "rip 'em down and whip it out" methodolgy. There's a new school, fellas, and it's time you picked up the book and pulled up your pants!
Have a nice day...
So I'm in the bathroom the other day, minding my own business, and what do I see? Some big fat guy with his pants practically around his frickin' ANKLES standing at the urinal taking a leak! What the hell is this all about?
The last time I checked, pants came with a zipper. Along these same lines, the majority of undergarments come fully equipped with a "pee hole," a nicely stitched zone that conveniently opens to allow passage of one's johnson. By simply applying the "unzip and flip" method of pulling one's sausage through the pee hole and subsequent zipper hole, any normal adult male can pretty much take care of things without needing to share the spectacle of his ass cheeks unceremoniously flapping in the breeze.
What the hell was this guy thinking? I couldn't begin to say... What I CAN say is that it's time for this particular gentleman (and others like him) to progress beyond the pre-school "rip 'em down and whip it out" methodolgy. There's a new school, fellas, and it's time you picked up the book and pulled up your pants!
Have a nice day...
The Shocker!
Originally posted November 21, 2005...
My wife and I are huge Georgia Bulldog fans. This weekend, we attended the annual "Let's kick Kentucky's ass and laugh at them" game and had a blast. If you're familiar with college football at all, you already know that our quarterback this year is a senior named DJ Shockley. The kid's got talent, and will undoubtedly go far in his professional career. The problem with DJ, though, is his unfortunate surname. Shockley came to prominence just as a new and innovative sexual technique has come (heh heh) to the forefront with those of us whose minds are filthy (http://davidpbrown.net/).
I'm talking about, of course, The Shocker. For the uninitiated, the Shocker is a manuever whereby the male inserts his index and middle fingers into his partner's vagina, while simultaneously inserting his pinkie into her butthole (also known as "Two In The Bush, One In The Tush...thanks Dave!). The "Shocker" portion, of course, is the typical end-result of the maneuver...the young lady's inevitable screech of surprise and subsequent submission. The reason I bring this up is not just to educate, but also to share the following picture. This guy is a GENIUS, and I thank him for sharing with the rest of the world. To you, unknown purveyor of filth and prurient interest, I say "Thank You!" Your contributions to society will not go unnoticed. Have a nice day...
The "Entitlement Generation"
Originally posted August 10, 2005...
The other day I read an article that said people in my generation (early-to-late-twenties) consider themselves to be "entitled" to certain things: jobs, success, prosperity, etc. Apparently this stems from some kind of coddling we received as children, and has led us to believe that we should be handed everything on a silver platter. The issue raised by the article was that many companies and managers don't have the slightest clue how to motivate folks like us, and that the situation is costing millions in turnover, lost productivity and the like.
Here's my philosophy on this: if companies are truly interested in keeping folks happy, they need to realize a few simple truths...
1. People are inherently lazy
Think about it...if you had the choice of spending your entire day doing nothing other than watching TV and scrathching yourself or putting on a shirt and tie, sitting in traffic and then staring at a computer screen all day (which can be essentially like watching TV all day if you do it right)...which would you choose? Until managers learn how to motivate people to overcome this inherent need for Cheetos and nut-scratching, they'll never see a change.
2. People want to make lots and lots of money doing something they enjoy
You'll never hear anyone saying, "You know what I love? I love filling out documents and reports that have no bearing on the future of my company and making peanuts for it." By contrast, you would expect to hear them say, "I love playing this professional sport for a living and getting paid hundreds of millions of dollars for it." Of course, you don't always hear that either, do you? I guess that would be sub-category A...Some people love to bitch about their jobs regardless of the circumstances. It's time to pony up and pay the piper, folks. You simply can't expect people to spend nearly a third of their weekly time on work-related activities and NOT expect to be well-compensated for it. The almighty bottom-line, while certainly important, can NOT be maintained without first maintaining a competent and satisfied work force.
3. People crave positive leadership
When was the last time you heard someone say, "I really wish management would berate me more"? There is a startling trend among managers these days, and it seems to tell them that the way to keep employees going strong is to tell them what they're doing wrong (almost had myself a little rhyme there, but I'll move on...). Instead of focusing on the positive aspects of the business, they would rather prattle on about how everyone should be working harder, doing more with less, etc. Why not take the time to get to know what makes your employees tick, learn about their families and interests, etc.? You'd be AMAZED at the results you can receive from just a little bit of personal touch.
Just sayin'...
The other day I read an article that said people in my generation (early-to-late-twenties) consider themselves to be "entitled" to certain things: jobs, success, prosperity, etc. Apparently this stems from some kind of coddling we received as children, and has led us to believe that we should be handed everything on a silver platter. The issue raised by the article was that many companies and managers don't have the slightest clue how to motivate folks like us, and that the situation is costing millions in turnover, lost productivity and the like.
Here's my philosophy on this: if companies are truly interested in keeping folks happy, they need to realize a few simple truths...
1. People are inherently lazy
Think about it...if you had the choice of spending your entire day doing nothing other than watching TV and scrathching yourself or putting on a shirt and tie, sitting in traffic and then staring at a computer screen all day (which can be essentially like watching TV all day if you do it right)...which would you choose? Until managers learn how to motivate people to overcome this inherent need for Cheetos and nut-scratching, they'll never see a change.
2. People want to make lots and lots of money doing something they enjoy
You'll never hear anyone saying, "You know what I love? I love filling out documents and reports that have no bearing on the future of my company and making peanuts for it." By contrast, you would expect to hear them say, "I love playing this professional sport for a living and getting paid hundreds of millions of dollars for it." Of course, you don't always hear that either, do you? I guess that would be sub-category A...Some people love to bitch about their jobs regardless of the circumstances. It's time to pony up and pay the piper, folks. You simply can't expect people to spend nearly a third of their weekly time on work-related activities and NOT expect to be well-compensated for it. The almighty bottom-line, while certainly important, can NOT be maintained without first maintaining a competent and satisfied work force.
3. People crave positive leadership
When was the last time you heard someone say, "I really wish management would berate me more"? There is a startling trend among managers these days, and it seems to tell them that the way to keep employees going strong is to tell them what they're doing wrong (almost had myself a little rhyme there, but I'll move on...). Instead of focusing on the positive aspects of the business, they would rather prattle on about how everyone should be working harder, doing more with less, etc. Why not take the time to get to know what makes your employees tick, learn about their families and interests, etc.? You'd be AMAZED at the results you can receive from just a little bit of personal touch.
Just sayin'...
Friday, April 18, 2008
The Moo Turns Two II
Here are some great pictures from The Moo's party at CiCi's the other night. Way too cute not to share... :-)
Thursday, April 17, 2008
The Moo Turns Two!
First off, a little background...
When Matthew was born, our friends decided that it would be cool to call him "The Matthew." Since it sounded pretty cool, it naturally stuck with us and he has been "The Matthew" ever since. Somewhere along the line, though, Holly started calling him "Moo Moo." Was she simply craving milk at this particular time? One too many of the "Got Milk" ads caught her attention? No one's really sure. Regardless, after a while he gradually became "The Moo." Hence the title of this post...
Anyway, I'm pleased to announce that we made it through two wonderful years with The Moo as of last Sunday. Incredible as it may seem, Holly and I have managed to maintain our sanity in the face of TWO toddlers (see previous posts to learn more about how that sanity has been tested!), and we couldn't be happier!
The boys are both just wonderful, and they play together incredibly well now that The Moo is up and running at full speed. Sunday was kind of a wash for us, birthday-wise, with church and tennis taking up a huge amount of the day. Still, we managed to squeeze in some time for Matthew to get his birthday presents: a toy golf set from Chris, and a new bike from Holly and me!
Matthew's bike is so tiny, it almost looks like one of those toy bikes that they have bears ride on at the circus! He's completely cute on it, though, and tries his best to pedal along behind Chris wherever he goes. The problem is that his feet don't quite reach the pedals. Not to be deterred, though, he manages by kicking along on the ground, Flintstones-style. Mom and Dad bought him a helmet, too, so his little noggin will be nice and safe at all times. :-)
Here's a quick video of the birthday boy on his new toy. Enjoy!
When Matthew was born, our friends decided that it would be cool to call him "The Matthew." Since it sounded pretty cool, it naturally stuck with us and he has been "The Matthew" ever since. Somewhere along the line, though, Holly started calling him "Moo Moo." Was she simply craving milk at this particular time? One too many of the "Got Milk" ads caught her attention? No one's really sure. Regardless, after a while he gradually became "The Moo." Hence the title of this post...
Anyway, I'm pleased to announce that we made it through two wonderful years with The Moo as of last Sunday. Incredible as it may seem, Holly and I have managed to maintain our sanity in the face of TWO toddlers (see previous posts to learn more about how that sanity has been tested!), and we couldn't be happier!
The boys are both just wonderful, and they play together incredibly well now that The Moo is up and running at full speed. Sunday was kind of a wash for us, birthday-wise, with church and tennis taking up a huge amount of the day. Still, we managed to squeeze in some time for Matthew to get his birthday presents: a toy golf set from Chris, and a new bike from Holly and me!
Matthew's bike is so tiny, it almost looks like one of those toy bikes that they have bears ride on at the circus! He's completely cute on it, though, and tries his best to pedal along behind Chris wherever he goes. The problem is that his feet don't quite reach the pedals. Not to be deterred, though, he manages by kicking along on the ground, Flintstones-style. Mom and Dad bought him a helmet, too, so his little noggin will be nice and safe at all times. :-)
Here's a quick video of the birthday boy on his new toy. Enjoy!
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Tagged
So my friend Andrea "tagged" me today via blogger call-out. I'm still relatively new to the blogoshpere, so I'm not completely familiar with the phehomenon, but apparently it goes like this...
- Blogger has idea
- Blogger blogs about idea
- Blogger then "tags" other bloggers to respond on their own blogs by publicly calling them out
- "Tagged" blogger replies on his/her own blog, and the cycle either continues or dies out
It's kind of the Internet equivalent of Yo Mama jokes. Someone says something to the effect of "Your mama is so stupid she stared at a can of orange juice for an hour because it said 'concentrate!'" In response, you're required to fire back a similarly witty one-liner, and things carry on until all verbal assaults have been launched.
Why the lengthy discourse on "tagging?" Why the heck not? Anyway...Andrea called me out after blogging about her 6-Word Philosohpy on Life. The idea here is to summarize your philosohpy on life in...you guessed it!...six words. Mine? "Live Well. Laugh Often. Love Much." Totally stolen, I'll grant you, but perfect nonetheless.
Since I don't much feel up to a continued game of tag, I think I'll leave this one for now. Feel free to comment if you've got a good 6-word philosophy, though. You never know who just might tag you next...
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
LB...Little Buddy, or Little B@stard?!?
We've called Chris "Little Buddy" pretty much since Day 1. When Matthew joined the fracas, we naturally came to call him "Littlest Buddy" and "Baby Buddy." In the end, though, we typically call Chris "LB" for short, and Matthew has - somehow - become "The Moo." Not sure where the latter nickname came from, but we'll delve into it in another post at a later time. For now, I'm focusing on LB because it fits a clevery-worded title intended to imply that my kids are, in fact, Little B@stards!
Why, you ask, would a seemingly-loving father of two call out his boys like this? It's pretty simple, really...they're destructive forces of nature who, when put together unsupervised (as they often are on weekend mornings when they've arisen at 6 a.m.) create a "perfect storm" of toddlerhood. Illustrate my point, you say? No problem!
Case #1 -
Saturday, February 23
Approximately 8:30 a.m.
After taking the boys downstairs and feeding them their traditional breakfast of microwaveable pancakes (Yes, I'm lazy...but they're delicious!), I left them in the care of the all-powerful babysitter, Sponge Bob. As an aside here, I LOVE Sponge Bob. It's ridiculous, zany, and hilarious for kids AND adults. Back to the matter at hand, though... I fed the boys, turned on Sponge Bob for them, and headed back upstairs for a few extra minutes of sleep. About 20 minutes later, I realized that things had gotten eerily quiet downstairs. If you're a parent, you know this is NEVER a good thing. Two quiet kids equals two kids who are clearly up to no good and don't want Mom and Dad to know about it.
So...pulse appropriately raised and resolve firmly steeled, I headed back downstairs to see what they were up to. From the upstairs landing, I could already see what I was in for. A trail of papers and destruction led from the living room into the hallway towards the toyroom. And was that my WALLET on the floor next to the couch? Sprinting down the steps two at a time, I arrived next to the couch to find that, indeed, my wallet had been emptied and left for dead. Not good... A quick trip into the toyroom confirmed my fears: the boys had completely emptied not only my wallet, but Holly's purse as well! Papers, receipts, various bric-a-brac, credit cards, etc., all thrown to the four winds. Nice. Needless to say, the boys spent some time in their rooms as a result.
Fast forward to:
Case #2 -
Saturday, March 1
Approximately 8:30 a.m.
On the Saturday in question, Holly was kind enough to let me sleep in since I had worked pretty late the prvious night. Based on what she found when she went downstairs to check on the boys that morning, I'm pretty sure she'll never do that again!
Holly headed downstairs at about 8:30, then promptly returned to our bedroom and said, "Can you come down here, please? I need your help with something." CRAP! Not only was I more or less exhausted, but I knew nothing good could come out of the situation based on her tone of voice. How right I was...
When I left the bedroom, I noticed that the boys' bedroom doors were closed, and I could hear the muffled sound of vaguely-irritated children from behind them. That should've been a clue. So we head downstairs, Holly committed to a tight-lipped persona until we got to the toy room. I turned the corner and almost fell down in shock!
Bottles of ear drops, Children's Tylenol, eye drops, even a spray can of sunscreen (!) littered the toyroom floor. Now, before you accuse us of not sufficiently baby-proofing our medicines to keep them out of the hands of little ones, know this...the aforementioned goodies typically reside in a kitchen cabinet that is about 8 feet off the ground!! Apparently Chris had climbed up on the kitchen counters, opened the cabinet, and reached his way up there to grab these things.
SO...here we have a room full of once-full bottles, and a lot of strangely-shaped and colored spots all over the carpet in the toyroom. And did I smell Pina Coladas?!? Not necessarily. Apparently the boys had chosen to spray suntan lotion all over their toy kitchen! A lovely smell, I'll grant you, but not necessarily one that you anticipate when walking into a children's play room. :-)
I asked Holly if she knew what had happened, and she just started cracking up. Apparently, when she came into the room to check on the kids BOTH of them were stark naked, and Chris was dancing a little jig on top of Holly's stepper (which had been pulled from the hall closet)! I guess kids just aren't content to throw a bunch of liquids around their toyroom anymore. Nope...they've just gotta' be naked!
Later on in the day (after they'd spent some serious time in their rooms for almost killing themselves) I asked Chris why he'd done all that. His response? "Matthew wanted me to do it!" I'll let you ruminate on that one for a while. Remember, this is a kid who's not yet two "telling" his brother he wants to do something. I smell just a little bit of BS in the air...how 'bout you?
Case #3 (the final one...I hope!) -
Saturday, March 8
Approximately 8:30 a.m.
Are you noting a trend here? 8:30 is apparently "The Witching Hour" for my little monkeys, and they're not at all ashamed to take on new and greater chances for destruction. At this point, the stories had already reached to my Grandma in Iowa, who called on Friday the 7th to ask what we thought the boys would be doing on the 8th to destroy the house! Low and behold! The answer came at (you guessed it!) about 8:30 the next morning.
Once again, the boys had dined on a fabulous feast of microwaveable goodness, though this time they enjoyed waffles as opposed to pancakes. The other subtle difference on this particular day is that I went upstairs to do (gasp!) laundry instead of going back to bed. I hadn't been gone more than 5 minutes, and yet when I ventured back downstairs to the toyroom I was greeted with THIS:
That's right...every BIT of wrapping paper that could possibly be fit into the closet was now strewn hither and yon across the toy room. The "LBs" had struck again, and this time in a VERY short time frame. They were organized, and they were getting better...it was time to nip this in the bud. In a frenzy, I resorted to the basest human instinct: threats against all toys, books, friends, and fun.
Why, you ask, would a seemingly-loving father of two call out his boys like this? It's pretty simple, really...they're destructive forces of nature who, when put together unsupervised (as they often are on weekend mornings when they've arisen at 6 a.m.) create a "perfect storm" of toddlerhood. Illustrate my point, you say? No problem!
Case #1 -
Saturday, February 23
Approximately 8:30 a.m.
After taking the boys downstairs and feeding them their traditional breakfast of microwaveable pancakes (Yes, I'm lazy...but they're delicious!), I left them in the care of the all-powerful babysitter, Sponge Bob. As an aside here, I LOVE Sponge Bob. It's ridiculous, zany, and hilarious for kids AND adults. Back to the matter at hand, though... I fed the boys, turned on Sponge Bob for them, and headed back upstairs for a few extra minutes of sleep. About 20 minutes later, I realized that things had gotten eerily quiet downstairs. If you're a parent, you know this is NEVER a good thing. Two quiet kids equals two kids who are clearly up to no good and don't want Mom and Dad to know about it.
So...pulse appropriately raised and resolve firmly steeled, I headed back downstairs to see what they were up to. From the upstairs landing, I could already see what I was in for. A trail of papers and destruction led from the living room into the hallway towards the toyroom. And was that my WALLET on the floor next to the couch? Sprinting down the steps two at a time, I arrived next to the couch to find that, indeed, my wallet had been emptied and left for dead. Not good... A quick trip into the toyroom confirmed my fears: the boys had completely emptied not only my wallet, but Holly's purse as well! Papers, receipts, various bric-a-brac, credit cards, etc., all thrown to the four winds. Nice. Needless to say, the boys spent some time in their rooms as a result.
Fast forward to:
Case #2 -
Saturday, March 1
Approximately 8:30 a.m.
On the Saturday in question, Holly was kind enough to let me sleep in since I had worked pretty late the prvious night. Based on what she found when she went downstairs to check on the boys that morning, I'm pretty sure she'll never do that again!
Holly headed downstairs at about 8:30, then promptly returned to our bedroom and said, "Can you come down here, please? I need your help with something." CRAP! Not only was I more or less exhausted, but I knew nothing good could come out of the situation based on her tone of voice. How right I was...
When I left the bedroom, I noticed that the boys' bedroom doors were closed, and I could hear the muffled sound of vaguely-irritated children from behind them. That should've been a clue. So we head downstairs, Holly committed to a tight-lipped persona until we got to the toy room. I turned the corner and almost fell down in shock!
Bottles of ear drops, Children's Tylenol, eye drops, even a spray can of sunscreen (!) littered the toyroom floor. Now, before you accuse us of not sufficiently baby-proofing our medicines to keep them out of the hands of little ones, know this...the aforementioned goodies typically reside in a kitchen cabinet that is about 8 feet off the ground!! Apparently Chris had climbed up on the kitchen counters, opened the cabinet, and reached his way up there to grab these things.
SO...here we have a room full of once-full bottles, and a lot of strangely-shaped and colored spots all over the carpet in the toyroom. And did I smell Pina Coladas?!? Not necessarily. Apparently the boys had chosen to spray suntan lotion all over their toy kitchen! A lovely smell, I'll grant you, but not necessarily one that you anticipate when walking into a children's play room. :-)
I asked Holly if she knew what had happened, and she just started cracking up. Apparently, when she came into the room to check on the kids BOTH of them were stark naked, and Chris was dancing a little jig on top of Holly's stepper (which had been pulled from the hall closet)! I guess kids just aren't content to throw a bunch of liquids around their toyroom anymore. Nope...they've just gotta' be naked!
Later on in the day (after they'd spent some serious time in their rooms for almost killing themselves) I asked Chris why he'd done all that. His response? "Matthew wanted me to do it!" I'll let you ruminate on that one for a while. Remember, this is a kid who's not yet two "telling" his brother he wants to do something. I smell just a little bit of BS in the air...how 'bout you?
Case #3 (the final one...I hope!) -
Saturday, March 8
Approximately 8:30 a.m.
Are you noting a trend here? 8:30 is apparently "The Witching Hour" for my little monkeys, and they're not at all ashamed to take on new and greater chances for destruction. At this point, the stories had already reached to my Grandma in Iowa, who called on Friday the 7th to ask what we thought the boys would be doing on the 8th to destroy the house! Low and behold! The answer came at (you guessed it!) about 8:30 the next morning.
Once again, the boys had dined on a fabulous feast of microwaveable goodness, though this time they enjoyed waffles as opposed to pancakes. The other subtle difference on this particular day is that I went upstairs to do (gasp!) laundry instead of going back to bed. I hadn't been gone more than 5 minutes, and yet when I ventured back downstairs to the toyroom I was greeted with THIS:
That's right...every BIT of wrapping paper that could possibly be fit into the closet was now strewn hither and yon across the toy room. The "LBs" had struck again, and this time in a VERY short time frame. They were organized, and they were getting better...it was time to nip this in the bud. In a frenzy, I resorted to the basest human instinct: threats against all toys, books, friends, and fun. I told Chris that if anything like this EVER happened again, I would take away all of his toys, books, etc., and that he wouldn't be able to go to Annabeth's birthday party the following day. THAT certainly got his attention! He apologized immediately, and helped me clean up the mess. Why, you ask, had I not attempted this before? Believe it or not, we HAD! In the end, it was the Annabeth threat that worked the best. I guess guys are never too young to stop acting stupid when it means they can impress a girl! :-)
As a side note on this particular episode, Chris later told me that he had trashed the toyroom because he was "mad at Aunt Katie." Aunt Katie, you may recall, is actually Annabeth's mom's sister. How she has become Chris's aunt is a bit beyond us, but she's nevertheless become quite the active family member at our house. I never did figure out why he was mad at her, but Lord knows that threats of not getting to hang out with her niece certainly work!
So, are our "LBs" Little Buddies...or Little B@stards? Only time will tell!
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Our Little Biker Gang!
This is my first official test of Blogger's new video upload system. I shot this video last night after work, and had a great time watching my little "Biker Buddies" pedaling around the driveway. Holly had tennis practice, and the boys were excited to get their bikes back after being grounded from them for two days (that's another story for another blog...), so it was a perfect time to go out and let them blow off some steam.
Enjoy!
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Totally Tubular!
Today marks the fourth (and hopefully final!) Time that one of the boys has had tubes put in his ears...wow!
Matthew received his second set this morning (Chris got his second set shortly after Matthew was born), and has been pretty harious ever since he woke up. Apparently the anesthesia they gave him had a mild narcotic in it, so he's more or less drunk at this point. If you've never seen a drunk baby, I would strongly recommend checking into adenoidectomies for your little ones...it's hysterical!
We met up with my mom for lunch after surgery, an Matthew more or less bobbed
an weaved the whole time we were there. His head would roll around a little, then he'd just kind of look at us and smirk. For a little while he even tried to stand up. That was probably the best part due to the inherent staggering. Seriously, he was all over the place!
So Matthew's drunk, and Chris is pretty much living in the lap of luxury. He got to spend the night at Grandma and Papa's house last night since we had to be up so flippin' early, and had a great time. He and my sister baked cupcakes last night, and he made some (I'n told) beautiful artwork this morning for his favorite teacher, Miss Emily. All of this is cool enough, but later today he's getting picked up by Grandma and they're going to the Alvin and the Chipmunks movie. Cupcakes and popcorn in a 24-hour period? How could life get any better?
Matthew received his second set this morning (Chris got his second set shortly after Matthew was born), and has been pretty harious ever since he woke up. Apparently the anesthesia they gave him had a mild narcotic in it, so he's more or less drunk at this point. If you've never seen a drunk baby, I would strongly recommend checking into adenoidectomies for your little ones...it's hysterical!
We met up with my mom for lunch after surgery, an Matthew more or less bobbed
an weaved the whole time we were there. His head would roll around a little, then he'd just kind of look at us and smirk. For a little while he even tried to stand up. That was probably the best part due to the inherent staggering. Seriously, he was all over the place!So Matthew's drunk, and Chris is pretty much living in the lap of luxury. He got to spend the night at Grandma and Papa's house last night since we had to be up so flippin' early, and had a great time. He and my sister baked cupcakes last night, and he made some (I'n told) beautiful artwork this morning for his favorite teacher, Miss Emily. All of this is cool enough, but later today he's getting picked up by Grandma and they're going to the Alvin and the Chipmunks movie. Cupcakes and popcorn in a 24-hour period? How could life get any better?
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Best...Turkey...Ever!
GAINESVILLE, GA, December 25, 2007 - The Johnston Household
Apparently 2007 was the year of holiday dinners at our house. Not only did we host Holly's family for Thanksgiving, but we also decided to invite the Johnston clan for Christmas dinner. For me this meant one thing, and one thing only...I got to COOK! And for me, cooking means TURKEY TIME! A couple of years ago I found an Alton Brown recipe for bay-brined turkey that was (at the time) the best recipe I had ever tasted. Essentially, you soak the turkey in a solution of salt, sugar, water, bay leaves, cloves and lemons for a day, then stuff all of the remaining goodies up the turkey's butt while roasting. The result is a phenomenally moist bird with a hint of several flavors. Ridiculously tasty, it's been a staple of my past couple of birds.
This year, though, it was time to branch out, and I decided to try a Tyler Florence recipe that I got in an e-mail from the Food Network folks. To reiterate the title of this post...BEST...TURKEY...EVER! The key elements to this particular recipe are compound butter, bacon and maple syrup. SERIOUSLY? Damn straight! The compound butter (made with fresh sage) gets inserted just under the skin of the breast, and manages to melt during cooking to season the entire bird. After the butter goes on/in, you get to lay slabs of thick, delicious bacon over the entire turkey. Apparently this helps seal in the juices or something. Once that's taken care of, the turkey goes in the oven and gets basted every half-hour with maple syrup.
Our turkey was about 15 pounds and took just over three hours to cook. Not only was it gorgeous, the bacon was the most insanely delicious thing I've ever had! While we were letting the turkey rest for the requisite 20 minutes, everyone just stood around pulling bacon off of the bird. I honestly think that it would be worth buying a bigger bird just to get more of the bacon. And while the turkey beneath it all was outstanding, I would almost have forgone the bird entirely and eaten just the bacon.
Thanks to Tyler Florence for making me look like a gourmet for a day. Also, a great big thanks to the folks at Kraft for their incredible magazine-o'-recipes, from which we made two separate types of potatoes and several appetizers. I'm not entirely sure, but I think we also pulled a dessert or two out of there.
Oh...and Christmas was great, too. Peace on Earth, Goodwill to Men, and all of that.
Mmmmmm....bacon!
Apparently 2007 was the year of holiday dinners at our house. Not only did we host Holly's family for Thanksgiving, but we also decided to invite the Johnston clan for Christmas dinner. For me this meant one thing, and one thing only...I got to COOK! And for me, cooking means TURKEY TIME! A couple of years ago I found an Alton Brown recipe for bay-brined turkey that was (at the time) the best recipe I had ever tasted. Essentially, you soak the turkey in a solution of salt, sugar, water, bay leaves, cloves and lemons for a day, then stuff all of the remaining goodies up the turkey's butt while roasting. The result is a phenomenally moist bird with a hint of several flavors. Ridiculously tasty, it's been a staple of my past couple of birds.
This year, though, it was time to branch out, and I decided to try a Tyler Florence recipe that I got in an e-mail from the Food Network folks. To reiterate the title of this post...BEST...TURKEY...EVER! The key elements to this particular recipe are compound butter, bacon and maple syrup. SERIOUSLY? Damn straight! The compound butter (made with fresh sage) gets inserted just under the skin of the breast, and manages to melt during cooking to season the entire bird. After the butter goes on/in, you get to lay slabs of thick, delicious bacon over the entire turkey. Apparently this helps seal in the juices or something. Once that's taken care of, the turkey goes in the oven and gets basted every half-hour with maple syrup.
Our turkey was about 15 pounds and took just over three hours to cook. Not only was it gorgeous, the bacon was the most insanely delicious thing I've ever had! While we were letting the turkey rest for the requisite 20 minutes, everyone just stood around pulling bacon off of the bird. I honestly think that it would be worth buying a bigger bird just to get more of the bacon. And while the turkey beneath it all was outstanding, I would almost have forgone the bird entirely and eaten just the bacon.
Thanks to Tyler Florence for making me look like a gourmet for a day. Also, a great big thanks to the folks at Kraft for their incredible magazine-o'-recipes, from which we made two separate types of potatoes and several appetizers. I'm not entirely sure, but I think we also pulled a dessert or two out of there.
Oh...and Christmas was great, too. Peace on Earth, Goodwill to Men, and all of that.
Mmmmmm....bacon!
Friday, January 25, 2008
A Calm Holiday...THANK YOU!!
OK, so admittedly this post is WAY late, but here it is all the same...
Holly's entire family joined us this Thanksgiving for a big celebration at our house. In case you're not intimately familiar with the Sloan Family Circus, it includes her mom and dad, two sisters, one brother-in-law and a brother-in-law-wannabe, two nephews and a niece for a total of ELEVEN people crammed into our house for the holidays. Where this may once have been a recipe for complete disaster as Holly and her sisters seem to enjoy needling one another to the point of eruption, this year it was a surprisingly serene setting. Everyone got along well and played nicely together, and nothing got destroyed by munchkins. All in all...a great week!
A few key highlights:
1. Hit Babyland General for a tour of where Cabbage Patch Kids "come from;"
2. Visited Helen, GA, so the kids could see where they'll all be able to get rip-roarin' drunk during Octoberfest in a couple of decades,
3. Watched a TON of football and slept whenever possible.
Holly's entire family joined us this Thanksgiving for a big celebration at our house. In case you're not intimately familiar with the Sloan Family Circus, it includes her mom and dad, two sisters, one brother-in-law and a brother-in-law-wannabe, two nephews and a niece for a total of ELEVEN people crammed into our house for the holidays. Where this may once have been a recipe for complete disaster as Holly and her sisters seem to enjoy needling one another to the point of eruption, this year it was a surprisingly serene setting. Everyone got along well and played nicely together, and nothing got destroyed by munchkins. All in all...a great week!
A few key highlights:
1. Hit Babyland General for a tour of where Cabbage Patch Kids "come from;"
2. Visited Helen, GA, so the kids could see where they'll all be able to get rip-roarin' drunk during Octoberfest in a couple of decades,
3. Watched a TON of football and slept whenever possible.
Pulling out of the driveway on our way to the Cabbage Patch Kid/Helen adventure, we were treated to a great Chris story. Apparently the parents-in-law were awakened by a very excited Chris that morning, who proeceeded to jump up and down on them until they were fully awake (see Wakeup Call from Hell for a brief description of similar awakenings in our house). After the story had been related to us, I turned to Chris and said, "You really shouldn't jump on MiMi (his name for Holly's mom) and Papa...they're fragile." True to the form of all soon-to-be-four-year-olds, he replied, "They're not fragile. They're OLD!!"
Old or not, they were welcome guests and we had a wonderful time!
Wake-Up Call From Hell!
I'll be the first to admit that I oversleep on a fairly regular basis. This is becoming less and less common, though, now that Matthew has learned how to open his bedroom door. Add to Matthew's escapes the fact that Chris tends to wake up early only on days when all we want to do is sleep in, and you've got quite a recipe for disaster.
That all being said...I was in the process of a lovely oversleep (just made up a new word!) this morning when I heard the telltale thundering of little feet in the hall. As an aside, whoever coined the phrase "the pitter-patter of little feet" was apparently high on something or had EXCELLENT carpet padding! Anway...down the hall comes the aforementioned thunder. Our door is thrown wide open to reveal that Chris and Matthew have, in fact, turned on every conceiveable light in the upstairs portion of our house and that they are very much awake. Bounding through our door and vaulting on to the bed, they were screaming loud enough to wake the dead (and I should know...I was close to dead-asleep!). In a fit of sleep-induced irritability, I managed to angrily shoo them away. Of course, it wouldn't be a true Johnston Boys departure if something didn't get overthrown, broken, or slammed into.
In this case, the "slammed-into" item just happened to be the ol' twig and berries. YOWZA! In case you're curious, a four-year-old's knee bears a striking resemblance to a sledgehammer when it's hitting you square in the nuts at 6:45 in the morning. Thusly roused from my pleasant night's sleep, I've pretty much managed to make it through the day with a dull ache in my stomach to show for the experience.
Guess tonight I'll have to sleep with a cup!
That all being said...I was in the process of a lovely oversleep (just made up a new word!) this morning when I heard the telltale thundering of little feet in the hall. As an aside, whoever coined the phrase "the pitter-patter of little feet" was apparently high on something or had EXCELLENT carpet padding! Anway...down the hall comes the aforementioned thunder. Our door is thrown wide open to reveal that Chris and Matthew have, in fact, turned on every conceiveable light in the upstairs portion of our house and that they are very much awake. Bounding through our door and vaulting on to the bed, they were screaming loud enough to wake the dead (and I should know...I was close to dead-asleep!). In a fit of sleep-induced irritability, I managed to angrily shoo them away. Of course, it wouldn't be a true Johnston Boys departure if something didn't get overthrown, broken, or slammed into.
In this case, the "slammed-into" item just happened to be the ol' twig and berries. YOWZA! In case you're curious, a four-year-old's knee bears a striking resemblance to a sledgehammer when it's hitting you square in the nuts at 6:45 in the morning. Thusly roused from my pleasant night's sleep, I've pretty much managed to make it through the day with a dull ache in my stomach to show for the experience.
Guess tonight I'll have to sleep with a cup!
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
A (Somewhat Minor) Tragedy
So about two months ago, Holly came home from Wal-Mart with two betta fish for the boys. In case you're not familiar with these guys, they're the infamous "fighting fish" who flare their gills when they see another fish (or themselves in a mirror...). Anyway, Holly thought that it might be fun for the boys to have another couple of "pets" in the house, and that it would be a good way for Chris to learn some responsibility by feeding them, etc.
Now, these fish don't require a lot in the ways of a home, so they had a cool little tank that was split downt the middle by a removable barrier (so they didn't attack each other, but you could remove it and watch the hilarity that ensued). The tank sat on the kitchen counter. That's point number one.
Point number two is that we have cats. From day one, we always did a great job of keeping the cats away from the fish, and made every effort to ensure their little guppy safety. In spite of our efforts, the cats frequently knocked the top off of the fish tank to drink the water. Gross, I know, especially given that they have fresh, clean water downstairs. But these are also the same animals that lick their own butts to keep clean, so what're ya' gonna' do? I digress... The point is that we had come to believe that the fish were in no real danger as the cats were apparently only interested in their home as a source of (somewhat nasty) drinking water. Guess they were too lazy to go downstairs for a drink, but I digress again...
Fast forward to this morning. I was on my way downstairs to get the boys' sippy-cups ready for the car, when I saw it... Toppled over and spewing rocks and water everywhere was the aforementioned "split level" fish house. And where, pray tell, were said fish (whose names are Bob and Fred, by the way)?? Kitty breakfast burritos, I'm afraid! It seems the cats were lulling us into a sense of false pescadoral security by only drinking the water up to this point, and were simply biding their time until they could get away scott-free.
The boys don't know about the incident yet, as I was able to clean up the mess and put the fish tank under the sink. I'm still not sure how we're going to handle this one, but it should be entertaining!
RIP Bob and Fred...
Now, these fish don't require a lot in the ways of a home, so they had a cool little tank that was split downt the middle by a removable barrier (so they didn't attack each other, but you could remove it and watch the hilarity that ensued). The tank sat on the kitchen counter. That's point number one.
Point number two is that we have cats. From day one, we always did a great job of keeping the cats away from the fish, and made every effort to ensure their little guppy safety. In spite of our efforts, the cats frequently knocked the top off of the fish tank to drink the water. Gross, I know, especially given that they have fresh, clean water downstairs. But these are also the same animals that lick their own butts to keep clean, so what're ya' gonna' do? I digress... The point is that we had come to believe that the fish were in no real danger as the cats were apparently only interested in their home as a source of (somewhat nasty) drinking water. Guess they were too lazy to go downstairs for a drink, but I digress again...
Fast forward to this morning. I was on my way downstairs to get the boys' sippy-cups ready for the car, when I saw it... Toppled over and spewing rocks and water everywhere was the aforementioned "split level" fish house. And where, pray tell, were said fish (whose names are Bob and Fred, by the way)?? Kitty breakfast burritos, I'm afraid! It seems the cats were lulling us into a sense of false pescadoral security by only drinking the water up to this point, and were simply biding their time until they could get away scott-free.
The boys don't know about the incident yet, as I was able to clean up the mess and put the fish tank under the sink. I'm still not sure how we're going to handle this one, but it should be entertaining!
RIP Bob and Fred...
Dawgs and Cats Living Together...MASS HYSTERIA!
Ghostbusters quotes aside, we had a really great time this weekend with Andrea and Will (parents of the oft-mentioned Annabeth and Kyra...the boys' "girlfriends"). A couple of quick notes before getting into this, though:
First, Will and Andrea are HUGE Clemson Tigers fans.
Second, Clemson and Georgia have, in the past, had somewhat of a bitter rivalry. Apparently (and this is a bit before my time) the teams used to play on an annual basis throughout the 80s, and the rivarly was somewhere on par with Georgia/Florida, etc. Not a lot of love lost here.
Finally, Holly and I are bitterly opposed to pretty much any school that uses orange as one of their key colors. Clemson, of course, uses orange and PURPLE (what the hell?!?) as their colors of choice.
SO...it was with great difficulty that we allowed the purveyors of purple and orange into our home this Saturday (with the girls, no less!) to watch the Georgia/Alabama game. The game notwithstanding (it was AWESOME! GO DAWGS!), we had an amazing time with them. Burgers were grilled, beer was served, cookies were eaten, and (thankfully!) no munchkins removed their clothes this time around. (Background on the nake reference can be found here)
Annabeth showed up in a dress, which is quite the big step for her. Andrea usually won't let her wear them because she invariable ends up ruining them somehow. This time around, though, everything ended up fine, and she was completely adorable. Kyra was equally cute, and she and Matthew spent most of the evening chasing down Chris and Annabeth. I've honestly never seen four kids play so HARD! Matthew and Kyra finally crashed at about 10:00, but Chris and Annabeth were still going pretty strong when Georgia finally threw the game-winning touchdown pass at about 11:30. Incredible!
A highlight of the evening was a brief conversation with Andrea's sister, Katie. For about the past month or two, Chris has been making up stories about the various games and trips that he has taken with "his" Aunt Katie. These have included going to South Carolina to attend cheerleading college and going to various weddings and other special events that somehow involved her. Apparently he has heard Annabeth talking about Katie, and just wants to be part of that relationship, too. CUTE! SO...Andrea is on the phone with Katie and says to Chris, "Do you want to talk to Katie?" Chris, of course, was all in! He grab's the phone and says, "Hi, Annabetha's Aunt Katie!" It was hilarious! Incidentally, anything that belongs to Annabeth is termed "Annabetha's." Not sure where the extra "a" comes from in all of that, but it's a lot of fun all the same.
ANYWAY...once the game was over and everyone was thoroughly exhausted, we finally called it a night at about midnight. We had a lot of fun, and we're even happier that Georgia pulled out the win. Now Will and Andrea aren't cursed, and will be allowed to visit our house during future games!
GO DAWGS!!
Beach Buddies
Earlier this month we visited Holly's folks down in Orlando for a little R&R. While we were there, we mostly hung out at their pool and lounged. On the Sunday before Labor Day, though, we took off for Cocoa Beach and my in-laws' beach club...what a great time!
Chris and Matthew had an amazing time playing in the sand and "swimming" with us out in the ocean. The water couldn't have been any nicer...perfectly warm and just clear enough to know whether we were about to be eaten by anything.
Eventually we got tired of roasting on the beach and getting sand in our unmentionable areas, so we headed up to the club to hang out at THAT pool. It was absolutely gorgeous! Complete with a waterfall and fountain-style play area for the kids, it was a great spot for a little extra relaxation. Unfortunately, the day had to come to a close when thunderstorms moved into the area. All in all, though, a great time was had by all.
Of course, pretty much any trip to Cocoa that doesn't involve either a hospital trip or visit with the Florida Highway Patrol is a nice one! BACKGROUND NOTE - Our first trip to Cocoa with the family resulted in our slamming into an uninsured (and apparently wanted) driver on the way home. The driver and passenger went running as soon as we called the cops, and had to be pulled out from under a nearby resident's front porch by the authorities (who used a HELICOPTER to track them down...awesome!!). Our second trip included taking my nephew to the emergency room for a pretty serious illness. Fun! It's also worth noting that I went to Cocoa on spring break several years ago. That trip included a three-hour wait for AAA to come and remove my broken car key from the ignition of my car. One of my roommates broke it off in his enthusiasm to leave the car for a beer run...cool!
SO...we have FINALLY had an issue-free Cocoa Beach run. Totally worth it, and VERY relaxing. Here are a few pictures. Enjoy!
And finally...the aftermath! :-)
Friday, August 24, 2007
Chris's Beautiful Princess
Last night we went to a surprise birthday party that my boss's boyfriend threw for her. Since it was all the way down in Midtown and we didn't leave until close to midnight, my boss decided that we should have a late start to work this morning. As such, Holly had to take the munchkins to school this morning.
None of that really has too much to do with anything...I'm just setting the stage a little bit. SO...Holly shows up to school with the boys, and Chris immediately runs to Miss Emily, his favorite teacher. Emily goes through the standard meet and greet, hugs Chris and says to Holly, "Listen to what Chris told me yesterday! He told me that I was his 'beautiful princess.' He said that you and Brian were going to take me shopping for a beautiful new dress, a pretty crown and a wand, and that we were going to get married tomorrow!" Holly said she's never seen Miss Emily so happy. :-)
None of that really has too much to do with anything...I'm just setting the stage a little bit. SO...Holly shows up to school with the boys, and Chris immediately runs to Miss Emily, his favorite teacher. Emily goes through the standard meet and greet, hugs Chris and says to Holly, "Listen to what Chris told me yesterday! He told me that I was his 'beautiful princess.' He said that you and Brian were going to take me shopping for a beautiful new dress, a pretty crown and a wand, and that we were going to get married tomorrow!" Holly said she's never seen Miss Emily so happy. :-)
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Donut Face!
A great opportunity to let a picture speak for itself!
This was taken on August 11th, Holly's and my "Birthaversary." I stopped on the way home Friday night and picked up some chocolate donuts for breakfast in bed (who says romance is dead?!?), and Matthew ended up with more than his fair share.
You Snooze...
If there was ever a question in anyone's mind as to whether Chris is indeed Holly's or my child, let those doubts now be satisfied. We let Chris sleep in our bed the other night, and set him up with a book to "read" before he went to sleep. This is a pretty common occurrence, and usually he'll finish with the book and toss it to the floor before conking out. This time, though, he just couldn't seem to make it all the way through the book before sleep got the better of him. Since a picture is worth a thousand words, I'll let the photo below speak for itself...
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Green Poop and Butt Paste
Chalk another one up in the "Things You'll Never Think About Until You're a Parent" category...
Matthew had a pretty significantly uncomfortable diaper rash the other day, so we called the doctor to see what she recommended.
First of all, let me clarify to you non-parents what a diaper rash is like... Picture walking around in flannel pants on for several hours on a hot summer day, and the resultant chafing that exists just inside the thighs. OUCH! So...now imagine that every three hours someone with a wipe soaked in alcohol is going to attack your nether regions with gusto in an effort to scrub away all poop-related remnants, and you can imagine the discomfort level here.
Incidentally, here is where the green poop comes in. FUN! Yesterday afternoon when I picked up the boys from school, Matthew's teacher had filled two sippy cups with what can only be described as a Shrek-green beverage...apparently some sort of juice product. The boys naturally chugged it down without a second thought. Flash forward to this morning and Matthew's first diaper change of the day: BRIGHT GREEN POOP abounded! Not just the Shrek-green goop from the sippy cup, either. I'm talking DAY GLOW GREEN here! NASTY! But back to the Butt Paste...
Sso we call the doctor and what does she recommend? BOUDREAUX'S BUTT PASTE!! You read right...BUTT PASTE! Not necessarily the glue the kid in the helmet ate back in kindergarten, but a rather unpleasant brown goop that you're supposed to smear across your baby's butt during diaper changes. FUN! I still haven't figured out exactly what this stuff is - or where it came from - but I can absolutely tell you that the stuff WORKS! Two days later, and the kid's butt is back to the way it should be. Amazing! Thank you, Boudreaux's Butt Paste!
Shameless plug here: http://www.buttpaste.com/
Another Simple Sister
So a few posts ago I mocked my youngest sister for asking me how they made sweet potatoes orange. Admittedly, that's one of the more retarded things that someone can ask...HOWEVER!...below is a direct transcript of a text message that the oldest of my two sisters sent me while seeing The Simpsons Movie:
"Are the Simpsons dogs? Like what animal are they?"
WHAT THE HELL?!?!? Apparently her on-again-off-again boyfriend (and his friends) had convinced her that the Simpsons were once animals of some kind that were turned into yellow people by the continual ingestion of toxic waste from Springfield's nuclear (It's prounounced "nuke-yuh-ler!") power plant. OUCH! This is somewhat akin to the time my roommates and I convinced a girl in college that Buffalo Wings came from cows. Of course, we also convinced the same girl that our computer was touchscreen and we had to use the mouse and keyboard because the monitor was broken... Hmmmmm...
"Are the Simpsons dogs? Like what animal are they?"
WHAT THE HELL?!?!? Apparently her on-again-off-again boyfriend (and his friends) had convinced her that the Simpsons were once animals of some kind that were turned into yellow people by the continual ingestion of toxic waste from Springfield's nuclear (It's prounounced "nuke-yuh-ler!") power plant. OUCH! This is somewhat akin to the time my roommates and I convinced a girl in college that Buffalo Wings came from cows. Of course, we also convinced the same girl that our computer was touchscreen and we had to use the mouse and keyboard because the monitor was broken... Hmmmmm...
Birthaversary VI
I had a hard time deciding where exactly to post this little ditty, but in the end I decided to post it here because of the company we kept during Birthaversary VI.
As a quick reminder, Holly and I were married on my 25th birthday, thus making our anniversary and my birthday a sort of joint celebration. In an effort to improve my marketing chops, we decided to call this joyous occasion a "Birthaversary." That being said...
We went out on Saturday night with Chris's girlfriend's parents. Yes...you heard correctly...Chris has a girlfriend. Her name is Annabeth, and she's been his go-to girl pretty much since birth. They're more or less inseparable at school, and she serves as his punishment to us if we irritate him. "Mommy, you hurt my feelings. Now you can't come to Annabetha's (his pronunciation) house with me!!" So...since they appear to be best friends and all, we decided to invite Annabeth's parents over for Chris's and Matthew's respective birthday parties. After talking with them for a while, we realized that not only were they extremely cool, but we have a TON in common with them. I won't belabor the point here, but the key element is that they got married on the same exact day that we did. Not only that, but they actually looked into having their reception at the Roswell Mill. Of course, they weren't able to get that particular party spot. Why? Because WE already had it! :-)
Anyway...fast-forward from April until now. We have now spent several afternoons and evenings hanging out with Will and Andrea (did I mention their names yet?), and have found them to be an absolute blast to be around. It was only natural, then, that we decided to celebrate our collective anniversary together. Again, I won't bore you with too terribly many details, but it boils down to this: Fogo de Chao for 4 equals TONS of tasty meat on sticks. Taco Mac for 4 equals two VERY drunk wives!
We gorged ourselves on Brazillian skewered meats at Fogo, then retired to The Mac for tasty beverages. While Will schooled me on the fine art of Golden Tee (I'm starting to see the attraction to that phenomenal waste of money), the girls held down the fort by tossing back SEVERAL delicious cocktails. A long drive home and one passed-out wife later, our 6th Birthaversary came to a close. All in all, it was a great night and we had a ball with Will and Andrea.
And, in an effort to further blackmail the ladies (and to a certain extent Will and I), here are some pictures. Enjoy!
Friday, July 27, 2007
What Else Floats in Water?
Grey gravy? Very small rocks? Churches? (If you're not keeping up with me here, you need to see Monty Python and the Holy Grail...if you're with me, congrats!)
As of yesterday you can officially add my monkeys to this bevy of buoyant items. The boys completed their first ever swimming lessons last night! Holly signed them up in June for swim lessons at Gainesville's Green Street Pool. At first I was hesitant, knowing that we'd have to get to the office by (GASP!) eight in the morning in order to get out in time to get the boys way out to the sticks to swim. After a couple of days, though, it got easier to wake up that early, and it rocked to get out of work so early in the day. Anyway...
The lessons lasted two weeks, and were hilarious to behold. Matthew and his "Water Babies" class kicked off at 5:30 every day. Since most of the kids in his class were under 2, they were required to have a parent in the water with them at all times. I hung out with Matthew during the first week, and Holly took over this week. What a cool time!! The instructor showed us how to get the kids used to the idea of being in the water, then had us help the munchkins kick and "scoop ice cream." We used a lot of cool floaties, including kick boards and FunNoodles. Matthew would invariably freak out for about 15 seconds when he first got in the pool, but usually calmed down after that and had a great time. By the end of the second week he was very much at home in the pool.
Chris's classes were equally cool. There were only two other kids in the class, and one of them was only there about half the time. That being the case, Chris and the kid who actually came to class pretty much received one-on-one instruction for the entire two weeks. It was great! Holly, Matthew and I had to watch from a hill overlooking the pool to avoid distracting the class, but it was a blast seeing Chris interact with his teachers. They learned everything from floating on their backs to the "Superman" swim (face down, doing the "ice cream scoop" crawl), and even got to jump off of the pool's diving board a few times. That part was, I think, the funniest. Watching these little tiny people inch their way out to the end of the diving board, then fling themselves with all their might into the waiting arms of their instructors was completely hilarious.
At the end of class last night, each student received a little card indicating their class level and that they'd passed that particular class. Naturally, we'll be framing each one and hanging them in places of honor...or maybe we'll just put them in the boys' baby books. Either way, it was a great couple of weeks, and I'm sad to see it end. Still, it'll be great to take the boys up to our pool for the rest of the summer and see what kind of trouble they can get themselves into. Enjoy the pictures!
Touchdown!
I couldn't be prouder! Matthew is officially doing the "touchdown" manuever (ie, throwing his hands up in the air) when prompted!
And although his speech is a little, shall we say, "1-year-oldie," he can even spit out the occasional "DIT-DOW!" which is clearly munchkin speak for "Touchdown." It's a great day for football parents everywhere! :-)
And although his speech is a little, shall we say, "1-year-oldie," he can even spit out the occasional "DIT-DOW!" which is clearly munchkin speak for "Touchdown." It's a great day for football parents everywhere! :-)
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
My Kid's An Honor Student!
If you've known me for more than two seconds, you probably know how much I abhor those "My Kid Is An Honor Student At Bill's School for Underwater Basket Weaving" bumper stickers. I'm all about honoring your child's achievements at home through positive reinforcement, hugs, praise, whatever...BUT slapping a sticker on your car announcing to the world that your child is somehow more special than any other because he managed to get straight A's just makes you look like a jackass.
That being said...I will now play the role of the ultimate hypocrite by bragging about how cool my kid is!
The boys' school has a had some issues recently with personnel, follow-through and general "smart-making," an issue we brought to the attention of the owners a few weeks ago. As you might expect, they apologized profusely and assured us that they were working on getting some better teachers as well as initiating several new programs to reward those "students" (they are still in pre-school, after all) whose behavior warranted it. Fast forward to Monday afternoon, if you will...
We arrived at school Monday afternoon to pick up the boys, and Chris's teacher came out to greet us. "I have a very special surprise for Chris," she announced. As it turns out, the school now offers award ribbons to kids who are particularly respectful and well-mannered on any given day. This is somewhat in line with the old-school smiley faces or star stickers that we used to get when I was a kid (I say "we," but I don't recall getting too terribly many of them...hmmm). Anyway, I'm digressing. The point is that Chris had been so polite and well-behaved on that particular day that he was the only one whose behavior earned him the coveted "Awesome!" ribbon. This in turn garnered him a nice, fresh packet of Starburst as a reward from us.
A small victory, I'll admit, but a great one all the same. Maybe next time I'll resist the urge to beat up the guy driving the car with the "My Kid Doesn't Smell Like Rotten Feet!" sticker after all!
That being said...I will now play the role of the ultimate hypocrite by bragging about how cool my kid is!
The boys' school has a had some issues recently with personnel, follow-through and general "smart-making," an issue we brought to the attention of the owners a few weeks ago. As you might expect, they apologized profusely and assured us that they were working on getting some better teachers as well as initiating several new programs to reward those "students" (they are still in pre-school, after all) whose behavior warranted it. Fast forward to Monday afternoon, if you will...
We arrived at school Monday afternoon to pick up the boys, and Chris's teacher came out to greet us. "I have a very special surprise for Chris," she announced. As it turns out, the school now offers award ribbons to kids who are particularly respectful and well-mannered on any given day. This is somewhat in line with the old-school smiley faces or star stickers that we used to get when I was a kid (I say "we," but I don't recall getting too terribly many of them...hmmm). Anyway, I'm digressing. The point is that Chris had been so polite and well-behaved on that particular day that he was the only one whose behavior earned him the coveted "Awesome!" ribbon. This in turn garnered him a nice, fresh packet of Starburst as a reward from us.
A small victory, I'll admit, but a great one all the same. Maybe next time I'll resist the urge to beat up the guy driving the car with the "My Kid Doesn't Smell Like Rotten Feet!" sticker after all!
Saturday, July 07, 2007
Pictures!
So it dawned on me just now that it's been a while since I've actually posted any pictures of the boys here. That being said, please enjoy the following pictures from the 4th of July!
Tubes!
Joining in the grand Johnston family tradition of having multiply messed-up ears, Matthew had tubes put in his ears yesterday. FUN! After several ear infections, Holly asked the doctor if we could just call the Ear Nose & Throat specialist to see if the tubes would be necessary, especially given that Chris is now on his SECOND set. We had an appointment a couple of weeks ago and, wouldn't you know it, the ENT said it was most assuredly tube time.
SO...we shipped Chris off to spend the night at Grandma and Papa's house on Thursday (other stories from that to be shared later), and dragged our sorry butts out of bed at 5:00 yesterday morning to drive down to the hospital. Since we'd been through the procedure twice with Chris already, we're sort of old pros with how things will go once we're down there. Still, it never ceases to amaze me how smoothly things run with this particular surgery.
We got to the hospital at 6:30 to fill out paperwork and get everything sqaured away with the insurance. At 7:55, the nurse came in to get Holly and Matthew (one of us could go with him into the anesthesiologist's office to help keep him calm during the "happy gas" time). Holly was back out of there at 8:00, and by 8:10 the doctor walked into the waiting room to tell us everything went perfectly! By 8:30, Matthew was out of recovery (with a new sippy-cup, too!), and we were out of there!
They told us that Matthew would most likely be a little irritable from the pain, but that keeping him doped up on Tylenol throughout the day would bring him back to normal. What a little champ he was about the whole thing! Not only was he NOT irritable at all on the way home, he was singing, laughing, clapping...the whole nine yards! I can only assume that he gets his pain tolerance from Holly as I'm a complete wuss!
When we got home, Matthew took a nap for a few hours while Holly and I did some work around the house. Matthew woke up at about the same time that Mom called to say she'd pick up Chris from school. Since we had a few things to run to their house anyway, we just drove over there to pick up Little Buddy. Once we got there, it took Matthew about two seconds to be in full-0ut little brother mode! The two of them were chasing each other around for the rest of the day, and pretty much all night.
That's all for now...more later!
SO...we shipped Chris off to spend the night at Grandma and Papa's house on Thursday (other stories from that to be shared later), and dragged our sorry butts out of bed at 5:00 yesterday morning to drive down to the hospital. Since we'd been through the procedure twice with Chris already, we're sort of old pros with how things will go once we're down there. Still, it never ceases to amaze me how smoothly things run with this particular surgery.
We got to the hospital at 6:30 to fill out paperwork and get everything sqaured away with the insurance. At 7:55, the nurse came in to get Holly and Matthew (one of us could go with him into the anesthesiologist's office to help keep him calm during the "happy gas" time). Holly was back out of there at 8:00, and by 8:10 the doctor walked into the waiting room to tell us everything went perfectly! By 8:30, Matthew was out of recovery (with a new sippy-cup, too!), and we were out of there!
They told us that Matthew would most likely be a little irritable from the pain, but that keeping him doped up on Tylenol throughout the day would bring him back to normal. What a little champ he was about the whole thing! Not only was he NOT irritable at all on the way home, he was singing, laughing, clapping...the whole nine yards! I can only assume that he gets his pain tolerance from Holly as I'm a complete wuss!
When we got home, Matthew took a nap for a few hours while Holly and I did some work around the house. Matthew woke up at about the same time that Mom called to say she'd pick up Chris from school. Since we had a few things to run to their house anyway, we just drove over there to pick up Little Buddy. Once we got there, it took Matthew about two seconds to be in full-0ut little brother mode! The two of them were chasing each other around for the rest of the day, and pretty much all night.
That's all for now...more later!
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Doing the Hippos
No...this isn't a post about attempting to hook up with a plus-size lady. If that's what you're looking for, you need to Google "hogging." THIS post revolves around what has become one of my favorite things to do with Chris: clipping his fingernails.
WHAT?!? Could you possibly have read that right?!? Did I actually say that clipping Chris's fingernails is one of my favorite things to do? Damn straight! And I'll tell ya' why...
There's a Sandra Boynton book out there called Hippos Go Berserk that's been a family classic for at least 30 years. The opening salvo is something like this:
One hippo all alone
Calls two hippos on the phone
Three hippos at the door
Bring along another four
Five hippos come overdressed
Six hippos show up with a guest
Seven hippos arrive in a sack
Eight hippos sneak in the back
Nine hippos come to work
ALL THE HIPPOS GO BERSERK!!!
Well...after three-plus years of reading this book to Chris, he pretty much has that opening part memorized. Take into account that you're basically talking about 10 pages worth of hippos, and add to that the fact that Chris has (duh!) ten fingers, and you've got a recipe for parenting success! Take one kid who hates having his fingernails clipped ("Daddy! You're hurting my fingernails' feelings!!!) and add a bunch of berserk hippos, shake and serve. Now you've got story time with a purpose!
When we figure out that Chris's fingernails are just about as long as your average coke-head's, we say, "Chris! It's time to do the hippos!" Instead of shrieks, wails, and general lamenting, Chris hops up on the counter for a quick clipping. SO..."One hippo all alone" becomes the first nail we clip, and so on.
The funniest part of all of this, though, is Chris's recitation of the book as we go along. Sometimes I have to lead him a little bit, but basically he knows the entire thing. My favorite parts are (Chris's version below):
Three hippos at the door
Bringin' along another four
Eight hippos sneakin' in the back
and of course...
ALL THE HIPPOS GO BERSERK!!!!!...
at which point we both shriek and scream. It's easily one of my favorite things, and one that I think every parent should try if they can't get their kids to sit still for fingernail clipping time. I'd be remiss not to mention that there's also a countdown from ten, which is perfect for toenail clipping. This one is a little less common (toenails seem to grow MUCH slower than fingernails), but equally cute. I'm not 100% sure on this, but it's close to this:
All through the hippo night
Hippos play with great delight
But at the hippo break of day
The hippos all must go away
Nine hippos and a beast (this is the guest who came with the aforementioned 6 hippos)
Join eight hippos riding east
Seven hippos headed west
Leave six hippos quite distressed
Five hippos then set forth
With four hippos headed north
Three hippos say "Good day!"
The last two hippos go their way
One hippo, alone once more,
Misses the other forty-four (sad hippo with a party hat staring at his phone and trashed house)
Thursday, June 21, 2007
What Happened to Da Da Da?
So a few months ago Matthew began a cool new trend...talking! The funny thing was, though, that no matter what, who, where, or whatever he was talking about, the word for that item was "Da." Daddy? "Da." Mommy? "Da." Poop? Food? House? Dog? Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious? "Da!" For a while I thought that I must be the coolest dad in the world to have MY name attached to everything that piqued Matthew's interest. HOWEVER...times have most assuredly changed!
Today, everything in sight has become "Ma," elating Holly and leading to my total disillusionment in the belief that I rock. Still...that little booger simply could not be ANY cuter, and whatever words come out of his mouth make me feel like a million bucks that Holly and I could have made something so amazing. Doesn't change the fact that we're hoping for "Touchdown" or "Go Dawgs!" as the official first word, though! :-)
Today, everything in sight has become "Ma," elating Holly and leading to my total disillusionment in the belief that I rock. Still...that little booger simply could not be ANY cuter, and whatever words come out of his mouth make me feel like a million bucks that Holly and I could have made something so amazing. Doesn't change the fact that we're hoping for "Touchdown" or "Go Dawgs!" as the official first word, though! :-)
Have You Had Your Paper Chicken Recently?
GEEZ! I didn't realize how far behind I'd fallen in my storytelling...this one's from Christmas of 2005!!!
It was time for Christmas pictures, and we were doing everything in our power to get Chris psyched up for a haircut and pictures. All day long, we promised him that if he behaved himself while getting his hair cut that we'd take him to get his picture taken. Not exactly a candy bar or a day at Chuck-E-Cheese's, but remember that he is, after all, my kid and as such is quite the ham. Anyway...the entire day Chris kept talking about getting his paper chicken, and we couldn't figure out what the heck he was talking about until we actually got to the photo studio. FINALLY it dawned on us...Paper Chicken = Picture Taken!
Add THAT to your Chris Johnston-to-English dictionary! :-)
It was time for Christmas pictures, and we were doing everything in our power to get Chris psyched up for a haircut and pictures. All day long, we promised him that if he behaved himself while getting his hair cut that we'd take him to get his picture taken. Not exactly a candy bar or a day at Chuck-E-Cheese's, but remember that he is, after all, my kid and as such is quite the ham. Anyway...the entire day Chris kept talking about getting his paper chicken, and we couldn't figure out what the heck he was talking about until we actually got to the photo studio. FINALLY it dawned on us...Paper Chicken = Picture Taken!
Add THAT to your Chris Johnston-to-English dictionary! :-)
How'd They Make Those Orange?
This just in from the "my kids didn't say it, but it's hilarious anyway" department...
We were driving along with my sister, Hope, one day when the topic of sweet potatoes came up (I'm still not sure exactly how this happened, so just go with me on it). Remembering for a second that Hope is quite possibly the world's most random thinker, she says, "How do they make those potatoes orange, anyway?" We laughed so hard that Holly darned near drove off the road!
We were driving along with my sister, Hope, one day when the topic of sweet potatoes came up (I'm still not sure exactly how this happened, so just go with me on it). Remembering for a second that Hope is quite possibly the world's most random thinker, she says, "How do they make those potatoes orange, anyway?" We laughed so hard that Holly darned near drove off the road!
Waking Up the Sun
OK...admittedly this post is well over a year past-due, but it's pretty cool even still. Last February Holly flew down to Orlando with Chris in tow en-route to Miami for the boat show. Their flight left just prior to the butt crack of dawn, meaning that the sun rose while they were on the way down. While looking out the window at the rising sun, Chris turned to Holly and said, "Look, Mommy! We're waking up the sun!"
Again, an oldie but certainly a goodie...lots of random posts today as I dig through old notes about cute things the boys have done. Hope you enjoy!
Again, an oldie but certainly a goodie...lots of random posts today as I dig through old notes about cute things the boys have done. Hope you enjoy!
Just Whose AMI is It?!?
So last week I was in Florida for a media fishing trip, and flew home out of Miami. When Holly asked Chris if he was excited for me to be coming home from Miami, he said, "It's not YOUR-ami, Mommy, it's HIS-ami!"
The things that come out of that kid's mouth just never cease to amaze me!
The things that come out of that kid's mouth just never cease to amaze me!
Monday, April 30, 2007
A Milestone...Thanks for Reading!
This site has finally reached its first milestone. On Friday, April 27 the site registered its one thousandth hit!
Thanks to all of you for reading and checking up on the progress of our little monkeys. I'll do my best to keep on posting here when events warrant it. Thanks again!!
Thanks to all of you for reading and checking up on the progress of our little monkeys. I'll do my best to keep on posting here when events warrant it. Thanks again!!
Friday, April 27, 2007
Dirty Words
I was reading Jenn & Tym's blog today, and a post from "Cousin Johnny" got me riled up a little bit. Johnny was complaining about a friend of his who had recently had a baby. When he visited said child, a curse word inadvertently escaped his lips. This utterance prompted the happy mother to say "Uh oh, uncle johnny owes you a dollar!" From there, as you can imagine, Uncle Johnny called BS and railed about parents asking other people to control their langauge around the kids instead of just telling them, "I know Uncle Johnny said that, but WE do NOT." Below is the comment that I left on their blog...enjoy!
Cousin Johnny...you ROCK! Thanks for saying what absolutely needed to be said! I have two little monkeys of my own, and we have very few qualms about using the occasional (or even frequent, as was the case a few nights ago) curse word around our kids. Since our youngest just turned one and can pretty much only say "Mama" and "Dada," I'm really not worried about him him repeating anything unpleasant. My three-year-old, on the other hand, pretty much repeats everything we say. He's like a little parrot, but he's smart enough to know the difference between what he can get away with and a "potty word" (pretty sissy, I know, but it works!).
The thing that really gets to me is the names and words that people come up with for anatomical extremities (or cavities, for that matter), the materials that flow from those areas. In case you're missing out, I'm talking about plumbing here, people. The words penis and vagina are NOT dirty, nor are pee or poop. I've heard a never-ending string of euphemisms for these over the past three years, and they're just plain stupid! Tee Tee, Wee Wee, Poo Poo...Just call it what it is, Mom and Dad! Our oldest son was at daycare one day and told the teacher he had to pee while he was already sitting down to poop. The teacher said, "Just remember to point your Tee Tee down!" Chris just looked at her for a minute, then said, "It's not my Tee Tee. It's my penis!" As if to say...GET IT STRAIGHT LADY!
Just sayin'...
Cousin Johnny...you ROCK! Thanks for saying what absolutely needed to be said! I have two little monkeys of my own, and we have very few qualms about using the occasional (or even frequent, as was the case a few nights ago) curse word around our kids. Since our youngest just turned one and can pretty much only say "Mama" and "Dada," I'm really not worried about him him repeating anything unpleasant. My three-year-old, on the other hand, pretty much repeats everything we say. He's like a little parrot, but he's smart enough to know the difference between what he can get away with and a "potty word" (pretty sissy, I know, but it works!).
The thing that really gets to me is the names and words that people come up with for anatomical extremities (or cavities, for that matter), the materials that flow from those areas. In case you're missing out, I'm talking about plumbing here, people. The words penis and vagina are NOT dirty, nor are pee or poop. I've heard a never-ending string of euphemisms for these over the past three years, and they're just plain stupid! Tee Tee, Wee Wee, Poo Poo...Just call it what it is, Mom and Dad! Our oldest son was at daycare one day and told the teacher he had to pee while he was already sitting down to poop. The teacher said, "Just remember to point your Tee Tee down!" Chris just looked at her for a minute, then said, "It's not my Tee Tee. It's my penis!" As if to say...GET IT STRAIGHT LADY!
Just sayin'...
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Where the Heck Have I Been?
I just realized how long it's been since I've posted anything here, so I thought today I'd get back on the ol' blogging bandwagon. I think the last time I posted, Matthew was just starting to crawl and Chris had just turned three.
Well...not a whole lot has really changed since then. Matthew can now pull himself up to a standing position by holding on to tables, chairs, my leg hairs (OUCH!) and anything else that's handy. He's managed to walk his way around many of these objects, but still refuses to try to walk on his own. The closest he's come so far has been to use a small chair at Holly's parents' house as a kind of walker. He'd push it along in front of himself while he walked behind it. Not exactly walking, but pretty damned cute all the same!
Matthew also has four teeth now, the top two of which are (for lack of a better word here) bucked. They've got a small gap between them, so his smile is hilariously goofy. Holly assures me that they'll be pushed together once he starts getting more teeth, so I'm really trying to take extra time to enjoy them for now.
What's the most amazing to us is the remarkable amount of growth that Matthew has experienced over the past month or so. He finally turned off the puke factory in his tummy, so now the food he eats actually stays INSIDE! INCREDIBLE! In the time since that's happened, he's gained well over a pound, and is really starting to get big. Apparently barfing your food back up has the unfortunate side effect of sending with it any sort of vocabulary, because since he stopped yacking...he's started yakking! The kid talks a blue streak these days! We went from only getting "dadadadadadadada" all day long to mama, papa, baba, and a whole plethora of other noises. It's great! The little monkey is finally starting to grow up into a little person!
Chris is also doing great these days. Every day he seems to learn something new, though over the past couple of weeks he's been picking up some bad habits from some of the kids at school (at least I HOPE that's where he's getting them...). He's been smarting off a little more than we'd prefer, so we've had to lay the smack down a few times. Never fun... We've found that the best punishments for Chris are taking away his books and his Spidey costume, the latter of which has spent the past four days in our closet because of some attitude he was throwing at us over the weekend.
BUT...I don't want to dwell on that anymore. Let's talk about how damned CUTE he is! I'm sure Chris will want to kill me later in his life for writing this, but he tells us at night that he's a princess or the "Good Fairy" (from the Little Bunny Foo Foo song), and puts on long t-shirts that he calls his "dress." Then he takes out a plastic coat hanger and uses it as his wand, telling us that he's going to turn us into a Goon (again, from Little Bunny Foo Foo)! It's frickin' hysterical!
But I think the funniest thing he's been up to these days is coming up with kid's versions of swear words. The curse word du jour has been "Coconut Head," which he uses pretty much constantly. This is far better than some of the other ones he's brought home...Booty Butt, Baby Bath, Baby Booty and more! I think the funniest of those is Baby Bath, though, since it makes absolutely no sense!
On the growing up side of things, Chris is finally sleeping without a diaper! He's been walking around without one for several months now, but we are just now getting him to sleep without one. It's pretty cool, and he's done a great job of not wetting the bed. We're so proud of him!
Boy...I never thought it'd be FUN to write about my kid not peeing...I must be getting old!
Well, that's about it on the kid front for now. I'll do my best to keep posting now that I've remembered this little blog. Hope you enjoyed the update!
Well...not a whole lot has really changed since then. Matthew can now pull himself up to a standing position by holding on to tables, chairs, my leg hairs (OUCH!) and anything else that's handy. He's managed to walk his way around many of these objects, but still refuses to try to walk on his own. The closest he's come so far has been to use a small chair at Holly's parents' house as a kind of walker. He'd push it along in front of himself while he walked behind it. Not exactly walking, but pretty damned cute all the same!
Matthew also has four teeth now, the top two of which are (for lack of a better word here) bucked. They've got a small gap between them, so his smile is hilariously goofy. Holly assures me that they'll be pushed together once he starts getting more teeth, so I'm really trying to take extra time to enjoy them for now.
What's the most amazing to us is the remarkable amount of growth that Matthew has experienced over the past month or so. He finally turned off the puke factory in his tummy, so now the food he eats actually stays INSIDE! INCREDIBLE! In the time since that's happened, he's gained well over a pound, and is really starting to get big. Apparently barfing your food back up has the unfortunate side effect of sending with it any sort of vocabulary, because since he stopped yacking...he's started yakking! The kid talks a blue streak these days! We went from only getting "dadadadadadadada" all day long to mama, papa, baba, and a whole plethora of other noises. It's great! The little monkey is finally starting to grow up into a little person!
Chris is also doing great these days. Every day he seems to learn something new, though over the past couple of weeks he's been picking up some bad habits from some of the kids at school (at least I HOPE that's where he's getting them...). He's been smarting off a little more than we'd prefer, so we've had to lay the smack down a few times. Never fun... We've found that the best punishments for Chris are taking away his books and his Spidey costume, the latter of which has spent the past four days in our closet because of some attitude he was throwing at us over the weekend.
BUT...I don't want to dwell on that anymore. Let's talk about how damned CUTE he is! I'm sure Chris will want to kill me later in his life for writing this, but he tells us at night that he's a princess or the "Good Fairy" (from the Little Bunny Foo Foo song), and puts on long t-shirts that he calls his "dress." Then he takes out a plastic coat hanger and uses it as his wand, telling us that he's going to turn us into a Goon (again, from Little Bunny Foo Foo)! It's frickin' hysterical!
But I think the funniest thing he's been up to these days is coming up with kid's versions of swear words. The curse word du jour has been "Coconut Head," which he uses pretty much constantly. This is far better than some of the other ones he's brought home...Booty Butt, Baby Bath, Baby Booty and more! I think the funniest of those is Baby Bath, though, since it makes absolutely no sense!
On the growing up side of things, Chris is finally sleeping without a diaper! He's been walking around without one for several months now, but we are just now getting him to sleep without one. It's pretty cool, and he's done a great job of not wetting the bed. We're so proud of him!
Boy...I never thought it'd be FUN to write about my kid not peeing...I must be getting old!
Well, that's about it on the kid front for now. I'll do my best to keep posting now that I've remembered this little blog. Hope you enjoyed the update!
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