There's A Reason They Always Shoot The Horse

When I read the headline aloud yesterday at work about Barbaro being euthanized, then quickly followed with "and it's about 8 months too late!", I was met with some criticism...

One friend replied - "I was really pulling for the horse..."
Well - weren't we all though?

At least until he broke his leg and fell out of the race. That's pretty much the point when I stopped pulling for him.

Given the choice of reading a story about Barbaro or Britney - I'm taking Britney every time, but she hasn't done anything newsworthy this week yet - so Barbaro it is. Of course - it is only Tuesday...

I'll never forget the moment Barbaro got hurt. It was the day of my daughter's birthday party and we had a yard full of guests. I was pretty stressed out by all the people who had shown up but weren't invited, so I had sneaked into the house for a beer or a hit off my bong and to see the progress of the Preakness. The race had just finished, and my Dad was a bit flushed looking as I walked in and saw him watching the television.He was wincing and turning his head to the side when I walked into the room to see the outcome.

"Oooh! That hurts..." was all he said.

My Dad is an old farmboy and has some pretty messed up stories of stuff that happened to animals on the farm where he grew up.

He used to take me hunting, and gave me shit once when I had a clear shot at a deer - but couldn't bring myself to shoot it.

He always buried the family dog while the rest of us stood around crying.

I never saw him kick a cat when it would get in his way, but I'm not saying he never did.They were "just animals" to him...
But there is something overwhelming about seeing a beautiful, graceful and powerful animal like a racehorse being reduced to hobbling around on an injured leg.

My stomach still turns to think of that awful moment. My Dad and I watched replay after replay in silence. I had the same reaction many people had when it happened - "That's a shame - I hope he doesn't suffer much."

Well - in my opinion - he did. 8 months too many.

We've all seen the footage of Barbaro suspended in those stirrups unable to support his own weight, then later with his leg in a cast and still unable to walk normally. He was, unfortunately, still in pain and never healed properly. I'm certain the hearts of all the people surrounding Barbaro this past year were in the right place, but I'm sorry to know that Barbaro's suffering could have ended a long time ago.

Hey Anthony Kiedis - Dublin O'Shea Thinks You're A Dumbfuck!

Dublin O'Shea is a musical being. I consider him a musical genius.
I remember him singing in Bible class, dancing in the hallways of GCS, and performing the baddest assiest air guitar you've ever seen...
So when he critiques an album - my ears perk up and I take heed.

I encourage you to do the same.





How is it possible?

By Dublin O'Shea



Hello my friends. It's been a while, since I spent some time with you. I was seriously considering hanging up my keyboard and retiring from the blogging world. No, please don't cry. It would probably be for the best. I think I've managed to offend more people that I ever intended too. It's not that I really care about offending people. More that people have just stopped reading. And if they aren't reading, what's the point in writing?

But for now, I have at least one more thing to complain about. It's what we old people do. I bitch about punk kids messing up my lawn, about my aches and pains when the weather acts up, and about that damn music.

Now I don't want to sound like a broken record, so today I'm not going to bitch about rap "music". Instead, I'm going to parlay with you about how is it possible that anyone still likes the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

For the sake of all things holy, they have to be the worst band ever. And not only is their music god-awful, but it is saturating the airwaves! You can't even turn on the radio here in Phoenix without hearing that damn band. It makes me wish to be even older so my hearing would go to pot. I literally pray to go deaf just so that I would never have to listen to RHCP again. They should pass a law. They pass enough stupid laws as it is, why not one banning Anthony Kiedis from making any more records.

I don't claim to be a musical genius. I'm not particularly talented either. But my ears have not deceived me. So please, I beg you all, stop the madness! Remember all the one hit wonders that have been so overplayed? Remember the songs that make you want to cut off your ears in Van Gogh fashion if you were to ever hear them again? We are constantly surrounded by horrible songs. But at least those groups disappear. RHCP just won't stop. And it's just the same song over and over with a new title.

There is only one other band I think I've hated more. Ace of Base.
Yes, I just compared the Red Hot Chili Peppers to Ace of Base.
And I'm aware that there are people still alive who probably love Ace of Base. I can't imagine why. But I'm sure they exist. I'm willing to live in harmony with these people. I just don't want to hear that music every moment of every day.

So Mr. Kiedis, if you're reading this. STOP! No more. We concede. You win. We'll give you an award. Maybe even put you in the rock and roll hall of fame if you would please stop making music. Because frankly, I just can't take it. And if people really like your band, God help us all.

I think I'm moving to an island in the south pacific. Maybe there I can get a moment's rest. Then again, the next RHCP song will probably be BORABORAFORNICATION!

Just take me out and shoot me.

I Want My Baby Back Baby Back Baby Back...

I don't consider myself a food snob. I can't really afford to be.
I've eaten at a few 3 and 4 star restaurants - but those occasions are a rarity and always on someone else's dime.

I live in the Northwest suburbs of Chicago where there is a definite shortage of good eateries. Most of my favorite places to eat in the suburbs are greasy spoons and hotdog stands. You're hard pressed to find any good Indian cuisine, Thai food or really great authentic Mexican food.
Instead you're stuck with places like Chili's, TGI Friday's, Ruby Tuesday's, Bennigan's, Applebee's, etc, etc...
These places just take some pre-cooked chicken or beef product out of their giant freezers, heat it up, then slap it between some buns, or tortillas, or chop it up and put it in some 3 day old lettuce and call it a salad. You're lucky if you don't get a booger or scab thrown in with your meal.

Last night, we went to Chili's for dinner because my wife had recently been given a gift card to eat there. We walked in, and my skin immediately began to crawl. An obviously flustered hostess helped us past all the Chili pepper and sports related decor and fake road signs to our seats.

A blue light from above the bar was reflecting off a sign reminding me how much fun I was having there.

We were seated in a 4 person booth that had enough room for possibly a family of 4 hobbits.
The one saving grace was that The Boy sits in a high chair - so that left him dangling out in the aisle with hot dishes being passed over his head. But at least I had elbow room.
Our waiter showed up to ask for our drink order, and he turned out to be one of the guys from off of those Abercrombie or Hollister bags - which sucked for us because he seemed more worried about getting laid by one or both of the girls at the booth next to ours who thought he was hot than he was about serving us our fucking meal.

As soon as I sat down I knew I wanted the shit sandwich as opposed to the shit salad. Mrs. Chronically Insane however, couldn't decide what delectable treat she wanted - so we had to wait for Lance to make a second pass before we got our order in.
By this time, my son was eating the cardboard coaster provided for the drink I ordered 10 minutes ago but hadn't arrived yet.

Girl was crawling under the booth looking for crayons and leftover Awesome Blossom that had fallen on the floor from the previous occupants of our booth.

I really wanted to bolt for the door - but didn't want my wife to get pissed at me.

The waiter came back and we placed our order.
To my amazement - only 5 minutes passed before our meals were sitting in front of us. My sandwich was luke warm and tasted like last week's garbage, but I didn't care. Complaining would only make me have to stay there longer and possibly get an apology from the manager and another gift card for a free meal from this God forsaken place...

I scarfed my shit down and tried to talk to my wife and daughter - but the noise from the people waiting to be seated, combined with the top 40 music blaring from the sport's bar area, and the woman in the booth behind me continually rearranging her huge ass on her seat and shifting the bench we shared was too much of a distraction. I gave up and just sat there trying to keep my son occupied with his food while my wife and daughter finished their meals. The Boy wanted nothing more than to climb out of his seat and play with the puddle of green peas he had made by spitting them onto the floor for the last 10 minutes.
I have to admit - I thought it was pretty funny because he was grossing out the two girls in the booth across from us.

Lance finally surfaced again after about 30 minutes and asked if we needed anything else.
I informed him that we just needed the check. He produced it immediately, which I wasn't ready for, placed it on the table and scampered away before I could get my wallet out.

Damn it! I knew we wouldn't see him for another 15 minutes...

I was right.

While we waited, I became increasingly irritable - as did my son. The walls were closing in on me, and I was beginning to feel seasick from all the shifting around fat ass was doing behind me.
My daughter was back under the table, and Mrs. Chronically Insane was looking like she needed a vodka and tonic and a cigarette.

I did the only thing any good husband would do.
I grabbed my coat and The Boy and made a break for the door. I got the car and pulled around to the front door.
My wife and daughter soon appeared at the door, climbed into the car - and we got the hell out of there.

I never asked her - but I'm certain we left Lance a good tip...

What The Hell Just Happened? The Week In Rearview

Week of January 14th, 2007

Your House Burned Down And You're Stupid

This is so weird for me.
Growing up in Flint, MI, my parents always had the "Oldies 96" radio station going whenever we were in the car. My least favorite song in the world was Question Mark and The Mysterians "96 Tears". My Dad always told us, whenever the song came on the radio, that Question Mark lived near us in a town named Clio.
He always sounded so proud...
I kinda thought he was full of shit - but didn't care enough to actually research it. I thought it was WAY cooler that Grand Funk Railroad was from Flint.
Well - today I saw

this article about how this Question Mark retard recently lost everything in a house fire - and didn't have home owner's insurance.

Really hard to believe from a guy who believes he's from outer space and once walked with dinosaurs.
Yes - he does...

Britney's Titties Still Magnificent

Sure there's stretch marks and baby slobber all over them - but does anyone care?? And don't your boobs get bigger with every child you have? Sounds like Britney's boobies may be getting even bigger soon...
First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a couple babies, then comes accusations of neglect, then comes Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan, then comes divorce and wild partying, then comes another baby in the baby carriage.

God Is Done Hating Denver... For Now

Denver celebrated not getting snow pounded up it's ass this week for the first time in a month. The estimated damage of the last 4 storms is over $7 million.

Local residents are prepared to offer up Congressman Tom Tancredo as a human sacrifice if the storms don't subside.

I Was Beginning To Worry

Any parent of a child 2 years old and older knows the joys and challenges of trying to communicate with a small human. The small human often communicates with fewer words than bigger, smarter humans use. Many times those words come out sounding scrambled, slurred and often times as though the small human's tongue is too large for their mouth. Their thought processes also seem a bit disjointed, but we eventually get the hang of listening to their poorly formed dialect, and begin to understand what it is the small human is trying to say. At around 4 years of age they begin forming complete sentences and having coherent thoughts, making communication much easier.

Girl is 6 and 1/2 years old, and is excellent at conversation. She was an early talker, and managed to incorporate logic with the words that came out of her mouth by the age of 3.
Yesterday morning, however,something strange happened. She seemed to have some kind of relapse.

I was in the kitchen drinking some orange juice from the carton and preparing my lunch for work when Girl came into the kitchen to keep me company and scold me for drinking orange juice from the carton. She often reads the school lunch menu we have posted on the refrigerator and tells me what she will be having for hot lunch, and whether or not she likes what will be served. This is our typical morning routine. We were talking about nothing in particular, when she suddenly departed from our conversation and pulled her pajama pant leg up above her knee.

"Hey Daddy - did you know that in some countries this is like an eyeball?" she said as she pointed to her leg.

"Huh?" I replied.

"On some people in other countries - this is like an eye..." she declared with great confidence.

"What the hell are you talking about?? Do you mean that some people have eyeballs on their legs?" I asked.

"No - I mean that this is like an eyeball!" she said speaking slowly to me.

"I don't get what you are saying!"

"Just never mind..." she sighed as she walked away and left me standing alone in the kitchen completely baffled.
It was a brief and extremely bizarre conversation, and I couldn't keep it out of my mind for the rest of the day.
My wife and I don't use drugs, and neither of us have any history of drug abuse...

To my knowledge we have no hallucinogens lying around the house...

Girl has never been known to sleep walk...

So what the hell had that been all about? I was concerned.


This morning I had slept in a little, so I was in a hurry as I got ready for work. Girl was following me around the house trying to keep conversation with me, but I was only half listening as I rushed about.
I was putting on my coat and boots, when she walked up to me and informed me that she thinks The Boy smells liked mashed chicken.

I paused for a moment while I felt myself filling with worry, then continued lacing up my boots. I didn't have time to try and figure this one out...

As I kissed my kids goodbye - I took a big whiff of The Boy and discovered he smelled nothing like mashed chicken.

"Honey, your brother smells like a normal baby" I said as I kissed my daughter.

I looked back and saw a little sparkle in Girl's eyes.

While I walked to the train, a huge wave of relief washed over me. All the concerns I'd had about my daughter's mental health had dissipated. I realized that my daughter had finally reached the age where she is so good at conversation and forming complete thought processes, that she has developed the art of fucking with her Daddy's mind...

Martin Luther King Jr. Day Observed

Please take the time to read this great post written yesterday by Minneapolis Red Sox about the importance of Martin Luther King Jr. and why observing MLK Day should never be taken lightly.

I agree with him - I'm just not as articulate...

Don't Do As I Say...

It's not unusual for me to talk to my daughter and walk away from the conversation having learned something. Typically I learn things like Sarah farted in class today and everyone laughed, or Preet puked in class today and everyone laughed, or a zoo keeper came into school today with a monkey and it farted and everyone laughed...
From this I've learned that 1st graders enjoy things that fart and puke.

In one of our conversations a few days ago, however, she threw me a curve ball. Girl has been getting bullied by a certain little girl in her class recently. She typically handles this pretty well and just takes it in stride. Recently though, that girl has really had Girl's number, so to speak, and has been especially aggressive. It finally wore my daughter down and she started crying when we talked about it. She immediately started with saying that everyone teases her and she has no friends... after about 2 minutes of naming the kids in her class and asking whether they were nice to her or not - we narrowed it down to only the one girl who has been giving her such trouble.
I told Girl that she needs to stand up for herself and retaliate.
"Have you tried telling her she smells, and that she is a nasty person and you don't like her?" I asked.

"I can't do that Daddy" she replied.

"Well - you can't let people push you around - you have to get the upper hand sometimes. If she pushes you - you push right back!"
It was perhaps the most impressive parental advice I have ever doled out...

"I can't do that Daddy - I don't want to be mean."

This made no sense to me... it was as though she was speaking a foreign language to me.

"Well - I don't know what else to say - you try your way and just keep taking it and being nice. We'll see what happens, and I'm very sorry this is bothering you so much..." I replied.

A few days later I noticed Girl was in a particularly happy mood and was bouncing around the house when I arrived home from work.

"Holy crap Babe - you're in a great mood!" I exclaimed, "anything happen?"

"Yeah - the girl at school was being mean to me again, so I told her that I didn't like when she teases me and that I just want to be her friend. We played together at recess and she was nice to me!"
She bounded away to her playroom, leaving me standing there feeling like a jackass.

It's been a few days since that last conversation, and she and that same little girl are still friends. I've heard the phrase "kill 'em with kindness", but I've always just interpreted that as "be a passive aggressive prick to people who piss you off and they'll eventually leave you alone"...
Girl actually fought back with kindness and a plea to be this girl's friend - and she got what she wanted. The little bully stopped being mean to her and became her friend.

Now I feel bad for telling Girl to punch the neighbor kid in the face next time he gets bossy...

I Do Not Support The War In Iraq

I realize that statement is bound to get more than a few people's panties in a bundle - but it's a true statement. I never have been a supporter of this war.

If you've been reading my blog for any length of time - you know that I enjoy making people laugh. Whether it's a story about Miss Deaf Texas getting hit by a train, an evil possum terrorizing me and my family from my garage, or the latest adventure I've experienced being the parent of an infant and a 6 year old daughter who believes she's a teenager. I want you to click away from this blog with a smile on your face... But I never take for granted the fact that I have this forum and that I am speaking to real people every day and telling them something about myself.

After I watched the president's announcement last night, I came away with several emotions - anger, frustration, concern. What disturbed me most wasn't the fact that over 20,000 troops have been commissioned to go to Iraq, or that he eluded to coming conflicts with Iran several times. It was the realization that my children are going to know what war is.
They are going to see it unfolding before their eyes, and will soon see how much turmoil a war can cause on the home front. The war in Iraq will be a part of their growing up. My siblings and I were fortunate enough to avoid this - we were raised during a relatively peaceful time in our nation's history.
As my wife and I watched the president address the nation - I called my daughter over to the couch to watch with us. I wanted her to realize the significance of this announcement. She sat quietly and listened very well. She understood that more people are going to be sent to Iraq - and asked a few questions like "What are provinces?" and "Which one is in the Army - Jimmy or Danny?".
This last question really hit me. My daughter was beginning to put the pieces together...

My wife has 5 cousins serving our country in various branches of the military - David, Frank, Jim, Dan, and Brandon. All of them have been to either Iraq or Afghanistan - and some have been there twice. Over the holidays we were able to visit with David, Jim, Dan and Brandon - Frank wasn't able to make it home - and we enjoyed seeing the guys again. We are typically able to see Dan and Jim the most ( Jim is her Godfather ) - so my daughter has developed a good relationship with both of them. All 5 of these guys are proud to serve our nation - and I'm proud to know them. I feel pleased that my daughter can see that she, our family, and our country can be thankful and proud to know these men.

While I say that I don't support the war - I do support our men and women who are serving in our military. Every one of them has volunteered to serve - something I never did - and I have an enormous amount of gratitude for all of them. I can honestly say that these very special people are always in my thoughts and my family's prayers. I have heard some people say that if you are against the war - that you are against America.
This just isn't true.
These men and women who serve in the military are fighting for and protecting our freedom, and I can appreciate the freedom of being allowed to disagree with this war.

Above all else, however, I appreciate the more than 3,000 men, women, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, moms and dads who have paid the ultimate price for my freedom with their lives.

When the war first began - I hoped for nothing more than to avoid having to explain all this to my children. I now understand that an explanation is inevitable.

This Is Supposed To Make Me Feel Better?

Last week I went to the dentist for the first time in a very long time. A very, very long time.
I hate going to the dentist because it makes me feel nauseous when they scrape my teeth, and all the saliva goes down your throat while your mouth is pried open wider than God ever intended it to be. Oh - and I really have adverse reactions to pain - like when they find a cavity and jab that sharp pointy thing into it and ask you if it hurts. Apparently my screams weren't enough of a hint.

Well - last week's visit lived up to all my greatest fears and then some...
I immediately got the sense that because it had been so long since my last visit - that they were going to be having some fun with me.
She opened with 10 x-rays of my mouth. This is where they jam those sharp edged pieces of plastic into your gums as far as they can - then ask you to bite down. That's a physical impossibility. I bit down - and immediately cringed.

"Oh yeah - those will really cut into your gums - sorry about that..." the hygienist told me.

"Uuar guh ehff kirwdf" I responded.

She continued on with the other 9 x-rays explaining that the reason they were doing this many was because it had been so long since my last visit. I saw her eyes dance with delight with each plastic piece she crammed into my gums. The final one she had to take twice because "it slipped" when she went to take the x-ray.
It didn't slip, but I wasn't in a position to argue - as I could already see the direction this teeth cleaning was heading...
The hygienist stepped away for a few minutes - then returned with the dentist.

"Hello - I'll be doing your teeth cleaning along with Angela today because - well, you know, it's been so long since your last visit..."

"Okay - let's just do this" I grumbled.

I reclined, clutched my abdomen and proceeded to imagine myself in my happy place. The dentist turned out to be one of the chattiest people I have ever encountered in my entire life. She'd ask about my kids, what school they were going to, where I lived, did I have any pets - all while I had approximately 11 dental instruments jammed between my teeth and hanging out of my mouth.

"Farhj uhjim guh terghy feguk okwid" I'd respond.

I knew she was just listening to herself talk - and had no interest in my answers so I just stopped trying. I began responding to her questions with "guh fug ersef".

We had finally arrived at the end of the cleaning and my mouth felt like it had just been raped by a gang of power tools. Angela handed me a cup of some green liquid and told me to "swish" this around for a couple minutes.

"Angela - I can barely feel my mouth - how am I supposed to keep it closed and swish for 2 minutes?"

"It's fluoride" she said, "you need to do this because it's been..."

"Yeah - I got it - it's been so long since my last visit."
She smirked and handed me the cup and walked out of the room.
In defiance - I swished for only a minute thirty.

The dentist returned a few minutes later with my x-rays.
"Okay - well, I don't want to sound alarming" she started...

"Oh shit! Guess what?! You just alarmed me bitch!" I thought to myself.

"but", she continued, "you have a wisdom tooth that is growing into your facial nerve. If we "go fishing" for it, there is a good chance that we could do permanent damage to the nerve - and if it starts growing out - that could do damage as well. So we are really hoping that it just stays put..."

I instantly started thinking of all the good times my facial nerve and I have had... the smelling, the tasting...

"Okay - so how exactly do we proceed then?" I asked.

"Well - only time will tell, but usually if the tooth doesn't expose itself by the time you've reached 35 years of age - there isn't anything to worry about. But on the other hand - I've pulled wisdom teeth in a couple of 50 year old's mouths recently - so..."

I paid the receptionist, got into the car and drove directly to McDonald's.
I needed comfort food...

I Thought He Meant James Brown At First

I'm not saying I agree with my friend Dubby 100% of the time, just that I disagree with him 80% of the time...

Enjoy Dublin O'Shea's first post of the new year!

Dublin reflects on life... and death.
By Dublin O'Shea

So recently someone died. Well, of course I know that people are dying every second all over the world. In some places, Death is even busier than in others (Sudan, Iraq, Flint etc...).
And death is celebrated/mourned differently around the world as well. Some folks party for days to celebrate the life of a loved one. Some drink themselves into oblivion (see the movie Snatch). Some people say hail Mary's and prayers with hopes of sneaking a loved one past the pearly gates. Others do tribal dances and whoop and holler and shake their dicks. The point here is that death has a lot of meanings. Besides the obvious one which is that the person in question has ceased to exist in this mortal realm.
But one thing I've often noticed is that after a person dies, people never remember all the shitty things that person did during the course of their life. There are a few exceptions of course. Most notably would be Stalin, Hitler, and Hussein. But even these people are probably remembered with love and adoration by some. Not me, mind you. But the world is full of wackos.

Now I know that we shouldn't focus on the bad habits or faults of other people. The world should have some hope. People should get the benefit of the doubt. At least at first. However, if someone was an asshole in life, should we go so far as to forget about how much they sucked? Or worse, should we go so far as to say that they were actually a nice person? Or maybe even that we were blessed to have them in our lives? I think not.
What is it about someone dying that clouds over every selfish, jerkoff act they performed in their pointless existence? How is it possible for people to be so deluded? I'm so glad you asked.

I think it come down to this; if they admitted to themselves that their friend was an ass, they'd be forced to see that they themselves are asses for simply associating themselves with said ass. Did you catch all that? No? Let me go on then.
People live in a world of self-deception and pretence. They actually believe that their inaction in life equates into being a good person. They think that by not killing and stealing or raping the local wildlife, they've earned a first class ticket to heaven and a nice eulogy.

Well, I hate to be a naysayer, but let me tell you a thing or two about a thing or two. I think we should call it like we see it. If you are an asshole in life, you should expect people to talk some serious shit about you after you finally do us all a favor and kick the bucket. There will be no pretending here. No flowery funeral with nice eulogies or people getting drunk in your honor. When your number comes up, be prepared that your corpse may get a royal buggering in hell. This isn't a guarantee. Just know that I'm not going to be sad that you cease to be. I won't be heartbroken. You should've been nicer. That's what you get.
And if you were a big enough asshole to get hanged, and someone is around with a camera phone, there really shouldn't be an uproar if someone comments that they hope hell is hot enough for you. Let the video be shown you damned pansies.
In closing I would like to leave you this friendly reminder. Don't be an asshole. If you fail to heed my reminder, don't be surprised if someone pisses on your grave. I might even pitch in for a tasteless gravestone. Kickstart my heart baby. Kickstart my heart.

Love always,
Dublin

What The Hell Just Happened? The Week In Rearview

Week of January 1st, 2007

Pop Tarts save bad sailor's life.

Pop Tarts and a Chilean trawler are credited for saving the life of one of the US's shittiest sailors. Some Jag from California recently set out to circumnavigate the globe but got lost somewhere near Chile after the masts on his boat were broken in a storm and his satellite phone died. CNN was all up in this story's ass - but I think only because he was a good looking rich man from California who had two gorgeous 20-something blond twin daughters. Not much else in this world is more appealing than hot 20-something twin babes crying about their missing rich Daddy...

Nancy Pelosi promises to be no ordinary man.

Pelosi was sworn in as the first woman to hold the position of Speaker of the House. She pledged to keep bipartisanship at the forefront of every decision she votes on - however she declared that Democrats are more bipartisaner than Republicans...

Meteorite sent to do Asteroid's job.

Last week a meteorite crashed through the roof of a New Jersey family's home. It ripped a hole in the roof, broke some tiles on the bathroom floor then lodged into the wall. When reached for comment, Outer Space expressed deep regret:

"We never intended to send the meteorite. It was our understanding that an asteroid would be sent to destroy the entire state of New Jersey. We are investigating the incident and apologize for any confusion and promise a mistake like this will never happen again."

Rex's Rough Ride.

I think this pretty much sums up the Bears chances of advancing through the Playoffs...

I Nearly Died Over Christmas Break

Well - that's what I'm telling people...

I discovered over the holidays that babies are filthy little animals - like really disgustingly gross and dirty little animals.

A few days before Christmas - The Boy started getting congested and not sleeping well at night, so Mrs. Chronically Insane took him to the doctor and got him some anti-biotics. The congestion cleared up and he started acting a lot better - the only problem was that he started having diarrhea. We assumed that this was a side effect of the medicine, and since he was acting like a happy normal little baby otherwise - we thought nothing of it...

Big mistake.

On Christmas, my buddy Minneapolis Red Sox and his fiancee were in town and stayed the night with my family and I. My kids love these two people - and he and his fiancee both seem to have taken a liking to my kids as well. We all had a nice time playing with Girl's and The Boy's new toys, had some wine and snacks - then went to bed.

When I went to bed, I detected a slight rumbly in my tumbly - but attributed it to all the food and snacks I'd eaten that day.

It wasn't all the food and snacks I'd eaten that day.

At around 1:30am - I stumbled out of bed, doubled over in pain and sweating. I rushed to the bathroom and what proceeded to come out of my ass can be described as nothing other than Satan's flaming ass piss...
Remember the scene in Dumb and Dumber where Jeff Daniels is on the toilet that doesn't flush after Jim Carrey slipped him way too many laxatives?? Yup - kinda like that...

I slowly shuffled out of the bathroom and was halfway to the bedroom when phase 2 hit. I sprinted back to the bathroom, got on my knees and screamed into the toilet for 10 minutes.
These activities were repeated at least 5 times before I remember seeing daylight peak through my windows.

My wife woke up and started with the same symptoms I had. Then at about 7am as I lay in my bed writhing in pain and deciding how I wanted to divide up my humble estate among my 2 children - I heard Minneapolis Red Sox's fiancee come racing into the bathroom and start hurling...

The next few hours are a bit of a blur to me - but I do recall my friends standing at my bedroom door, calling me an Ebola monkey and thanking me for the nice time...

Fast forward a couple days - and my family and I are finally feeling well enough to have made it to the doctor's office. He explained to us that The Boy was harboring something called the Rota virus and that anyone who came in close contact with him over the past week risked catching the same life threatening illness my friend, my wife and I had caught... which just about everyone who had come in contact with him did!

The last I counted - 11 people I talked to after I got sick, including the neighbors, had the same thing - and all of them had held my son at some point in those 24 hours. The doctor said the chances of not catching the dirty baby virus were slim to none - and there wasn't much you could do besides pour boiling water over your hands every 5 minutes and wear a gas mask.
According to the doctor, babies are the biggest offenders when it comes to spreading germs and disease because they are generally cute and everyone wants to hold them and play with them, and also because they tend to shit uncontrollably on people and things.