Monthly Archives: August 2008

Milestones they don’t mention

When the wife was pregnant with Big D, our first kid, I thought that I could just skim through the What to Expect series and learn pretty much everything I ever needed to know about raising babies. Not quite. Don’t get me wrong, these books are very valuable resources (which I’m pretty sure the wife has read about five times each). They cover the big milestones like rolling over and sitting up and walking and talking to reassure worried parents that their baby is perfectly normal. But there are so many milestones that the books never tell you about. Some of them may seem a little trivial, but they are all important in their own little ways. Here’s my top ten list:

1. Wiping their own asses: This is a HUGE deal. It may be even bigger than walking.

2. Trying to tell a joke: Although this can be pretty painful, you gotta appreciate the fact that they are even attempting it.

3. Successfully telling a joke: Why did the chicken cross the playground? To get to the other slide. Good one, Big D.

4. Climbing on the furniture: This isn’t necessarily a good thing but the kid enjoys the hell out of it.

5. Realizing they farted: What was that, Daddy? Why, I didn’t hear anything but the sound of angels sighing.

6. Realizing you farted: Daddy, what’s that smell? Ummm, I believe that’s some especially pungent Limburger cheese, son.

7. Dropping the f-bomb: This always happens sooner than expected. Sometimes they even use it in the appropriate context which is even more disturbing.

8. Taking a shower by themselves: Right up there with wiping their own asses.

9. Using a straw: This means you don’t have to pack a sippy cup everywhere you go ever again.* Awesome.

10. Fixing a bowl of cereal: Mommy and Daddy are gonna sleep in a little late this Saturday.

*ever again=until the next kid comes along.

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The most awesome fart joke post ever

I was gonna write the most awesome post ever today.  It was about a paper that Big D wrote at school about his summer vacation.  It was awesome.  Unfortunately, I can no longer find the paper and it’s not the kind of thing that I can just recreate here.  You’d have to see it for yourself in all its glory with Big D’s second-grader handwriting and misspelled state names and awesomeness and warts and all to truly appreciate it.  I’m blaming the wife.  She probably threw it out when she was cleaning the house.  Stupid sparkly clean house.

So then I was gonna write about the wife’s shitty first day of school.  More specifically, I was gonna write about how she was freaking out because she couldn’t get her books and the school’s server was down so she couldn’t log in to her classes and yes as a matter of fact it is the end of the world asshole and… then I decided it probably wouldn’t be appropriate to say such things because she would most likely kill me.  Stupid will to live.

So then I thought I’d just do one of those lame posts that’s nothing more than a rundown of the things I did today.  You know what I’m talking about:

This morning I woke up.  After breakfast, I farted twice.  Then I went to work.  Around noon, I took a healthy dump, ate lunch, and farted three more times.  Drove home, two farts, then dinner.  Should I see a doctor, internetters?  Probably.  Should I tell you every minuscule detail of my life?  Probably not.  I guess I’ll just go to bed now.  Oops, there’s another fart.  I’m signing off now.  The end.*

I thought better of that one as well.  Stupid foresight.

So here ya go.  This is it.  This is all I have for you today.  Fart jokes.  I’m so sorry.

 

*Surprisingly enough, this is EXACTLY how my entire day went.  I didn’t have to make any of that up.**

**Yes, of course, I’m kidding.  That’s not how my day went at all.  I only farted seven times today.  The eighth one was pure hyperbole.

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I have a shrinkage problem

If you’ve ever happened to click on my About page (I think there’s been about two of you who have), you’re probably aware of the fact that I sure enjoy me some ice creams.  This post was inevitable.

Recently, I started noticing that the 1.75 qt ice cream cartons have somehow shrunk down to 1.5 qt.  This is not cool.  I’m man enough to admit that when the half-gallons were replaced with the 1.75ers, I cried a little.  But now this?  This is just mean.

I know what you’re thinking.  Damn those cheap-ass ice cream carton manufacturers, damn them straight to hell.  Slow down.  I just can’t believe some giant corporation would ever intentionally try to screw over its loyal, hardworking customers.  No way.  I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for all this.  My guess is that the carton factory accidentally made a batch of undersized cartons.  I’m not sure how any quality control technician worth his weight in Cookies and Cream could allow such a grievous defect to get out the door, but I’ll bet that sonofabitch was all jazzed up on the dope (yeah, I’m hip to the lingo, young’uns).

But then somehow (the odds of this happening have to be like 1 in a million) the ice cream factory dairy? company didn’t even realize that they had received defective product.  I know, WTF, right?  Sure, accidents happen.  But this is more than just a mere accident.  This is CATASTROPHIC SYSTEM FAILURE.

This is the kind of thing that we as Americans must not stand for.  They’re messing with our freedoms, people.  First, it’s the gas prices.  Then it’s the ice cream.  The next thing you know, you’ll be getting ass-raped in Gitmo.

So I’m getting involved.  I’m writing a letter to all the big ice cream companies and I think you should too.  We have to warn them that they’re being ripped off.  They’re paying full price for undersized cartons.  I just can’t imagine how they must feel.  I bet it sucks getting screwed over like that.  But, once they realize that they’re shipping their product out in defective cartons, I’m sure they’re gonna feel just awful about the whole situation.  Don’t worry, ice cream companies.  We will fully support you as you stand up to those evil ice cream carton corporations.  God Bless America.

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Uncomfortable

un-com-fort-a-ble / uhn-kuhmf-tuh-buhl, uhn-kuhm-fer-tuh-buhl / (adjective):  1.  causing discomfort or distress; painful; irritating.  2.  in a state of discomfort; uneasy; conscious of stress or strain.*  3.  the feeling you get when you’re driving home from work and you pass one of your coworkers on the traffic-snarled interstate and you’re not sure whether you should wave at or just ignore them and keep driving because chances are you’re going to pass each other a few more times in this traffic jam so what are you supposed to do–wave at them seven more times in the next ten minutes?  Screw it.  Ignore them.  They don’t want to wave back anyway.  Dammit, they’re waving.  Now you’re an asshole for not waving.  You suck.

 

*Thanks, dictionary.reference.com!

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Dear Douchebag

Hey, how ya doin?  Yeah, it’s me.  That’s right, the guy you were tailgating today.  Hey.  Um, you’re obviously a douchebag, right?  Okay, see, here’s the thing.  I know it’s not cool that I didn’t mention this sooner but it turns out I’M A DOUCHEBAG TOO!!!  So when you pull up behind me within 3/8 of an inch of my rear bumper when I am doing a perfectly respectable 5-10 mph over the speed limit, I’m gonna be the passive-aggressive prick who slows down to 0-5 mph UNDER the speed limit.  And I’m never. even. gonna. touch. my. brakes.  So, let’s do the math.  Okay, carry the one and voila!  Survey says:  BACK THE FUCK OFF AND YOU’LL GO 5-15 MPH FASTER.  Dumbshit.

Your pal,

The Husband

 

P.S.  You’re probably also the guy who stays in the lane that’s ending until the last second, finally merging when there is absolutely nowhere else to go, and cutting off a quarter mile of formerly happy motorists.  When the terrorists say they want to kill Americans, they’re talking about dicks like you.

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The moon is NOT made out of vegetables

When we were in Arkansas about a month ago, we bought a few of those little handheld 20Q games to entertain the kids during the long, crappy drive back.  They were on clearance for two dollars (the games, not the kids HAR HAR), so it was a no-brainer.

I discovered last night that if you start out with a spoon in mind and then at some point get distracted and start answering the questions for a fork and then remember the spoon and switch back to answering the questions for the spoon, it will totally guess “poker chip.”  It also leads to stimulating conversation such as this:

Me:  Ummm, is the moon a vegetable?

Kelly:  Huh?

Me:  You’re right, I know the moon’s not a vegetable.  I just mean is it made out of vegetables?

Kelly:  What?

Me:  You know what I mean.  Does it have vegetables?  Vegetation?  Any?  At all?

Kelly:  Yeah, I don’t think so.

Me:  Yeah, I guessed mineral.  I was just wondering though.

And this:

Me:  Does a mouse need love?

Kelly:  No.

Me:  Really?  Not even from its mom?

Kelly:  Shut up.

Me:  Okay.  Do mice live in groups?

Kelly:  I don’t think so.

Me:  What about Mickey Mouse?  Doesn’t he live with Minnie Mouse or something?

Kelly:  Please leave me alone now.

Me:  Yeah, I bet he needs love too.

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Fact and opinion

1.  Big D checked out a library book a couple of months ago and we can’t find it anywhere.  We’ve just been renewing it online and hoping that it shows up one of these days.

2.  I got four comments on my last post!  That’s quite an achievement for me.  The wife is so jealous it hurts.

3.  School started yesterday around here.  It’s always obvious that school has started because as soon as I pull out of our neighborhood on the way to work in the morning, I’m immediately in a mile-long traffic jam.  But I never see an actual school bus.

4.  The wife is probably gonna kick my ass for saying that she’s jealous of my blog.  Oh wait, my super-kick-ass blog.  What can I say?  The truth hurts.  Suck it up.

5.  I do have to give the wife credit for the list thing.  She has her Listy McListerson thing and I’m totally jocking on her bitch ass.

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