Proof

Here are a couple of pics from my day. You get to see my floor covered in the ketchup and my baby all gimped up. Enjoy my pain.

Good Parents

Wah was all we heard on the monitor. Baby awake. Only this time she was awake on the floor. It seems that our little angel had fallen out of our bed and hit the floor. That would'nt be too big of an issue if our bed wasn't eight feet off the ground. So she finally calmed down and I went out to work on the driveway. Hours of tiring back labor later, I am called back inside because the baby won't stand on her leg. Seems the fall did something to it. So the wife had to take her to the Urgent Care and get X-rays and a splint and we have to see the specialist. Great. So I inform some friends and family so they don't see it here first.

Their response? WTF was she doing in the bed? She was knitting a friggin shaw. What do you think she was doing in our bed??? Look we have done this with a dozen or so other spawn so I trust the old lady's judgement. This particular monster must just roll around in her sleep a little more. So I spent some of my day of rest removing the box springs from the bed to lower the total height to around 6 feet high. I thought it would be a better idea to put tramolines all around the frame but I was over ruled.

On a side note, we ran out of ketchup. Actually we didn't but we thought we did. In a house with this many monsters, ketchup is like gold. Just like bourbon at the Ebone crib. So we are squeaking by with the nubbins from the bottom of the bottle, looking for McDonald packets in the fridge when my son reminds me that we have two huge bottles in the garage. So we put one in the pantry and the other on the table. Dinner expires and the kids are cleaning up when the new, 128 oz ketchup hits the floor and the plastic that must have gotten frozen at some time in the garage hits the floor and cracks sending all those ounces all over my floor. Can my day get any better??

To the extreme

I like to go overboard sometimes. They say you have to go to church once a week and we knock out like 2 or 3 some weeks. They say you have to drink a beer a day for good health, I might hit a few just in case. So when they said you should fast on Ash Wednesday, well we decided why just skip food, why not toss up whatever we had eaten the night before. (It happened to be Chinese, won't be on our menu any time soon.) So what started on Sunday night got carried over to Tuesday night/all day Wednesday. I felt better around noon on Thursday. Let us just say that if it were not for our oldest son, all of our kids would be dead. They would have starved to death because neither my wife nor I was getting out of bed to fix these kids food. The wife managed to get up for a little while, at least long enough to walk down the hall and puke and go sleep in another room. I woke up, saw she was gone and assumed she had the run of the house. Nope. Son number one made up for some of the ten million times he gets on my nerves. He has irrated me since but for that day, he was the man. I don't know what they ate or how he handled it but I don't care. He did say later that being a mommy is hard work.

The sickness hit him too. He got it Friday night/Saturday morning. So it is Sunday night and hopefully it is all over. It has been a week. And I can honestly say that I am 95% sure that this particular illness did not come from the Hawkman family. The mother-in-law has owned up to this one so Hawky you are clean.

Yak Attack

The other night I got a call. It was a call of distress from the wife. It seems that, to quote her, "The baby threw up all over the car". By car she meant my SUV with many nooks and crannies to be filled with baby spew. I was eerily reminded of a time not too distant when this same SUV was filled with puke from a child we were watching. In this case there was puke EVERYWHERE. Fortunately for me, I did not clean up that mess. This was different. The wife and girls were coming home from a friends house and the baby was tired and it was actually my kid so I didn't have too much problem with cleaning it. So after the call, I scramble to get the cleaning supplies, trash bags and Lysol. I dash for the car, and grab the baby from the quickly opening door. I try to pawn her off on a kid so I can begin cleanup. The kid runs in fear. I decide to run the baby upstairs and throw her in the tub. I grab her clothes and take them back downstairs for disenfecting and go to work on the car.

I was expecting The Exorcist. From the way the women ran out of the ride, you would have thought the baby's head had exploded. Instead, I found minimal yak. I had it cleaned and the ride smelling fresh in less than five minutes. It took me longer to pick up all their Burger King trash than to pick up the puke. I was glad.

After talking to the wife later in the evening, it turns out she was mislead by the screams and tears of the child next to the baby. This child will remain nameless but she was screaming and crying like Brett Favre at the end of last season. The other child in the car had her fingers in her ears and was humming to drown out the obviously disturbing hurling noises. I can only imagine what the wife thought was being released in the back seat. This time, at least, we avoided the big one.

Too Much TV

What is worse than slamming your $50,000. car around a tree in the snow? Being too cheap to carry a cell phone and having to walk your stingy ass back to the house to call for help. Two miles in the snow and arctic temps? Or $9.99 a month? You make the call. Such was the situation the Ebone got himself into a couple weeks ago. Everything is good now. Good if you like paying $300 a week for a rental car. Sorry Ebone.

To prove a good Ebone never quits, he was the only one that made it work during the next snow/ice storm. He is, if nothing else, a trooper. Ten lbs and counting on the Super Duper Starve EM and Carve em diet. I must say he is dedicated. Although, there is a rumor that a certain brownie temptress seduced our friend. I hope that is not the first slide of a long downhill ride.

Not that this has anything to do with Ebone's diet, but there was a special on tv last night about diet club ripoffs. They had their sales people making the people cry and then they would buy more diet food. They would tell them that they were fat pigs and should be ashamed of themselves. Seemed like a good selling gimmic but for some reason the government is getting involved. The way I see it, if fat people want to spend their money on pipe dreams, let em. Not you though Bone. Yours is legit.

I saw another special on tv. This was even better than the fat people crying. This cult/community allowed poligamy. Multiple wives. Now on the surface this seemed like a bad idea. I have a wife and I do not want more of them. One is plenty. I could only take so much nagging. But then I watched the show. This dude is right on. First of all, the chicks in the community choose the husband and he just accepts or declines. Sweet. No courtship, just bonus wives showing up. And he was a high school teacher. Both his wives were former students, ten years apart. Can you say "Newer model"? So they take on names like Senior wife and Junior wife and I guess third wife. Who knows. But the greatest thing is that he can put his older wives back into the job market and have the juniors take care of the dozens of kids. Need a little more cash, snag you an extra wife and put her to work. It all seems like a good deal. He just picks one to sleep with at night and on some nights, just rolls solo. Like he said, "I am not a machine". Nice. And legally he is only married to the first one so he could realistically throw the others out if needed. Not a bad gig.

Angry Jiggy

I learned something today that I should have picked up on long ago. I have watched Captain Redneck yell at people and have them apologize to him. I have also seen him ignore people and they leave him alone. He has provided proof that rudeness provides not only enjoyment for others but can be rewarded with kindness. Today I got upset at work. I may have raised my voice a tad bit and sounded out some displeasures. So what did this get me? Fired? No. Yelled at? No. Reprimands? No. None of the normal things you would expect. Instead, I had people apologizing, thanking me for normal tasks I perform daily and hell, buying me lunch. This is a bad precedence to set for me. I think if I hit somebody, I might get promoted. Well this thing kind of blew over but I have learned that a wee bit of anger can be your friend.

I want to be the first to say it out loud. The Hawkman family has come and gone and my family is none worse for the wear. We had a good time. I beat the piss out of Hawkman in darts on Saturday night. Rumor has it that he might have bested me by a tad on Friday night but I had been up for 24 straight hours and I don't remember much of that night. I do know, that I worked him over on Saturday. That is, of course, until we hit the DDR. Now most of you will not know what a DDR is. I own it and I did not know. It is the Dance, Dance, Revolution. You know, the dance mats where you follow dance along with the Playstation game. Somehow, as white as he is, and look up honkie in the dictionary and you will see Hawkman, somehow, he has crazy moves on this game. He beat the crap out of the adults in the house. Unfortunately for his ego, as bad as he destroyed us, my ten your old just housed him. Obviously this game is made for the younger more hip crowd. Alls I know is I am glad I don't have to dance for a living. I would have some starving kids. Ever see the Elaine dancing episode on Seinfeld? That is me.

I also got a taste of the Wii this weekend. I don't know what you do at home Ebone. But that is not the kind of Wii I was tasting. My son's friend brought over the Wii and I was ready to bust up some little kids in some tennis. Only problem is I sucked. I got beat by my son. Then I played the computer guys who supposedly, to quote the boys, 'Sucked'. Well they beat my ass too. I think we should get me playing against Neckbone on this. He might actually have a chance to beat me there.

I am, again, hoping on inclimate weather. I am sure there will be enough ice on the roads to keep me home tomorrow. I am just hoping they close work so I get a free day. Speaking of work and roads, I spoke to Lumpy today. His normal midwest 20 minute, no traffic, brag about your commute trip took 1 1/2 hours today. A little 9 inch snow hit busted up the midwest. His blushing bride is homesick. She wants out of the snow, tornado, ice belt and back to the East Coast. Stay out there Mrs. Lumpy. Too much traffic and high housing prices out this way.

Congrats to the Oracle. His Indianapolis Colts are the champs. Not too often that you can be proud of a team that you steal from another city and claim as your own. Don't let that bother you. Enjoy your glory.

One last sports story. I heard that a former NBA player has a book out. SURPRISE. He is gay. Not enough of that going on in the world. So they ask current players how they would feel about gays in the locker room. One player had the quote of the year. Shavlik Randolph said that he is open to gays, "As long as you don't bring your gayness on me I'm fine." What more can I say.

Let it Snow, Oh let it snow.

They are running me ragged at work. I need it to snow big time tonight. I need a good excuse not to go to work for a day. My luck we will get nothing, again. I am happy with one big snow a year. So far this year, we have gotten nada. Nosaj has more job offers than we have accumulating snows. Sandwich Artist has more dates lined up than snowflakes flying around here.

The donation request has switched from NeckBone and his numerous ailments and failed get-rich-while-surfing-the-web schemes to a more needy soul. SteelerFanBoy has been a little lax in the tax department. It is not that he hasn't paid taxes, it is just that he um, hasn't paid taxes. I just thought of this little rhyme for him.

End of the year, end of the scam.

Time to payup Old Uncle Sam.

Don't sweat it, don't fret it.

Tax man gonna come and get it.

You can run and you can hide.

Jail ain't so bad from the inside.

Pray for money from up in heaven.

Better pay them taxes in twenty-o'seven.



Onto the homefront. The little pooper has taken a liking to the potty. We have showered him with so many gifts you would think he was laying golden turds in the plastic pot. But, alas, no. Just your normal, run-of-the-mill, growlers. There is a whole bunch of stink wrapped up in that little dude. Must take after his mom. (Hope she doesn't read this)

I hope to write a couple more posts this week because it might be my last week alive. The Hawkman family is en route to our crib for the weekend. I can only hope my immune system is ready for whatever strain is on its way. Seriously though, I am sure most of the illnesses my family has gotten are not a direct result of the Hawkman clan. But, then again, ya never know.

Like a blast from the past, The Human Tumor has resurfaced. You will remember he was last seen faking some kind of head trama to get out of work for a year or two or at least until they stopped paying his sorry arse. He is back and again 'working' for the company. I use the word, very, very loosely. Today he knocked out a Maxim, an FHM and my local newspaper. That is a lot for one man in an eight hour day. I hope his head doesn't give out again.

Eight-thirty pm and still no friggin snow.

Interior Decorator

Yesterday the wife was able to successfully get the little monster to use the toilet. The potty training has begun. What caused this great step in the progression of the little beast you ask?? Well let me tell you.

Earlier in the day the greatest wife in the world (you will see why later)was doing her daily routine and noticed she had not seen the boy wonder in a little while. She begins the search and finds out he is in the computer room with the door shut. Usually he goes in there and dumps all the board games and puzzles out onto the floor. Sometimes he actually just plays on the computer like a nice human little three year old. This wasn't either of those times. Wifey tries to open the door and gets resistance. The resistance was in the form of wall paper. This portion of wall paper was no longer inhabiting its space on the wall. It was balled up and blocking the door. As she opens the door, she notices a stench and it all takes shape. The wall paper and the carpet have been acting as makeshift toilet paper for this non-toilet using, nasty dump taking, demon from Hell. He has ripped off a section of wall paper and wiped his ass with it. Wall paper. Not to mention the remnants on the carpet.

Where the super wife comes in is she cleaned it all up and did not even kill the kid. So let us just say that potty training was no longer an option, it was definitely going to happen. As of last nite, he has done his business 3 times on the pot. No poops yet but he probably does not have a bowel movement stored up yet since he voided himself all over the room. Lumpy all this joy will soon be yours too. Enjoy parenthood.