Men will appreciate this. Women will appreciate that men are mentally ill.

Link

Spoonfighter junior is two. I would like to say that he is growing like a weed, but he’s really short and is barely growing at all. So, really, he’s growing more like our lawn. Which is weird because we didn’t put nearly as much fertilizer on our lawn.

He’s not into food, so much. We’re so desperate to get him to eat that we’ll literally let him eat anything he decides to put in his mouth, short of black tar heroin. (It’s a pain in the a** to get out of his clothes.) Pretty much all he likes are donuts and hot dogs. And even to get him to eat hot dogs we have to lie to him and tell him that it’s the meat of some exotic animal. One time we cut the hot dog into long, curved slivers and told him that it was elephant trunk.

His favorites so far are silver back gorilla and baby seal. I don’t know what we’re going to do when we run out of endangered species. We’ll have to get creative, I suppose. “Look! It’s Kanga from your Winnie the Pooh book, remember? Nummy nummy!” (Wait, I’ve already used that one. Yes, I’m a horrible parent.) We recently took him to the zoo for the first time, and I wonder if he was thinking, “Oh, a giraffe. I love giraffe.”

You know, I like the zoo, but it would be a lot better if it was more like Costco or Sam’s Club. You’d go up to an animal enclosure and there’d be this little old lady wearing a hair net and holding a plate full of samples. “Here - try some of this snow leopard. It’s very lean, and it’s on sale today for $5.99 a pound.” Awesome!

The other thing that sucks is that the animals are all pretty lazy. Poke ‘em with sticks or something. Make ‘em do tricks! It’s hard to keep a little kid interested in a lion that sits around like it’s on welfare.

ME: “Hey, loooook! What is that? Is that a lion?”
BOY: “Squiwwel, Daddy! Squiwwel! LOOK DA SQUIWWEL!”
ME: “Yes, that is a squirrel. But don’t you want to see the lion?”
BOY: “Squiwwel squiwwel squiwwel sqiwwel! Yay!”
ME: “HEY - I DIDN’T JUST SHELL OUT 80 FREAKIN BUCKS SO YOU CAN LOOK AT THE LITTLE BEASTS THAT GO THROUGH OUR FREAKIN GARBAGE. LOOK AT THE !@#%!^% LION!!”
BOY: “Bird, Daddy! LOOK DA BIRD!”

I didn’t actually yell at him. I’m really a good parent. When the lions didn’t work out, I bought us tickets for the little train that goes around the zoo. He was totally hooked and threw a fit when the ride ended. This presented a parenting dilemma. I didn’t want to reward bad behavior, but I couldn’t bear to see his sad little face, so I chose a creative “third way.” I slipped the driver of the train fifty bucks and told him not to stop. Then I went home and took a nap.

(Ha ha, I am so just kidding, Ms. Child Welfare Officer.)

“I am rich and I want to spend it on you tonight”

So my wife is going to see the Sex And The City movie tonight with a bunch of her girlfriends. Apparently women all across America are doing the same thing, and men all across America are breathing a collective sigh of relief that they aren’t being dragged down to the movie theater for Date Night, like they were for Pride and Prejudice.*

I’ve actually heard that there are some men out there who are planning on seeing it. Let me just say this: if you are (1) a dude, and (2) going to see Sex And The City, and (3) this decision is actually voluntary (ie., terrorists are not holding a gun to your head and/or you will not be getting sex from your spouse in exchange for your attendance) your manhood is hereby revoked. Please drop it off at the nearest ladies bathroom or scrapbook store. (You should also do this if you voted for David Archuletta at any point during the past season of American Idol.)

Ok, ok - I’ve never actually watched an episode of Sex And The City, but I don’t need to in order to know that it’s not exactly oriented towards the male mind. First of all, if guys had made a show for guys called Sex And The City, it would have been on much later at night and it would have been about strippers. And I would have gotten in trouble for knowing anything about it.

Some very basic research reveals that the show is, in fact, largely about shoes. And someone named Carrie, and her three friends, and all their dysfunctional relationships. They’re all really messed up, but they’re rich, glamorous, and sexy, too. So they’re just like normal middle-aged women, except for the rich, glamorous, and sexy part. Oh, and there’s this dude named Mr. Big. I think maybe he’s her pimp. I’m not sure. Not a single one of these characters has superpowers, carries a really big gun, or is a ninja, so why the hell anyone would want to watch the TV show, let alone the movie, is beyond me. Anyway, I just saved you ten bucks. You can thank me later.

* Ok, seriously, why couldn’t Pride and Prejudice have been a Girls Night Out instead of Chick Flick Date Night? I had to employ my trusty “beer belly” to get through it.

Further proof that everything good in my life comes from Boing Boing. ( … I meant everything except for you, honey … )

Linku

A friend of mine works at a clinic where morbidly obese people have their stomachs stapled. Over coffee, the other day, we wondered if it wouldn’t be more effective to staple their mouths, instead? I mean, mouth stapling is cheaper, less invasive, and gets to the root of the problem a little more effectively. Click, click, click. “There you go. Call me in a month. Feel free to eat anything you can get through your nose.”

#78. When rinsing the poop out of cloth diapers in the toilet … keep your mouth closed.

Tried fake tanning lotion for the first time.

Sweet. Now I don’t have to spend any time in the sun to look like I’m having an allergic reaction.

I don’t know why, but graphs charting ordinary stuff are really funny. Maybe it’s just me. Or maybe its a geek thing. I’m not sure.

Finals start next week. Definitely not ready for them. I was a lot more prepared for finals at this point last semester. But I got the impression that a lot of the prep I did didn’t help me, so I’m hoping that my lack of preparation this time won’t hurt much.