Turns out Gargamel was building up an Air Force

It is about time someone wipe the smile off of Jokey Smurf’s face. The Smurf’s, child beloved cartoon of the 80’s” have been carpet bombed by un-known forces. It looks like most of the named smurfs have been smurfed and only the un-named masses remain. So let this be a requiem for Hefty, Handy, Papa Smurf, Smurfette, Jokey, Bashful, Clockwork, Clumsy, Cobbler, Dabbler, Dreamy, Editor, Farmer, Flighty, Grandpa, Greedy, Harmony, Lazy, Marco, Miner, Nanny, Nat, Nosey, Painter, Poet, Pushover, Sassette, Sickly, Scaredy, Sloppy, Slouchy, Sweepy, Tailor, Timber, Toughy, Tracker, Vanity, Weakling, Weepy, Wild, and Wooley Smurfs. All I have to say is, “It is about smurfin’ time!”



For the love of smurf and all that’s smurfy, the smurfs have had this coming for a while. Finally the GAF (Gargamel Air Force) has opted for the Smurfy Final Solution. We all know that in the heavily capitalistic 80’s these little blue freaks were simply trying to undermine America’s youth with their blatantly socialist and homosexual lifestyles. Their attempts have failed, and more than that they have been smurfed from the smurf of the smurf. From smurf to smurf there is not a smurfy bit of smurf culture left to further smurf the culture. Not only did the USSR fail to bring down America, neither did the Smurfs.

We all knew, growing up, that “smurf” actually meant “fuck.” “Fuck” is the only word in the modern English language that can be used as a noun, verb, adjective, adverb, interjection, and sometimes prepostion. Since “smurf” is also used for all parts of speech, I believe it’s only synonym to be “fuck.” When you replace “smurf” with “fuck” you can clearly see the free love socialist homosexual society that blighted humanity in the 80’s.

To recap:
If Peyo read this, I am sure he would weep, while filing lawsuit
Little Man has no knowledge of the Smurfs
We all know that Handy and Hefty were doing it, they were a couple from day one
3 apples high? Maybe 3 sheets to the wind
Azreal was a pathetic excuse for a cat
Gummi Bears was a much better cartoon
If the Smurfs were a blatantly homosexual socialist society, what the smurf were the Snorks about?

"Most Livable" my ass!

There is something wrong with the un-named London-based industry analyst group that have declared that the 2 most livable cities in the US are Cleveland, Ohio and Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

SWEET BABY JESUS!!!!…. MOTHER OF GOD AND ALL THAT IS HOLY!!!!!!!, HOW ON EARTH DID YOU COME UP WITH CLEVELAND, OHIO AS THE “MOST LIVABLE CITY” IN THE US?!?!?! ONLY TO BE FOLLOWED CLOSELY BY PITTSBURGH?!?!?!?!

I honestly cannot think of more armpittish areas to live in. Seriously, Cleveland and Pittsburgh are the smelly armpits of America. Don’t get me wrong, there are worst places in the US, just like there are worse places on the body than the armpit. Hell, Pittsburgh’s nickname is Pitt. Driving in both cities is like being in one gigantic high school parking lot where right-of-way is determined not by rules of the road, but concern for one’s own well-being. Cleveland’s job base is migrating ever southward to the city’s outerbelt, and the last time I was in the Pitt, I was stunned by the lack of employment centers. What factors were taken into account for this “study?” I need more information than some no-named company in the UK rated Cleveland the most livable in the US.

Did the aesthetics of skree piles on the Cuyahoga river bump Cleveland ahead of Pitt? Because I am sure that the coal soot found on all the buildings in Pitt kind of offset the lack of gravel slag. Okay, maybe their analysis weighed industrial blight heavily in the positives column, and low crime rates in the negative column. Poor snow removal and bad drivers are also a plus, it seems. Horrid transportation systems seemed to factor heavily in the positive column as well. Oh…. My…. Lord! What the Hell?!?! Cleveland and Pittsburgh running a close 1 and 2? I am stunned. Just plain stunned.


To Recap
Cleveland Sucks! I don’t care what any “London-based industry analysts” say
So does Pittsburgh, I am just more familiar with Cleveland
Little Man goes to the allergist tomorrow, maybe we will find out he is not allergic to potatoes anymore
One can hope
“Most Livable” my ass

Just one of those days...

The problem with a mostly daily blog when you have no exciting life to speak of is that you run out of material very quickly that anyone will find amusing. Occasionally amusement will hit you upside the head like a 2 x 4, and by “2 x 4” I mean a “front wheel drive SUV purchased in Florida.” You know those days. The days where a co-worker will try to remove a paper jam from a printer and end up getting toner on their nice clean white shirt. The days someone repeatedly and un-intentionally makes the absolute best double entendres. The kind of day where you can get the 3-level pun working for you without effort (for example “hot” used as a “relative temperature,” a “cosmetic degree of attractiveness,” and “stolen” all being used in only 3 sentences referring to the same thing, rare and truly genius). Those magical humor days that make you feel omnijocular (all funny). Those days where everything you touch is comedic gold. Those days where your boss doesn’t mind you cursing at a client, and the client doesn’t mind you cursing at them either because it is that funny. So funny, in fact, it actually lands you a job. Today is not one of those days. Today is boring as watching paint dry. Today is dull like ball peen hammers Grass growing beats out today’s excitement. It is the claw your eyes out due to lack of activity kind of day. Well, that is not completely true, because, well, I still have my eyes, and if I truly were to claw them out, I wouldn’t have them, now would I?

In truth one of my intrepid cartographers and I, we are waiting on some data to get going on a rather tight deadline. By “rather tight” I mean “impossible,” especially if we are still waiting on the data. And, as stated before, we are still waiting on the data. Story of my professional life… wait for it, wait for it, wait for it, okay go! We need this done 2 days ago. Oh well, that is how it goes.

Little Man seems to be past the illness of last week, so at least we have that going for us. He is now making the “Chugga, Chugga, Chugga, Choo, Choo” noises while playing with his trains.

To recap:
Anoushka Shankar’s newest CD, Rise, kicks much ass
Looks like Little Man will be Elmo for All Hallow’s Eve this year
We are borrowing the costume
I am sure it will have Wendy’s chili on it before the holiday is over
I would love to dress him up like Yoda, since he would be the correct size
I will eventually Photoshop up a Yoda version of Little Man
I just used Photoshop as a verb
Little Man needs a haircut
My Alliance rogue on Darkspear is level 27
My Horde warrior on Shadow Council is level 31
We are 25 days out from my 1st blogaversary
There will be cake, at least for me

Son of Jor-El

I usually stray away from mainstream pop culture and entertainment news, but I feel I must weigh in on this particular subject.

One should not name their child Kal-El if their name is neither Jor-El nor Lara. There are some immutable truths in the world, and Kryptonian naming conventions are some of the un-breakiest of them all. What on earth (or not of this earth, as it may be) were the Cages thinking? Kal-El Coppola Cage just rolls off your tongue like bricks roll down stairs.

I understand why someone would want to name their child after Superman, but he went by other names. Clark Coppola Cage works better than the Kal-El version, as does Kent Coppola Cage. The other main issue, the first being the hyphenated first name derived from a ficticious alien super hero, is that all three names in the full name have the “Hard C” or “K” sound. Now, I am all about alliteration as a poetic device, but in names, it is usually a bad idea.

We all knew Nic Cage was weird when he was with little miss Presley, but come on! This absolutely takes the cake. Nic you are insane.

Anyway… Not much else to comment upon. Little Man seems to be better, but Wifey seems to be coming down with something. I cannot, for the life of me, figure out where she picked up some sort of bug. I absolutely could not bee from my darling little angel boy who happens to also be a Petri dish of germ warfare. I have seen my future, and it is a snotty one.

To Recap:
Kal-El is the son of Jor-El and Lara Lor-Van from the planet Krypton
Kal-El should not be the name of the son of Nicolas Cage and Alice Kim Cage
This is an irrefutable fact
Few things are sacred to me
Few things are irrefutable facts to me
Nicolas Cage is not a “quirky method actor with an odd sense of humor”
Nicolas Cage is, what one calls, “bat-shit insane”
So is Lisa Marie Presley
My favorite color is green
My little boy is a biological WMD
Wifey is the first in a long line of people to be affected by his ability to mutate viruses
Hey, Wifey, the pumkin bars are great
I need to sleep more

Whooosh!!!

The house is officially off the market. We are currently doing what most people do just after a person they find attractive is out of sight. Wifey, Little Man, and I have collectively dis-engaged the abdominal wall that was keeping the house near spotless. Now we are dealing with the gut that flops out when you release that held in breath attempting to look in shape. We are out of shape and it shows.

Oh, my god, the kitchen is in shambles. The mess from the kitchen is spilling over into the dining room, and the typically dining room mess seems to have shifted to the living room. So far the upstairs seems about the same, but I am sure the mess will start encroaching up the stairs while we are not paying attention. To give us some credit though, the garbage disposal in the kitchen has been blocked with something, and I have not been able to fish out the offending blockage. No, before you ask, the reset button has not helped at all. It is difficult to go from having a disposal to not having one… especially when one side of the sink does not work. What a pain in the ass.

Little Man seems to be doing “better” than last week, but I am afraid that we are not out of the woods just yet. On top of that, he has an allergist appointment this week, so we go off the Zyrtec tonight. That should make for a fun rest of the week. We are hoping to have him tested for potatoes and soy this time, and we are hoping against all hope that he has out-grown at least those 2. Soy and potato would make our lives so much easier, especially since he likes potatoes. Other than Little Man getting better over the weekend, not much happened on the home front. Unless, of course, you take into account the massive mess we made out of the downstairs.

To recap:
That whoosh you heard when you truned the corner was me exhaling and displacing a bunch of air with my fat gut, now don’t look at my kitchen
It is difficult to clean out the old old old left-overs from the fridge without a garbage disposal, and still not make the kitchen a stinking hole
Jesus H Frikkin’ Christ, Tinky Winky! If the Tubby Custard Machine didn’t work for Po, Laa Laa, or Dipsy, what, in God’s name, do you think you are going to do that will make it work for you! It ain’t like you have any “repair skilz.” No! The Goddamn machine still isn’t working. Just sing the damn song and get the custard working like you should have done when it didn’t work for Laa Laa. You Teletubbies are a bunch of big flippin morons
Glad that is out of my system

Ah, Romance

Okay, so here is the situation from last night. Little Man is finally asleep, and Wifey and I are cleaning up the downstairs prior to going to bed. During this cleaning fenzy (and quite the frenzy it was) I give Wifey a hug and lovingly nuzzle her neck. She pushes me away and demands, “Are you sniffing me!?!”

“Umm, no, I was breathing you in. I was lovingly nuzzling; not ‘sniffing.’”

Do you feel the love? Ah, the romance is dead. I guess this is what happens when you have been together for over a decade.

In response to a comment on the last post, “Dare I ask what the Higgly Town Heroes are?”

Well, you dared, and now weep at the sorrow you have made me sow.

Higglytown Heroes is a Playhouse Disney show that is on during the Disney Channel’s morning line-up. I believe (in EST) it comes on at 7:30 am and 8:00am… back to frikking back. A whole hour of the most insipid idiotic characters I have ever had the misfortune of watching. An hour... an hour of Hell.

The concept of the show is that these 4 kids find out that everyday people are heroes in their own right, but there are aspects of the show that just do not add up. The world that this show takes place in is one of stackable dolls. Everything in their world has no legs, and things have to hop or slide to get from one place to the next. All the characters in the show also happen to be hollow, and many times the main characters will nest themselves inside of the largest of the 4. One of the major inconsistencies that I have noticed is that quadrupeds seem to either have arms and sit up straight or have no legs at all. For example, cats, dogs, mice, and squirrels (more on squirrels later) all seem to just have their back legs fused together as the base of their doll form, while horse, cows, and other pack animals just have a base. What do you call a cow with no legs? Ground Beef!!! Or a Higglytown cow in this case. The setting of this show takes place in a place called Higglytown. Higglytown is an unassuming little village that seems to take after any small town in the good old North America (think Springfield from the Simpson’s just without the humor). Lets not get Higglytown confused with its parent city Higgly City (think Capitol City from the Simpson’s again without the humor).

The 4 kids are the main characters of the show, but they are constantly supervised by a squirrel. Yes, a squirrel. And all 4 kids’ parents are approving of this squirrel chaperone situation. 4 kids are being watched by a rodent, yes, I am sure that is a safe situation. So these 5 characters go about their daily lives and get into small conundrums where they have to be bailed out of their minor league trouble by local people, the Higglytown Heroes that show seems to be about. For example, the stupid girl in pink loses her tooth down the drain when she washes it off before she puts it under her pillow for the tooth fairy. Oh no! So they sing this little ditty about needing a hero (unfortunately not the Bonnie Tyler song) and a plumber comes out of no where and gets the stupid girl in pink’s tooth from the sink’s trap. A conversation ensues where they thank the plumber for all her help and the plumber says “No problem kids, I was just doing my job.”

EDIT --- There are many many aspects of this show that I absolutely loathe, but I am finding out that writing about my hate for this craptastic show really takes a bunch of background info, and becomes rather cumbersome, rather quickly. I have actually deleted about 2 paragraphs of vitriol spewed forth from my intense hate of the show, but really it tended to make me look even more insane than the hippo stuff…

The coup d’grace of the show though is the theme song. As I stated yesterday, the song is done by venerable alternative music performers, They Might be Giants (TMBG). TMBG have created many catchy ditties (Birdhouse for your Soul, Particle Man, etc…) and now are doing more and more work for kids. In fact, one of the CD’s that we play for Little Man’s bedtime ritual is TMBG’s, Bed, Bed, Bed. The problem with this particular band creating the theme song for this abyssimal show is that they are really good musicians and they write very catchy tunes, and now the tune seems to be on endless repeat in my head.

To recap:
Romance is dead
HigglyTown Heroes is the bane to my existence
I have made an effort to not be able to remember all 4 kids and squirrel’s name at the same time
House is coming off the market tomorrow
Here in Higglytown
We’re all fat and round
Just like our Higglytown Heroes….

No Sleep till Brooklyn

When I get stressed out and worried the absolute first thing that takes a hit is my sleep. I find it difficult to turn my mind off. The stupid gray matter just doesn’t seem to want to disengage. It is not that my mind is fixated on the stress at hand. Usually, my mind just starts wandering into the “wonder why” thoughts and the “wonder how” thoughts. Last night I was staring into the night sky out of our bedroom window thinking about lift, drag, and flaps. Watching planes on their final approach will do that. So for an hour I watched 12 planes make the final approach with all their air braking systems deployed. The I went and played around on the computer for about 2 more hours. I am tired now, but that is basically how my stress reaction works. I get stressed, I don’t sleep, and I get really really tired.

To recap:
Me tired
Planes are neato
Little Man seems to be a bit more sick today than yesterday (ergo the stress)
I like They Might be Giants, but I abso-fucking-lutely hate the Goddamned theme song to Higgly Town Heroes. I hope They Might be Giants rot in Hell because of that song

Ode to Joy

Okay, here we go again. This will also be a 2 parter.

Part 1: Update

Little Man’s mega fever has broken, and now he is just motoring around with a low grade fever. His appetite is back, and his breathing seems more “typical.” So in Casa del SRH things are more back-to-normal-ish. That being said, Wifey and I still have to juggle work and childcare this week. So that is a pretty big issue to deal with. Looks like we will be trading off half days with each other. It is not the way I want to use up my PTO bank, but it is better than having to take the whole week with him in the hospital.

Part 2: Joy

Here is the situation: I stopped by the local Borders Booksellers on the way home from work yesterday to get the next book in a series that Wifey and I are reading. This is typically why I would stop at Borders on the way home from work. I pretty much bee-lined it to the book I wanted and then went straight to the “cashwrap.” Ahead of me in line is a woman who seems to be in her late 20’s early 30’s. She is kind of attractive, but most definitely not what I would consider “drop dead gorgeous.” Bear with me here, I am just painting the picture. She is clearly stopping at Borders on her way home from work as well. She too must also need a book for this evening. She is in a navy blue skirted business suit, you know, very executive professional looking. She only has one book in hand, and it happens to be from the bargain racks. “So, what book is she buying?” you ask. Well, let me tell you, she was nervously holding a copy of a bargain basement version of “The Joy of Sex.”

That’s right, the discontinued bargain version of “The Joy of Sex,” the one with the no returns sticker and the red price tag. Now, I understand that “The Joy of Sex” is a nice little book, a manual, if you will, that goes into some rather detailed particulars about sexual intercourse. There is nothing wrong with that book; I have no issues with the book. The whole idea of that book is to increase the enjoyment of people’s sex lives, and, hey, I am all for that. My point is that, firstly, if one wants to increase their enjoyment of sex through the purchase of a book, one should be willing to pay retail. Secondly, if one is going to buy a copy of a book about sexual intercourse, and how to make it better, one should be more confident about it. Don’t hide it, then people think that sex is something dirty. Sex is not something dirty and foul never to be mentioned in the open air. Plus, I am sure that the pictures in the book are from 1990 and who wants to see a bunch of grunge wannabees doing it.

To recap:
Little Man doing much better
I will be in tomorrow morning, but not the afternoon
Bargain bin “The Joy of Sex” brings about only marginal improvement of one’s sex life.
How much you wanna bet that I get more hits to this site now that I have “The Joy of Sex” mentioned 5 times?

Dreaming Red

2 parts to today’s blog.

Part 1:

Okay, we are a co-sleeping family (family bed). We did not intend to be a co-sleeping family, we did not want to be a co-sleeping family, but, alas and alack, we are, indeed, a co-sleeping family. There are a few reasons as to why our family shares a family bed, but most revolve around Little Man’s food allergies. For a while there he was itching so much that we had to sleep on either side of him and hold his hands down so he would not scratch himself or wake himself while scratching. The led to us having the little guy in our bad. He got used to it… we got used to it. We are certain it will not last forever, or really not much longer. While it is happening, though, we have determined that we will enjoy it. He is a wonderful little bundle of love that snores right next to us. He sleeps in between Wifey and I and it really is a comfort to wake up next to my 2 favorite people in the world. For those of you out there worried that we are going to emotionally scar our Little Man by sharing our bed with him until he is in high school, don’t worry. The Little Man will be getting the boot soon enough. He is just getting too big (and he likes to sleep sideways), but we are intending to emotionally scar him in more traditional ways. He needs a “big kid bed” and we intend to get him sleeping in one in the near future.

Anyway… to the story part of Part 1. So the other morning on a day that I get to watch him all day long, I, amazingly, woke up before Little Man. I was lazily not getting out of bed. I was just lying there next to my kid, watching him sleep peacefully. He started squirming a bit, and made an unhappy little grimace. His eyes were still shut tight when he said, in an unhappy slightly frustrated voice, “Elmo.”

That’s right my kid was frustrated with Elmo in his dreams. That is the kid I live with. He not only dreams about Elmo, he gets frustrated by Elmo’s antics in the dreamtime. This has to be one of the oddest, cutes, funniest moments of being a Papa.

Part 2:

So we had a great weekend these past few days until about 8:45 last night. Little Man was playing and having fun, and, since his nap was a late one, we were postponing starting his bed-time ritual by about an hour. We were just about to just get him in the bath when he just rolled over and put his head on Wifey’s shoulder. He was blazing hot, and his hands felt as if they were white hot coals. We decided “No bath tonight,” Little Man was going straight to bed. His temp was 104° F (or 14° C for you metric people out there, 287.15 K for the physicists). He had a pretty good night, and his temp seems to be down somewhat. Basically we have a sick little boy on our hands.

Well those are the 2 parts

To recap
We love our family bed, but we are ready to de-familized it
Elmo pissed Little Man off in his sleep
Probably from all of Elmo’s constant referrals to himself in the third person
SRH doesn’t like it when Elmo refers to himself in the 3rd person
Little Man is sick
We are hoping that this does not progress into another hospital stay
Not sure what my schedule will be this week, so don't expect the regular updates
It is Orapred time again

Wow, I am that boring

So I gots the hairs cut today. It was necessary. My hair prior to the sheering experience was not super long, but it was long enough to seem unkempt very easily. That and it was long enough that it would knot up too much if I drove with the windows down. Now I am all clean cut and professional looking. Look out transportation planning world, I am now über professional with my smart tight hair cut. I am a scary scary professional now, and I fit in better with the workplace now.

Little Man must be going through a growth spurt again. He is eating us out of house and home as well as sleeping rather poorly. He did not fall asleep until 11:30 last night. That is past my bedtime. Needless to say I am rather tired as well. Dragging ass is a better description of it. This seems to be a pretty common thing for Little Man when he is going through a growth spurt. I remember many many times when he just could not get to sleep, and when he was asleep he it was rather light. By “rather light” I mean, the fall of a feather would wake him up. Actually last night he was asleep at 10:00 but when I laid him down in bed, his eyes popped open and he asked for a drink of water. That was not a good sign. So it was not until an hour later that we finally got the little one to slumber along through the night.

So in all my fogginess when we were getting the little guy ready today, I forgot to pack my lunch. Pay day is tomorrow, so it is a snack machine repast for me today. Chips and a Mt Dew, the lunch of champions. That and I have no idea what in the heck Little Man and I will be eating for dinner tonight. Edit that: I just got a phone call from our realty agency, and it looks like we will be eating out tonight. We now have a house showing from 5:30 to 6:30 this evening… only 7 more days till we can officially come off the market. Looks like it will be another Burger King day for the Little Man.

I am tired of this whole real estate game thing. I just want to live a little bit more slovenly again. This immaculate stuff is getting tiresome. We also have an open house this up coming Sunday afternoon, right in the middle of Little Man’s nap time. Once we found out that the first person who went into contract on our house was pulling away, both Wifey and I were pretty much divested of the idea that the other house was going to be ours. We just want this to be over, and in 7 days we can yank the sign and not have to pack away Little Man’s toys every morning before we leave for work.

Well, hasn’t this just become the boring daily update blog. I might as well post a picture of a kitten and mention something political. Like every freakin other blogger out there. What can I do to spice this damn thing up?


To Recap
Clean haircut hopefully will mean big bucks
Little Man is getting much much larger
I am tired
Burger King again tonight
Tired of the old house sale thing
I need some new material
I am not blogging again until Monday

Field Hockey

Women’s field hockey is an interesting sport. Last night at the playground, of which I speak regularly, in some of the associated greenspace there was a high school field hockey game being played. I do not know who the teams were, nor does it really matter. What matters is that field hockey is not a sport for the faint of heart.

There are not any mainstream high school men’s sports that have as much potential for serious injury due to lack of protective equipment. Field hockey is played with a very hard ball that is a little bit smaller than a baseball and about twice as dense. It is also played with rather imposing sticks. The safety equipment that all players must wear that is associated with this game consists of 2 things: shin guards and a mouth guard. That is it, just those 2 things... nothing else. Only the goalie is protected from head to toe. The only men’s running, contact sport that comes close to this level of lack of protection is soccer, but the ball in soccer is not hard and the opposing players in soccer are not wielding clubs.

While I was an undergrad at the great Kent State University (Kent Read! Kent Write! Kent State!) I made it my mission to see all the NCAA collegiate sports that my university offered (the only sport that I did not make it to was men’s baseball, but I do not feel too bad about that since I have seen a baseball game before.) I felt that if my tuition dollars were going to pay for the sports I should at least witness as many of them first hand as I possibly could. Of all the sports I went to, field hockey was one of the few that I actually made a point of seeing multiple times. Men’s wrestling was not my thing and the timing was all wrong for the basketball games. In truth, most of the sports were not all that interesting to see, but field hockey really was something else.

It is a very fast paced game. The players all run around hunched over with their sticks low to the ground. There is a penalty if the ball is hit higher than knee level or if the stick travels above a certain height during a striking motion. The rules are pretty interesting. There are a goodly number of dead ball plays that occur. The game mechanics themselves seemed to be a cross between hockey, soccer and, lacrosse. There were aspects of the play that seemed to favor all three of those sports. I was happily surprised when I was able to catch a bit of field hockey action during the past summer Olympics. I think the Netherlands were beating some other European team pretty soundly when I had to leave the house. Anyway… at Kent, when I was there, the team was a really powerful team, so I got to see some really good games between Kent and Miami of Ohio (their chief MAC rival at the time). I honestly do not know how anyone can run 4 to five miles crouched over, but those women seemed to do it pretty well.

Well, seeing a bunch of high schoolies hunched over chasing a ball with clubs reminded me of my time in college when I went to KSU’s games. Little Man, however, was not nearly so interested in the field hockey.

To recap:
Most men’s sports are played with protective equipment
Most woman’s sports are not played with much protective equipment
What does that say as a culture?
Terri was a math ed. major and Aimee (sp?) was an art ed major so I got to talk in depth to both of them about their sport whilst at Kent, thanks ladies
I am honestly surprised that Tamora Pierce is not even remotely as popular as J. K. Rowling
Little Man does love him some Burger King

Naming Conventions

Two social faux pas from me yesterday.

These faux pas have to do with the over use of endearing terms and pet names for children and other loved ones. I will describe the offenses to you in the order with which they occurred.

Offense Number 1: Schmoo

I was on the phone with Wifey, and I ended the phone call with “I love you too, Schmoo.” I had to explain multiple time and in various ways to the 3 people sitting near me at the time, what the Hell Schmoo meant. The etymology of this particular incarnation of the word “Schmoo” is not that difficult a story to follow. Back in college, we started making fun of couples with pet names for each other by ending our questions to each other with a direct address to each other that consisted of whatever the last word of the phrase was but we replced the beginning sound with “Schm.” For example, “Where ya going, Schmoing?” or “Could you pass the ketchup, Schmetchup?” The most used, how ever, was “Whacha doin, Schmooin?” This was a question asked by either of us to each other for a long, long time. It became second nature to end the question “Whatcha doin?” with “Schmooin.” Over the course of several years “Schmooin” later evolved to simply “Schmoo” mainly due to my inherent laziness. At that point the term of endearment stuck. Please, do not think that the irony that we call each other “Schmoo” as a pet name is lost on us. Our whole use of “Schmoo” is a horrible accident in irony. We are well aware of the implications of our use of the word as a term of endearment when it was derived from us attempting to demean other sappy relationships. Our whole relationship has been built on the love that can only be generated by making fun of others. This is definitely a relationship that will last.

Offense Number 2: Punkin

Last night at the very same playground that Little Man had his adventures in puddle jumping on Friday, I used a term of endearment/pet name one too many times when referring to Little Man. Little Man was interacting with this other kid while playing on the big 2-story spiral slide, when I noticed that the 3 year old boy playing with Little Man referred to my little boy as “Pumpkin.” Okay, back story time… Thanksgiving Day 2002 is when we found out that we were pregnant with the Little Man. Since that day he has often been referred to as “Punkin Pie.” Indeed, as I am sure you have guessed, my inherent laziness has shortened this down to simply “Punkin.” Now we continually refer to the Little Man as “Punkin Pie,” “Punkin Lunkin,” and “Punk.” I guess when I was telling Little Man that he should continue climbing the slide’s stairs because there were kids behind him, that he should be careful where he pours out buckets of dirt, that he should wait for me to get near him before he attempts to climb a ladder, that etc… I was constantly referring to him soley as “Punkin.” Eventually, the 3-year old playing with Little Man assumed his name was “Pumpkin.” That is most definitely a sound logical assumption, and honestly pretty close to being more correct than the name on his birth certificate. We probably call Little Man “Punkin” at least 5 times as much as the name on his birth certicicate. Let’s be clear though, we still call him “Punkin Pie,” and we probably always will. I mean, who doesn’t like pumpkin pie?

To recap:
Irony…. IRONY!!!!
Schmirony?
For those of you who have submitted questions, they have been saved and will be addressed during times of lack of topic
Most likely tomorrow
Mmmm Punkin Pie!
Wifey, can you make me some of those pumpkin bars?

Professional Parents

Turns out that the professional parents do not like me. For the most part it is mutal.

Please, let me explain. On Friday here in Columbus, Ohio it rained pretty hard for a bit. The Rain did a myriad of things. It awakened my tiny amount of grass so that it could grow some more and make me mow (we all know how I feel about that). It also fed the desperately dry flowers in our flower beds. Most importantly to this story, it caused the local über playground to have quite a few puddles. Some more background information for you. Our local über playground happens to be associated with a neighborhood rec center where all sorts of organizations and clubs conduct their meetings. It is also in the same area as a local library. Let me paint a picture of the playgrounds wonderful facilities. There is a 2-story spiral slide, 2 large “play places” (those units with multiple slides and monkey bars and platforms etc…), and a sandbox with a bigger footprint than my house. Since the playground is at the confluence of tons of extra-curricular activities, there are still an alarming amount of kids there who would have loved to use the afore mentioned playground facilities. However, none of those kids were allowed to use said playground facilities. All of these facilities were empty on Friday afternoon/early evening except for one toddler, one intrepid 2-yr old, one little boy on a mission to splash every puddle and slide down every slide… Little Man.

Little Man and I decided to go to the playground even though it was a big old wet mess. Heck since I had a towel in my car and a change of clothes for our insane 2-yr old, we went because it was a big old wet mess. I got sooooo many nasty looks from the professional parents (the ones who never have a hair out of place and dress immaculately) due to the fact that they had to explain to their respective little ones that they were not allowed to play in the wet and muddy dreamland. Truly nasty looks too. I mean there was such venom in one woman’s eyes. I am absolutely sure that if she could have gotten to me, without getting her khaki capris dirty, should would have attempted to throttle my neck. I am sure that if her kids were not in earshot she would have lashed into me with curses from at least 2 different languages. Her little cub scout was pleading with her to splash in the puddles and wallow in the mud that had been a sandbox. She was dragging/half carrying him to her car. Conversely, Little Man was squealing with delight as he ran from one piece of equipment to the next. Good Lord, that boy was dirty, and by the time we were done, his diaper was as big as a moose. Those diapers are “super” absorbent.

I caught a full 10 parents looking at me as if I were the prince of darkness himself trying to coax their angelic children into the back of a van with candy. A kid should be able to frolic in the wet and mire. They are kids after all, and getting really really dirty is part of the requirements for being a kid.

To recap:
Boy, did that kid get dirty
Diaper as big as a moose, I tells ya
Good Lord I need a haircut
Wifey, your hair looks great, by the way
Still cannot get that .gif image off the e-mail… “Saving as” only saves the first frame of the .gif as a bit map
Z Corporation has some cool shit
I think I might be the anti-professional parent

No TV and no power makes Little Man angry

Firstly, does anyone know how to yank out a .gif image that has been embedded in an e-mail message? If so, could you let me know how by leaving a comment. I have tried most of the mundane things, and they have not worked too well.

On to the meat of the matter.

Okay, I went to sleep last night around 9:45 PM and did not get up until around 7:15 AM this morning. That is a goodly 9 and a half hours of slumbertude, why, in God’s name, am I still tired?!? I am flipping exhausted. I am having a difficult time just keeping my eyes open. Are the allergens in the air that bad right now? Why can’t I just feel relaxed and refreshed? Is that too much to ask? I guess it is cause I am just dragging today.

To top it all off, the power went out this morning in the middle of Little Man’s breakfast DVD’s. That did not go over well. That did not go over well at all. He was trying everything he could to get us to make the Teletubbies come back on. It is a bit disturbing at just how amusing Little Man finds the Teletubbies. I honestly do not quite understand the post apocalyptic world those four freaks live in. There are rabbits and flowers everywhere, but those 4 weirdo’s seem to live in a manmade subterranean domicile with a robot vacuum cleaner eating toast and “tubby custard.” I do not even want to think about where “tubby custard” comes from. "Soylent Green" anyone?

Back to the story at hand…Alas and alack, we could not get them back on the TV with no power. I guess it is time to get the battery pack on the portable DVD all charged up and ready for the next power outage. Little Man was devastated. He was a weeping mess. He was really really unhappy. So we packed up some DVD’s and sent him to Grandma Donna’s and Grandpa Ron’s. They can deal with the unhappy Little Man, after all they have power.

To Recap:
Please, someone help with my .gif problem
I am tired, and I shouldn’t be
Teletubbies eat people…. PEOPLE!!!!
I hope we have power when we get home

Corrections, retractions, and explanations

There has been some confusion about some of my latest remarks about Who is the Coolest of All my Friends.

So today’s blog will be in response to Wifey’s comments and well as some corrections and retractions from previous posts.

In regards to Wifey’s comments:

To quote Wifey:

I take offense to your promoting g-money to the coolest of the friends if he goes on a date. If I am not mistaken, you have repeatedly stated that YOU are the coolest of your friends because of your marriage to me. If g-money can overtake you with only one date, then I musn't make you all that cool. You'd better do some quick back-pedaling here chief.

Okay, you have a very valid point here and some clarification on my part is necessary. At the moment I am still the “Coolest of all my Friends,” but as I stated previously the margin of my victory is minor. The real issue here is not how cool you are, my dear and lovely wife, but how irredeemably uncool I am. The only reason that I am the CoAmF is due to you and you alone. You redeem the irredeemable, Baby! Also, you are correct, I should have spelled it “Gerkins” and not “Jerkins.”

So, in truth, you do not make me all that cool, you can’t. No one can. Sorry, but it is true.

Also, I believe that G-money does not have a problem going on dates. It's those second dates that get him!

Sorry Babe, sadly this statement is just plain incorrect. G-money is afraid of the women folk and all their feelings, ergo he does not go on dates, much less second dates. Prove me wrong G!

Onto corrections, retractions, and responses from yesterday’s post.

14: Which of your friends has the most miserable life right now? Did they bring it upon themselves?

Right now? I would have to go with B-Dawg. He just went on a Sceince Field trip at the age of 31. In general, I would go with G-Money. He don’t cotton well to takin’ orders, and he is in the US Army.

I must retract the answer that I gave. Neither G-Money nor B-Dawg are the most miserable right now, the most miserable of my friends happens to be a friend from the college days, JoAA. I will not use his name in case he ever finds out about this here bloggarooney. To answer the second part of the question, “Yes, he did bring it upon himself.”

To the comment from yesterday from anonymous:

bahahahaha, he called what we have in the United States culture. Lack of culture maybe...

Even yogurt has culture. The US may not have good culture, but it has culture nonetheless, plus commenting anonymously is weak, get a name for yourself.

To recap:
I am the coolness anchor that drags my family down
G-Money is afraid of feelings except, oddly enough, for fear
Really, even if he went on a date, until he is either going on tons of first dates like he is wadin through the women folk, or until he gets into a relationship, I am still CoAmF due to the coolness associated with Wifey!
As for B-Dawg, he still has the pit of Physics PhD to climb out of before he is cool
JoAA is a sad sad story
Shout out to L-Sig for pointing out the “miserable” mistake I made
I like custard style yogurt, it is very cultured

20 Questions Redux`

Again, I have lost all ability to come up with topics of my own, so I have enlisted the help of some people that I know tread this here bloggerooney, and asked them each for 5 questions. So without further ado…

1: Would Jerry Springer represent Ohio well as a politician?

The last Presidential Election in Ohio already seems to have a Jerry-esque feeling to it due to the political fighting that this state endures during the whole silly season of elections, so I honestly think that Jerry Springer would fit Ohio well.

So yes, I think he would “represent” Ohio well as a politician. Do I think he would be good for the state? That is a different question, and that answer is a resounding, “No.”

2: Would you rather spend 2 days in a tent in: a) New Orleans wearing a 'I hate black people shirt' and a KKK hood or b) downtown Bagdad?

I am going to go with “a)” on this one primarily since the city is nearly completely evacuated at the moment, and only about 40% of it is still under water. I am fairly sure I could evade most of the people who are left in N.O. but Bagdad, I would be a sitting duck.

3: Are you more a) space cowboy b) gangsta of love c) Maurice and why?

I am going with Space Cowboy, because I am an Interstellar Maverick, baby!

4: Who would you rather bang? She-ra, Josie (from the pussycats), a human size Smurfette, or Leela (Futurama)?

She-ra! For the Honor of Greyskull!

5: You live in middle of country. Do you feel more affiliation to the east coast rappers or the west coast rappers? (Biggie or Tupac)

I think I would have to go with Tupac, mainly cause you can hear how obese Biggie was just in his voice. Although… I do love it when they call me “Big Papa.”

6: Why do I see people speeding through neighborhoods crowded with kids, while their own child of similar age sits in the back?

People are stupid, I believe I have covered this before.

7: Why doesn’t anybody give the wave anymore?

There are still a few hold-outs who give “the wave.”

8: Mark Twain once pondered, if the world was run by intelligent people who are just putting us on or if it was run by dumb people who really mean it, discuss.

Mark Twain had a bunch of time on his hands.

9: Nature vs. Nurture?

Nature by 10, it will be a close game until late in the 4th. An onsides kick leads to a touchdown. Then a fumble recovery on the Nature’s 23rd yard line leads to a field goal from Nuture’s 35

10: Why do most movies suck?

Really, I think this has to do with the sheer amount of movies that are being made today. Back when there were only 3 major studios, fewer movies were made. Since fewer movies were made it made it seem like there was less absolute crap being shown on the screen. I am not sure if the proportion of crap to non-crap is any different. But the vast quantities of movies these days seem to be crap.

11: Is there always dysfunction when more than one person gets together? I mean, it seems to me that there is. More than one person in a group cannot get along or act civilized for a very long amount of time.

Dysfunction comes in sets of 3. Don’t ask me why, it just is that way.

12: Do all human beings move to self-actualization and growth? Do ANY human beings move toward them?

I am sure that some humans move to self-actualization and growth, but while they are self-actualizing, the rest of us are taking over the place

13: Whatever happened to phone etiquette? I have talked to several service professionals this week, and every one of them has been Rudey McGruff at every turn.

I think this boils down to email. Etiquette has taken a back seat ever since instant/near instant communication has become the norm. Messages have become more and more terse. The messages are not necessarily meant to be negative, but their mere brevity makes them seem ruder than they were intended. This phenomenon has migrated over to the phone as well. We, as a culture, are forgetting how to communicate effectively.

14: Which of your friends has the most miserable life right now? Did they bring it upon themselves?

Right now? I would have to go with B-Dawg. He just went on a Sceince Field trip at the age of 31. In general, I would go with G-Money. He don’t cotton well to takin’ orders, and he is in the US Army.

15: Do people who have homicidal phobias of “river horses” ever get over their affliction and learn to love themselves?

I believe you mean “water horse” and my obsession with their extermination, I will love myself more when they arte no longer an affliction blighting my world. As it is, I like myself pretty well anyway.

16: Why don't you want to write about “Angry Kitty?”

Actually, I would like nothing more than to write about “Angry Kitty,” but, alas and alack, I have not found a way to strip the .gif image from the email I have received and embed the image in my blog, so that talking about it makes any sense. I currently have a crack team of experts trying to lift that particular ".gif" image from an email so that I can put it up for all to see.

17: Is “Angry Kitty” the best thing EVER?

I am not too sure about the “best thing EVER,” but Angry Kitty do make me giggle every time I look at it. Every time

18: Is General Tso's the greatest Chinese restaurant ever...on Bethel Rd.?

Easily. I used to be a Panda Inn guy, but their health code violations seemed to ruin them for me.

19: Can you believe that “Toy Story” has been out for 10 years!?!?!

Good Lord, I am old

20: In World of Warcraft are paladins or warriors better?

In my opinion, Warriors are better mainly due to their agro management. The Paladin has many “get out of jail free” cards that allows that class to stay alive nearly indefinitely, but as a hybrid class, it does not heal adequately enough to keep other party members alive and does not create enough threat to actually be able to tank. Keeping that in mind, as a solo class the paladin can do wonders, but since most of the later game content is so group dependant, I think the warrior is the way to go. There are, of course, exceptions to every rule.

Tomorrow I will be back with some real blogging.

Pickle Jar-Head

So the weekend was pretty busy, So I will deal with the weekend in a chronological manner. Inside Joke: "Is there something wrong with your chronological time clock?!?!"

Columbus, Ohio Friday September 9, 2005

It was a Papa/Little Man day. I was able to have the whole friggin day with my boy. It has been too long a time since I was able to have a full Papa/Little Man day. He grazed all day long. I swear he ate everything in the house and then some. For an afternoon snack we had chips and salsa. FYI: “salsa” is one of my intrepid cartographers’ favorite words in the English language. Little Man was a bit impatient about me getting the salsa out of the fridge and decided that he would “assist” me. If by “assist” I mean wriggle his way in-between me and the fridge and push things on the top shelf of the fridge until the pickle jar came tumbling down. The pickle jar smacked him up-side the head pretty hard, and now he has a nice bruise on his forehead. It seems every time I have a Papa/Little Man day he does not finish the day unscathed. Now we have nicknamed him “Pickle Jar-Head.” …kinda like a marine, but more briney.

Wifey went out with her lady friends for the evening, and I had to do the evening ritual with Little Man solo. No big shakes there, but Little Man fights sleep like a cornered badger in heat when one of the parental units is not present. So the ending of the evening ritual, the “getting Little Man to sleep,” took much longer than usual.

Columbus, Ohio Saturday September 10, 2005

We went hiking with Little Man to a local metro park. Little Man enjoys the Kelty carrier that we purchased so… all in all it was a good morning. That evening Wifey and I went out with another couple to a local theatre/cabaret for some food and some entertainment. It was a wonderful date. The company was great, the food was okay, and the entertainment was great. All in all it was a good time. Better yet, Little Man was asleep when we got home.

OSU lost their first football game of the year. Honestly, it was a good thing that it happened early. Hopefully, we will not have to endure the annual OSU should be Number 1 crap that we go through every year.

On a side note, we live relatively close to OSU and Ohio Stadium, or “the Horseshoe/Shoe” as it is known. The vast quantity of trash left by supposed Ohio State Football fans was staggering and appalling. True fans would endeavor to keep the grounds surrounding their team’s facilities clean. True fans would try to make the campus of OSU look better. Sadly, the bulk of the bulky OSU fans seem to be beer swilling booze hounds whose soul purpose is to critique the team’s failures and drink themselves to oblivion. Throw away yer damn trash you drunken bastards!

Columbus, Ohio Sunday September 11, 2005

4 years since the WTC and Pentagon plane attacks and so far the War on Terror seems to be about insurgency in Iraq. Wifey and I took Little Man hiking again, but on a different trail at the same metropark just north of town. Yesterday afternoon, Little Man, Wifey’s Mom (Mimma), Grandpa Ron and Grandma Donna (the weekday caregivers) took Little Man to see some “garden trains.” Wifey and I went to a bookstore and bought some groceries. We lead exciting lives we do.

That evening the meal was cabbage and noodles. I do not quite understand the whole cabbage and noodles thing, but there is a decided lack of Slavicness (or is it Slovicity?) to my heritage.

On another side note, as a cap to the entire weekend Little Man has a thing for capes. I honestly have no friggin clue as to where or how Little Man got the whole idea of putting a cape on, but he has. About 4 months ago, he decided that he did not like how his bib was on during dinner one night, and decided to turn it around. It was like a half cape, very much like Captain Marvel of the “Shazam” fame. Anyway… on Friday night he was wearing a clean towel from the laundry basket as a full length cape. It was a white towel with green, red, and blue stripes. He really has not been exposed to cape wearing super-heroes, so I am not really sure where he got the idea.


To recap:

Hoo-Rah! Pickle Jar-Head!
Hiking is nice… it felt good to do something active again
2Cos is a bunch of fun.
OSU 22 Texas 24
Drunken messy bastards root for OSU
Little Man got a nice Elmo toothbrush… it is quite the hit
Wow, my life is friggin boring
G Money, you may be over taking me on the whole “I am the coolest of all my friends” thing, you just need to go on a date, and I think you may take it… (Wait, I guess I am safe after all…nevermind)
B Dawg, you lost points due to your “Science camping trip” this weekend

My eyes... they burn...

Two big old topics going on today.

Firstly, I do not know what is going on right now allergen wise, but I am nearly out of commission. Whatever pollen is abundant in the atmosphere today in Central Ohio is kicking my ass, and kicking it old school (should that be “skool?”). I have consumed enough caffeine at the moment that an elephant would be having heart palpitations, and yet, I am still dragging ass like I just woke up. Granted, I did not sleep as much as I should have last night. I, however, do think that my body’s lack of response and lack of ability to wake up and function properly is disproportionate to the sleep debt that I incurred last night. I got over 7 hours of slumber… I should not feel like I am moving through molasses. Damn you infernal pollen, DAMN YOU TO HELL!!!!

Secondly, I am not in the real estate business, but recently I have been a close participant in the whole real estate sector of the economy. I have noticed that realtors drink alcohol like fish swim in water. Well, not exactly like fish swim in water due to the whole fins and scales thing as well as the pooping in the water thing. I am fairly sure that the real estate industrial complex would frown upon our realtor defecating in her brandy snifter. Anyway… Lord have mercy, our realtor is an absolute gem of a professional, but she takes 7 to 10 day vacations every 3 weeks, and then takes a good 3 days post vacation to detox vast quantities of liquor (she is allergic to gluten, so no beer for her) that she has ingested whilst not “on the job.”. This week she is heading to Mytrle Beach with her extended family to get rid of all the extra hard alcohol they may have on the shelves in South Carolina. Her last vacation was to Put-in-Bay, Ohio for a week of drunken revelry with her friends. Nothing says I need to drink like being stranded in the middle of Lake Erie. When she is not out drinking like a fish and actually working her business partner is out in Vegas gambling away her real estate proceeds and drinking like Frenchman*.

Oddly enough, her vacations seem to coincide with major milestones associated with our house buying and selling procedures. When we first found the house we wanted to make a bid on she was gone for 7 days to the aforementioned Put-in-Bay. We postponed that bid until she got back. When we went into contract, she went off for a long weekend in Drinktown, Michigan, or some place like that. Now that the contract on our house has fallen through, she has informed us that she is going to Myrtle Beach, SC to drink herself silly. Somehow I feel we are fueling her desire to consume alcohol.

To recap:
A pox on you Pollen… A POX ON YOU!!!!!!
The US Men’s National Team, well, more to the point, The US Men’s National C Team tied Guatemala in a World Cup Qualifier last night. It reminded me of what the US team looked like 7 years ago, and this now our C-Team. Go Go US Soccer.
Hot dogs for dinner
Our realtor is a great realtor
She is also Drinky McLush from Sloshedton, KS
I think our housing debacles tend to make her curl up in a bottle
In that sense, we are the enablers of her bad habits
My head hurts and my eyes are itchy
A pox on you Pollen… A POX ON YOU!!!!!!





* to drink like a Frenchman is basically to drink normally, but it sounds better.

Progress Bars

So Little Man is coming down from the Orapred now. He will most likely crash all day tomorrow. That seems to be how this medicine works. We are hoping for a normal night of sleep for Little Man as well as ourselves.

On another completely unrelated subject to my child’s health and well-being, I absolutely abhor waiting on progress bars and print queus (the thought that just went through my head was “How the Hell do you spell ‘queues?’” Glad that Dictionary.com exists.). I honestly do not know how much of my life I have spent watching a blue bar in the center of my computer screen slowly creep across the screen. I imagine that by now it has been at least a year of my life that I will never ever get back.

Oh well, I am late posting today, so I have to get everything together so that I can pick Little Man up and get home. Cheers everyone, we are having shrimp fettuccini tonight.

To Recap:
To sleep, perchance to dream
I am so incredibly tired
We would truly all be depressed if progress in social reform were displayed as a progress bar… this thing seems to be stuck at 14%... better re-boot
It is near time to go home…. yeah
mmmm.... shrimp