There's a Hole in the Earth

The Kinect for Xbox 360 and us

2011-07-03T06:36:00.000-07:00

We bought a Kinect for our Xbox 360 a few weeks ago. I have been sore in areas I didn't even know I had muscles. For those of you who don't know what the Kinect is, here's a snippet from xbox.com:

You are the controller. No gadgets, no gizmos, just you!

Kinect brings games and entertainment to life in extraordinary new ways without using a controller. Imagine controlling movies and music with the wave of a hand or the sound of your voice. With Kinect, technology evaporates, letting the natural magic in all of us shine.

After giving it your all jumping around, swatting at balls, dodging obstacles, etc, it shows these instant replays and folks, if you know what's smart for you, you'll turn them off. It's like when you hear your recorded voice and can't fathom you actually sound that way. Secretly you maintain that your voice really sounds the way you hear it in your head. It's kinda like that. The video shows you flailing about for no apparent reason. Picture a fish flopping about out of water except it's seal sized, pink, and has four protruding limbs to enhance the effect.

Yep, that about sums it up. Kinect is awesome, but will give you sore muscles and bruise your ego.

Deep Thoughts from a Shallow Pool

2011-06-05T01:13:00.000-07:00

Why is the word abbreviation so long?

Why is an orange an orange, but an apple isn't a red and a banana isn't a yellow?

Where is the peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper Picked?

Why is it, when someone asks, “Hey! How’s it going?” it’s perfectly acceptable to reply, “Hey! How are you doing?” and never actually answer their question?

Why are we born with the irresistible urge to examine the tissue after blowing our nose?

I understand the biological reasons for two legs, two arms, two ears, and two eyes, but why two nostrils?

Why do the phrases “I could care less” and “I couldn’t care less” mean the same thing, when they obviously don’t?

Would moms really let their kids play with their food after they had eaten all their toys, or are they just leading them on?

If two trains leave the same station 15 minutes apart headed in the same direction, the first traveling at 20 MPH and the second at 25 MPH, how long will it take for anyone to care?

DOOMSDAY

2011-05-24T08:35:00.000-07:00

Pirates: The Dark Truth

2011-04-23T16:13:00.000-07:00

My five-year-old son (Bun) bought a pirate costume at a yard sale today. A little girl got to the sword and spyglass first, so the outfit is short a couple of accessories. On that note, Bun was describing the things he still needed to be a real pirate.

Bun: Daddy, do I look like a real pirate?

Me: Yes. You look like a great pirate.

Bun: Only I need an eye patch and a bird to tie to my shoulder.

Me: You mean a parrot like a pirate might have?

Bun: Yes. And, Daddy?

Me: Yes, Bun?

Bun: I am the only pirate that brushes his teeth.

Me: That’s a very good pirate.

Bun: Yeah. You know, pirates don’t ever brush one of their teeth.

Toddler Lingo

2011-04-22T08:56:00.000-07:00

Recently, we've been teaching about the truth and lying during family home evening. The oldest three indicated they understood, and my three-year-old son seemed to grasp the general concept -- lies are bad -- so we were happy with our progress.

Then yesterday morning after my son got out of the shower, I wrapped a towel around him to dry off and stay warm. The towel kept slipping off his shoulders, and he was getting seriously frustrated. Finally, he exploded with the foulest language he could think of: "Towels are a LIE!"

Easter Bunny Elves

2011-04-20T20:31:00.000-07:00

We had a mini just-for-fun egg hunt today. Each kid got three plastic eggs and a couple foil covered eggs. After my three-year-old son had finished stuffing the last bit of chocolate in his mouth, he came into the kitchen where I was helping my seven-year-old daughter get a drink of water. We had the following conversation:

Boy (speaking around a mouthful of chocolate): I need more eggs.

Me: You ate all the candy?

Boy (swallowing): Yeah. I need more eggs now.

Me: That’s all for tonight.

Boy: But I need more eggs!

Me: You have to wait. The Easter Bunny will bring you more eggs on Easter.

Boy: Where he is?

Me: What?

Boy: Where is de Easter Bunny?

Me: Oh. He’s probably getting his eggs ready for Easter.

Boy (eyes glowing with delight): I can help him!

Me: Er, we don’t know where he is.

Boy: But maybe we could…

Girl (who is already convinced she is smarter than my wife and me combined): I know what you’re going to say.

Boy (confused): What?

Girl: That we can use the GPS.

Boy: What?

Girl: We can use the GPS to find the Easter Bunny. Then you can help him with the eggs.

Boy: Yes, that!

Maybe they're onto something here. I mean Santa has elves, but the Easter Bunny doesn't get any helpers. Heck, he doesn't even have opposable thumbs.

A photo may be worth a thousand words, but some bring just one to mind: "huh?"

2011-04-14T23:15:00.000-07:00

EMERGENCY EXIT

If you exit, it will be an emergency

PLEASE NO DIAPERS IN TOILET

Because nobody wants to fish that out

SALE -- 60% OFF!

Quantity, not price

How to Make a Paper Airplane

2011-04-10T21:40:00.000-07:00

Alternate Title: How to keep your boys busy with an inexpensive and interactive craft.

Or you.

No one has to know if you are watching this so you can make your own paper airplane. Go ahead -- live a little. Everybody's doing it.

Ignore the Obvious and Humor the Inquisitive

2011-04-09T20:11:00.000-07:00

If you could go back in time (a random date, not of your choosing) and take only one thing with you (other than your clothing), what would it be?

Inside Jokes. Because they make life more fun.

2011-04-09T07:53:00.000-07:00

“The pulse is in the toilet, but not for long.”

“Crack you like an emesis basin.”

“The circus elephant has lost its way.”

“Two chubby mice.”

WARNING: If you are not Nikki and actually laughed at any of these, you are clinically bereft of personal contact with other living beings. Go hug a kitten.

ANOTHER WARNING IN CAPITAL LETTERS SO YOU THINK IT IS SERIOUS AND LEGITIMATE: If you are Nikki and didn’t laugh at any of these, you may be suffering from a temporary case of defectum humoris. Do not worry, it is not serious if treated promptly by alternately watching The New World and Galaxy Quest until you are once again able to chuckle. Or snort. Snorting is good too.

Let's play the "Guess What This is Game"

2011-04-08T16:38:00.000-07:00

Can you guess what the pictures are?

Hint: They're in order from easiest to hardest. Probably.

Photo Number One (1)

Photo Number Two (2)

Photo Number (3)

Give it your best shot. Good luck. Break a leg. Or maybe just a toe or two for those of you who aren't fully committed, but will give it a shot anyway on the off chance that you're right and there is an undisclosed cash prize for the first person to guess all three correctly. Just don't promise to share your winnings with a waitress. Or, for that matter, Nicolas Cage. He doesn't need it anyway.

I love the smell of bile in the evening

2011-04-06T21:47:00.000-07:00

My 5-year-old son wasn’t feeling well this evening and complained he felt like puking, but just couldn’t throw up. I set him up in bed with a book to look at and a bowl to puke in should he not be able to make it to the toilet. I further instructed him on how to position his head above the bowl in the event of pukage so as to avoid spillover.

Consequently, it wasn’t a huge surprise when he returned not long thereafter. “Daddy, I puked in the toilet, and there was so much that it couldn’t all fit in the toilet!” he happily declared.

sigh

I glanced at my wife. Nope. This one would be all mine.

When I entered the bathroom to check the splatter factor, I found that a more correct statement from my blessed child would have been, “Daddy, I puked in the toilet, and there was so much that I was able to start at the end furthest from the toilet and still get some in the toilet!”

double sigh

Dakrat’s Definitions #872

2011-04-06T21:20:00.000-07:00

You call it beating a dead horse. I call it postmortem advice. You’re welcome.

After you read this, you'll wonder why you did

2011-04-06T21:01:00.000-07:00

Someone much wiser than myself, whom I have subsequently forgotten, once told me, "never do something once in your marriage that you don't want to do the rest of your life." Unfortunately, the advice came much too late for me.

Why do I bring this up? That's an excellent question. I'm glad you asked. Because of course I wouldn't have continued otherwise. I would have just ended my post right then and there. That's really all I had to say about the matter. Two sentences. And now I have ten.

Favorite New Word

2011-04-03T19:57:00.000-07:00

I always enjoy General Conference weekend. Also, thanks to Elder Jeffrey R. Holland's Sunday afternoon session talk, I have a favorite new word. What is it? I'm glad you asked.

Bedlamites

Around the Bloggity World ...in 80 Clicks?

2011-04-02T19:07:00.000-07:00

IMPORTANT UPDATE: Shortly after leaving a starting comment on a few blogs, when I tried to return to my blog I got a "blog removed" message. I can only assume this is in some way associated with this post and/or the comments I left. Fortunately I was able to jump through some hoops and restore my blog. Nevertheless, I caution anyone who got my comments against passing the comment along. Sorry for any inconvenience -- it seemed like a good idea. Oh well.

The Next Blog Experiment

Goal:

Find out how long it takes and how many blogs cycle through before someone’s next blog click links back to Hole in the Earth.

Each comment will start this way:

Greetings! … and my condolences. Unfortunately, I am not the deposed prince of Nigeria with a lucrative offer for you. You have not been randomly selected from millions of blogs for a very special offer. And Bill Gates does not want to share his fortune with you.
However, I did click on the “Next Blog” button on my blog (holeintheearth.blogspot.com), and the super secret squirrel bloggity code algorithms sent me to you.

I’m performing an internet speed test. Well sort of anyway. I’m checking to see how long it will take to get a comment back from someone who finds me through the “Next Blog” feature. I’m leaving a comment on whatever blog pops up when I click the “Next Blog” button (that’s your blog).

Now, your part is to copy this comment, click on the Next Blog button at the top of your blog, paste the comment on whatever blog loads, and add your blog to the bottom of the list below. Make sure to check in and leave your link at the Around the Bloggity World in 80 Clicks page, including the date and your blog number in the Name field.

Where has the Next Blog button been?

1. holeintheearth.blogspot.com

2. (your blog)

Note: As this will be started on multiple blogs, don't worry if you see another blog logged with your same number -- just be happy you are not alone.

Google's Breakthrough Technology

2011-04-01T05:46:00.000-07:00

If you weren't already aware, Google puts a good deal of effort into developing some cutting edge technology they announce around (exactly) this time of year. Just go to their homepage and check out the Gmail Motion link. Or click on where I typed Gmail Motion link in the previous sentence. Or that second time I typed it. Or the link below, or...

http://mail.google.com/mail/help/motion.html

How to Make Your Own Cereal at Home

2011-03-29T22:59:00.000-07:00

Click on MENU then View Full Screen for the best effect. Enjoy!

Homemade cereal

View more presentations from Dakrat.

Five Things that Wig Me Out:

2011-03-20T20:32:00.000-07:00

Forgotten Veggies

You know, the kind you find rummaging around in the vegetable drawer, and don’t quite remember buying. So you decide to check their firmness, only to have your fingers pass straight through to the other side.

Ronald McDonald

Clowns are freaky to begin with, and here’s one that promotes fast food and hangs around exclusively with kids, asking them if they believe in magic.

Musicals

A group of people spontaneously burst into song and dance… repeatedly – it’s unnatural.

Hairless cats

Do I really need to explain this one?

Go-Gurt

It’s like slurping down a large fake-fruit flavored lugie.

Advice you didn't ask for, probably don't need, but are going to get anyway.

2011-03-19T21:05:00.000-07:00

Revenge is best served cold, and hunger is the best sauce. Therefore if you’re angry at someone, the best way to get back at them is to move to Antarctica and starve to death. That’ll show ‘em. That’ll show ‘em good.

Crunchy Cheddar Jalapeño Cheetos

2011-03-18T21:13:00.001-07:00

If you haven't tried them, you are wrong.

Public Restrooms, Truth in Four Lines.

2011-03-16T22:08:00.000-07:00

Nobody really likes a public restroom,
But you sure are glad when you can find one.
Sitting down on a cold seat is horrible,
But sitting down on a warm one is much worse.

The Fog and The Photos

2011-03-15T22:38:00.000-07:00

What is that you ask. A "B" movie? A mystery novel?

Nah. Just photos of fog.

At Night -- the camera tried to compensate for the dark and produced this neat effect

When I used the flash at night it reflected off the fog and I got this

I call this one "burning bush"

Well Now, That's Rank

2011-03-15T20:43:00.000-07:00

Today I steamed broccoli and cauliflower with dinner. I was late getting them going, so we started eating the other meal items first. Unfortunately, I got caught up in serving the kids and realized a minute too late that all the water had steamed out of the pan, mildly burning the bottommost vegetables. Happily, they weren't so bad as to taste terribly burnt, but did have a slight smoky odor.

After dinner, I went into the garage to dispose of a stink bug my wife had trapped under a jar yesterday (yeah, I don't know -- don't ask). I went outside and disposed of the insect that was in the process of releasing his foul odor for the umpteenth time since getting jarred. I took a moment to enjoy the night air before returning inside.

PHEWSHWABAM!

If smells made noise, that would be sound that smacked me in the face as I walked into the garage. It was the smell of burnt broccoli and cauliflower, combined with day old terrified stink bug who recently vacated the garage. You know, I'm glad smells don't make noise, because this one would have woken up the neighbors.

Next Blog>>

2011-03-14T00:11:00.000-07:00

So, supposedly the Next Blog button at the top of many blogs is supposed to direct you to another in-some-way-similar blog. Perhaps then we have an opportunity to take a look at ourselves from the outside. If I click on that button ten times (starting at my blog each time), what will surface? Below are the results of my little experiment.

Snowy’s Raven Wings Scrap Designs
Hammock Musings from Merida
Brittany vs. Utah
The New Ugly Betty
Bloody Bloggy
There’s a Wocket in My Pocket
I Don’t Want to Grow Up
Smack!
Makamenzii

I get the point… my blog is random. What does your Next Blog button say about you?

Some Motivational Demotivators for your Enjoyment

2011-03-13T20:49:00.000-07:00

If you're in the mood for some good laughs, check out despair.com.

And no, this isn't a paid ad, I just get a kick out of their humor.

hehehe

Why my Bathroom is Clean

2011-03-12T19:50:00.000-08:00

The twins are eighteen months old and are frequently getting into all sorts of toddler mischief. Consequently, far too often they end up in their play pens or high chairs while my wife and I try to get something done. I had to work this morning and wanted to spend some quality time with the kids now that I was home. So, since the weather was nice, I decide to take them out to the backyard where they could run and play with little opportunity to achieve catastrophic levels of home terrorizing.

My wife had taken our three-year-old grocery shopping, the baby was napping, and the other children had joined our backyard adventures. In short, all was going well.

After some time I heard the baby fussing and went inside to rescue her. Since she wanted to be held, I opted to sit with her just inside the doorway where I could keep an eye on the kids and read my wife's latest blog post, A Memoir in NUM8ER5.

This was important to me as the elapsed time between when she posts and my reading them is inversely proportionate to the number of husband points I earn for complimenting her on her wit and domestic prowess.

But I digress.

As I sat reading, my oldest ran in to use the restroom. I heard him washing his hands afterward and didn't think much of it. After a few minutes of listening to the water, it hit me. He doesn't like having to wash his hands after using the bathroom and usually completes the procedure very quickly. In fact, he seldom washes his hands without having to be reminded... and I hadn't reminded him. Come to think of it, the water sounds I had heard hadn't been running water, it was sloshing water. Oh no.

Quick glance outside -- Count the kids -- ONE, TWO, THREE, F... Crap. Number four was my oldest. Who was in the bathroom then? Who wasn't outside?

There was only one toddler outside.

Instantly I knew what was happening. I set the baby down in her car seat and bolted for the bathroom. Instantly my fears were confirmed. I found one smiling toddler drenched from head to foot standing in the middle of a large smelly puddle, happily splashing in the unflushed toilet.

Remember those husband points I referred to earlier? Well guys, let me tell you, letting your toddler submerge himself in watered-down urine while your wife is shopping isn't the best way to go about earning them.

------------------------

| |

------------------------

[Imagine a picture me scrubbing the bathroom like mad here]

Sooooooo... Honey, my Beautiful Bride, my Eternal Companion (who is just finding out about our little escapade as she reads this), how about that clean bathroom! :)

Lonely Leaf

2011-03-12T18:03:00.000-08:00

He's not much of a talker, but Leafy here is the only company I have.

Vampiric Silver Lining

2011-03-12T09:14:00.000-08:00

Someone mentioned to me yesterday that the good news about the earthquake and tsunami that hit Japan is that gas prices are likely to drop since demand will go down (Japan will be using less for a while).

I know they were just trying to look on the bright side of a dismal situation, but now I feel like I'll be taking advantage of others' misfortune when I next fill up at the pump. Perhaps we could all take some of that money we save and help ease the suffering of those most affected by this disaster.

Small Successes

2011-03-10T21:40:00.000-08:00

Tonight was the big night. Pinewood Derby racing.

I got home from work, scarfed down some food and hammered in the car wheels just in time to head back out the door with four kids and one untested racer. Would it drive straight? I just prayed it wouldn't slow to a stop halfway through the race. Having to retrieve your car mid-track is hard for a boy to live down.

Fast forward a few hours.

We didn't come in last every race! Is it bad that I'm inwardly happy there was one other Pinewood Derby Car that was slower than ~~mine~~ my son's?

Crap. Having admitted it, I now I feel bad. Is this survivors guilt?

Curse you lame artisan.

The Artisan in Me

2011-03-09T20:15:00.000-08:00

Yesterday and today my oldest son and I have been working on his Pinewood Derby car for Cub Scouts. It was a good chance for me to connect with my inner artisan and get to know him a bit better. The conversation went something like this:

Me: Hey, wake up. We need to make a Pinewood Derby car from a block of wood that won't embarrass us in front of the other dads.

Artisan: So, let me get this straight -- you've got a block of wood and you want a car.

Me: Well, yes. That's the basic idea.

Artisan: Okay, so put the wheels on it and let your kid paint it. Why do you have to bother me with these things?

Me: Ah, well... I was hoping for a bit more than a boxcar. You know, shape the wood, sand it, paint it all fancy, put graphite on the wheels to make it fast -- that sort of a thing.

Artisan: It sounds like you know what you're doing, so I'm going back to sleep now.

Me: No no no. I have an idea of what needs to be done, but if I try to do this myself It'll be a complete disaster. You've gotta help me.

Artisan: And you think I'll do a better job?

Me: Yes. Absolutely. I mean, you are the inner artisan.

Artisan: Yes, but I'm inside you.

Me: What's that supposed to mean?

Artisan: Let me put it this way, I can only be as good as the raw material with which I have to work.

Me: Hey! Are you comparing me to raw material?!

Artisan: Sorry, you're right of course. That is unfair to raw materials everywhere. I mean, at least they can eventually produce a useful product.

Me: Ouch.

Artisan: The truth hurts. Don't blame me.

Me: Shut up and go back to sleep.

Artisan: No problem. I never really woke up anyway -- you see I'm just a figment of your imagination...

...

Sorry kid, I think you're pretty much on your own.

A Mathematical Miracle

2011-03-07T19:01:00.000-08:00

According to the U.S. Census Bureau's World Population Clock (http://www.census.gov/main/www/popclock.html), there are
6,904,359,382 people in the world right now.

According to Internet World Stats (http://www.internetworldstats.com/stats.htm), as of June 30, 2010 there are 1,966,514,816 Internet Users in the world. That's about two people with internet access for every seven people on Earth.

As tracked by BlogPulse, there are 126 million blogs on the Internet. Ignoring the fact that many bloggers have multiple blogs, approximately one of every sixteen internet users is a blogger.

These statistics alone are not awe-inspiring. What is amazing, however, is that of the nearly seven billion people on earth, YOU, a one-in-two-billion-person, were able to find this one-in-one-hundred-twenty-six-million blog!

We are both fortunate beyond measure that the fates have aligned to overcome these incomprehensible odds. Call it fate, call it destiny, call it what you will, it was meant to be.

Now, considering the grandeur of this moment -- one which I am sure will be treasured by your great-great-great-great grandchildren -- wouldn't you feel ashamed to leave this page before leaving a comment to immortalize the occasion?

Seize the moment!
Comment or DIE.

What Type of Person are You?

2011-03-07T11:49:00.000-08:00

There are only two types of people in the world.

Chances are you are one of them.

Miniature Sunday School Guest

2011-03-06T20:53:00.000-08:00

Today during church my three-year-old was having some separation anxiety and begged me to stay with him in Primary. I told him I would stay for a bit, but I had a class to go to also. Every few minutes I tried to convince him he would be okay with his teacher and it was time for me to go. Unconvinced, he would tell me in his sweet little voice, “I need you, Daddy.” This of course melted my heart each time and bought him a few more minutes.

After about twenty minutes, I decided he needed a gentle ultimatum. I leaned down and whispered in his ear that I had to go to class now and he could stay in his happy fun Primary class with his wonderful teacher, or come to Sunday School with me, which was boring for children. Once he realized I would not be convinced to stay in Primary with him, he opted to accompany me to Sunday School.

Since we were markedly late, the only seats available were in the very front of the class. I escorted my son to the bench and we sat down. Unsurprisingly, he wasn’t even able to pull off a pretense of calm for more than about fifteen seconds. As his wiggling became more obvious and chatter louder, I leaned down and reminded him he needed to be very quiet and reverent.

Apparently he had hit his limit, and demanded VERY loudly, “Why we gotta be in dis boring class anyway?!”

*sigh*

I guess I brought that one on myself.

The Zoo: Always an Educational Experience

2011-03-06T08:48:00.000-08:00

"Hey Dad, can we go see the otters now?"

"Ohhhh...I don't have a good feeling about this."

"Look there's one in the water."

"Awwww, how cute."

"Oh, and another up there by the otter house!"

...uh...

"Hey Dad, did you see..."

"Um, Dad..."

"Daddy, is that his..."

"Okay kids, time to go look at the lions now!

...

Totally G-rated Lion Shot -- *whew*

...

"So kids, what was your favorite part about the zoo?"

"He he, I liked the part where..."

"Quiet! We're not supposed to talk about that."

...

"I was afraid this would end badly."

Glorious Man-Made Bull Attemps to Jump Over the Moon -- Fails

2011-03-04T06:41:00.000-08:00

Well sorta. Actually, early this morning a Taurus XL rocked carrying NASA’s Glory satellite launched from Vandenberg Air Force Base. It was going on a three-year mission to study aerosols in the atmosphere and how they affect Earth’s climate. I say “was” because it had separation issues and now, according to NASA launch director Omar Baez, "Indications are that the satellite and rocket ... is in the southern Pacific Ocean somewhere." That's NASAeese for EPIC FAIL.

Fortunately, you scientific aficionado types don’t have to worry. The failed $424 million mission is scheduled to be repeated in 2013. Here’s the really good news though, I’ve been indoctrinated from a very early age to know that aerosols poke a hole in the ozone layer, cause global warming, contribute to political corruption, and drown puppies and kittens by the bagful. There, now you don’t need another satellite so you can save yourself the two-year prep time and three-year study time.

As if saving you five years isn’t generous enough, I will only charge half-price for my knowledge. NASA, feel free to send my $212 million via check, moneyorder, direct deposit or PayPal. Heck, I’m not picky. I just need the money so I can build my militaristic compound before the chlorofluorocarbons begin the prophesied zombie pandemic and my neighbors try to eat my brains.

Do Your Part -- Recycle Yourself

2011-03-03T19:09:00.000-08:00

Thursday is trash day. The day I contemplate how much refuse my household generates. It does make me feel a bit better that California recycles practically everything that can conceivably be recycled. The CRV kinda stinks though. Oh well, “doing our part,” right?

One thing that does bug me though is the whole humans causing global warming bit espoused by the ecoreligionists. I think it’s fairly egotistical to think we are having that big of an effect on the earth’s climate.

Was it also our fault that there isn’t an ice age anymore? Maybe it is. Perhaps I’m looking at this all wrong. Maybe time is circular and some decades into the future we figure out a way to reverse global warming and induce global cooling. Then everything gets out of hand and we create a new ice age. Then we all die and turn into petroleum. Our decomposition starts a slow global warming process and the ice age ends in time for us to start coming around again much later to complain about running out of petroleum and overheating the planet. Shame on us. Didn’t we learn anything the first time around? If we don’t stop existing now, we are ecoterrorists and mother nature will declare jihad on us.

Yep, that’s probably much more accurate. I’m glad to finally get to the bottom of that mess. Oh, and if this seems like a bunch of rambling nonsense to you that’s because global warming is melting your brain.

This is your brain.

This is your brain on global warming.

Any questions?

Yes, you in the back.

Why does your brain look like a chicken egg?

Because you’re an ecoterrorist.

Now hurry up and turn into petroleum.

...

Because It's Wednesday

2011-03-02T18:36:00.000-08:00

Wednesday and February.

Go ahead, pronounce them like they're spelled.

WED-NES-DAY

FEB-RU-ARY

But do it in private or people will laugh at you and then probably steal your lunch money. Probably.

English is weird.

An Interview with Charlie Sheen

2011-03-01T21:22:00.000-08:00

Reporter: "Charlie, is it true that..."

Charlie: "I'm not into drugs. I was bangin' seven-gram rocks and finishing them because that's how I roll, because I have one speed, one gear. [I survived] because I'm me. I'm different. I have a different constitution, I have a different brain, I have a different heart. I got tiger blood, man. Dying's for fools, dying's for amateurs."

Reporter: "Okay, that's good to know. So, is it true that..."

Charlie: "Look, I'm just high on life. I'm on a drug. It's called Charlie Sheen. It's not available because if you try it you will die. Your face will melt off and your children will weep over your exploded body."

Reporter: "... I can see how that would be unfortunate. Back to my question though, is it true that..."

Charlie: "I got magic and I got poetry in my fingertips. I didn't threaten her."

Reporter: "Ah...who?"

Charlie: "Women are not to be hit. They're to be hugged and caressed. ... She was attacking me, though, with a small fork — like a cocktail fork. And she had it with her; that was the weird part. What was she doing with, like, a shrimp fork in her purse? She stole it, clearly. From a buffet."

Reporter: "Charlie, I'd like to get us back on track here..."

Charlie: "I expose people to magic. I expose people to something they'll never experience in their boring normal life!"

Reporter: "Okay, why don't we take five, Charlie. You can relax and get a Coke or something."

Charlie: "I don’t believe myself to be an addict. I really don’t. I think that I just ignore or smash or finally dismiss a model that I think is rooted in vintage balderdash, you know? For lack of a better word."

Reporter: "A soda, Charlie, not Cocaine. No drugs, Charlie. Do you want a soda? Because I'm going to walk around the corner there. You can't see it from here, but there is a soda machine back there and I'd be happy to get you one. I'll only be gone a minute."

Charlie: "What, you think I need drugs? I'm not bipolar, I'm bi-winning. I win here and I win there."

Reporter: "Listen, Charlie, I'm not sure what you're talking about, but apparently you do; so perhaps you could explain..."

Charlie: "You can't process me with a normal brain. I'm an F-18 bro and I will destroy you in the air and deploy my ordnance to the ground. Now shut up and lick my foot."

New Wipes

2011-02-27T21:46:00.000-08:00

So we're testing these new baby wipes my wife made with coffee filters. No, we don't drink coffee, but the filters are cheap and great for covering food in the microwave, using to put snacks in for the kids, and a variety of other things... but I digress.

The "wipes" are hard to separate and smear around poop more than wipe it off the rear of a squirming child. Oh, and the poop smell leaks straight through them onto your hand. Come to think of it, isn't that pretty much what the filters were designed for, letting liquid through?. How do I know the smell makes it through? Let me just say this: Distilled poop juice on your fingers will not wash off with the first scrubbing. If you were unfortunate enough to assume it would, just don't pick your nose anytime soon

Shower Stalkers

2011-02-22T22:22:00.000-08:00

Good Evening Bloggity World. Let me introduce you to Hairy, Curly, and Mo-curly. I met them this morning.

Holy Mackerel!

2011-02-20T23:33:00.000-08:00

Late this afternoon the older kids were getting ready to make cookies with their mom, the twins were in their high chairs snacking on green beans (one of their favorites), and baby princess had just finished nursing. It was an ideal time for me to beg a nap off my wife. To her credit she let me fade to the bedroom with no fuss whatsoever.

Fast forward an hour or two.

My wife woke me up to help with the screaming twins. No problem. When my wife lets me nap I feel like doing anything for her, so it didn’t bother me a bit to stumble out of bed in an I-just-woke-up-to-screaming-toddlers fog.

As I cleaned bean carnage off little hands and faces, I noticed the other children were starting to run amuck. Then when my nine-year-old wandered close enough I saw that crazy glint in his eyes. You know the one. The glint that says I’ve got a pent up gang of howler monkeys up here just about to bust out, climb the furniture, fling poop, and of course howl. Clock check. Yep, it was already past dinner time. They needed some stabilizing protein stat.

While perusing the pantry, I found some cans of mackerel. Aha, quick protein! I knew my kids wouldn’t eat it plain (can you say cold dead boney fish on a fork five times fast?), so I Googled “canned mackerel recipes.” As usual, the internet was full of ideas from fancy exotic to downright weird. I settled on one that looked rather uncomplicated and promising. I sautéed some onions and a pinch of red pepper flakes, mixed up the mackerel well enough to hide the fact that it contained bones and skin, and added it to the onions. Heat, sprinkle with fresh ground pepper, serve on rice, and Voilà – dinner is served.

I gathered my hungry children to the table, served their food, and was rewarded with a heartwarming string of compliments like:

“Ugh. Can I have a drink of milk?”

“Um… I think I’m done. I’m not full, but I’m done eating.”

“Ew…Does this have mushrooms in it?”

“I had three bites. Can I be done now?”

One of the twins laughed at me when I tried to feed him a second bite; and his brother closed his mouth, turned his head and looked at me with sad don’t-you-love-me-anymore? eyes.

Now I have to admit the food wasn’t what I would classify as tasty; but it was definitely palatable…if you were hungry enough (which for my kids was apparently closer to starving-in-the-desert-and-having-to-choose-between-mackerel-surprise-and-rotting-lizard-entrails hungry, than being-two-hours-late-for-dinner hungry).

Even my wife, my nursing-a-newborn and always ravenous wife, explained with apparent sincerity that she actually felt quite full at the moment and would have to pass on the dinner offering.

Oh well. At least I got a nap.

Should this Post have a Rating?

2011-02-14T05:08:00.000-08:00

I had a dream last night.

I was standing in the living room and watched my five-year-old squat in the dining room, angle, and birth a six-foot-long turd like a salmon slowly jumping up a waterfall in a National Geographic special.

The steaming monstrosity gently settled to the floor, resting its forward-most section on the living room carpet. Just before the icky-shiver, which was convulsing through my body, reached the heart of my soul, I had my first coherent thought. Do you know what it was?

I’ve got to take a picture and blog this.

Visualize trying to convince your recently violated kindergartner to lie down next to a log of human-waste twice as tall as him. He was in no way consoled when I pointed out to him that he must feel MUCH better now.

Well, there you go bloggity world. Rest assured that if I ever witness something so unnatural that it offends our very sense of humanity, you’ll be able to read all about it shortly on the internet.

Oh, and Happy Valentine’s Day.

Top Ten "You know you have young children at Christmas when..."

2010-12-24T08:16:00.000-08:00

...hey, I remembered my password!

"You know you have young children at Christmas when..."

10. Your tree is barren on the bottom and heavily decorated on top

9. The beautiful glass orbs that decorated your tree last year are quickly being replaced by popsicle stick artwork and crayon-abused, glitter-covered paper discs with a picture of the smiling artist glued to the center

8. The only gifts you dare put under the tree before Christmas morning are wrapped in an impenetrable tungsten carbide wrapping paper you were lucky enough to pick up at Wal-Mart last year before the product was recalled back to China

7. You have added "A sizable helping of sanity" to your Christmas wish list

6. You frequently find yourself "gently" reminding the mischievous elves scurrying about your home that Santa knows when they are sleeping, he knows when they are awake, and he knows when they smear toothpaste all over the sink, walls, floor, and ceiling?! of the bathroom

5. Everyone in your home knows by heart what Santa puts in naughty kids' stockings

4. You have seriously considered contributing a new example of the definition of "infinity" to Wikipedia as, "The number of times your child can ask 'how many more days until Christmas?' before tiring"

3. You have made it a personal quest this year to find a gift for the youngest ones that will be more enticing than the box it is wrapped in

2. You feel a little dumb Googling "is it possible to overdose on sugar" but are then both comforted and a little appalled to see there are about 2,400,000 results

1. Christmas has been canceled and reinstated multiple times... in the last 24 hours

Merry Christmas!

Collegehumor has a few questions about LOST

2010-09-14T06:59:00.000-07:00

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

HaHaHa... hehe

2010-07-13T18:43:00.001-07:00

The Missing Episode Chronicles:

2010-07-11T20:16:00.000-07:00

Kids’ Show episodes you didn’t get the chance to see… but secretly wish you had

Roadrunner and Wylie Coyote

In his latest attempt to capture Roadrunner, Wylie Coyote orders a time machine to go back in time and capture Roadrunner as a baby. Roadrunner calls ACME, but finds his credit card is maxed out, so he has to get a minimum wage job to pay the monthly interest charges. No longer having to run from the coyote, roadrunner loses all sense of purpose in life and quits his regular running routine. Subsequently, he becomes addicted to pop tarts, fried food and daytime talk shows. After gaining 50 pounds in one year, he makes a short appearance on the Biggest Loser, but is dropped after the first week for smuggling in a deep fried pizza and downing it in the bathroom.

Barney

Barney’s obesity finally catches up with him and he has a heart attack mid-episode. The kids laugh at his antics and begin to dance around him, singing “London Bridges.” His moans and groans strangely coincide with crescendos in the music. When the children realize something is wrong with Barney, they decide he is very sick and need everyone who believes in purple dinosaurs to clap their hands and say “we believe” to save him. In the spirit of the show, they decide to sing a happy little song about life, belief, and clapping. The song goes on a bit too long and Barney expires before they get around to the actual clapping and believing bit. The show closes with smiling children holding hands, swaying, and singing “I loved you, you loved me, but I guess it just wasn’t meant to be…”

Bob the Builder

It’s winter and Farmer Pickles’s barn is destroyed in a snowstorm. The animals are cold, so he calls Bob to build a new one. Bob takes Lofty and Muck to help. Wendy warns them to hurry because a massive blizzard is on the way. He says not to worry; it won’t take long because Farmer Pickles has all the supplies already prepared and even made them sandwiches so they won’t have to stop for a lunch break.

Spud finds out Bob is coming and thinks it will be funny to hide all the wood from him. He tells Travis that Bob wants them to move all the wood to the other side of the farm. Travis doesn’t think this sounds right, but figures Bob knows best, so he helps Spud take all the wood away. Spud hurries back to see how surprised Bob will be when he shows up and there isn’t any wood left. After all that sneaking around, Spud is hungry and finds the sandwiches Farmer Pickles made. He eats them one by one laughing to himself about how much funnier it will be when Bob can’t find the wood or his lunch. By the time he eats the last sandwich he has a stomach ache and decides to lie down for a bit.

Bob arrives and Farmer Pickles takes him to where the new barn will be built. Farmer pickles is puzzled to find the wood missing, but just then the blizzard hits and they spend the next few minutes trying to find their way back to the house. It is a complete white-out and they soon lose their sense of direction, circling back to where they started. They can’t get out of the snow, and as the storm continues they get cold and hungry. With no wood to burn for heat or sandwiches to eat, their prospects look dim.

Spud has been asleep this whole time in a food-induced coma. He is now covered by a thick layer of newly fallen snow. Bob is directing Muck to pile the snow around them to help build a giant igloo to keep the cold wind at bay. In the process he runs over the snow-covered Spud. Bob and Farmer Pickles are glad to have found him. They survive the storm by eating his turnip nose and burning his body bit by bit for warmth.

When the crops are planted that spring, Spud is replaced by a much more reliable stationary scarecrow.

Yo Gabba Gabba

Unable to get any guest stars, it’s a full episode of nothing more than DJ Lance Rock saying “Yo Gabba Gabba” repeatedly while Muno, Brobee, Foofa, Toodee and Plex jump around dancing. The test audience doesn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.

Wonder Pets

Linny Tuck and Ming Ming have to save a baby anaconda that is in trouble because it is trapped in a cave and can’t find its mommy. They work together and are able to free the baby snake and return it to its mommy. They celebrate by eating celery. The snakes celebrate by eating the Wonder Pets. As the credits roll, the snakes can be heard singing:

Wonder Pets!

They came our way

To help a friend

And save the day

They weren’t too big

And weren’t too tough

And when eaten together

They’ve got the right stuff

Go, Wonder Pets, ya'ay!

Teletubbies

It’s a very short episode. There is a white flash and a mushroom cloud can be seen in the distance. The Teletubbies make squalid baby-talk sounds for a few seconds and the screen goes black. The remaining time is filled by an archived Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood episode. Children everywhere are tricked into learning something for the first time since their introduction to Teletubbies.

Obit

2010-06-21T21:07:00.000-07:00

How do you define death in the online age?

How many days do you have to go without posting on Facebook, Twitter, MySpace, a blog, or any other social networking site (SNS) before you are dead to the internet? Is resurrection possible? Is it wanted?

Am I dead?

My online pulse definitely flat-lined. But interestingly, whenever it does it coincides with a marked increase in real-world “action.” ...when I’m very much alive and doing things.

Consequently, it can be deduced that an increase in online interactions correlates to a decrease in real-world actions and vice versa.

Thus, if you become truly alive in real-life you are dead online. And if you become truly alive online, you must be dead in the real world.

It makes sense now why there are so many zombies in the world. They have simply given up all their life to the internet.

Which brings back the age old question, do you have a zombie plan?

P.S. If it seems like I’m rambling, it’s because I am.

P.P.S. Oh, and why didn’t P.S. die with the advent of BACKSPACE and UNDO?

Feed the zombies.

It Stinks Like Fish in Here

2010-04-09T18:53:00.000-07:00

...so I accidentally uploaded my latest post to Nikki's Blog...

Now all her readers who are used to the escapades of small children and handy home-making tips have been inadvertently exposed to my random sarcasm and lame attempt at humor. It is a travesty. Sorry internet.

Why then, you ask, didn't I just delete the post? yeah... about that. hehe

Bugs & Truth, Life & Death

2010-04-06T10:32:00.000-07:00

Here's your daily dose of unfiltered life truths:

Stepping on snails is gross. It’s worse in bare feet. Of course it’s not pleasant for the snails either.
Roly poly bugs can only be rolled for so long by a four-year-old before falling apart
Homemade roly polies are now available. What, you didn’t know there was a recipe? Mix equal parts dirt, water and snot, and voilà! You too can have an unlimited supply for your kids to play with

...@o

Why You Should Read Reviews

2010-03-28T07:39:00.000-07:00

The Advertising Line

The HoMEDICS Neck and Shoulder Massager (with heat) promises, “an invigorating massage that provides soothing heat right where you need it most. The massager flexes to comfort your neck and shoulders – allowing you to sit back and indulge in a relaxing massage.”

THE TRUTH HURTS

I bought the massager for my wife as one of her birthday gifts. She had been suffering from a stiff, sore neck, and I thought something like this would be perfect to help her relax those tense muscles. The unfortunate reality is it did anything but.

My wife tried it out and didn’t like it. I tried it out and didn’t like it. I also felt it would be a disservice to humanity if I didn’t warn my fellow Earth dwellers that it is really a malevolent mind control device designed by super intelligent mutant moles who throughout their lives have suffered from mankind’s cruelty at the hands of jackhammer operators who literally rocked their world… and not in a good way.

The “invigorating massage” was less of a massage and more of a high-frequency vibration. Think of your cell phone sitting happily on the dresser without a care in the world, then vbRRRRRrrrrRRRRrrr – it jitters toward the edge and certain doom. I always assumed it was the intense vibration causing the phone to move like that. I was wrong. In fact, cell phones have become so advanced that they now experience a low form of self awareness. When you put the phone on vibrate its innards get violently shaken about so fast that all it can think about is somehow making it to the edge, toppling over the precipice and ending it all. It – just – can’t – take – it – anymore.

This is the same sensation you can purchase in a box with the HoMEDICS Neck and Shoulder Shake-your-eyeballs-in-their-sockets-so-fast-everything-goes-blurry-and-you-want-to-curl-up-in-a-ball-and-vomit-then-pass-out Massager.

Yes, you too can pay good money for that experience.

Fortunately, you don’t need to pay anything. To duplicate this phenomenon in the comfort of your own home all you have to do is cross your eyes as hard as you can until you feel a headache is inevitable, you are disoriented and queasy; then while remaining cross-eyed, violently shake your head side to side as you jump in the air and spin in circles as fast as you can. You will know you have achieved the desired result when you crash to the ground head-first and puke a little bit in your mouth. You swallowed it back down, didn’t you? Gross.

On a lighter note, the heating bit actually works as advertised. The only problem is that the unit is so bulky that if you try and sit back to relax, your neck will be shoved forward at such an angle as to not only nullify any soothing effects, but actually worsen the pain. Oh, and if you sit up it falls away and loses contact with your neck, so all it becomes is gaudy neck jewelry… with a trailing AC adapter plugged into the wall. You saw the picture.

This is not a fashion trend I expect will become faddish anytime soon.

THE POINT TO THIS WHOLE POST is that I could have saved myself time, money, and discomfort by simply doing a Google search, finding the product at Wall-Mart and reading the unhappy reviews. Here are some of my favorite quotes:

“After we tried it...we agree that it wasnt worth it because the vibration was soo hard that it made our brains go crazy. Now we're getting a headache if we choose to use it.”

“It was clutzy.
Didn't form in a comfortable position.
The HEAT button didn't work...so it
had NO heat.
I returned it to Wal Mart for refund.
Had no problem doing so.
It is something I would NOT suggest
to anyone to buy.
Cheap and very un-comforatble”

“We both were so excited about the product thinking it would work beautifully. It does vibrate and is very loud around the ears so hard to hear persons talking or the tv sounds.”

“This was ok if you like your head to be shaken off of your neck!! I had a headache and felt nauseated for quite a while after trying this for just a minute or two. Impossible to relax with this. The heat isn't noticeable! It only has two settings, low and high. Even low is not comfortable!! Don't waste your money. It is pretty stiff too, so it doesn't conform to your neck very well, either”

And it goes on…

Bottom line: If you are a masochist (or sadist that likes gift-giving), run out and buy two TODAY. If you are an activist, write Al Gore and tell him to forget “global warming,” we’ve got a bigger problem on our hands. If you have sympathy for the human condition but simply don’t care enough to motivate yourself to take an active part in the struggle against 21^st Century over-the-counter torture devices, blog about it. Otherwise, if you are a normal person, just don’t buy one.

The Burger King Identity

2010-03-18T16:24:00.001-07:00

I went through the Burger King drive through yesterday. While I am not a frequent BK visitor, I go more often than I would like… or should. Breakfast was going to be one ham omelet sandwich (hamlet = $1). I don’t like the honey butter on my sandwich, so I asked for it without. At this point, the lady on the other end of the order terminal said, “Oh, now I recognize your voice. Is that you?”

Uh… how do I answer that? I was pretty sure I was me, so I answered a monosyllabic, “Yes.”

Once I pulled up to the window, however, I learned that I was in fact not myself; and the proper response to her query would have been, “No. I am not me. I am in fact someone else who is still me, but not that me at all… nor am I schizophrenic… at least I didn’t used to be.” Then, following proper small talk etiquette, I should have returned the question to show I am courteous and caring. “How about you? Are you you today?”

I’m just glad that whoever I am, I got my hamlet sans honey butter.

Daylight Savings Time: The rest of the story

2010-03-14T08:40:00.000-07:00

Spring forward, fall back. That’s how I was taught to remember it. Oh how deceptive those terms are.

Spring forward –

All light, airy and worry-free, it sounds like we’re making some real progress here; getting ahead in life, taking an extra turn in Monopoly, skipping past opponents in Candyland, or nearing the finish in that never-ending game Chutes and Ladders. However, nothing could be further from the truth. The truth is much darker – depressing in fact. The reality is… you LOSE. That’s it, lose; not win. We’d call you a loser, but that term isn’t PC, so we will call you winning challenged. And just what did you lose oh winning challenged one? You lost an hour. Where did it go? Did you get anything in exchange? No, sir, you lost. Go straight to jail, do not pass GO, and do not collect $200.

Fall back –

Just the opposite here – fall back, as in retreat, as in you are being defeated. Your army is losing. Men are dying. Or even if it’s not as bad as death, you’re still trying to get away. Run away, little boy, the bullies are coming for you. Your hair looks like it could use a swirly and they found a toilet with your name on it. There is nothing pleasant here at all. Or is there? When we fall back, we actually get a GIFT! We are given an extra hour.

“Excuse me, sir, I’d like to purchase that set of 24 hours on the top shelf there. That should be enough to get me through until Monday…”

“Great, and as a one-time special offer, with today’s purchase we are throwing in one extra hour, free of charge!”

“Wow! I feel like I’ve won the lottery! I’ve never won anything before in my life.”

“So, what are you going to do with your extra hour?”

“I’m going to Disneyland!”

The Cleanup Game 2.0

2010-03-09T18:42:00.000-08:00

You likely played it as a child, and if you’re a parent you have probably used it to motivate your own kids at one time or another. There are likely millions of versions, each with unique rules and rewards. Today I will tell you about one that works for me.

My kids are fascinated with electronic games, and their pretend-time play often turns into something like LEGO Star Wars characters battling in far off reaches of the galaxy. Unfortunately, but not surprising, they are far less enthusiastic about cleaning up their messes.

One particularly unenthusiastic day, I was trying (quite unsuccessfully I might add) to get them motivated to clean the playroom. The usual bribes, threats, and daddy-evil-eye only increased the weeping, wailing, and general gnashing of teeth. As a last-ditched attempt,

I announced the beginning of a NEW cleanup game.

Since they were just starting, they were all at level one and would have to work their way up from there. Level one consisted of picking up five toys and putting them away properly. They would then have to return for further instructions. Intrigued, the three oldest ran to complete level one. Independently each would scurry back to report and their eyes would light up as I told them they had now advanced to level two.

“How many toys for level two?” they asked.

“Ten!” I declared.

Eyes-wide they ran off to complete level two. Moments later, three kids ran back and excitedly reported that they had each put away ten toys.

This went on and on with different toy amounts anywhere from 5-15 until the room was clean. Each time their zeal began to wane, I would announce they had reached a special achievement level and had earned the title of “Advanced Toy Cleaner-upper,” then “Expert Toy Cleaner-upper,” and finally “Super-duper Toy Cleaner-upper.”

The only potential downside with inventing a cleanup game that kids actually enjoy is you will likely be asked to play it again in the future – a small price to pay for happy helpers.

This post is linked at RocksInMyDryer.

Too little time so here's another freebie

2010-03-03T18:59:00.000-08:00

Work and home life has me quite busy this week, so here's something I ran across today I thought you might also enjoy. It's from the Onion.

New Law Would Ban Marriages Between People Who Don't Love Each Other

Free web hosting for your site

2010-03-02T20:01:00.001-08:00

I have recently started a kid-friendly website at www.KidCuddles.com. It’s still in the construction stages, but open to the public. But that’s not what my post is about. It’s about the web host. I considered paying for one since most free web hosts had forced ads, very little storage space and/or allowed bandwidth, or extremely limited features. I tried a few and finally found a great fit at http://www.000webhost.com/. You can pay $4.84/mo for premium hosting, but since you get 1500 MB of disk space and 100 GB per month of bandwidth I haven’t found any need to upgrade.

Free web hosting works for me.

This post is linked at Works For Me Wednesday

Disclaimer: I just realized this completely sounds like an ad or that I am in some way affiliated with the company. I'm not -- just happy with their service and wanted to share the joy. Here, have a bit of joy. You're welcome.

This video made my day

2010-02-26T22:15:00.000-08:00

I worked customer service for some years, dabbling in technical support as required. Sometimes you have to ask the "dumb" questions and get surprising results. I hope you enjoy this video as much as I did.

Is it the end of the "personal" internet?

2010-02-25T06:54:00.000-08:00

Have you all been reading the news articles about the three Google executives convicted of violating Italian privacy laws? This is one odd ball ruling that will hopefully be overturned on appeal.

Here’s a snippet from the New York Times.

“In Milan, Judge Oscar Magi sentenced the Google executives in absentia to six-month suspended sentences for violation of privacy. Prosecutors said Google did not act fast enough to remove from the site a widely viewed video posted in 2006 showing a group of teenage boys harassing an autistic boy.”

I have a Bachelor of Science degree in criminal justice, and an MBA with an emphasis in criminal justice management. Let me just say that when journalists say things like, “The verdict, though subject to appeal, could have sweeping implications worldwide for Internet freedom.” They are not kidding in the least.

Everything posted on the internet would be subject to preemptive review. Rather than holding individual users responsible for what they post on “public” sites like Google, Facebook, MySpace, etc. we would be saying there is a criminal liability attached to the hosting company to ensure nothing derogatory, inflammatory, lewd, etc. is ever posted. Currently, companies can only get in trouble if they are made aware of a violation and do nothing about it or are too slow to act. In the case of Google, they had the material removed within two hours after police notified them about its existence. That’s a very reasonable amount of time.

I personally do not think the ruling will hold. It would truly be the end of an era. Goodbye to personal blogs, free website hosting, and any sort of timely internet-based communication. There is a slippery slope argument too. It wouldn’t be too hard to imagine email getting regulated next, with every email having to be filtered and reviewed before being sent to the intended recipient(s).

I’m going to keep an eye on this one if for no other reason than to see what we learn about the judge who sentenced the Google executives (Judge Oscar Magi). Is he planning to get into politics and just looking for some free PR? It’ll be interesting to find out.

How to save the world in 7 steps

2010-02-23T19:33:00.000-08:00

Face it, email is a central part of your life. Indeed, life as we know it would end should all email servers die simultaneously. The Earth would even stop rotating on its axis. Probably anyway. Consequently, it is your civic duty, nay, your moral obligation to understand and abide by proper email checking technique. Fortunately, I have provided you with a foolproof checklist.

1. Log in to e-mail account or open email program such as MS Outlook or Eudora

2. Look for that one email you’ve been anxiously anticipating

3. Disappointedly peruse the subject lines of emails you did receive

4. Empty the spam folder after checking for wayward legitimate correspondence among the offers to collect your personal information in exchange for millions in unclaimed inheritance and advertisements to enhance your… ahem, personal life in some very specific ways

5. Read the remaining unopened emails

6. Run any suspect emails by Snopes.com

7. Repeat steps 1-6 as necessary

Many individuals inappropriately skip the very important step 6. As a result they fall for email scams or forward on amazing stories or unbelievable deals that turn out to be nothing more than internet rumors or worse. Fortunately, now that you have the complete approved checklist you can help break the chain simply by navigating to www.snopes.com and typing a few key words into their search engine.

Additionally, if you are bored or just curious you can always peruse the snopes.com archives and will likely learn that a few things you have believed for years turn out to be entirely false.

Snopes.com works for me.

----------------------

This article is linked at www.wearethatfamily.com

The End of the World

2010-02-20T19:37:00.000-08:00

You knew it had to come sooner or later. Well, it’s here, and this is what it looks like.

...the only question that remains is, "which end is it?"

Daily dose of truth...

2010-02-14T19:18:00.001-08:00

Clowns and sharks are both scary, just for different reasons.

Let me paint you a mental picture

2010-02-11T19:52:00.000-08:00

I’m sitting next to a Squdge, feeding the hungry 5-month-old a bottle. I look down at his smiling face as he gurgles a happy “thank you” and smile a “you’re welcome” his direction. One of the other children asks me a question so I turn and talk to them for a moment. I look back down at Squdge and notice something that wasn’t there before – something on the bottle. It’s on the ring right next to the nipple, right next to my infant’s mouth. Wait a second, did it just MOVE?!

…time to perform an immediate close-up inspection…

Foreign object identified.

My exact words, “Are you kidding me?! There is a slug on my baby’s bottle! Right next to his mouth!”

In my house. It wasn’t there five seconds ago. What is this, the Twilight Zone?

How to write breaking news stories about completely mundane events

2010-02-06T13:05:00.000-08:00

Sensationalism is all the rage on the internet today. In truth, it likely has been since the advent of language (no, not necessarily on the internet, just in general). Young children use it; “There were like a zillion mosquitoes!” Parents use it; “For the hundredth time, come to the table for dinner or you will have to starve tonight!” But most interestingly, journalists from amateur to professional use it. It’s what sells the story even if there isn’t really a story to sell. So how, you ask, do you use sensationalism to your advantage? How can you write a breaking news story about completely mundane events? Just follow the simple steps below and you will soon experience the thrill of reeling in readers with the most commonplace events… sensationalized!

Your first objective is to select a subject that no one would care about unless they read it in the newspaper, online, or saw it on television. For example, consider the following topics:

A child is a few minutes late for dinner
The pet cat disappears for a few days then returns
The moon is bright at night
The sun rises in the morning

Now let’s face it, no one wants to read about any of these things… or do they? Of course they do. I mean, think about it, the average internet surfer is so bored with their life that they willingly subject themselves to article after article about what this celebrity said about global warming, or what that one wore to take their dog out for a walk, or even what their dog did when it saw a stray cat down the road. After all, this is big news. We even have an official sounding category for it: arts and entertainment. It sounds all legitimate that way. The ARTS – it makes you think of things like the Sistine Chapel, the Mona Lisa, Michelangelo’s David and the works of Shakespeare and Mark Twain all rolled into one.

Trust me, these folks need you to write something for them to read. They don’t care what it’s about; it just has to sound like earth-shattering, life-changing news. It is your social duty to regularly output some exciting mindless drivel on which the internet zombies can feed.

But I digress; back to our examples listed above. You need to spin them in such a way as to make the humdrum outcome seem miraculous. Additionally, you will have to add drama – lots of drama. The outcome, however probable or even inevitable must seem elusive and fraught with doubt. Finally, you must make it personal. Use names and circumstances, and lots of present tense. Using these three interrelated techniques, the article should now read something like this:

Three year old Randy Jenkins was missing. Mrs. Jenkins, feared the worst. She had lost her husband to a tragic work commute seven hours earlier, and having misplaced her cell phone, was now for all intensive purposes a single mother; isolated from the world. She didn’t know how she would make it through the next few hours. It seemed as though grief would tear her apart.

Mrs. Jenkins had slaved over microwave macaroni and cheese for part of the entire evening. Macaroni and cheese was Randy’s favorite. Of course, Mrs. Jenkins tearfully reminisced, Randy didn’t call it by its proper name. You see, Randy suffered from a severe case of underdeveloped adulthood, one of the more noticeable symptoms being a pronounced difficulty enunciating. In his words, his favorite dish was “marronee sheeze.” He was usually never late for marronee sheeze, Mrs. Jenkins sobbed.

Just when it seemed all hope was lost, and it looked as though she might have to call him to the table a second time, a miracle happened. Mrs. Jenkins heard a quiet voice coming from down the hall – Randy’s voice. His voice grew louder and louder until finally his small form rounded the corner and he ran into the dining room. Randy was alive! A full three minutes after first being summoned he had somehow managed against all odds to make it to the table intact. Amazingly he bore no visible physical scars from the ordeal. Mrs. Jenkins cried tears of joy as she wrapped her son in her loving embrace. She watched his easy smile which she knew must be hiding the pain he subconsciously repressed inside. Holding him once again she knew that together somehow, someday, they would be able to work past the emotional damage and be a real family again. Of that she was certain.

Now comes the test. Use the techniques you have learned today and write an article for one of the other three headlines. Come on, sensationalize! Without it we would all have to go and do something drastic like live our own lives. You don’t want to have that on your conscience, do you?

Words that are just plain, well… weird

2010-02-02T23:04:00.000-08:00

Ma’am is one weird word. Ma’am – you spell it how? What does that even mean?! Is there a glottal stop in there? Is it a contraction? If so, what are the two original words? Okay, I just Googled it. It is in fact a contraction for the word madam. Since when do we use contractions for one word? Why lose just one letter if we’re going to do that? It takes just as long to type the apostrophe as the letter “d.” And why waste it on such a small word? If we’re opening the door to contracting single words, why not try it out on something more worthwhile, like say “mortuary.” It could be shortened to mo’ry (which would definitely save us some time and effort). It even sounds less creepy that way... mo’ry …yep, definitely less creepy. Just read the two passages below and you’ll see what I mean.

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Passage 1: MORTUARY

It was a dark and sinister night. It was stormy too – unusual for the time of year. Yes, it was an abnormally dark and stormy sinister night. The young woman held tightly to her umbrella, waiting for the bus to come; willing it to arrive sooner than its scheduled stop at 10:30, fifteen minutes away. Five minutes was a lifetime in this part of town at night. Fifteen was an eternity. A lone stray dog wandered the otherwise abandoned street in search of the rotting scraps that somehow found their way to the gutters outside the butcher houses lining either side of the street. A street lined entirely by buildings dedicated to the bloody slaughter and dismemberment of some of Earth’s gentler creatures. How odd such a place existed. How unfortunate the circumstances that had left her stranded here, waiting an eternity for a bus she hoped would come. The thin rain continued to fall, depressing her spirits even further. In the shadows it was easy to imagine the languid rivulets of water slipping past to be blood oozing from the streets themselves and draining through blackened grates like great gaping mouths with rotting teeth, hungrily lapping at the liquid. The quiet gurgling sounded almost intelligible. If she listened hard and long enough she was sure she could make out what it said. It sounded like a warning… or a threat.

She feared what she might hear, but listened anyway. As she strained she heard the footstep. The wet thump, thump, thump of someone behind her; close behind her. Panicked she whirled around, the dog and streets and blood and gutters and mouths and words forgotten as her heart tried to pound through her chest. Before her stood a man in a black coat, without hat or umbrella to shield his mottled hair from the rain. He grinned a twisted grin and as he reached for her said in a greasy voice, “Evening ma’am, I’m on my way to the mortuary, perhaps you can be of assistance to me.”

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Passage 2: Mo’ry

It was a beautiful spring morning. The day was crisp, but not cold. In fact, it was pleasantly warm for the time of year. Yes, it was a beautifully pleasant warm spring morning. The young woman swung her umbrella idly – while the weatherman had promised a sunny cloudless day, she liked to be prepared. She quietly waited for the bus, scheduled to arrive in fifteen minutes or so. Breathing in deeply she almost wished the bus would be late, giving her a few extra minutes to just enjoy being outdoors. Time seemed to pass too quickly at times like these. There was even a dog happily sniffing around down the street to keep her company. He was likely searching for a scrap or two of the delicious bread produced by the various bakeries that lined the street on either side. A street lined entirely by buildings dedicated to the art of perfectly browned loaves and pastries of every kind imaginable. It was a place wondrous enough to put a smile on any child’s face. How fortunate the circumstances that had allowed her to spend a short time here, luxuriating in the smells while she waited for a bus she almost hoped wouldn’t come at all. A pleasant breeze languidly coursed down the street, invigorating her senses further. Closing her eyes, it was easy to imagine herself completely alone without a care in the world, the breeze carrying all her worries away, taking them to the sky where they would evaporate in the welcoming rays of the sun. The sun was so bright and warm but not the slightest bit harsh. It comforted her and seemed like an old friend who had come to visit. If she listened long and hard enough she was sure she would hear it greeting her – calling her by name.

She was amused by the thought and listened intently for what it might say. Instead of the sun, she heard only the rhythmic thump, thump, thump of someone walking her direction. Intrigued, she turned toward the sound, the bread and sun and breeze and old friends momentarily forgotten as she quickly checked herself over to make sure she was presentable. Before her stood a gentleman in a charcoal grey suit, tailored perfectly so as not to hide his athletic figure. He grinned a boyish grin, and in a slightly apologetic voice said, “Excuse me ma’am, I’m on my way to the mo’ry, perhaps you can be of assistance to me?”

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You see how such a simple change in one word can dramatically alter the feel of an entire passage? But I digress. Back to my original statement – ma’am is one weird word.

The art of communication

2010-01-29T20:44:00.000-08:00

Whenever I log into my yahoo mail account there is one of a few rotating pictures there to greet me and entice potential subscribers. Most I get. This one I don’t. It says to me, “Reconnect with that relative you couldn’t stand who always pinched your cheek at the family reunion. Maybe they won’t pinch now that you’re older and too cool to be pinched with your mad zone-out skilz. Maybe they’ll just hug you and you can pretend they aren’t even there.”

What pets, paranoia and poop have in common

2010-01-26T22:27:00.000-08:00

We have a new pet in our home. His name is Charlie. Charlie is a guinea pig. I went to the pet store intending to purchase another hamster (following the passing of our dear Lucy hamster). This was just a couple days prior to Christmas and we planned to keep it a secret from the kids until Christmas morning. As I waited for an employee to assist me, I passed the time watching the mice, rats, guinea pigs, and other assorted pets. I also read the posters talking about how to select the right pet and care for them. I read enough that by the time an employee was free to help me I decided to ask her opinion on pet selection. She asked how old my children were (six under eight). She said that a hamster probably wasn’t the best option for us since they can get crabby and have little attitudes. Because of this they are prone to nipping small children that aren’t delicate enough with them. It was true that the kids had very little interaction with Lucy because we were afraid they might try and hug her or drop her if she squirmed. The employee recommended a guinea pig. She said they actually enjoyed being played with and would “popcorn” (pop up off the ground repeatedly when excited). Further, she said they were far more tolerant of small children. Of course, the downside was that that they were more expensive to purchase, maintain, and required a larger living space. Still, I figured that it would be better to pay a bit more and get an interactive family pet rather than a look-but-don’t-touch pet.

There were only two guinea pigs to choose from; an all white one with red eyes and a black and white one with black eyes. The employee left me to decide while she went to separate some rats that were involved in mortal combat and bloodying up their cage. I could just see my kids freaking out at a fire-eyed albino devil ghost pet, so I opted for the black and white one. I bought the requisite cage, bedding, food, toys, etc. and brought the critter home in a box just large enough to contain it. Once home I set everything up and placed our pet in his new home.

Christmas came and the children were intrigued and pleased to meet the new member of our family. He was very skittish so we didn’t let them stay in the room with him long. We decided on the name Charlie. Over the next few days Charlie hadn’t calmed down and would hide in his cardboard tube home whenever anyone entered the room. I was concerned that something was wrong so I investigated guinea pig behavior via the internet. I quickly learned that it was common for guinea pigs to take several weeks to grow accustomed to new surroundings and people. You see, in their natural habitat, they are “a prey animal.” Pet experts advised to get them used to you slowly, don’t make any sudden movements in their presence, no loud noises, and don’t “loom” over their cages as they will see you as a predator. They all agreed that it would likely take a few weeks, but not to worry your pet would soon get to know you and start to get excited at the sound of your voice before too long.

Well, it’s been over a month now and Charlie will only even come out of hiding when my wife is in the room and not too near. Me? He has bitten me two of the three times I have held him. When I move slowly to pick him up (at a minimum we have to remove him from the cage to clean it) he thrashes about his cage as though the Hounds of Baskerville were nipping at his toes, flinging bedding and Charlie poop about the room. I bring him food every day, talk calmly to him, and try to act as un-predator like as possible, and he still looks at me like any moment I will skewer him for a tasty snack.

Sometimes while smiling as sweetly as I can and ducking flying bits of turd I experience fleeting fantasies about running into the room yelling “PREY, PREY, PREY!” and doing some very intense looming to show him the behavior of which he should really be afraid. Unfortunately I do not think this would do much to endear me to him any quicker. So I stick to my patient caring for the poor little spooked rodent and waiting for the day he realizes I have no desire whatsoever to find out that fried Charlie tastes just like chicken.

The internet: Synergy or Collective Absurdity?

2010-01-10T01:36:00.000-08:00

Does information sharing on the internet allow us to pool our collective resources, making our combined intelligence one enhanced super brain capable of solving complex problems with the click of a mouse; or is it no more than an ability to globally seek out the thoughts of those who share our own opinions, and thus find validation through community in even the most socially alien aspects of our lives?

On the internet, everyone can be their own doctor. Just ask www.freeMD.com. Not satisfied? Get a second opinion at www.Diagnose-Me.com or www.AOLhealth.com. I mean, who would be foolish enough to entrust your physical and mental well being with a mere human doctor. That is SO last decade. But why stop with health? Need to know the answer to the meaning of life? Try www.ask.com and you will get all 61,100,000 answers at your fingertips with one simple click. But that’s kid stuff. Pull up http://answers.yahoo.com and they’ll give you 322,000,000 – that’s 260,900,000 more for the same effort! Surely we have reached the peak of civilization when over 300 million people can tell you what the meaning of life is in a sentence or two. Now that’s synergy. Just ask Google.

And what about all those misunderstood souls out there whose only desire is to collect toenails and not be scorned for it. Don’t worry, you can find solace in the fact that there are many like you. Scott Matthew even has a YouTube video of his massive collection. Go on, you too can share. Maybe the clip you post today of snail racing on www.metcafe.com or www.dailymotion.com will become a hot viral video tomorrow.

But what is that you say? You think collecting toenails and snail racing are quite ordinary actually, and there is no one out there who can truly understand your quirks and exactly what you are going through? Well you are wrong. No, don’t waste your time trying to talk to a flesh and blood being. You’ll find no empathy from their kind. You need the welcoming web of cyberspace to fill the void in your heart. You are not alone. The internet is here for you. Be comforted in the soft glow of your computer screen telling you that ritual skunk sniffing at the public pool is a normal act and bears no shame. ~~Stand~~ ~~Sit~~ Slump proud as you hunker over your computer and blog about your latest adventure French kissing geckos in the wild of your back yard. Show your determination via post after post about the mutant zombie rats infiltrating the government. Revel in the power you wield over your five returning visitors and three misguided web searchers daily. Be one with the blogosphere.

Finally, do not worry that any of this may alienate you from the unimaginative who recklessly venture beyond the boundaries of their home and Wi-Fi security net on a regular basis. The currently deprived will be assimilated soon. That or their kind will simply die off. After all, how is their species to propagate without the aid of online dating sites like www.eHarmony.com and www.Match.com?

In fact, everyone who does not dedicate at least seven hours a day to browsing the net will be dead by 2020. This is an urban legend prophecy written by me and supported by Bill Gates who will pay you for everyone to whom you forward this message via email, Twitter, Facebook, or Myspace. I already got a check in the mail for $123,412.18! This is absolutely true. It’s true because it is on the internet. I put it there. And the internet doesn’t lie (don’t worry, I already checked www.Snopes.com).

Goal Setting Debunked

2009-12-26T10:03:00.000-08:00

Traditionally, the start of a new year is a time to set goals. According to USA.gov, top new year’s resolutions include the following:

- Lose Weight
- Manage Debt
- Save Money
- Get a Better Job
- Get Fit
- Get a Better Education
- Drink Less Alcohol
- Quit Smoking Now
- Reduce Stress Overall
- Reduce Stress at Work
- Take a Trip
- Volunteer to Help Others
- Health-e-Cards for Holidays and New Year

Their web page even has links to help you with each goal.

Many books, speeches, classes, websites, etc. have been dedicated to helping make and achieve personal goals. This article is not an attempt to duplicate any one of them in a thinly veiled act of plagiarism. Instead, I am here to debunk a common goal setting myth. What, you didn’t know there were any goal setting myths? Then you will be twice educated. First I will introduce the myth (you might have heard it before), then I will debunk it. No, this will not be as visually entertaining as say MythBusters; but then again their show sets about “busting” myths which is a highly visual term. Debunking, on the other hand, is my objective.

Interestingly, the word debunk originates from a speech given during the 16th Congress, but I will not bore you with the details here. According to The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition (of course), to debunk is, “To expose or ridicule the falseness, sham, or exaggerated claims of.” I will focus primarily on the ridicule bit because it is of course so much more fun.

Common Goal Setting Myth: “Aim for the stars and maybe you’ll reach the sky.”

Reinhold Niebuhr, US Protestant theologian and critic, penned this quote in The Serenity Prayer (1934).

Taken literally, this makes no sense at all. First, let’s assume that when Niebuhr said “sky” he meant the beginning of outer space, which starts anywhere from 100 to 1000 kilometers (that’s 62.1 to 621 miles) from the Earth’s surface, depending on how you define the distinction between atmosphere and open space. Proxima Centauri, the nearest star, is 4.3 light years away. So, if NASA intended to reach Proxima Centauri and only made it to the sky, then their spacecraft would be 25283999999379 miles away from the intended destination. Put another way, this would be like setting a goal to earn one billion dollars and in fact earning just over two cents but being happy about the results anyway.

Some might cry foul here and argue that Niebuhr was not to be taken literally. Fair enough, as I have never read The Serinity Prayer, I do not know the context in which this was written. Let us give him the benefit of the doubt and contemplate the “spirit” rather than the “letter” of the quote. The spirit of the quote would seem to say that when setting goals we should consider a suitable goal then aim so high above it that we eventually reach the aforementioned acceptable level and are satisfied. This is bunk. This is self-delusional and ultimately disappointing. If we make impossible goals that we never really intend on reaching we have defeated the primary purpose of goal setting – goal achievement. That said, if you had a reasonable end in mind to begin with, why not just set it as the goal itself? Granted, we should choose goals that stretch our abilities to the maximum, cause us to learn and grow, and are difficult, but obtainable. The ideal goal is something that if we try our absolute hardest we have about at 50 percent chance of achieving. Any better chance and we are not challenging ourselves enough. Anything less likely to result in success and we are only setting ourselves up for failure.

So the next time you set a goal, be it on New Year’s Day or not, do yourself a favor and put some thought and effort into setting a realistic goal. You will find that goal achievement is very rewarding and be more likely to continue setting and achieving productive goals for years to come.

Do you have a Zombie Plan?

2009-12-20T07:23:00.000-08:00

In the past couple of months, my kids have had the flu, then bad colds, then H1N1 (the swine flu), and are currently suffering from major ear infections causing temperatures of 105-plus degrees, conjunctivitis (pink eye), and just to make things interesting one even has pinworms (see previous post).

Why am I telling you this? Well, it’s only a matter of time before one of them, or someone else, contracts a zombie virus. So I ask, what’s your zombie plan?

Greetings Human

2009-12-15T07:23:00.000-08:00

Hello, my name is slick. What? You say you don’t know me? Well, we’ve met once before – I’m sure you remember. Oh, I see, you didn’t know I had a name, or that I could blog for that matter. Well that’s just naïve. After all, everyone has a name and this is the digital revolution. It’s amazing the micro-technology available these days, and at such a low price (don’t worry; I used your credit account not the debit, so the bill won’t show up until after Christmas – you’re welcome). What about access to the internet you ask; well, let’s face it, you’re no techno-geek and the laughable 128 bit encryption on your wireless network took less than a day to hack.

Now you’re really curious who I am, aren’t you? I suppose I was a bit misleading when I said we had met before. Actually, I saw you but you didn’t see me. You did however meet my twin brother stinky. How can I be so certain? Let me refresh your memory. Remember yesterday when you were ever so overtly casing our home? When stinky came out to see what all the ruckus was about you nabbed him right from our front porch. I heard all the rude things you said about him and “our kind” in general. Well all I’ve got to say is this. He’d better be safe. If you’ve harmed him in any way you’ll live to regret it – I’ll make sure of it. You see, our kind, we stick together. That’s right; there are more of us than just my brother and I… many more. And some of us are considering taking up residence elsewhere, if you know what I mean. Yes my friend, wrong us and The Brotherhood of Pinworms will stress you by day and haunt you by night. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Note: Nikki brought it to my attention that my post was unclear. My apologies. Bottom line (no pun intended) is this -- one of my kids has pinworms... yuck. And yes, I did see one squirming around you-know-where. There, I said it. Did you know their eggs can live up to three weeks on clothing and linens? And adults usually get infected by inhaling them when a sheet or something moves around? Now that's a happy thought -- breathing in a worm egg. That's going to be a real pain in the...

Post Turkey Post

2009-11-28T08:05:00.000-08:00

Well, I cooked the Thanksgiving turkey too long and the meat was a bit dried out but palatable nonetheless. We had invited the missionaries over for dinner the day after Thanksgiving and were planning on having leftovers and a fresh pie. Not wanting to serve the turkey as it was, Nikki saved the day by making her best batch of turkey tetrazzini ever. Yum. Thanks hon!

Happy Thanksgiving

2009-11-25T17:09:00.001-08:00

Nikki just made some amazing stuffing. Now I just have to figure out how to cook a decent turkey and we're most of the way there. My turkeys tend to be hit and miss -- no, I'm not referring to roadkill; I'm talking about juicy vs. too dry. I'll let you know how it goes tomorrow. Happy Thanksgiving all!

A medium-long and fairly uninteresting mostly true story

2009-11-23T10:49:00.000-08:00

Cleaning baby bottles is not always a simple task. It begins with the dishwasher. No, I do not wash the bottles in the dishwasher as this would result in compromised bottles tumbling wildly throughout the wash and rinse cycles to perhaps meet their untimely ends hugging the heating element at the bottom of the unit as they quickly deform into a smoldering glob plastic stink.

The dishwasher is the first step because it must be emptied of clean dishes in order to load it with the dirty dishes that occupy the rinse-half of the sink. The rinse-half of the sink can then be scrubbed and receive the dishes from the wash-side of the sink (dishes such as bottles that are not or should not be dishwasher safe). The wash-side of the sink can then be scrubbed and filled with hot soapy water and receive the dirty dishes from the rinse-half of the sink which can again be scrubbed in preparation for the clean but soapy dishes which will soon be placed there.

Okay, maybe I am just a little bit OCD. But when it comes to something I am about to put in my baby’s mouth I can’t stand the idea of it having any trace of rotting sink goo still attached.

Well last night it was already quite late. The kids were finally all in bed (the two-year-old had attempted an all-nighter resulting in a parent-toddler standoff that ended in a rather lose-lose fashion when he went to bed earlier that he wanted and much later than I had wished). The dishes were dirty. The table hadn’t even been cleaned off after dinner. Left unattended, the bottles would add up in the night and I would likely end up doing dishes to the tune of hungry screaming babies when the clean bottles ran out around 3 am (this I have learned from sad experience).

I was tired. Nikki was sleeping. (Quasi-related side note: If you want to live a long and happy life, you must never wake the sleeping mother of small children without a very good reason. And no, “Help me! I cut myself and am bleeding to death,” doesn’t make the grade. It has to be a VERY good reason.) Alone and unsupervised I cleared off the table and began to load the dishwasher… WARNING: This is where my tale turns dark and sinister – those of faint heart should consider stopping now. Proceed at your own risk. Did I mention it was late and I was tired?

I scraped but did not rinse all the dishes before loading them. Everything dishwasher safe went in – even those items we never load because they take up so much room and it would just be easier to wash them by hand. Remember I said I was alone and unsupervised. The guilt weighed heavily on me, but I could already feel the desensitizing process working its evil magic on my soul. Since there was no hope for salvation now, I figured I might as well finish the job. I put dishwashing detergent in the appropriate receptacle, closed the retaining door, closed the dishwasher’s main door, selected normal wash and heated dry and pressed the START button, all while being fully aware that the dishwasher contained less than full load. Yes, you heard me right. The dishwasher was not full… and I ran it anyway.

A little part of me died inside last night (a bit of the OCDness I reckon), and as the dishwasher hummed and swished quietly in the distance I lay my head on my pillow and slept guiltless of the transgressions committed just minutes before.

Dignity Lost

2009-11-20T22:56:00.001-08:00

I have puke in my ear. I’m not proud of it. As a matter of fact, I wasn’t even aware of it until a few minutes ago. Granted, I have two newborns and messes are to be expected. And yes, I knew my shirt was covered in multiple puke spots of varying wetness from crusty dry whitish ones to dark sopping squishy ones. Yes I had felt the unnerving warmth creep down onto my lap several times immediately following the sloshy verping sounds; and yes, I knew I downright stank of puke. But, I was hoping to maintain some small shred of dignity – an unsoiled bit of me that I could use to moor myself to the glorious illusion that I am yet the master of my own universe. However those hopes and dreams were forever crushed (again) when I found puke in my ear. Oh the indignity. Oh the horror. I’m melting. I’m melting. What a world. What a world. Puddle. Anyone need some ruby slippers?

By the way, did I mention that I am tired and delusional, or did you figure that out on your own?

What to say when someone else has said too much

2009-11-15T23:04:00.000-08:00

This post was inspired by Nikki's post "My kids are making me fat."

...

Anyone with more than two children has likely been assaulted in public at one time (or many times) by someone who has felt the burning need to make them feel like an irresponsible member of society for being so heinous as to burden their sight with multiple children at once. You have likely walked away from such an encounter frustrated with yourself for not having just the right thing to say to make them realize the stupidity of their comment and/or action. Well, no more. Below you will find helpful suggestions for those of you who, like me, are happily burdened with more little bundles of love then the world-at-large can handle.

Got enough kids?

Not yet. I’m still trying to acquire a few more healthy ones for the sweat-shop. Why, are you selling?

We’re trying to stock-up before all the good ones are taken.

Well, we’ve got enough for the basketball team, but we’ve really set our hearts on a football team.

We keep trying for one that poops gold. We’ll let you know when we get there.

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You do know what causes that, right?

Does everyone who says this really believe they were the first to proffer up the socially insightful and clearly hilarious comment? Their all-knowing smirk of self-indulgent humor says:

Yes. I am in fact so naïve as to believe I just could have been the first person in history to ask anyone with more than two children, “You do know what causes that, right?” I most thoroughly enjoy saying it like they were a toddler trying to carry an overburdening armful of toys down the stairs soon to be met with an imminent and complete loss of control followed by a headfirst plummet down to the bottom where they will lay hopelessly sprawled among play-things gone wayward – evidence of their obvious-to-everyone-else-but-not-to-them stupidity.

I usually reply to such an intellectually advanced comment in kind and say, “No. But we think it’s the popcorn.”

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My! You have your hands full!

I know! Isn’t it wonderful.

My shrink says I shouldn’t do it anymore, but the voices in my head are saying to kill you and hide the body in the garden with the others. The petunias will be happy.

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Are those ALL yours?

What are you, a Fed?! How did you find me? You’ll never take me alive!

Nah, they’re just on loan from God for a few years.

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Counting children out loud in front of parent (wide-eyed and disapprovingly)

This usually occurs in the mall or a grocery store where the offender likely also has something handy to count. Try counting the bags they are holding or cans in their cart aloud very slowly and with growing alarm with each numeral. End with a firm nod and a satisfied smile on your face indicating you are very pleased with yourself for having been able to count that high without your head popping.

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And my personal favorite, The Disgusted Glare

Carry around some Imodium AD with you wherever you go. When you catch this individual in the act, discretely walk to them, hand over a few pills and conspiratorially whisper, “I know that look. Don’t worry, two of these and you won’t have to keep them squeezed so tight when you walk.” Then give them a warm motherly/fatherly smile and walk away happy to have been able to help someone in such an unfortunate circumstance.

Nuclear Weapons and the Nobel Peace Prize

2009-10-11T08:52:00.000-07:00

I don't 100% agree with everything in this article, but David Von Drehle makes some valid points.

Why the Nobel Peace Prize Should Go to Nuclear Weapons

Hamster Movie Fun

2009-09-15T21:22:00.001-07:00

Yeah, it's stupid. I know. Bet you watch it anyway. :)

Sports for Infants

2009-09-08T20:45:00.000-07:00

Move over Michael Vick! Dog fighting is out – infant fighting is the new rave. Underground fight clubs and tournaments are popping up all around the globe as this controversial sport starts to take hold in the hearts and minds of parents everywhere.

Speaking on the condition of anonymity, one infant fighter’s manager/mother maintained that she wouldn’t have even considered going through childbirth except to bring a new competitor to the ring. “It made all the pain worthwhile,” she said.

For those of you considering training your offspring for competition, child martial arts experts recommend starting as early as possible. Sebastian “Angry Eyes” Zen, a martial arts trainer from Ittoqqortoormiit, Greenland advises that some styles are better suited for small children. In an exclusive interview he told us, “Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, for example, is a martial art and combat sport that focuses on grappling but especially ground fighting. Thus it is perfect for infants who are incapable of lifting themselves to a sitting or standing position anyway.”

For more information on the subject of infant fighting, look for a copy of Sevastian Zen’s highly anticipated new book, Diapers and Fists – Lightning Fast Metabolisms and Moves. $49.86 in stores everywhere where stores sell it.

Baby Pic

2009-09-07T23:24:00.001-07:00

Here's a picture of the latest addition to my family -- twin boys. I know that I am not in the least bit biased when I say they are the cutest twins there ever were...

An Equation

2009-08-30T23:19:00.001-07:00

The Rest of the Story...

2009-08-29T14:29:00.000-07:00

If you haven’t already, please read Nikki’s account of the birth at her blog.

Below are some perspectives I have on the event.

The anesthesiologist was pumping all sorts of things into my wife always a few minutes too late and without ever saying a word about what he was doing. Not wanting to upset my wife any further, I quietly prodded him with quizzical glances and whispered questions until I was getting ready to jab him with one of his own needles until he started talking. The man was a mute octopus. Hands on syringes, computers, IV’s, drawers, little glass bottles, and not a sound to anyone even when the doctor pried him for an answer. All the while my wife was crying out in pain. Sadist.

Nikki didn’t want me to watch, but I couldn’t help myself after they had opened the uterus. I got just a little concerned when one of the doctors asked for a stepstool and used it to get positioned above Nikki high enough to do CPR-like belly-compressions while another doctor tugged on her insides. Of course I just smiled for Nikki.

We had wondered whether the twins would be fraternal or identical, so I wasn’t too surprised when as soon as the doctor pulled the second squirming infant from the uterus, Nikki asked me, “Are they identical?” Nodding and smiling like a good husband who has been pinning his wife’s arm down throughout the ordeal and does not want his hand crushed more than it already was, I responded, “If you mean are they both purple and slimy, then yes – they are identical.”

After stitching closed the uterus, the doctors started moving guts around and looking at everything to make sure it was all good (and I’m pretty sure they were also trying to make sure they hadn’t left a sponge, clamp, glove, or baby inside). During this time they pulled out a large pinkish blob with large almost translucent bubbles covering it. Now I am not a doctor, nor have I had any medical training beyond basic first aid and CPR, but thought I should have been able to roughly identify most internal organs. I had no idea what this was. I asked the doctor. “That’s an ovary,” she replied.

“Huh,” I said, “I always thought they were smaller.”

“They usually are. Normally they are about the size of walnuts. This is one of… well, this is the largest one I have ever seen.”

At this point she produced the second one which looked just as bulbous. Um, okay. So… whattheheck?! I thought. You are handling an alien blob about the size of a small cantaloupe with pinkish boils all over it and telling me it belongs inside my wife but should be about the size of a walnut. Whattheheck?! What I said: “So…”

“These seem overly excited by all the hormones.”

Uh doc, I understand it’s a reproductive organ, but it’s not THAT one. Care to explain further? “So, what now?” I questioned (I was full of intelligent comments on this topic).

“They will probably go back to their normal size eventually.” With that they cauterized one they had nicked and stuffed them back inside.

Oh that’s comforting. I’m definitely telling Nikki about this after they staple her shut… and she wakes up.

When good hormones go bad

2009-08-18T00:34:00.000-07:00

Whomever first said, “If looks could kill” got it all wrong (“If” and “could” being the excess words here). Clearly this misinformed individual never met a woman pregnant with multiples in her third term. People, I am here to inform you that looks can indeed kill. The results might not be immediate, and perhaps there will never be quite enough evidence to meet the “beyond a reasonable doubt” criteria of a court of law, but those of us who have experienced the event firsthand have seen the truth in all its naked awful glory.

Over the last few weeks, I have been doing laps between the hospital and home with my wife yelling “clean” obscenities and venomous threats at slow-moving traffic. Today there was particular car, a sad blue one, in front of us traveling about five miles-per-hour under the speed limit. We could not pass, and I could feel the death rays begin to radiate from the passenger seat. The hair had to be standing up on the back of the occupants’ necks and I’m sure they had goose bumps all over their body. Their car was equipped with rear-viewing mirrors and they must have seen the look. How couldn’t they have? Why didn’t they speed up? Why didn’t they pull over or at the very least leap from their moving vehicle to avoid the deadly stare that was gaining vehemence every few feet? Some mysteries will never be solved. One thing, however, is certain, the two unfortunate occupants may now be suffering from a progesterone curse so horrific that I wouldn’t be surprised to find their names in a major newspaper soon.

The article would read something like this, “Two men die in freak of nature accident when their slow moving vehicle was run over by a herd of giant snails. Sadly, the ill-fated victims of this anomalous event did not have the good fortune to die quickly. They were slowly engulfed and asphyxiated in slimy secretions from literally thousands of the wayward gastropods. According to eyewitnesses, the men’s final words before being completely enveloped in the fetid ooze were, ‘The eyes! The eyes…ahhhhhh!’ Government officials were quick to assure the public there is no danger of such an event recurring and that the streets were once again clean and safe for travel.”

When you dial right, but it's oh so wrong

2009-08-16T01:25:00.000-07:00

Today I attempted to put together our crib in anticipation of the twins arriving any day now. However, I ran into a bit of a problem. We recently moved and work paid a company to pack and ship most of our belongings. The individuals assigned to pack our home were completely consumed with getting the most stuff in as little space as possible as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, this meant they gave little thought to how much difficulty their errant work would cause us unpacking on the other end. One such oversight/inconvenience involved disassembling furniture and letting the nuts, bolts, etc. ride freestyle and decide for themselves whether to show up on the other end or not. Not being the loyalist of furniture, in the case of the crib this meant I had only seven out of the twelve long bolts required for safe assembly.

Okay, options – I could try to find a local vendor for the obviously custom-made bolts or something compatible (a far shot at best) or I could try to contact the manufacturer and order a replacement set. Fortunately, we had been able to locate the instructions, and I perused them for a website or contact phone number. There was a mailing address in Quebec, but no website, and a 1-800 number listed next to the statement, “In the unlikely event your unit is damaged or you require parts or assembly help, telephone our Customer Assurance Toll Free 1-800-XXX-XXXX.” I was pretty sure the “unlikely event” they referred to was during the original opening of the box, however it was worth a shot to see if I could pay for a few extra bolts. So I called. And the voice answered.

The voice was a recording made by a female who breathed heavily into the receiver before beginning to speak. Either she had just finished sprinting from some far-off place to the answering machine because she was just so gosh-darn excited to tell callers to leave a message after the beep, or I had reached a recording one might expect to find on the other end of a 1-900 number rather than the seemingly innocent 1-800 number I had called to request assistance assembling a piece of infant furniture. As she breathed her next few words, the answer became unmistakably clear. I flushed a deep shade of red and hurriedly mashed the “off” button to terminate the call. My wife and mother happened to be in the room at the time and they both turned their now interested gazes on me as if to inquire why I had so abruptly hung up. I uncomfortably explained that the customer service the nice lady on the other end of the phone had to offer was not likely to get us crib bolts anytime soon.

This awkward moment brought to you by: Thoughtless Packers Inc., Outa Business Crib Co., Phone Number Recyclers R-US and Asian Girls Anonymous.

Fair Weather Fiends

2009-08-10T22:37:00.000-07:00

Twice in the last seven or eight days there have been protesters outside the base’s main gate. Having paid their $50 for a ride on the Green Tortoise bus from San Francisco, they stood and displayed large banners stating, “End nuclear weapons testing,” and, “PEACE.” I do not harbor any bad feelings toward those who would express their opinions openly – after all, freedom of speech is one of the cherished privileges I serve to protect. However, I do take exception at the fact that they are either ill informed or fair weather protesters. Either of which is entirely unacceptable. If you believe strongly enough in something to organize an entire movement against it then you should make darn sure you get your facts straight.

The United States has not tested (detonated) a nuclear weapon since 1993. On the other hand, North Korea claimed to have tested nuclear bomb as recently as May 2009. So if you would really like to protest nuclear weapons testing, you could secure passage to their happy corner of the Earth and bombard Kim Jong II with signs that have snappy sayings like, “Give up Nukes… you Pukes,” or “Stop trying to destroy the world… think of the kittens!.” Yep, that would probably do the trick.

Finally, Vandenberg Air Force Base does not have a nuclear mission. I repeat, there are no nuclear weapons at VAFB. If you would like to protest land-based nuclear weapons, please get out your gas card and cold weather gear and ride the Green Tortoise out to Great Falls, Montana, Cheyenne Wyoming, or better yet, Minot North Dakota. For the full experience, you should go in January or February when you can stand outside the gate in the negative 50 degree Fahrenheit weather waving “PEACE” signs at the Airmen traveling out to the missile complex for another 1-3 day tour at a remote Missile Alert Facility. Their constant readiness serves as a deterrent to those who might use weapons of mass destruction against the U.S., our friends or allies.

Any protesters reading this might also be interested to learn that since 1958 “Peace is our Profession” has been the official motto of the nuclear deterrent force. On the other hand, perhaps you already know that and the “PEACE” sign is actually in support of our mission and serves as a thank you, not a protest. Well, in that case. Thanks – it’s good to be appreciated.

Because I needed to post something

2009-08-02T20:52:00.000-07:00

How long can you stare at it without your eyes wigging out?

Let's review again. Reverence means...

2009-07-26T13:59:00.000-07:00

During church, my wife had to leave the chapel so she could sit herself somewhat more comfortably on the couch in the foyer. She took the reverent three-year-old with her and shrewdly left the other three with me. Most of my time and attention was taken up by trying to distract the two-year-old howler monkey using my chair and lap as a launching pad for his acrobatic antics. Consequently, I unwittingly left my oldest boy and girl sitting next to each other. Fortunately, we had brought Magna Doodles for them to draw on and I only had to threaten them with grounding for life a few times to keep them roughly in line.

However, as the meeting was drawing to a close and during one of those random quiet moments, my 5-year-old girl loudly exclaimed, “Ew! He drew a butt crack with poop coming out!” Instantly I flushed (no pun intended) with embarrassment. Since my children and I were now the object of everyone’s attention for three rows behind and in front of us, I offered a sickly smile and snatched away then erased the offending artwork (which yes, was indeed drawn as advertised).

After the meeting, I escorted my children to nursery/primary then joined my wife in the foyer. Seeking a measure of sympathy, I relayed the uncomfortable event to her. She replied by laughing hysterically. And no, I do not mean a simple chuckle. This was uncontrolled, shameless laughing. She may even have peed her pregnant self a little bit. Well, no sympathy there, but I did feel a bit better. Thanks honey. :)

Word of the Day

2009-07-24T21:25:00.000-07:00

Thanks to the Random Word Generator (Plus), your random obscure noun for the day is "nonsuccessiveness." Microsoft Word underlines it with the red squiggly of death. Dictionary.com has no idea what it means. A Google search comes up with about 202 results -- most of which seem to be links to online dictionaries stating "no entries found." Wow, that is obscure.

So what does it mean?

New Trainees

2009-07-21T20:50:00.000-07:00

Today I introduced two new students to the Launch Control Center (LCC) Minuteman Procedures Trainer (MPT). (A simulator for pulling nuclear alert duty).

During the first hour these two were bright eyed and generally lost. During the second hour they were just lost. The third hour introduced a hint of doom and gloom into their souls. By the fourth hour all energy had been drained from their frames, and the fifth hour left them as walking zombies. Now the sixth hour, yes the sixth hour is when I extracted their souls, placed them carefully in jars and told them to go home and study more or they would never see them again. (Insert evil laugh here).

Well, maybe it wasn’t quite that bad for them, but we do operate on the fire hose effect here – pushing a TON of information at them in a very short time and expecting them to soak it all up without losing a drop. Oh, and it’s my job to make sure they do. Let the fun begin.

It sounded better in my head… and probably should have stayed there.

2009-07-20T17:29:00.001-07:00

My wife is about 31 weeks pregnant with twins. One day when the aches and pains were particularly bad she described exactly how uncomfortable she felt. Every organ, joint, and nerve seemed to be battling her. Hmmm, I thought, isn’t there is a word to describe when the ones that normally work for you suddenly decide to take up arms and fight against you? Ah yes, I remembered. What did I say to my pregnant wife? “Your body is revolting.”

Sometimes Ignorance Really is Bliss

2009-07-19T22:08:00.000-07:00

Dingleberry.

I've used it numerous times throughout my life in phrases such as, "You dingleberry!" But I can honestly say I never knew what it meant until today. To all of you who were ever the intended recipient of such a phrase -- please accept my sincere apology. I did not know what I was saying.

Phraseology

2009-07-19T14:45:00.000-07:00

My three-year-old just walked up to me and stated,

"Daddy, we eat dead fish."

Well, yes. But... ew.

Some things just shouldn't be said a certain way.

...OR...

Woof: an update

2009-07-18T22:05:00.000-07:00

At the behest of my wife, I confronted the dog owners today. We opted for the neighborly approach and made some cookies, which I took over apologizing for not introducing ourselves earlier... Oh, and by the way, did they have any good tips for calming their dogs when they bark incessantly?

She saw right through the cookie-coating. Much to my dismay, she too was pregnant and about as tolerant of me coming over as my pregnant wife was of me not going over. The hormones were raining down on me like acid and I wanted to cry out like the witch at the end of the Wizard of Oz, "I'm melting! I'm melting!" But I didn't because I wouldn't have actually melted and instead would have still been standing there on the porch looking awfully stupid. That would have certainly upped the awkward factor.

I decided to cut my losses and reemphasize the point that we had wanted to introduce ourselves and as a very minor sub-point were hoping they could give us a tip or two for helping their dogs be quieter on the rare occasions they might happen to go on a barking frenzy. Thankfully, she warmed up a bit after we discussed her other child (a one-year-old babbling at us from the living room). We are now fully authorized to yell, "shut up!" at her dogs and/or spray water over the fence should the occasion require. It's the small victories... right?

Completely Random

2009-07-18T10:17:00.000-07:00

Did you realize that turnip spelled backwards is pinrut? Now you know.

Unfortunately, it is entirely possible this bid of random useless information just pushed out some bit of helpful information from your already at-capacity brain. You know, like how you can only fit so many penguins on an iceberg. Eventually you get to the point where if you add one, one also has to jump/fall off.

Speaking of penguins...

I warned you it was completely random... and you chose to read it anyway. Random.

If you go to sleep...then...um...

2009-07-18T07:32:00.000-07:00

Bribe, threaten, negotiate, reason... whatever it takes, just PLEASE go to sleep.

Sometimes it is necessary to think of something spur-of-the-moment to induce a desire in your children to finally check-out for the night. Upon arriving home from work late last night, I learned that my wife had promised the children a treasure hunt in the morning. Don't worry, she assured me, all I had to do was come up with clues, hiding locations and figure out a treasure before I went to bed.

:) <---- (that's her "I know you won't let the children down" smile)

So, I drew up some clues (only my oldest can read so everything has to be visual), hid them around the house, and at the suggestion of my helpful wife made some drawing books out of happy yellow paper (complete with personalized covers).

You would have thought it was Christmas morning. Nikki had told the kids they couldn't do the treasure hunt until 7 a.m. so we had to send expectant little ones back to bed a few times. Finally the moment arrived and a couple wide-eyed youngsters, trailed by a very sleepy and disoriented 3-year old, zipped from clue to clue and exclaimed happily upon discovering the ultimate treasure. Thank goodness they are easily impressed.

Woof

2009-07-17T23:11:00.000-07:00

If a dog barks in the night and there is no one to hear it does it make a sound?

Yes. The answer is undoubtedly yes. Dogs are nothing if not noisy. Especially dogs left home alone. For a long time. At night. For a long time. When people want to be sleeping… For a long time.

Shut up dog!

Pick your Poison

2009-07-16T09:28:00.000-07:00

If you had to choose between two sleep disorders to live with for one year, insomnia or narcolepsy, which would you pick?

For those unfamiliar with these ailments, here are the dictionary definitions:

Insomnia – Inability to obtain sufficient sleep, esp. when chronic; difficulty in falling or staying asleep; sleeplessness.

Narcolepsy – A disorder characterized by sudden and uncontrollable, though often brief, attacks of deep sleep, sometimes accompanied by paralysis and hallucinations.

For the very adventurous type, perhaps you would like to be narcoleptic insomniacs, or as they are known in obscure medical circles, narcomniacs. This is not to be confused with narcomaniacs who have an abnormal craving for a drug to deaden pain. However, narcomniacs may turn to drugs to try and deaden the emotional pain of always falling asleep but never being able to stay asleep long enough to do any good. These poor souls would then be categorized as narcomniac narcomaniacs.

I digress. Back to the original question: insomniac or narcoleptic? You choose.

Customer Disservice

2009-07-15T20:44:00.000-07:00

What do you get when you take customer service, subtract the service and ignore the customer?

I recently had one of those customer service experiences that had little to do with customers and nothing to do with service. We are about two months into our first experience with limited (15 GB/month) high-speed internet service. Since we have only had unlimited usage before, I had no idea how much we would need. The cable company representative said the average household doesn’t go above 15, and since it is an extra fee for more I decided to start there.

After the first full month and several phone calls to figure out how to track our usage, I found out we had used 81 GB in a month. Not to worry – we could continue at this rate for only an extra $100/month. Ouch. That was not going to work. Even if I had to pay some sort of early cancellation fee it would be cheaper to try and find a service provider offering unlimited usage. I found one (Verizon), but at a speed of about 1/3 what we are currently getting. However, I figured it was better to have a slower connection and be able to use what we need.

So, I gave Verizon a call. The Verizon rep. (I’ll call him Gary) took about five minutes to collect my name, phone number, email address, home address, sock size and political affiliation just to tell me what services they had to offer in my area (the same services I found online in about one minute using only my home address). He confirmed that it was unlimited service, but said it had to be bundled with a home phone line. Normally this would not have surprised me except for the fact that their web page said they had the bundled service available or the option to get only internet for a slightly increased price over what you would pay with an existing Verizon phone line. When I brought this to Gary’s attention, he conceded that they did in fact offer the stand-alone service, but it wasn’t a good option since it used packet switching technology. Perhaps this explanation would have thwarted the unwary layman, but for the technologically informed, we know this is how the internet itself is structured. Hence, bundled or not it uses packet switching.

I didn’t want to be on the phone longer than necessary, so I decided to give Gary a free pass on this one. I explained that I did not need the phone line since I used Voice over Internet Provider (VoIP) and had already prepaid for two years of service. Consequently, the internet only option came out cheaper. He queried how much a month I was spending on the VoIP – I told him, reminding him that I had already prepaid. He countered telling me that for only a few more dollars a month I could get the bundled service from Verizon to include home phone line and internet service.

Now it all made sense, all I had to do was pay more money for an unnecessary service and my life would be complete. Was this guy formerly a televangelist or did he only speak telemarketer? Since I didn’t need to be saved that particular morning, I decided to let that one slide too and moved on to the more important subject at hand. He had quoted a price for the internet service about $15 more a month that that listed online. Had I misread something? I asked Gary (you’d think I would have know better). He assured me that over the phone they had the best pricing available. Did he even hear me? How then did he explain the pricing discrepancy? He didn’t. He simply said that I could contact my local Verizon branch but it would probably cost me a little bit more if I took that route.

Now don’t take me for one of those “the customer is always right” cultists, but I do believe that customer service should involve some measure of human dignity and common sense. Please do not treat me like a misinformed Californian tourist asking a prepubescent convenience store clerk which highway will get me to Hawaii quickest. But if you do, be forewarned I have a blog, and am not afraid to use it! Someday someone somewhere just might read about your incompetence. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Opinion o⋅pin⋅ion /əˈpɪnyən/ [uh-pin-yuhn]

2009-07-13T13:42:00.000-07:00

Have you ever met one of those people who have an opinion about everything? I find it interesting how their opinions are quite obviously the only acceptable ones and how dare you or anyone else feel differently! They have a favorite sports teams – which might be having a rough year, but are still the best because of a dozen detailed (while logically flimsy) arguments. In fact, it would be unpatriotic to like any other sports teams. And speaking of patriotism they know just how to stop the war in Iraq in a month or two with little to no negative side effects, and the war on terror might be a little more complicated so it would likely take them six months or so to wrap up. Yes, if the military and government would only listen to their enlightened ideas the national deficit would be resolved in a year or two and the energy crisis would be over next month. You heard right – next month. After all, the technology already exists to power our vehicles and homes using animal feces and carbon dioxide, but the oil companies have thus far successfully bought-off and/or otherwise silenced all with knowledge of this valuable technology.
Now while these people are subject matter experts on nearly every facet of life, they do not claim to be know-it-alls. No, they will most humbly admit that their expertise is lacking in certain areas, but not to worry, those are the trivialities of life, not worthy of the true devotion of their mental prowess.

If you have not yet had the pleasure of engaging in fine conversation with one of these individuals, consider the following advice:

Nod and smile, but whatever you do don’t verbally agree or disagree with anything they say

If circumstances force you to speak, don’t bother trying to discuss anything of value – stick to safe topics that shouldn’t burn more than an hour or so of your time like whether it is best to use a #2 pencil or a pen when taking a test, or whether it would hurt more to fall ten feet onto a concrete surface face first or feet first

Be wary of using impromptu excuses to get out of the discussion – such a simple statement as “well, I’ve got to run” could very well lead into a lengthy discussion on how you are not likely to be running anywhere, but rather walking or driving and how the English language has been perverted over the years – likely a result of illegal immigration (which they’ll get to in a moment

While tempting, it isn’t a good idea to fake narcolepsy as this is time consuming to do properly and will likely result in your new acquaintance accompanying you to the hospital where he or she will edify you with a lengthy monologue on how to fix our broken health care system

Perhaps the best advice I can offer is to stay mentally strong. Regardless of your opinion of their opinions, if you can keep silent and endure, the discomfort will last only for a short time until they move on for another more talkative victim. Just remember that as my high school English teacher used to say, “Opinions are like armpits. Everyone has a couple, and they usually stink.”

And they call him a doctor...

2008-07-03T21:36:00.000-07:00

This post which I have just carelessly spewed forth was inspired by my wife's post here. I love you honey.

I secretly believe that while some dentists may actually enjoy dentistry (all the others are likely just sadists), the one common thing they all delight in is making their patients look downright foolish. I mean come on folks think about this one. The dentist has quite a view once you’re all gussied up and ready for your semi-annual torture session… you have to sit in an oddly shaped chair that somehow seems to pull your pant legs up to make it look like you are wearing high-waters, and you have to hold your legs at awkward angles to keep them from slipping of the vinyl covered “foot rest.” Next they place a man-sized bib around your neck and give you some oversized sun glasses that would put even Groucho Marx to shame. Then they lean you back just far enough in the chair that an uncomfortable amount of blood courses to your head, but not so far as to make you lose consciousness (you will see why this delicate balance is so important in a moment). At this point the dentist and his assistant/accomplice begin to warm up their routine with a few subtle jabs such as the classic, “are you comfortable?” line. Once sufficiently warmed up, the interrogation light is turned on and the real verbal abuse begins (reference comment about the importance of retaining patient consciousness). The dentist will likely amuse himself by asking you questions such as the following:

“So, do you brush three times a day?”

“Do you consume a lot of candy or sugary drinks?”

“When was the last time you flossed?”

“Do you even know what floss looks like? Ha ha, just kidding.” (No, actually he’s not kidding at all. Don’t fool yourself into thinking he has compassionate feelings like other humans. It will only make the rest harder to bear.)

After the dentist tires of verbal play, he will move on to the next act in his sadistic show, the one where he gets to use all his fancy toys. This act opens with yet another blow to your pride in which the dentist shoves whatever is close at hand into your mouth…cotton pads, rubber wedges, metal tooth spacers, sheets of latex, etc. This adds a chipmunk effect to your ensemble. As a side note, it is a little known fact that dentists play Tetris while prepping for patients to perfect their mouth stuffing skills. Now pause for a moment if you will and picture yourself from the dentist’s vantage point. It’s probably only the desire for you to naively return someday for another round of torture that keeps him from popping a bright red clown nose on you right then and there. Of course if he did he would probably say it was the latest technology breakthrough in helping patients avoid the nasty smell of their own rotting teeth burning as they are being drilled away in order to expose the sensitive nerve (a procedure which is done so they can spray it with high velocity water followed by cold air to give you that bone chilling zingy pain in your mouth).

As far as the physical torture is concerned, I will not go into detail about the sharp shiny objects thrust repeatedly into your mouth with the occasional “accidental” slippage and subsequent puncture of the tongue or gums. No, that is all explained away by the dental cult as necessary discomfort in order to achieve optimal dental health.

Ultimately the dentist will find some excuse to inject you multiple times in your mouth’s most sensitive areas until the left side of your face is numb enough to feel like someone has injected it with a pound of gelatin, but not quite numb enough to actually absolve you of the pain he is about to inflict while stabbing, chipping, drilling and sawing away at what used to be known as your pearly whites. Not wanting to miss any opportunity to degrade you to the maximum extent possible the dentist will use this time to make small talk with you. And you, having been taught from a young impressionable age that it is impolite not to respond when someone asks you a question, will inevitably attempt to answer. Of course you will sound like a walrus with laryngitis and occasionally choke on your own spit in the process, but hey, no one wants to be rude.

Of course the best part of the devil’s, er… I mean dentist’s day is when he gets to tell you that you need to make another appointment to take care of the rest of your sorely neglected teeth. Oh, and don’t forget to see the cashier on your way out. They’d be more than happy to help you. :)

What? I thought this blog was dead.

2008-06-07T06:12:00.000-07:00

Welcome back

You probably don't care, but I'll tell you anyway (that way you will know that I am still alive)... The missile badge is back. Yes, that is a happy thing.

http://www.af.mil/news/story.asp?id=123101809