Life

Bunk’d

  • by Drew

Did I mention that my house is going pink in a couple of months? Yeah dude, we’re having a little girl. I know everybody reads Carol’s blog and knows this already, but it’s been on my mind today. Actually, the pink thing is no big change since it’s been Jake’s favorite color as long as he’s had a favorite color, so we’ll actually probably have to go yellow or something so she can have something her own. 

Anyway, one of the funny things about having a little girl…when we first told Jake and Noah we were having a baby, they immediately said they wanted a sister. Then, I made an ill-timed comment about sharing bedrooms and having bunk beds if we had another boy – instantly they wanted a little brother. I tried, over the months in anticipation of the ultrasound to get them to understand I had been joking, and that the baby’s gender had no correlation with the possibility of bunk beds, but they were having none of it.

Jake actually started designing their bunk beds. He envisioned a three tier setup with a massive ladder and, I don’t, probably a freakin’ elevator. I pointed out that we don’t have 20 foot ceilings and three tiers was probably not doable, but he was full of attitude. Like some demented little designer – “Don’t harsh my artistic inspiration – let the blasted engineers figure it!”

I also explained that they both have perfectly adequate bed frames. We don’t need new beds. In fact, they are using the same ones my brother and I had growing up. Man, you should hear those things squeak. Nevertheless, in the doctor’s office, when we got the definitive results, Noah actually groaned. They’ve both come around since then and seem pretty excited about their soon to be sister, but man, who knew what a powerful draw bunk beds had.

PS Blog

a good place to pee

  • by Drew

There’s this pickup truck we keep seeing in the parking lot of Target with a decal of Calvin (from Calvin & Hobbes) urinating on the number 24. Carol and I have had a grand old time laughing about how the guy who drives that truck must really hate Kiefer Sutherland’s character Jack Bauer on the TV show 24. We pretend we’re that guy, stumbling around the mall mumbling, “Fuckin’ Jack Bauer, I hate that Jack Bauer. Gonna piss on that mother fucker.”

And then we laugh and laugh.

Now I know that the 24 really refers to Jeff Gordon of NASCAR fame. I know that this redneck is fan of somebody (or perhaps everybody) other than Gordon. Or he just really hates DuPont. And I’m not calling him a redneck just because he likes NASCAR or just because he drives a dented pickup with ridiculously over sized tires, or just because he has a Calvin pissing decal, or just because he has 4 or 5 other decals of naked women with devil tails. I am calling him a  redneck for ALL of these reasons.

Did you ever notice that you don’t see a lot of Calvin pissing stickers in the Starbucks drive-thru? I don’t want you to think I’m being elitist, or that I’m making fun of NASCAR fans or Starbucks customers. In my opinion, NASCAR fans and Starbucks customers are equally deserving of my attacks.

Actually, I recently discovered a little known fact about Starbucks. It’s actually a federal law that the interior of every Starbucks location is legally part of Seattle. Much as an American Embassy on foreign soil is legally part of the United States, the Evergreen State extends its rules and regulations to every SB barista station in America.

Knowing this, it becomes clear that the real reason a true NASCAR fan avoids Starbucks is that he knows when the inevitable superfan fisticuffs ensue, he will be forced to hire a Seattle injury lawyer to represent him, and that would just create a real pain in the butt when he has to do his taxes. That’s why he will choose to buy his coffee at a mini mart connected to a gas station. And, incidentally, that is a good place to pee.

Now if we can just get Calvin and Jeff Gordon together at the Quik-Mart…

Confessions

Chubby Cheeks

  • by Drew

I’ve been kvetching with a coworker over the past few days about how chunky we’ve become. I mean, I have said before that I want to jump back on the South Beach wagon and trim up like I did last year, but even so, I feel like there’s so much weight in my face that wasn’t there when I was younger. I was joking about how my kids must have a total different perspective about how I look because they’re so much shorter than me and I’m always looking down at them and you know how you can get all puffy cheeked when gravity is working against you.

Maybe it’s just me. But I have heard you can use your hands to exercise your face…

My buddy was saying (in jest) he wants to get a face-lift to tug back his jowls and trim up his beard line, but he doesn’t have the nerve…or stomach for it. I told him that we should maybe not worry about it so much. After all, there are plenty of very famous and successful jowls out there. John McCain’s jowls, for example.

So my friend told me a  story about this hot chick whoslept next to him on a long flight. They were in a big jet with a center 5 seater and all but their 2 spots were vacant. After a bit she got fairly comfortable, spanning the four empty seats, her head mere inches from his thighs. Initially he was just mildly distressed about the relative proximity of hotness to his junk. But then, as she moved in her sleep and her hair moved to expose the side of her face, he spotted the telltale slice behind her ear.

Yup, she’d been stretched, and he found the revelation, well, kind of gross. So now, he was not only rattled by her junk-proximity, but he was skeeved out by the revelation of surgery. And as he stared down at the face-lift scars, the rest of her face obscured by her hair, her hotness was forgotten and she took on – at least when viewed from behind – a sort of Frankenstein’s monster aspect. The little scar seemed lost without accompanying neck bolts and the fetid smell of decay.

So I think we’re going to look for some other chub-defying solution. Maybe we’ll read some Lipovox reviews. It seems a lot safer than going under the knife.

And I can always follow in the footsteps of my crazy Facebook stalker and start doing meth. It is, after all, the gender neutral drug (? I don’t know what that means either ?) and maybe it will lead me to the seamy underbelly of privileged trust fund life and RN-sponsored fellatio training. Now that’s one way to exercise your face.

Life

Snow Big Deal

  • by Drew

We’ve had a couple of good little snows over the last few days. A couple inches each, but on top of the ice that’s persisted for over a week thanks to subzero temperatures, it added up to a pretty wintry weekend. We actually ran out to the grocery store yesterday (Sunday) morning before the plow came out and I was, once again, astounded by the rampant stupidity of the standard American road monkey.

A couple of times, when I was leaving plenty of room between myself and the car in front of me, I had some schmuch in a little shitbox steaming up my tail. Now I was driving a fairly new All Wheel Drive Forester, and it was behaving quite well. In my rear view I was watching – at one point on the way home – some jerk in a little Mazda fishtailing all over the road. And in spite of being barely able to make it up a few of the inclines that weren’t even that steep, he would get right up behind me on the downhill track. I mean, I’m watching the guy almost go off the road as he slams on the brakes, and he still never learns his lesson.

What is the problem with people? I understand that it can be stressful to drive at a safe speed in the snow. I know that a lot of people just want to get it over with as quickly as possible. But I’m not exactly an old lady in the snow. I actually drive a lot more aggressively in bad weather than a lot of people I know, so…what the hell?

But the rest of the day was much nicer – after we got home from the store. I’ve especially been enjoying all the tracks in the snow. In the back there are a few deer that visit routinely. There are Turkey tracks all over the front, especially down near the road. And there are all kinds of critter tracks on the back deck and on the front step and such. They were loving the crusts of bread I’ve been throwing out back.

We have a very wooded lot with hundreds of big old hardwoods, but I wonder if we shouldn’t look into some Wildlife trees to provide treats in the warm weather, and maybe some extra shelter in the winter. I don’t know much about such things, but when it’s below zero for 5 or 6 days in a row, I start feeling really bad for the local critters.

Life

Be seeing you

  • by Drew

One of my favorite things to do when Jake was first talking was to teach him funny phrases like “I’m not going to pay a lot for this muffler.” He would reply with something like, “I not pay no for muffler no no no!”

Hilarious.

But one of my proudest moments was teaching him to say, “I am not a number, I’m a free man.” Or, in his words, “I not number! I FREE MAN!”

It was and remains a meaningful sentiment, as well as one of the classic lines from The Prisoner, one of the greatest shows of all time. It may seem a little dated if you watch it now, 40 years later, but it’s really pretty exceptional and worth watching.

Anyway, I just found out that Patrick McGoohan, known as Number Six to fans of the show, passed away. It’s a loss. He was an exceptionally talented man, and the primary driver behind this classic show. You should take a moment and read some of the highlights of his career.

Booze

Red, White and…Branson?

  • by Drew

If you don’t get the title, it’s a Waiting for Guffman reference. If you haven’t seen Guffman yet…well, we have nothing else to talk about it. Good day to you.

For the rest of you…

The last couple of winters we’ve taken a few days of vacation at the fabulous cruise-on-land resort Woodloch in the Poconos. It’s swell, and we always have fun, and we will probably do it again this year, but I have been spending a little time looking for other possibile family vacation options. Surprisingly, one of the spots I encountered and didn’t immediately rule out was Branson. Yup. Branson, Missouri. It may not be the stool capitol of the world, but it still looks pretty okay.

Now, if it wasn’t a 20 hour drive, it would seriously be in the running right now. Hell, air far to Missouri has got to be cheap, but the pregger wife and the two monkey monsters…well, let’s just say a flight – no matter how cheap – ain’t happening.

Nevertheless, I am filing this spot away. It seriously reads like a bit of Americana. There are all kinds of shows you can attend, like the Baldnobbers (that’s got to be hip) and Andy Williams, and Bill Haley and Paul revere and the Raiders and Bill Medley. I had the time of my life indeed! Seriously, there may be some snow-capped heads here, but who cares. What is drawing all these legends to Missouri? When did Branson become the Vegas of the midwest?

Puppets, magic, music, wholesome family fun…No lie, I am very curious about what’s going on over there. Dude, they even have Broadway! Check the list, I’m not making it up. If they throw in a free jug of moonshine I may go myself.

There are some reasonable package prices here, so you might want to check it out. I may just click the I Want More link and get me color brochure. Carol won’t be pregnant forever. At least, I hope not. She’s taking up a lot more room in the bed these days.

Of course, if she reads that remark, I’ll be sleeping on the couch so it won’t really matter much.

Life

I’m so confused

  • by Drew

I just got  a very interesting spam. The subject was One big instrument is much better than two small ones. The message was “Being a real man is a very hard task so do your best.”

Hard indeed.

Still, there’s quite a bit of truth in the message. The subject, however, is what throws me. I mean, I have to agree that a guitar (big instrument) is better than two ukuleles (small instruments). The uke is cute and all, and can make for a great fireside accompaniment, but I don’t think it can really stand up to the guitar in terms of awesomeness. But if we take a moment to get our bearings, we realize that an upright bass is a very large instrument and two guitars, relatively speaking, are smaller.

Now upright bass is definitely cool, but is it cooler than guitar? And what about drums? A good backbeat on a kick is soooo necessary, but think of the versatility of the snare. Or, for that matter, what would a Rush drum solo be without a run on the rack toms, all which are smaller than both the kick and the snare.

Frankly, I think this was a very irresponsible message with a poorly reasoned argument.

Or am I being too literal?

It’s hard.

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