Thursday, May 08, 2008

Fighting the Urge to Give Out TMI*

Let me start of by saying this:

I finally realized the other day that because our oldest daughter is a vegetarian, at home I am effectively a vegetarian.

This blows on many levels.

1) I’m not really big on things that grow in the ground. i.e., fruits and veggies.

2) I like meat.

3) I hate animals passionately and want to eat all of them. (see #2).

Not only has the flesh of dead animals mostly been banished from our house, but we also have a bunch of organic food in the kitchen. Fake meat, free range eggs, milk from “happy cows,” etc. I don’t mind it that much, really. It’s healthier and it doesn’t taste that bad.

In fact, I *really* like this one cereal: Kashi’s Go Lean Crunch (the original flavor, not the fancy pants stuff with flax)

Also, flax is just some made up thing, isn’t it? The hippies got together and after passing the “doobage” around said to each other, “Dooooode. Wouldn’t it be cool if there were a plant that was all good for you and stuff? Let’s make one up and put it in the cereal, man!”

But I digress.

The relationship between this excellent organic cereal and my intestinal tract can be summed up thusly:

It’s complicated.

I really love the taste. Like, it’s the best tasting cereal, EVER; above even Frosted Mini-Wheats and Cap’n Crunch (with Crunch Berries, yo). That’s how good the stuff is.

But if I have more than one bowl in the morning?

How can I put this as delicately as possible?

My insides freakin’ EXPLODE in the late afternoon and I spend a simply inordinate amount of time in the little boy’s room, wishing I were dead.

That was Factoid Deemed TMI #1.

Factoid Deemed TMI #2:

The plumbing in the building at work appears to be from the late 1800s, so the toilet clogs by wafting even one teeny piece of TP over the bowl, never long putting anything in the thing; it’s enough to start brackish and vile sludge swirling around and slowly creeping up the side of the bowl. The toilet is going to overflow. This elicits yelps from me and I begin to pray in that shouting whisper that means I’m panicked, but I don’t want the rest of the studio to know that I’m FREAKING OUT right there in the men’s room and I commence pleading to any and all deities within earshot to “Oh, please, please, PLEASE, Zoraster! I’m begging you! Make the water stop! Make the water stop!” I look over to where we usually keep a plunger, but it’s gone; it must be in the Ladies’ room. I think I’d rather be dead than have to deal with the mess that is about to happen.

Oh… and did I forget to mention that I still have my pants around my ankles?

Welcome to my Wednesday.

Which brings me to my main point.

If you are going to be a semi-forced vegetarian and eat organic, hippie granola cereal?

Always know where the water shut off valve is.

*Too Much Information

Jon scribbled this mess on 05/08/08 at 04:50 PM, best we can tell it fits in the category of Regular Post. This many folks had something to say about that, (4) Comments. The permanent home of this entry is here: Link

Wednesday, May 07, 2008

Laser Tag People Are Weird People

“We are taking fire! Cover me!”

“Die, you accursed pig dog!”

“I’m hit! Aaahhhhh!”

These are small sampling of quotes from Lucas’ birthday party at a Laser Tag place last Friday. None of those quotes are specifically from me, but they could have been, but for a small amount of self control.

Here’s the thing about Laser Tag:

When you are 14 and running around with your buds and screaming and shooting anything that moves: very fun.

When you are in your 40s and doing the same thing: kind of freaky.

Which is not to say that I didn’t have fun, but I found myself thinking, “Dude, you are way too old to be doing this. Stop having so much fun!”

Sadly, I “dude” myself when I talk to myself. Even I roll my eyes at myself when I do that.

The whole Laser Quest extravaganza is a bit nuts, actually. The “game arena” is set up like an Unreal Tournament map from 1999. Maze-like, dark and misty. You have wear this bulky backpack/chestplate thing with flashing lights for targets and but in turn you get to carry a laser pistol.

As you can imagine, it speaks to me on a very nerdly level. Flashing lights! Lasers! If there’d been a cheesy talking robot as my sidekick, my geek life may have been complete.

I even caught myself doing quick “check six” moves and quickly glancing behind me every few moments, just like I used to when I played first person shooter games.

Dweeb Alert Level: Dangerously High

Except, when you are chasing your wife through the maze who has the 5 year old in tow, because even though the 5 year old can’t play because the backpack target extravaganza is far too large for her and she can’t carry it without toppling over, the 5 year old desperately wants to play and would be screaming to high heaven if she’d been left out, you kind of realize, “What are you doing here?”

Ever have one of those experiences where you walk into a situation and immediately realize that you DO NOT belong there?

In the movies, the cliché is the white guy opening the door to the predominantly black bar. Or the reverse, black guy in a white bar (country club, etc.), or the plot line to just about any Eddie Murphy movie from the eighties.

I’m just saying, though it’s pretty fun, I think I’m done with Laser Tag as a sport. I won’t be joining the club and entering league play.

Yes, there is league play for Laser Tag.

Process that for a moment. It’s like paint ball wars for nerds who absolutely refuse to go outside.

Plus, these people were there:

Hate to break it to you Obi-Wan Kedoofus, but that fake light saber you are holding? DOES NOT BLOCK LASER TAG SHOTS LIKE IN THE MOVIES.

Jon scribbled this mess on 05/07/08 at 09:48 AM, best we can tell it fits in the category of Regular Post. This many folks had something to say about that, (9) Comments. The permanent home of this entry is here: Link

Monday, May 05, 2008

Fine Line Between Comedy and Tragedy

Facts:

They ran the Kentucky Derby over the weekend.

Hillary Clinton picked the only philly in the race, a horse called “Eight Belles” to win the big show.

Her horse was soundly trounced.

By a horse named “Big Brown”

Her horse broke BOTH its front ankles after the race.

The injury was so severe that the horse had to be put down.

Draw your own conclusions.

Jon scribbled this mess on 05/05/08 at 09:09 AM, best we can tell it fits in the category of Regular Post. This many folks had something to say about that, (6) Comments. The permanent home of this entry is here: Link

Friday, May 02, 2008

Our Long National Nightmare is Over

Well, mine is anyway. I suspect that the rest of you are screwed until January 20, 2009.

Reha the Extra Special and Wonderful Spouse of Love comes home today!

For a treat, give yourself a little mental picture of me over here doing the “Happy Joy Dance.”

Generally, when I do the “Happy Joy Dance” I’m only wearing a pair of white tube socks and a stocking cap with fuzzy yellow antlers that stick out at crazy angles, but in this case I’ll give you a pass. I’ll be over here doing The Dance fully clothed and not stinking of sweat and covered in antler fuzz.

I usually do OK when Reha is out of town, but this week just hammered me down to component parts. Carrie got the most horrendous case of strep throat imaginable and her throat would balloon out like a rain forest tree frog whenever she took a breath. We made fun of her and drew funny faces on her expanded throat, but then she threw her penicillin bottle at my head and stabbed me in the face with the broken shards. It stopped being entertaining at that point.

Seriously, she was really sick the whole week and taking her to Instacare and fetching prescriptions and ice cream and rice pudding and EVERY LITTLE THING her heart desired at the drop of a hat (note: not the antler hat), all that stuff took a lot of time.

Toss in the normal “get whiny delightful children to gymnastics, band practice, dance classes; help with homework, book reports and practice spelling words; make dinner and get the little goobers in bed at a decent hour” duties and I was utterly spent.

And plus work stuff was kind of insane this week. Like, “holy crap we are all going to die!” insane.

Anyway. I’m not complaining really. I just want to say that I never want to be a single parent. It’s really hard. Kudos to all of you who make that happen.

Important safety tip! In order to pull off the appearance that you have kept things under control while your spouse is away, implement the following helpful hints. Learn from me, kids, I’m a pro!


  1. Dispose of all take out food containers and dirty up some pots and pans and plates so it doesn’t appear to a casual observer that you had take out food every night while she was gone. You don’t want to leave the kitchen a disaster, just enough that it looks like you made “real” food.

  2. Bath the children the night before she comes home. Make it a “soaking bath” because magic marker is hard to get off.

  3. Pay the cleaning service people in cash so there isn’t a paper trail (you did reserve a cleaning service, didn’t you?)

  4. Force the children to sit down and write little notes of affection to the returning spouse. This will distract her from the marker stains on the children’s hands and feet.

  5. Bribe the children to keep their traps shut about how things went down during the spouse’s absence. Plan on going to Toys R Us, the bookstore or the video game store while the cleaners are at your house.

Reha comes home today and since everyone in the house has been holding his or her collective breath until she finally shuffles through the front door of the Deal Family Compound, we all look forward to being able to finally and with great relief, exhale.

Jon scribbled this mess on 05/02/08 at 09:01 AM, best we can tell it fits in the category of Regular Post. This many folks had something to say about that, (7) Comments. The permanent home of this entry is here: Link

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Talk Amongst Yourselves

Salient Facts:


  1. Reha is out of town until Friday night.

  2. Because of #1 and my sixteen children, I lack the will to live after 8:30 PM, never long try and be witty, clever or funny

  3. Jonah, the poster child for ADD, has a book report due on Wed. We will both be lucky to be alive come Wednesday morning.

  4. Normal work stuff: Big Client, Tight Deadlines, Insanity, the Usual Fare™.

  5. The new Madonna album drops today. (OK, technically, I don’t really care about Madonna’s new album, but I really don’t care about GTA IV coming out today and that’s about the only other thing happening in media right now.

  6. I am bereft of creativity.

Take all those and stir them up in a pot (a hefty dose of #6, of course) and what do you have? A giant soufflé that deflates on your plate:

I’ll be back next week.

Wait, are you smirking? Stop that!

This is serious stuff! I can’t just let the kids fend for themselves, lock myself in the bedroom and write! (I generally write late in the evenings).

I have to be all responsible and be the Main Parental Unit for a WEEK!

People won’t get fed unless I do it!

Well, technically we have enough junk in the house that the kids could just graze and scrounge enough calories to get by, but NOT on my watch, baby! Real meals. With vegetables and hitting all the major food groups. At Chez Dad we dine well. Or we go out to someplace that has all the major food groups and takes AmEx.

Anyway, this week is going to be goofier than usual for me and updates will be virtually non-existent, I suspect.

Jon scribbled this mess on 04/29/08 at 12:05 AM, best we can tell it fits in the category of Regular Post. This many folks had something to say about that, (6) Comments. The permanent home of this entry is here: Link

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