Google's Breakthrough Technology

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

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

Homemade cereal

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Five Things that Wig Me Out:

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.

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.

Public Restrooms, Truth in Four Lines.

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.

Well Now, That's Rank

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.

Some Motivational Demotivators for your Enjoyment

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

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.

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[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!   :)

Small Successes

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

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.

Miniature Sunday School Guest

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

"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."

Do Your Part -- Recycle Yourself

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.

...

An Interview with Charlie Sheen

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

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

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

Holy Mackerel!

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?

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..."

...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

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.