Disconnected In Suburbia

Unexcused Absence

2007-06-27T08:22:00.000-05:00

Forgive me readers... it has been nearly 2 months since my last confess... er umm... I mean post.
The very simple explanation for this is that there are things occurring in my life which keep me from being able to maintain a blog the way I was able to before. It was a part of each day I truly enjoyed, and from what I'm getting back from many of you - a part of your day that you enjoyed as well.
I regret to say that this blog will just never be updated as often as it once was, if at all... Going back to school, and changes in work and possibly career are among the plethora of reasons I am simply unable to write as much as I once liked.

So in parting - I wish you all well and remind you to "Party On" and to "Be Excellent To Each Other".

The First One Is Made Of Glass

2007-05-17T09:05:00.000-05:00

The difference in how you treat your first born and your second born is truly like night and day.

Girl was fragile in my eyes. The slightest scrape or cut was treated as though it were a severed limb, and she was never allowed to wander more than 5 feet from my side for fear she'd be abducted or attacked by wild dogs.

Now it is 7 years later, and we have The Boy.
The Boy is not fragile. The Boy seems rather indestructible in fact...

My son recently turned 1 year old and on that very day hit his " terrible 2's". Unfortunately for us he was an early walker, and is now capable of scrambling away from us at amazing rates of speed. If he does not want to be caught - he won't be.

Had my daughter ever climbed onto the furniture - we surely would have stopped her before she started climbing up the curtains. Now Mrs. Chronically Insane and I simply yell at each other to go get The Boy down from the curtains again.

In years past, whenever food hit the floor it was considered untouchable. Now, 80% of my son's diet is comprised of food that has touched the floor.

Girl was given a rocking horse when she was 2. She loved the rocking horse and would sit and rock on it while she watched television.
The Boy has the same rocking horse, only rather than rocking while watching television, he stands on the seat, teetering back and forth while yelling at us with his hands in the air.
Instead of scrambling to his side when this happens- I scramble to get the camera...

I don't ever remember my daughter even attempting to eat a crayon... The other 20% of The Boy's diet is comprised of crayons.

I don't know exactly what makes the difference in how they both behave and how we treat them... It could be the fact that he is a boy, or that I've been a parent for 7 years. Whatever it is, things are certainly different.

Maybe it is the fact that my reflexes just aren't as sharp as they once were...
6 years ago I would have definitely stopped him before he'd put his hands in that pile of dog shit.

Pearls of Wisdom

2007-05-03T09:25:00.000-05:00

I often ride the bus with a gentleman named Mike. Mike is a little old Italian guy who likes to call me "Kid" and always asks how the wife and children are. We talk about baseball and hockey - 2 topics which typically consume the greater part of the bus ride each day.

Well - yesterday, Mike threw me a curve ball...

As the bus was pulling away - an Asian man came running from around the corner and up to the side of the bus and was let on.
Mike said - "Look at this guy..."
I chuckled, then dismissed his comment - thinking Mike was referring to nothing more than the fact that he was winded and disheveled after running.

The bus ride was nothing out of the ordinary, we discussed how great the Redwings are and how the Blackhawks will never be a good team until the owner decides to spend some money and stop blacking out local games on television... blah blah blah.

We arrived at the train station and were walking down the platform when I heard the unmistakable sound of women's high heeled shoes and a rolling suit case rapidly approaching from behind. It was getting louder and louder when I finally decided to jump off to the side and let the woman pass. As she ran straight between Mike and I, Mike immediately noticed she was an Asian woman.

"God damn! Those Orientals are the runningest Sons of Bitches I ever seen!! You know Kid - that's why you never see a fat Oriental!"

My mind was flooded with so many different responses - but the respect for my elders that my parents ingrained in me took over - and I simply smiled and kept my mouth closed.

But I can honestly tell you that I feel so much better for knowing now - that Orientals are in fact the "runningest sons of bitches" in the world.

This Has To Get Easier...

2007-04-30T09:23:00.000-05:00

I recently discovered the one event when all parents hate being parents. It is the one time that every parent dreads - no matter how well behaved or how terrible your children are.

That event? The 1st through 3rd grades Spring Sing Along.

The paper advertising the stupid "Spring Sing" came in our daughter's backpack a week before it was to take place.
Mrs. Chronically Insane immediately called me at work.

"Is it bad that I don't want to go to this stupid thing?" she asked.

"No" I replied, "Do we have to go?" I asked.

Mrs. Chronically Insane scanned the page quickly but didn't see anything.
She asked Girl - "Do Mommy and Daddy have to go to this thing?"

I heard the answer over the phone... "Yes!! You have to go!! My teacher said so!"

Damn it.

The day of Girl's Spring Sing arrived. I tried finding extra things to do at work that required me to stay late - but no such luck.
I arrived at home to a hurricane of children, children's toys, and children's clothing.

"Okay - help me out. Take The Boy - I have to get Girl dressed" my wife said as she hurriedly handed me The Boy. "Anyone who doesn't live here - please leave" she demanded.

I made the mistake of asking what was for dinner...

"We aren't having dinner tonight! We don't have time - we have to leave in half an hour!"

On the edge of my tongue was - "But - you've been home all day...", but 7+ years of marriage has taught me one very important lesson.

Never say - "But you've been home all day" to a woman who stays home with kids and who used to play hockey. That woman will inflict pain on you.

I took my son to the play room and immediately started showing him the best way to grip the ball when throwing across the infield.
I heard footsteps pounding towards me.

"Aren't you getting him dressed?" my wife asked.

Good Lord...

"No! I'm showing him how to grip the..." was as far as I got before realizing that she wanted me to get The Boy dressed, and she wanted it done NOW!

My wife and the kids were finally ready to go, and we were headed for the door when she asked - "What are you wearing, Honey?"

Again, I've been around this place long enough to realize that her tone implied that she wasn't pleased with the jeans and t-shirt I had on.

"Listen" I started my answer with caution, "I'm here, and I'm going with you. This is what I'm wearing."

Good enough...

We arrived at the auditorium with only 3 minutes to spare and discovered immediately that seating was at a minimum - and by "at a minimum" I mean none.
We managed to wedge ourselves between a family of what appeared to be Lemurs, and an extremely short tempered, grumpy individual who decided that getting up to let us pass him was unnecessary - but complaining and staring at us was...

The show began on a bad note (no pun intended) with serious technical difficulties. My daughter's class was forced to sing the first 2 songs of the performance twice because the sound engineer couldn't manage to find the appropriate buttons to press on the 8 track player...

Chaos broke out in the front row when all the parents started laughing and cheering. The children started jumping up and down yelling "This isn't the end of the show! This isn't the end of the show!!"
This encouraged further cheering and laughing from parents.
The music director had difficulty getting everyone calmed down - but she finally succeeded.

It was at this point when The Boy decided to restore a little chaos for himself. Somehow, among a sea of 3,000 people, my son managed to be the loudest and most excited child at precisely all the wrong moments...
He started screaming at his sister, bouncing up and down on my lap, and slapping the gentleman's shoulder seated in front of us.
Every parent within 300' of us who was trying to record their child singing has The Boy screaming "dat! dat! dat! dat! dat! dat! gah!!!" in the background.

My wife decided it would be prudent to remove him from the auditorium. He didn't go without a fight, however, and managed to kick a few heads and knock a few cameras on his way out.

The Spring Sing came to a close, we collected our daughter, made our way to McDonald's for a healthy dinner, then finally returned home.

After putting the children to bed - Mrs. Chronically Insane and I reflected on our evening by flipping a coin to see whether she'd be getting her tubes tied, or I'd be getting a vasectomy...

It's Time To Stop And Smell Something

2007-03-16T08:32:00.000-05:00

I am an extremely patient guy.
When we were standing in line and God was handing out patience, I got a double helping. But an even stronger quality of mine is how amazingly nice I am - my niceness far outweighs my patience.
Oh - and humility! Don't even get me started on that...

The last seven days, however, have tested my patience and my kindness in a way I have never experienced before.

It began last weekend with the sewer backing up again into my basement. I recently told you how my father in law assisted me - or rather I assisted him - in de-clogging the main sewer line that runs from my house out to the street. Well - 3 weeks later the problem was back, but worse. I was forced to move my family out of the house for 3 days until the problem was taken care.
Taking care of the problem, in short, involved rodding out the sewer line a second time, and hiring a large man, with a booger hanging out his nose, to come and pump out a giant hole we discovered next to my house containing all the sacrifices my family and I had offered to the sewer gods over the last 3 weeks. The hole is approximately 6 feet deep and is designed to take the nasty bits, and drain them into a pipe that carries them happily on their way to the city sewer. Apparently the hole was clogged near the bottom and had filled to about a foot from the top.
Yummy.

When my new sewer sucking, booger toting friend departed - I expected to return to my basement and find my problem resolved.

Not so much... my basement was still a cesspool.

After a few hours of tracing pipes, and a prayer of supplication to the sewer gods - I discovered an entirely separate drainage system on the opposite side of my house that was the source of the back up. I took my hand powered sewer snake and began rodding out the newly discovered pipes.
In moments I was pulling black and rotting tree roots from the pipes. Unfortunately I mangled the sewer snake beyond recognition before my job was complete and had to run to the hardware store to purchase a new one.
Once again - I rodded and poked and pulled at the sewer snake until the gods gave up one long, loud gurgle. At last - the dark waters receded from my basement.

The remainder of the day was spent bleaching every inch of the basement floor and returning my family to our beautiful home.

So then it was back to work on Tuesday, where I am spearheading a rather aggressive project involving online conferencing technology and a British woman confined to a wheel chair who abhors the thought of using online conferencing technology.

Again - I am the nicest and most patient person in the world, making me the most qualified for such a task.

Wednesday, I was provided a car and sent to her residence to deliver a tutorial and familiarize her with said technology - but 6 hours later I had not even scraped the surface of her understanding.

You see - given the fact that I am the nicest guy in the world, and that she sensed that - I was immediately dispatched to carry out such tasks for her as retrieving her misplaced reading glasses, let the dog out to relieve itself, connect her wireless network router, fetch her a ginger ale, and my favorite - help carry her in her wheel chair up an uneven sidewalk.

5 o'clock arrived with the realization that I had not yet used the restroom or eaten lunch. I decided it was time to leave when she asked me to try on a pair of cut off jean shorts...

Complicating things even more was the fact that I had forgotten about Mrs. Chronically Insane's hair appointment. No one stands between Mrs. Chronically Insane and her getting her hairs did!

Her appointment was in an hour - and I was in Evanston, in rush hour traffic, and about an hour away from home. I drove home as fast as I could to take over with the kids. She decided to take Girl, and the 2 of them raced off to her appointment.

15 minutes later, she called me in tears, to tell me the stylist didn't show up that day and they had cancelled her appointment - but neglected to inform her of that. My wife doesn't often get her hair done and she had made this appointment over a month before.

She decided a small shopping spree was in order to make her feel better... I disagreed, but didn't have the heart to tell her so.

Have I mentioned I am the nicest and most patient guy in the world??

I'm Having A Hard Time Making Lemonade

2007-03-02T08:44:00.000-06:00

If nothing else, I always try to look on the brighter side of things, to find the silver lining... But lately, life just seems to be handing me a lot more lemons than I know what to do with.

I have definitely had rougher patches in my life, it's just that I notice what seems to be a steady degradation in things in general.

Metra has been consistently later each morning and the bus drivers consistently slower. Where before, I was arriving to work by 8:30 each morning, now I'm arriving at work at 8:45 to 8:50. I haven't changed my routine at all.

I have been trying to exercise more and eat healthier - and yet my waistline is expanding a little more every month.

The weather has become increasingly unpredictable. Yesterday was 50 degrees and mild. Today it's in the 30's and we're having hurricane force winds.

The battery life in my mp3 player isn't what it used to be. I used to get 3 days on one charge - now I'm lucky to get 1 day. It's just awful!

My little pity party came to a climax last night as I sat in my Lazyboy ( which is only 2 months old and has developed a squeak ) watching History Channel. The program that was on was explaining how for centuries, even millenia, people have been accurately predicting certain cataclysmic events such as the Bubonic plague, the World Wars, the terrorist attack on New York, the terrorist attack in London, Hurricane Katrina and much, much more!

One such terrible, earth shattering event has been predicted for 2012 - Dooms Day.

Perhaps the most disheartening part of all this, was the prediction of how a large portion of the world once lived in will one day be completely submerged by water. The narrator immediately launched into a series of scientific facts supporting this theory by explaining how global warming is responsible for the polar ice caps melting at a rate faster than ever recorded before. The more the earth warms, the more it tips on its axis causing the alignment of the planets to get thrown out of whack.
In short - one of the planets will end up hurdling towards the Sun destined for certain destruction - and chances are it's the one closest to the Sun. Hmmm... let's see - who would that be???

I've had Al Gore's "An Inconvenient Truth" sitting next to my television for 2 weeks now and I still haven't gotten the courage up to watch it. I think I'll be waiting at least another 2 weeks before I do...

It's Pronounced Pia-nist

2007-02-27T09:01:00.000-06:00

After a few hours of pushing slush across my driveway Sunday morning and nearly suffering a heart attack - my wife decided it would be a nice thing for me to get her and the kids out of the house for awhile.
There is a partially vacant mall about 15 minutes from our home that we decided to be the perfect place to let them stretch their legs, run around and crash into people and things. It has a play area, a Mrs. Field's Cookies stand and a Von Maur... What more does a family of 4 require in a mall?

Girl decided a spin on the 25 cents a minute all the bacteria you want for free motorcycle ride just inside the entrance of the mall was in order - so we complied. About 7 quarters later it was time to move on to where the really big germs hang out - the play area. For those of you unfamiliar with malls and the children's play areas with "soft" jungle gyms most malls possess inside of them - welcome to America... I hope you can stay awhile. For the rest of you - you'll understand what I mean when I say this play area is a 4 handywipe play area. My skin started crawling within 50 yards of it.
Girl made a dash for the shoe cubby and started peeling off her sneakers immediately. The Boy caught the scent of a few other rugrats and I was no longer able to restrain him, he wrestled his way from my grip and toddled off into "the swamp" after his sister.
It took 30 seconds for my boy to walk up to the nearest kid and rip the pacifier right from her mouth and stick it in his.
Yep - that's my boy.
My wife reacted pretty quickly - but not as quick as the other kid's mom... We got that "who the hell's brat is that?" look from her. Wisely, Mrs. Chronically Insane decided to remove our son from the play area before he started taking kids' wallets.

Our daughter remained in the play area for a few more minutes while we wiped boys tongue, face, hands and arms off with antibacterial wipes - all to his great displeasure.

It was finally time to do a bit of shopping. We are going on vacation next month and my wife needs some good walking shoes - so we decided to look at what Von Maur had to choose from. As we entered the store, piano music could be heard drifting upwards from the first floor. I took Girl to the railing and we looked down.

"Hmmm - a live pianist" I muttered half to myself, surprised this place still did something like that.

In a voice audible to all passersby, Von Maur patrons and staff, and very possibly the pianist herself - my daughter let loose with "What's a Penis?!"

Well there it was - the question no dad wants to explain to his little girl. And there I was - center stage, with at least 20 people who stopped what they were doing to observe how I'd handle the situation.
I have to blame myself for not seeing this coming ahead of time. I should have just said "Wow! A person playing the piano"... but it was too late.
I had to decide whether to head for the nearest exit with my hand over my daughter's mouth and my head down, or whether to head for the nearest exit with my hand over my daughter's mouth and my head down.

So there we were just outside the nearest exit - I had decided to avoid her question altogether and was trying to explain that she had mispronounced the word "pianist".

"I thought it was penis" she said again.

"Please stop saying that word" I begged. That only encouraged her to say it more...

A few more minutes passed of me trying to teach Girl the pronunciation of "pianist" and her insisting it be pronounced "penis".
My wife had a go at it, stressing the "A" sound - like "pia-a-a-anist" - but to no avail.

We finally decided that rather than sit there and argue with her or explain to her the difference between a musician and the male sexual organ, it was much less embarrassing for us right now if Girl simply thinks that anyone who plays the piano is a penis...

Fecal Matter And The Father-In-Law

2007-02-20T08:57:00.000-06:00

One of my least favorite things to do is asking my wife's dad for help. He is always there whenever we need help, but his help usually comes with a price - my pride...
He and I get along really well, we've gone fishing and hunting together several times and each time I've returned alive. It's just that we don't often see eye to eye when it comes to our method of doing home repairs.

My father-in-law is the Alpha male. He knows everything about everything and isn't afraid to tell you that. "No one tells K-dog what to do but K-dog" is one of his favorite things to say. Definitely one of the more confident people I've ever known - he can come across as intimidating if you don't know him well.

I'm cut from a slightly different mold. I am the type of person who knows very little about anything and am overly cautious and take my time when it comes to doing projects around my home.

Whenever he and I get together on a project - he typically designates me his "gopher" right from the start, which can be a little humiliating, because he doesn't have the patience for me to figure things out.
I truly believe he thinks I am more inept at doing home repairs than my 6 year old daughter. I have actually asked for his help on projects before - and arrived home to find out he had already done it himself while I wasn't home.

Well - this weekend the sewer got all funky in our home. Every time the toilet upstairs flushed - there was a good chance that whatever got flushed was going to make an appearance in the toilet downstairs. Things really got serious a few nights ago when the basement toilet started growling in the middle of the night.

I was foolish enough to mention to Mrs. Chronically Insane that I would attempt to clear the blockage in the sewer myself - I had seen it done before and felt fairly confident that I could take care of the problem.

She disagreed.

I'm certain she had visions of raw sewage spewing from the pipe in our basement and me flopping around like a fish all over the basement floor.
The call was placed to my father-in-law.
He would be there on Sunday morning to take care of the sewage problem.

Sunday morning arrived and I rushed around the house to get my sorry excuse for a tool collection together.

K-dog arrived with the sewer auger and seemed to be in a rather amiable mood. I actually lifted my head and looked him in the eyes to see if he'd growl at me and he didn't...

We took the cap off the sewer and quickly got to work.

"Hand me a screw driver" he said, "I have to switch heads on the auger".

No problem - I handed him my cordless screwdriver.

"Not that! I need a REAL screwdriver" he said.

Damn it! "Here we go" I thought. I quickly scrambled through my tool box to find a screwdriver and there wasn't one. I dashed off to the garage to find one when I heard him grumble "How can you not know where a screwdriver is..."

I grabbed a screwdriver from my workbench and ran back to the basement to find my father-in-law pounding away at the head of the sewer auger with my paint scraper.

"That's okay - I'll just buy another paint scraper" I said as I handed him the screwdriver.

He just looked at me.
I knew I had broken an unwritten code by snapping off to the Alpha, and I hoped he wouldn't lift his leg to pee on me.

We got back to work on the sewer clog.
The auger is equipped with a small motor and a switch that directs the cable forward or backwards as it snakes it's way through the pipe.
My job was to press the switch in whichever direction K-dog told me to while he manually fed the cable into the sewer pipe.

Simple enough...

"Move it forward a little" he said.

I switched the motor forward.

"No! I mean move the whole thing forward towards me! Bring the auger closer to the pipe!"

Good Lord. I couldn't do a fucking thing right... I moved the auger closer to him and the pipe while he pressed the button to spin the cable and splashed us both with nasty sewer water.
After a few minutes of this, we had accumulated a nice sized puddle of sewer water on the basement floor, which we were standing in the middle of.

We cleared out the pipe which had been clogged with tree roots - those too were lying on my basement floor.

"You're going to have to clean this up now" he said.

"Uh - yeah" I replied.

He just looked at me again.

"I'm going upstairs to say Hi to my grandkids then I have to leave" he said as he headed towards the stairs.

I followed him to the top of the stairs where I watched him wipe his shoes on the rug then take a step towards the carpet.

"Wait!!" I yelled. "Take your shoes off man! Don't walk across the floor like that!"

The words escaped me before I realized what I was doing. I had just confronted the Alpha male...

"Why?!" he snapped back.

"You have been walking in shit water for the last 45 minutes and now your ready to track that across the floor where the kids play. Please take off your shoes" I demanded.

He took off his shoes and shook his head.

"It's your poop - I don't see the big deal" he replied.

K-dog hugged the kids, then proceeded to the upstairs bathroom and shut the door behind him.
He resurfaced about 5 minutes later and declared our plumbing was up to his standards with "Well - if that didn't clog it..." then left.

I had stood up to K-dog and so had the plumbing.

Overall - a pretty good day.

Another Thing My Wife Would Never Let Me Do...

2007-02-17T08:27:00.000-06:00

Not that I'm jealous of the lifestyle a swingin' single guy gets to live as compared to the lifestyle I lead... Okay - maybe a little jealous...
Afterall - it's babes in nurse's uniforms.

Sweet asses and hamburgers.
By Dublin O'Shea

I never would've thought that beer, giant hamburgers, and sexy nurses would go so well together. Maybe you are of the same mind. Well, I'm here to tell you that you could not be more wrong.

I'm not much for places like Hooters or strip clubs. Sure, I've been around the block a few times. I've even worked the corner a time or two. And I can't say I've never had a lapdance. I can't even say I've never given a lapdance. But that's a story for another day. My point is that these places hold no interest for me anymore.

Hooter's wings just aren't that good. Ray's Pizza, The Dubliner, and Barwinkles have wings that are so good, it'll make you want to smack your mother.

And strip bars are lame. Sure there's lots of naked boobs. But $10 cover charges and $6 beers just ain't worth it. Besides, I'm not allowed to go anyway. I'm engaged. That should explain it.

But in spite of the lack of enjoyment I get from these establishments, I went with some friends to a little place called the Heart-Attack Grill. Let me paint you a brief mental picture. Who knows, you might want to fly to Phoenix just to see it in real life.

Imagine a plaza with a small restaurant. Then imagine 3 types of beer (Bud light, Corona, and a hometown fave, Kiltlifter). Now I chose the latter. Not only because I think Bud light and Corona aren't worth drinking, but also because Kiltlifter has more booze per bottle. And it's called Kilt-lifter. And if that isn't a winner, then frankly, I have no idea what is.

So we have a small joint, with beer. So far so good. Let's add food options. You can order a Single burger, a Double-bypass burger, a Triple-bypass burger, and a Quadruple-bypass burger. (note that the Heart-Attack Grill sells a Quadruple-bypass burger. Yep. Good times.) And just so you know, the single is a 1/2 pound of meat. I'm sure you can do the rest of the math.

Oh, and you can get fries. These are no ordinary fries, but these are potatoes fried in 100% LARD! Trans-fats galore. Oh boy.. now that's some eatin'!.

And I think you can order a soda or water instead of beer, but only if you're a pussy.

So to recap, we have giant f-ing burgers, lard-covered fries, and beer. This is my own personal wet dream. Because dammit, the beer was good, the fries tasty, and I swear it was the best flippin burger I've ever had.

And for dessert, every employee was a chick in a nurses outfit. If I could choose my own personal heaven, I think this would be it. Not that I need chicks in nurses outfits... but to be honest... nurses outfits are hot. Ladies, keep this in mind. Nurse outfit = hot. Enough said. (mostly because I'll be in deep shiesse if I don't stop talking about it)

Needless to say, this place is a gold mine. Great burgers, beer, and nurses outfits. I wish I would've come up with the idea. I'd be rich by now. And if you're ever in the Tempe, AZ area, head over to Warner & Kyrene and check it out. You won't be disappointed.

Sweet Georgia Brown. That was a tasty burger.

The Week In Rearview

2007-02-15T22:42:00.000-06:00

This Guy Is A Dick
Imagine you're a skinny little 11 year old twirp.
Now imagine you are competing in a wrestling match with another 11 year old and getting your ass kicked. You're flopping around the mat like a fish and getting batted around, then you begin whimpering and cringing in pain as your competition overpowers you and starts to pin you to the mat.
You're feeling powerless and humiliated and things just can't get much worse - then your dad does this...

Awesome!

Denver Happy God Hates New York Now

11 feet of snow? That's unbefuckinglievable!

Vagina Is WAY Cooler Than Originally Thought

Don't take my word for it - check out what this doctor had to say about the vagina, on Oprah the other day...

Interview with Dr. Oz on Oprah

Comparing the vagina to a household appliance? Genius.

Tim Hardaway Has Really Good Gaydar

"What? All I said is that I hate all gay people!"

Don't misunderstand him... he doesn't hate all gay people - just the ones who have sexual intercourse with people of the same sex.

It's not his fault though - he's just Homophobic...

It Begins...

2007-02-08T08:56:00.000-06:00

Sibling conflicts are kind of a bitch. My brothers and I always seemed to be competing for the attention of my parents while growing up and never managed to get along very well until adulthood. It made for some difficult times as a kid and there are still a few emotional scars from those years. That is why Mrs. Chronically Insane and I are planning to take every possible measure to avoid our children experiencing anything like that.

It became apparent to us a few nights ago, however, that there may not be an awful lot you can do to prevent it...

The Boy just turned 10 months old, and celebrated by going completely bi-pedal.
There was no persuading him otherwise.
The house is as "baby proofed" as it's going to get for now with plastic plugs in all the electrical outlets, door stoppers on all cabinets, and child gates with pillows at the stairs and kitchen doorway. He has perfected walking - just not stopping...

We were getting the kids ready for bed - my wife was taking care of Girl's last minute snack request in the kitchen, while I got the task of wrangling The Boy and hog-tying him while trying to change his diaper. This is my least favorite time of every day.
You see - God decided to grant The Boy superhuman strength in his legs... I've taken to wearing a cup when I change his diaper because, on more than a few occasions, he has kicked me in the balls harder than any guy ever did when I played soccer.
Seriously - his feet are like highly trained, heat seeking nut kickers.

Well - I had finally gotten him into position on the floor and adequately distracted with an empty water bottle. I started to change his diaper and get ready to put on his pajamas - when things turned ugly.
I was preparing to place the clean diaper on him when he suddenly threw the water bottle at my face. Naturally, my first reaction was to grab for the water bottle.
This was exactly what The Boy had anticipated.
While I was distracted with protecting my face - he ninja kicked me in the nuts!
I went down like a bag of concrete...

When I came to - I remember looking up to see a naked baby ass toddling away from me at maximum cruising speed.
My cries for help went unheeded at first.

"Naked baby - Naked baby..." I managed to squeak out.

I took a deep and painful breath and yelled out - "He got away!!! Help!"

The first person to come to my aid was Girl. She is useless at baby wrangling...

By this time I had staggered to my feet, but was stooped over, holding tightly my nether region, and trying to walk as quickly as I could.

"Someone hurry! He is going to pee" I heard Girl yell.

Mrs. Chronically Insane hurried out of the kitchen - but it was too late.

There, standing in the middle of the living room floor, was The Boy in all his glory taking a whiz on my daughter's Easter Bunny hat.

"My hat!! He's peeing on my hat!!" she cried.

Now - wiser and more experienced parents may not have stood there and laughed - but it really seemed like the appropriate reaction at the moment. I wasn't certain what was more funny at the time - watching my boy pee all over my daughter's hat on the floor or watching my daughter wrestle with the decision of whether or not she should reach into the puddle of pee (and the line of fire) to rescue her beloved Easter Bunny hat.

It may not have been a deliberate action on his part, but I do recall a certain little 6 year old girl tormenting her 10 month old brother by placing the pink bunny hat on his head only a day earlier...

A little while later, The Boy properly diapered, Girl's tears dried, the pee cleaned up, pink bunny hat disposed of, and the kids in bed, my wife and I just sat on the couch and looked at each other. We seemed to realize instantly what the other was thinking...

"Our hands are much fuller than we'd realized."

I'm Super Depressed...

2007-02-07T09:02:00.000-06:00

It's Wednesday morning, and I'm slowly beginning to drag myself out of this funk I've been in...
The Cubs had a shitty season, the Tigers lost the World Series, Michigan lost the Rose Bowl, and now the Bears lost the Super Bowl - a Super Bowl fraught with some pretty terrible moments.

The first half had a few good moments for the Bears - a 92 yard return from Devin Hester and Rex threw a touchdown to Musin Muhammad... but going into half time I had a really bad feeling in my stomach - and it wasn't all the chili dip I'd been eating.

The commercials were mediocre at best, and the half time performance by Prince was okay - I'm not a huge fan of his - but at least it was a genuine performance.
My favorite part, however, was when they raised that curtain in front of him while he did his guitar solo and it looked like he had a huge boner... I know I'm not the only person who thought that.

It was back to the game and the most painful half I've had to endure in a long time.
We all know what happened next - so there is no point in describing it much further... just that Rex Grossman and Steve Bartman are roommates somewhere in Florida today.

So yeah - I'm feeling pretty blue still. It sucks to watch your favorite teams lose all the time and never win the "big game". It's kinda like going on a date with a supermodel - then walking in on her and some other dude having sex in the bathroom.
It just makes you feel dirty...

It's Time To Crown Their Asses!

2007-02-03T10:42:00.000-06:00

For all you doubters and naysayers out there - I have this to say to you...

They is, in fact, who we thought they was...

GO BEARS!!!!

I Can't Figure It Out... Sasquatch Make Boy Sleepy??

2007-02-02T08:46:00.000-06:00

I hate when I can't figure something out.
I can't rest until I've figured out the problem I've been working on at work, or at least until someone helps me figure it out.

What is worse is listening to someone prattle on and on about how they have a problem they can't figure out - but you've already read this far, so you might as well finish reading...

My son is almost 10 months old and still won't sleep through the night.
Every person I have ever spoken with who has kids, tells me that their children were ALWAYS sleeping through the night by at least 6 - 8 months old.

Those people are jerks and I hate them.

Mrs. Chronically Insane and I have tried everything.
We put him to bed at 8 or 9 every night and he wakes up at 12:30am, 1:50am, and 2:30am every night.

We have tried placing him to bed later - at like 10 or 11. He still wakes up at 12:30am,1:50am and 2:30am.

We've tried feeding him baby food right before putting him to bed, and not feeding him baby food right before putting him to bed - he still wakes up at 12:30am, 1:50am and 2:30am.

We've tried putting him in bed with us to sleep - but he still wakes up at 12:30am, 1:50am and 2:30am.

People have told us to feed him baby cereal mixed with formula just before putting him to bed. Yep - same thing...

It sucks.

Well - last night my wife decided to go shopping with the neighbor rather than making my favorite supper of Blueberry pancakes and sausages. I was alright with that though because she has to watch the kids at home during the day and needs to get out of the house.
She took Girl and I kept The Boy - I figure we'd have a little father/son bonding time.

We worked on his walking skills for a while, until he'd fall... then he worked on his crying skills. I'd tell him that he was weak and that real men don't cry when they fall down.
He seemed to take this to heart. He got back up and walked across the kitchen with out any help. I was proud - but then started thinking of how much it's going to suck to have a 10 month old toddling around the house. I gently knocked him back to the floor and decided to not encourage him any more...

We played on the floor some more. We banged on a drum for a while, rolled a ball around the house, pulled books off the book shelf, and chewed on the edge of the television.
It was a good time.
Finally at around 8 o'clock he seemed to hit the wall... He just laid in the middle of the floor and whined. This is his way of telling us it's "sleepy time".

I changed his diaper, put on his pajamas and fed him a bottle. Then we sat in the rocking chair and watched a documentary on Discovery channel about Sasquatch.
(It looks like Sasquatch may not be real...)
He fell asleep in my arms and I put him to bed around 8:30. This is our normal routine except for the fact that my wife and daughter weren't home.

They got back from shopping at 9 - we talked a little, then we all went to bed.

I was amazed at 5:45 this morning when I woke up to my alarm!
My immediate reaction was that something must be wrong... I probably set my alarm for the wrong time - but I got up and double checked the clock and it really was 5:45!!
I returned to bed to share my excitement with Mrs. Chronically Insane...

"The Boy slept through the night!! He did it finally!!" I told her.

"Please be quiet and go get ready for work... and don't be noisy - I want to sleep some more" was her reply.

Well - I was excited...
I got ready for work and tried to figure out what we did different to make him sleep through the night. We didn't really change our routine much.

Could it have been watching Sasquatches on television?
Could it have been not having my wife and daughter home when I put him to bed?

Well - tonight I plan to find out by recreating the exact same scenario as last night.
I just have to figure out a way to get more Sasquatches and less wife and daughter for a few hours...

Dear Rude Guy On The Train,

2007-02-01T08:51:00.000-06:00

You really weirded me out yesterday... and I kinda think you're a douchebag.

You sat down in front of me, and I immediately smelled you. It was fart. That really isn't cool - and if you aren't going to apologize, at least look around as if to blame someone else for it...

The awful stench from your lunch had finally dissipated when an elderly woman came along looking for a seat. She kindly asked you to remove your bag from next to you so she could have the last seat available in our train car.
You refused.
Many of your fellow riders, including myself, stared at you in disbelief.
She was walking with a fucking cane man!
She just shook her head and started to walk away when another passenger gave up his seat for her.
I'm not saying that at that precise moment I wanted to cut off your balls and shove them down your throat... it may have been a few moments later that I felt like doing that.

Next, I noticed you reach for your mobile phone. I sensed that this was going to be a bad ride home...
You spoke, in your native tongue, into the phone at an audible range far too loud for use on the train. I had my headphones on, turned my music up as high as I could tolerate - but still heard every part of your conversation. This lasted nearly the entire train ride.

Just when I thought things couldn't get much more annoying, you produced a McDonald's cheeseburger and french fries from your bag.
Oh Damn you! You son of a bitch!
I watched you eye the burger and fries for almost a minute as though they may have been your last meal... You slowly unwrapped the burger and began, what appeared to be, making out with the sandwich - stopping for only a few seconds to shout something into your phone. You managed to put that burger away in the most disgusting fashion imaginable.
I'll not be eating McDonald's for a very, very long time.

As you arrived at your stop, you began packing away your things and putting on your coat and hat. While doing this you belched, then exhaled a long, exaggerated breath.

I'm neither a confrontational nor violent person, but I had the overwhelming urge to at least pull your underwear up your back and over your head, then kick you while you exited the train, sending you tumbling down the steps and onto the platform.
I'm pretty much hating you right now, and feel that you're a mostly worthless individual.

Yours Truly,
Chronically Insane

There's A Reason They Always Shoot The Horse

2007-01-30T08:45:00.000-06:00

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!

2007-01-26T09:07:00.000-06:00

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...

2007-01-19T09:10:00.000-06:00

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

2007-01-18T23:16:00.000-06:00

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

2007-01-17T09:00:00.000-06:00

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

2007-01-15T09:19:00.000-06:00

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...

2007-01-12T08:57:00.000-06:00

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

2007-01-11T08:46:00.000-06:00

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?

2007-01-08T09:04:00.000-06:00

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

2007-01-06T18:31:00.000-06:00

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

2007-01-05T11:26:00.000-06:00

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

2007-01-04T09:15:00.000-06:00

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.

Dublin O'Shea Wishes You A Happy Christmas

2006-12-19T09:10:00.000-06:00

Ever grown up in a climate that is freezing 8 months out of the year? Then have you ever had one of your best friends, who grew up in that same freezing climate, move away to a warmer climate and rub it in every chance they get because you still live in the same freezing climate?
Well - Dublin O'Shea is that friend...
Enjoy some holiday wishes from my pal Dubby.

Happy Christmas
By Dublin O'Shea

Once again we approach Christmas. This year I get the privilege, dare I say it, of going to Michigan for the holiday.
I must say that I thoroughly enjoy visiting Michigan as I have friends and family that live there. And I miss them as I live 2000 miles away, not to mention that they are too lazy to come to the desert to see me.
It's been over 2 years since I moved back to AZ, and I'm glad that Michigan is only a place to visit as I never want to live there again. But this in no way reflects how I feel about friends and family. So write that last part down. It's not personal. It's just that AZ is 100 times better.
But I'm not here to rub it in. I just have mixed feelings about coming to Michigan in December. This is one of the main reasons I left Michigan. And here I am travelling there in December. Last year was for a funeral. This year I get to blame my fiancee because she is making me go. Granted, I'll get to see friends and family (who, as I have mentioned before, I love very much) but dammit the weather there sucks my very will to live.
You have to understand that I'm cold if the weather is below 65 degrees. It's one of those things that happens when you live in a warm climate as opposed to the frozen tundra of the north. I don't have many sweatshirts and warm weather gear save for my snowboarding clothes. I am prone to think that I would look even more out of place walking around in snowboarding pants and boots.
You may ask yourself why I have snowboarding gear if I don't like the cold. And to you I say, none of your damn business. But for the sake of blogging I'll indulge you. I really like snowboarding. And I can deal with the cold but only if I'm dressed for the occasion. As I've stated before, I'm not interested in spending 8 days dressed in multiple layers of thermal underwear and water-resistant outerwear.
On the other hand, I get to see friends and family. I get to meet some of my fiancee's family and friends as well which should prove more than a little bit interesting. Who knows, I may even celebrate the holiday by getting nice and boozed up. I may freeze to death while I'm there, but at least I don't have to work for 8 days.
To those in the fine state shaped as a hand I say, "Happy Christmas and hope to see you!" To everyone else I say, "Be glad you aren't freezing your ass off like me!"

I-rish you all the happiest of Christmas'!

Love,
Dublin

What We Thought Was Cool...

2006-12-19T08:54:00.000-06:00

Okay - A cop who sleeps with his gun, talks to his gun and resorts to violence in even the most routine peacekeeping situations? Yeah. I still think it's pretty cool.

Enjoy this clip from "Sledge Hammer!"...

If you're Jonesin' for more - there are clips on YouTube...

What The Hell Just Happened? The Week In Rearview

2006-12-15T08:57:00.000-06:00

Week of December 10, 2006

Did The World's Tallest Man Just Do What I Think He Did?
On Thursday, Mongolian herdsman, Bao Xishun - who stands 7' 9", saved the lives of 2 dolphins at the Royal Jidi Ocean World aquarium in the Liaoning province. The dolphins were apparently tearing off with their teeth and eating the plastic edging of their enclosure.
Veterinarians summoned Xishun by using the Tallman signal.
Upon arriving - Xishun reached down the throats of the dolphins and into their stomachs and was able to retrieve large pieces of plastic that were making them sick.
After saving the dolphins, Xizhun returned to his Tallman-mobile amidst a cheering throng of relieved aquarium goers, then sped off to his Tallman lair...

Holy Shit! That's His Wife??
Dennis "Wee-man" Kucinich announced his 2nd bid for the presidency as a long shot candidate earlier this week. Wee-man is a 60 year old liberal Democrat from Ohio, has served 6 terms as Representative, is disgusted with the way the war in Iraq is being handled, blah blah blah...

Have you seen his wife!?!?

She's a fucking knock out! He's like this wrinkly little goblin lookin' dude - and she is this totally beautiful redhead model type!
What the hell happened there? I don't get it...

How Many Times Have We Told You? Don't Jizz In The Dressing!
"Yep! He TOTALLY did it!!!" was heard ringing through the hallways of Wheaton North High School last week after authorities were informed that a student had deposited his own semen in the cafeteria Ranch salad dressing.
Investigators are fairly certain the spiked dressing was ingested by students during at least 6 lunch periods.
That is just fucking disgusting.

Be Quiet! I'm Reading

2006-12-13T08:57:00.000-06:00

A few years ago, I made a New Year's resolution to read all those classic books I never read in high school...
Yes - I was the kid who read the back cover and somehow managed to turn in a 3 page report - not double spaced - about how Tonto saved some British fortress in the 1800's and the Russians killed off all his tribe and he forever became known as "The Last of the Mohicans"...
Well - I got C's and D's in school and tended to "not live up to my potential".

Since my resolution - I've read books like Don Quixote, Moby Dick, One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest and The Great Gatsby - to name only a few...
Currently I'm reading Beowulf - and honestly cannot put it down. It's for this reason that I haven't been blogging much this week and am sending you to my friend's blog - Minneapolis Red Sox.
He has a great post this week about obnoxious women in television.

Enjoy his post "Levels of pissivity" .

What We Thought Was Cool... Again

2006-12-12T09:08:00.000-06:00

Last week I posted a spoof of one of my favorite childhood movies, "The Never Ending Story", that I found on YouTube. It got a really good response - and was fun to do... so I am thinking of making "What We Thought Was Cool" a weekly feature.
But first - I have to give credit for this idea where credit is due...

Frank The Tank has a weekly feature called Frank The Tank's Classic Music Video of the Week.
This weekly video makes me laugh every time and takes me back to a time when things weren't necessarily better - but things were definitely easier.

So with that in mind - here is this week's "What We Thought Was Cool".

What The Hell Just Happened? The Week In Rearview

2006-12-08T09:19:00.000-06:00

Week of December 3, 2006

Llama Llama Not A Ding-Dong
Have you ever noticed that when attacked by terrorists using chemical warfare - all the Llamas seem to get the hell out of there before anyone else?
Well - me neither... but then again, I've never been a victim of chemical warfare.
Scientists at the U.S. Naval Research Laboratory in Washington have discovered a molecule in the blood of Llamas that acts as a biosensor which seems to detect dangerous toxins introduced into the bloodstream.
And you thought the scientists at the U.S. Naval Research Laboratory in Washington were just sitting around playing Splinter Cell on their XBox...

Snow Job: Part 2
Seen the signs around the city warning you against falling ice? The Trib did an article on them the other day questioning their usefulness.
I tend to think that once you've found out that there is a giant icicle that has fallen from a skyscraper and is screaming towards your head at terminal velocity - it's too late...

Eat Your Food - You Fat Lard!!
Hey fat people! Great news - you still don't have to exercise! Now you can blame that nasty trans fat next time you have to buy 2 tickets for yourself on an airplane.

What We Thought Was Cool...

2006-12-06T09:11:00.000-06:00

My friends at work and I were talking about movies we thought were great when we were kids - but then we've seen them as adults and the movie sucked...

My wife and I recently had such an experience when we bought "The Never Ending Story" for our daughter. We were amazed at just how terrible the movie really was and how much we both loved it as kids.
It made me feel good though to see my daughter enjoying the same suck ass movie I had enjoyed when I was her age.

Here is a great clip for all you fellow NES lovers out there...

What The Hell Just Happened? The Week In Rearview

2006-12-02T16:50:00.000-06:00

Week of November 26, 2006

Some of you may recall that when I first started writing my blog I did a weekly post called "What The Fuck Just Happened? The Week In Rearview".
Well - I have no idea why I stopped doing it and no one asked about it after I quit doing it...
SO - here it is - back by popular demand! The Week In Rearview!
(Oh... and I'm trying to not say Fuck as much as I used too...)

Shamu Got You Down?
A Killer Whale in San Diego's SeaWorld nearly killed it's trainer during a performance last week when she grabbed him by the foot and dragged him under water 2 times, the second time was for nearly a minute.
The crowd was all like "Oh shit!" and PETA was all like "See!?!?! We told you fucker... I mean Assholes you can't keep wild animals in captivity!!!"
There is no word yet on when Shamu will get killed for what she did.

They Don't Like Our Bush
Whether you approve of our president or not - one thing is for certain... Iraq doesn't think too much of him.
Prime Minister Nouri al-Maliki of Iraq blew off the president on Wednesday when they were supposed to meet with Jordan's King Abdullah to discuss taking a harder line on sectarian militias.
Maliki was upset over a scuffle he and Bush had at a night club in Amman the previous night when Bush "supposedly" slapped Maliki.

Snow Job
If you live in the Northwest Suburbs of Chicago as I do - you probably woke up on Friday morning and said "shit".
Well - apparently so did the Illinois Department of Transportation.
As of Friday evening I-80 had yet to move to more than a crawl and I fell down twice on the ice on my walk home. I was forced to walk on the street because the sidewalks weren't cleared yet - so I think that gives me the right to bitch about I-DOT...
In addition to slow moving traffic due to terrible road conditions, Chicago had multiple power outages and planes skidding off runways.
Seriously - it was like the Apocalypse out there...

It's Hard To Find Good Help Anymore

2006-11-28T08:41:00.000-06:00

Over the weekend I took advantage of the nice weather and hung Christmas lights on our house. I am a little competitive when it comes to putting up Christmas lights. I don't necessarily want to be the best house on the block - I just want to be the first.
Unfortunately I wasn't able to get out there on Thanksgiving Day like I normally would - on Friday we went up to Lake Geneva for the day, and on Saturday I discovered that all but 1 string of lights was burned out.
Damn it! Another delay.
It wasn't until Sunday that I was able to go out to the store and purchase all new lights - so watching all my neighbors erect their holiday displays over the weekend was killing me!
As soon as we pulled into our driveway Sunday morning after returning from the store - I jumped out of the car, grabbed the bags of lights and raced to the garage to get my ladder.
I don't even think I helped my wife get our son into the house...
I extended the ladder and placed it against the house.
I quickly gathered the lights and prepared for my ascent to the roof when I noticed my little girl looking up at me with her big blues eyes.

"Can I help Daddy?"

Gah... "She will only slow you down" I thought to myself... I was in a rush and really wanted to focus on the task at hand.

"Uhhhmmmm... I uhhhh..." I stammered.

"Please Daddy?" she begged.

Damn it.
She was saying Daddy. She only calls me "Daddy" when she really wants something...

"Okay Baby girl" I replied, "but you have to do what I ask and listen well, alright?"

"Yay!!"

I decided the first job she could help me with was checking all the strings of lights. That only took a few minutes, and they all worked fine. We were off to a good start.

Next - I unwound the lights. She wanted to help, but I told her "no" because I didn't want her breaking any of the bulbs.
Instead, I put her in charge of creating a garbage pile of empty light boxes, plastic wrap and twisty ties.

I climbed up the ladder, scrambled onto the roof and prepared all my equipment.

"Is that a power line Dad?" I heard her ask from down below.

"What? what line?" I shouted down to her.

"That one... Right next to your ladder..." she pointed to the phone line that runs from the house to the utility pole.

"No honey - that's a phone line... don't worry."

"Would it electrify you?" she asked.

Grrr.... I just wanted to hang the damn lights and be done before the Bears game started.

"No Sweetheart - Daddy's not a dumbass. I am very safe - so please don't worry okay?? And the word is electrocute" I snapped back at her.

"Yeah - well it touched your sweatshirt when you were on the ladder - so I just wanted to make sure."

"Uh huh... now go find more garbage Honey."

She scampered off somewhere for a few minutes while I laid out all the lights along the edge of the roof and looked for the best place to connect my extension cord.
I lost my grip on the cord and it fell off the roof and onto the ground.
Damn it!

"Girl!" I yelled. "Girl! Come get the power cord!"

There was no response.

"Hey Girl!! Where did you go?!"

I walked toward the back of our house and found her playing with the neighbor's new puppy. The neighbor looked up at me, smiled and waved.
Well - I didn't want to seem like a jackass by continuing to yell at my daughter while he stood there - so I climbed down the ladder, got the power cord and went back up to the roof.

"Hey Dad - need any help yet?" Girl asked.

"Yeah - here is some more garbage to put in your pile" I said as I tossed a piece of plastic wrap down to her.

She ran off and returned a minute later.

"You okay Dad?" she asked.

"Yep."

"Okay. Don't fall off the roof Daddy - alright?"

"Wow" I thought to myself, "my kid really thinks I'm an idiot..." Just the other day I was using a butter knife in the kitchen to open something and she told me not to poke my eye out.

"Honey - I'm not going to fall off the roof! Isn't there any more garbage to pick up?"

"Nope! I already got it all" she said.

I needed to find something to keep her occupied and her mind off of me possibly injuring myself somehow. I looked around and saw that I needed more light clips. I realized that I had left a box on the front porch.

"Hey! Go to the front porch and get the box of plastic light clips."

"Okay Dad! Where are they?"

Ugh! I moaned to myself.

"I just said! On the front porch... go get them and see if you can toss them up to me."

She returned in a couple minutes and immediately flailed her arms in the most ridiculous motion I've ever seen and threw the box directly into the side of the house.

"Good Lord..." I mumbled. "Honey try looking at me, hold the box like a Frisbee then toss it up to me."

Another flail of the arms and she sent the box right back into the side of the house, only this time the box broke open sending plastic clips all over the yard.

"Sorry Daddy" she exclaimed.

As I descended the ladder to pick up the clips, I started thinking of how much this would have cost me to hire someone to string the lights on my house. It may have been worth it.

While on the ground - I looked to make sure that all the lights were evenly spaced and working. Next to me stood Girl, just looking up and saying nothing.

"I'll tell you what Honey, while I'm up on the roof finishing the lights, you check and see that all the lights look even and aren't hanging funny or anything like that, alright?"

I didn't even fully know what I meant by "hanging funny or anything like that", but I figured it should keep her busy... Before I went back up, I unplugged the power cord, just to be safe.

I returned to the roof, and while I attached the last of the lights I noticed her little blond head racing back and forth along the perimeter of the house for about 5 minutes.
I finally stopped to see how long this would go on. After a few minutes she showed no signs of stopping.

"Hey Girl! What the hell are you doing?"

"You told me to keep checking on the lights on the house... they are still okay!" she reported.

Wow...

I had finished attaching all the lights to the house and was ready to plug them into the end of the power cord up on the roof.

"Okay - here we go Babe" I told her.

"Yay!"

I stooped over, plugged the lights into the power cord and nothing...

"Son of a Bitch!" I yelled.

Immediately I looked at all 6 strings of lights and sized up the enormous task of checking each bulb for the bad one. I was pissed.

"Damn it! What the hell happened? These were all working before!!"

"Daddy?"

"Not right now! I'm really pissed off okay?! The damn lights aren't working!"

"Daddy - don't you remember? You unplugged the power cord down here..."

Shit. I was the asshole in the place, I realized.

"Go plug that in for Daddy please" I said.

A few seconds later the lights were on, and Girl was jumping up and down telling Mommy how great a helper she had been.

Get Ready For Elmo Again

2006-11-27T08:57:00.000-06:00

I'm certain that this morning you feel the same way I do... Super enthused about being at work and only about 10 lbs heavier than you were when you left work on Wednesday. I have rug burns on my stomach from dragging it around all weekend.
All the hype about the upcoming holiday travel reminded me of a post I had written a few months ago - so in the true spirit of the weekend after Thanksgiving, I've re-heated something up for you to enjoy.

Oh Damn! We're At Elmo!!

So how exactly are we supposed to feel right now?
The government has issued another Red Alert after a foiled plot against flights coming from the UK to the U.S. This time the explosive devices were to be comprised of liquids and gels not easily detected by airport security staff.
Hmmm... Creepy.
So am I comforted? Frightened? Apprehensive?
None of the above... but maybe that's because my son doesn't like to sleep at night and I'm an emotionless zombie during the days. Nah - that's not it...
A few weeks ago when I was talking to my brother - who lives in Arkansas - he mentioned that the nation was on Orange Alert. I chuckled and went something like "pssshhh.."
He got really aggravated with me and said " How can someone like you who works in the city everyday and takes public transport everyday not be freaking out?!?!"
I didn't really have a good answer for him - but it did make me think. Maybe it's the message I hear on the train and in the train station everyday about how "Metra is at a heightened state of security awareness..." and how I "should use my eyes and ears... and report any suspicious packages".
Every single day I hear this same message - as do thousands of other commuters. So does everyone feel as complacent as I do? Judging from the woman I saw a couple weeks ago walking through Union Station making the sign of the cross over and over as she looked at everyone with fear - I'd have to say no.
To be honest - I often don't even hear the security messages. I believe that if you hear the same thing over and over - you just tend to not regard it after a while. Kind of like the sensationalist media we all have been exposed to in recent years... Bad news is GREAT news!! Reporting on the demise of entire villages is great - but it seems that nothing gives the media a bigger boner than reporting on what terrible disaster MAY be about to happen. Remember the Avian Flu that nearly wiped out the entire nation last Spring? I still have all those hundreds of gallons of water and thousands of pounds of dry food stored in my basement...
Yeah - so what? I'm a little complacent... it's not that I'm throwing caution to the wind so to speak - I just choose not to be a fear-monger. I'd rather enjoy my friends and family in these last days on Earth - rather than constantly looking over my shoulder for that elusive inner-city terrorist faction trying to disrupt my perfect way of life...
Besides - I'm looking forward to the Red Alert Discount I can get on my upcoming flight to London..

Photo: www.geekandproud.net

Don't Blame Me If You Freeze Your Ass

2006-11-22T08:52:00.000-06:00

We are finally entering that time of year when you don't need to turn the TV on each morning and look at the day's forecast. It's going to be cold!
I love cold weather - not the biting cold weather that makes your bones ache, I mean the crisp Fall or Winter days when a thin layer of snow lies on the ground giving the world an air of tranquility.

I am no stranger to cold temperatures, and have always been involved in cold weather activities.
When I was in junior high and high school, I played soccer. Often times towards the end of each season we would have a game or two that we'd have to play in the snow. I also enjoyed hunting with my Dad for a while, and more recently have gone ice fishing with my father-in-law. My first job in Flint was as a Salvation Army bell ringer (yeah - Flint is a little short on charity - so they actually have to pay their bell ringers....).
Now, each morning I have to walk to the train, and then stand at the bus stop outside Union Station to wait for a bus.

Along the way - I have picked up some really useful pointers on how to keep warm in cold weather and how to incorporate them into my daily cold-weather commute, so I thought I'd pass those on to you. You're welcome.

1) Cayenne Pepper in the socks.
This works! Just put a little bit of Cayenne Pepper in your socks and let it work its way into your pores. Trust me - you'll forget you were cold.

2) Cut open an animal.
Yes - we all saw Luke Skywalker do it when he sliced open the belly of his Ton-Ton in The Empire Strikes Back, but this really does work. If you find yourself getting uncomfortably cold - just find a horse or cow and cut them open and crawl inside. It is IMPERATIVE not to remove the internal organs as this generates more heat and they serve as insulation. If no horses or cattle are available - you could cover yourself with a few dead cats in a pinch...

3) Wear wool.
Seriously. It may be scratchy - but it is one of the best materials to wear in sub-zero conditions. It breathes and pulls moisture away from the skin. I always wear wool underwear in the winter, and I've finally gotten used to the salve I have to apply to my nether region each time.

4) Card board box.
You may look silly carrying a card board box around with you all the time - but you'll be the one laughing when you unfold that puppy and crawl inside it at the bus stop while everyone else stands out in the freezing wind. who knows? You may even get enough spare change tossed to you to buy a coffee...

5) Find the fat guy.
Fat people are generally very friendly and will talk to anyone. Just walk up to the fattest person in line at the bus stop and strike up a conversation. Be sure that their back is to the wind though - this way you absorb their body heat and they block the wind.

Don't feel foolish for not having thought of these tips before, just go out, enjoy the cold weather - and you can thank me later.

My Favorite Time Of Year

2006-11-20T09:15:00.000-06:00

Thanksgiving is my favorite time of year. By far, I feel, it is the best holiday of the year. Being a Christian, Christmas holds great significance for me obviously, but Thanksgiving is the one holiday each year that doesn't get overrun with commercialism. It somehow has managed to get lost among all the hype of Halloween and all the pimping of Christmas. I can appreciate the fact that Thanksgiving is predictable. It's always on a Thursday, we always eat Turkey and 2 kinds of pie, and we always watch football. Every year - it's the same thing... Thursday, turkey, 2 kinds of pie, football.

Though we'll be doing the same routine in our home, this year a few things will be different. I'll be enjoying the holiday with my son for the first time, my daughter will have fewer teeth this year with which to chew her food, and it will be the first time my wife's entire family will be joining us in our home for the holiday.
What stands out most in my mind, however, is that I'll be enjoying the Thanksgiving festivities in a larger size of pants.
Yep! I've finally kissed that 31" waistline I had in high school goodbye. I recently had to buy new pants to accommodate the 15 or so (emphasis on "or so") pounds I have gained in the past year. The ripping sound I kept hearing when I'd bend down to get the remote that had fallen on the floor was a good indication that changes were taking place.

As I look forward to this Thanksgiving and the menu I overheard my wife and mother-in-law discussing - a menu including turkey, 2 kinds of pie, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, stuffing, green bean casserole, ravioli, wine, beer, and on and on and on - I can't help but feel a little concerned about what my wardrobe may look like next year...

Are those pants with only an elastic waistband in my future? Am I going to have a huge "butt in front"? Will I resort to wearing only slip on shoes because I won't be able to manage reaching my feet anymore? What if I turn into that guy who has to hurl his weight forward 2 or 3 times in a rocking motion before being able to gain the momentum to get to my feet from a seated position?

These are all thoughts I am certain will be rolling through my mind as I eyeball the last piece of Pecan pie and wrestle with the decision of whether to take it or offer it to someone else. I just hope that after eating all that food I will be able to exercise good discretion and simply worry about next year later, and take the last piece of pie and eat the crap out of it...

A Few Thoughts From A Turkey

2006-11-17T09:26:00.000-06:00

I'm not afraid... I've accepted my fate.
Understandably, this is the shittiest holiday in the year for me - but I'll deal with it.
I'm not going to let you see me cry.
It's no shock that I'll be executed, cooked and eaten. I guess you could say I was born to die. Hmmm... I'll bet you're thinking that sounds pretty deep coming from a turkey, eh?
Well - I may be just poultry without a soul to you, but I do have feelings and thoughts, and I'm writing this to let you know that I want you to think of a few things while you feast upon my flesh this Thanksgiving.

I was farmed raised. Apparently you are too much of a pussy to go out and shoot a wild turkey for Thanksgiving dinner. Can't handle having the actual blood of an innocent turkey on your hands huh?

I've noticed you aren't eating goose for Thanksgiving dinner. Why not? Too "gamey" for your sissy ass kids? They'd just bitch until you went and got them McDonald's I'll bet.

It's really fun when you and one of your people each take a side of my furcula and rip it in two while making a wish.

Have you ever had someone cut off your head, eviscerate you, then shove your neck and guts up your ass?

Speaking of up the ass, I hope you enjoy having your arm halfway up mine while you stuff me full of soggy day old bread, onions and celery.
Mmmm - tasty!

So what's for dessert??

Confessions Of A Psychopath

2006-11-15T08:53:00.000-06:00

We are all a bunch of fucking psychos.
You may not know it yet - but you are.
This fact was never made more real to me than last Friday evening.

If you live in the Chicago area, you may remember the terrible storm we experienced last Friday - just in time for the evening rush hour.
There were 50 mile per hour wind gusts, driving rains, thunder and lightning. This made the evening commute a complete mess. Many people experienced delays upwards of 2 hours in trying to get home by using public transportation.
Fortunately, I did not get slowed down by any of that, however, I did have to walk for 7 blocks in some of the shittiest weather I have ever been caught in.

As I stepped off the train and tried to open my umbrella, I realized this was going to be rough going for the next 10 minutes. A wind gust immediately caught my umbrella and threw me backwards. While I fought the wind and rain - I could feel the electricity in the air, and people seemed on edge... that made me nervous.
The power was off in town - so there were no street lamps on, making it dark and very difficult to see. I made my way towards home, trudging through mud puddles that covered my ankles and still holding my umbrella straight in front of me, shielding my face from the stinging rain.

I was only a couple streets away from my home when I unexpectedly encountered someone I had never met before - and hope to never meet again. Myself.

I was crossing the street, getting knocked around by the wind and pelted by freezing cold rain, in the pedestrian walkway and only a few steps away from the curb - when out of the corner of my eye, I saw a car slowly turning into the walkway - then stop and blare their horn at me.
As I jumped onto the curb and wheeled around - I saw a woman in her car looking angrily at me and then she honked again!

Now - I like to think that I am typically a very mild natured individual. I live to please others, and really get upset when I inconvenience people.
But in that instant - I fucking lost my mind!! Seriously lost any mental reasoning.

I leaped off the curb and jumped in front of her car and pounded on the hood. She lurched to a stop and honked once more at me.
"Are you FUCKING kidding me?!?!?!?" I screamed at her over the wind and thunder.
Again I screamed as I approached her driver's side window - "Are you FUCKING kidding me?!?!?! I was already crossing the street!!! What are you doing honking at me??!!"
She was absolutely startled by my reaction - but not enough to stop herself from trying to reason with me through her closed driver's side window.
"Open your fucking window if you want to say something to me, Damn you!!!" I yelled as I pulled back my arm as if to punch her window.
It was at this point that I saw fear in her eyes - then she quickly drove off.
I stood there in the middle of the street and watched until she pulled into her driveway down the block.

Getting hammered by the wind and rain, freezing my ass off - I entertained the thought of chasing her down and telling her what a miserable asshole I thought she was and how I couldn't understand why the hell she did what she had done, and that she needed to apologize to me.

I finally came to my senses, however, and realized that I needed to continue home.
While I walked - I was shaking... not from the cold and rain - but from the adrenalin that was coursing through me.
I felt defeated - like I had lost a fight. I wanted nothing more than for this woman to realize she had unnecessarily startled me and acted dangerously, and most importantly - for her to understand that she was wrong and to say she was sorry.

When I reached my home, I stood on my front porch for a few minutes peeling off the layers of my wet clothing and contemplating what had just happened... contemplating the way I had just behaved.
I stepped into the house and looked at my wife and kids and thoughts started flooding to my mind - thoughts like what if I had gone after that woman? What if I had punched her window? What if she had kids in the car with her? What if she had a crazy ass angry husband who wanted to beat my ass after I had chased his wife down the street?
Most disturbing of all, though, was - Why the hell did I just freak out like that? Where did that come from?
I felt ashamed that I had lost control in a situation where I could have just as easily held up my middle finger, shook my head and turned around and walked away.

These thoughts consumed me the entire weekend. I had never been pushed to the edge before - and I didn't like the way it felt when I went over it... I had lost control.

I confessed my transgression to a friend at work the other day, and as I finished telling him what had happened - I noticed him looking at the floor and just shaking his head.
I fully expected to hear "You went nuts, dude... that's not cool" as his response, but instead he looked up with a crooked grin on his face and launched into a story of how he had recently been riding his bike to work and was narrowly missed by a woman swerving her car around a bus going through a red light. He got so angry that he turned around a chased the woman a few blocks when she turned into a parking garage. He went around the gate and proceeded to chase this woman up 5 levels of the parking garage! She'd stop and yell back at him to stop chasing her - he would yell at her to say she needed to apologize and she would roll her window up and drive up another level. This went on for over 5 minutes - stopping and yelling, he told me, until she finally stopped, looked back and screamed "Okay! Okay! I'm sorry!!".

That's fucking awesome!
I felt so much better about myself after that. In hearing about my friend's account of his similar encounter with a stupid person then flipping out , I had found peace of mind and a new hero.

It's Enough To Make The Duke Cry

2006-11-06T09:57:00.000-06:00

There are two things that many people, except those nearest and dearest to me, don't know about me...
First, is that I am a HUGE fan of Westerns. I love old Westerns with guys like Gary Cooper and Robert Mitchum, newer Westerns like Tombstone or Unforgiven, and I like everything in between - especially anything with John Wayne. I LOVE John Wayne!
The second thing most people may not know about me is that I turn into a big pussy ass bitch every time I get sick. I whine and moan and complain as though I am the only person in the universe who has ever known the pain and suffering that I am experiencing.

This weekend these two things came together and created a terrific amount of internal conflict for me...

Last year, my mother in law, knowing my love of Westerns and The Duke, bought me a great 20 oz coffee mug with John Wayne on it and a quote from The Duke that says "Courage is being scared to death, but saddling up anyway".
A pretty kick ass quote if you ask me...

Well - Saturday morning I woke up with what felt like a Grapefruit sized burr in the back of my throat, a cough, a stuffy nose and a sinus headache. I was sick! Unfortunately for me, Mrs. Chronically Insane was working all day - so I had to take care of myself. I was forced to roll out of bed and put my "big boy pants" on...
I moaned and fussed and whined and ached with every move I made.
I shuffled to the bathroom, wiped away the eye boogars, pried out my contacts and put on my glasses. Next, I shuffled to the kitchen - bitching the whole way - and found my phone and called my wife at work.
"I'm sick" I said as she answered.
"Tough - I'm not coming home. Gotta go..." she said. Click.
"Grrrrr...."
I needed tea with honey and lemon and I needed tea with honey and lemon NOW! I have never had to make my self a cup of tea, my wife has always done that for me, so I was a bit befuddled as to the whereabouts of the tea.
I called my wife again.
"Where is the tea? I need tea now - and you're not here for me when I need you!"
"Look in the container on the counter marked "tea"." Click.
"Enhhhh!!!!!!!" I whined.

I found the tea and honey, we had no lemon - so that sucked, and I headed to the cupboard for a mug. I opened it, and who was staring me in the eyes?
John Wayne.
I pushed him aside and looked further in the cupboard for a different mug but couldn't find one. I reluctantly grabbed my John Wayne mug and plopped it on the counter and made my tea.
I shuffled over to grab the honey and shuffled back to the mug and poured the honey in.
As I poured the honey into The Duke mug - I noticed his eyes peering right at me as if to say " Suck it up Pussy Boy! Stop your bitchin' and be a man for once! You say you love cowboy movies - well then, why don'tcha act like one?"
I turned the mug so that he wasn't facing me anymore.
I immediately saw the words "Courage is being scared to death, but saddling up anyway"...

"Fuck you John Wayne! I'm sick damn it!!"

I finished making my tea and made my way to the couch to sit down. I sipped my tea and burned my tongue...
"Enhhhhh!!!!! Gahhhh!" I complained.
I looked down at the mug again and there he was - just staring at me with that crooked, know-it-all smile and steely gaze.

"Don't be such a sissy - Pilgrim..."

I really hate John Wayne.

I Am A Fairy

2006-11-02T12:00:00.000-06:00

My daughter is 6 years old and, as far as we can tell, shows signs of being not stupid. Given the fact that she was dealt an unfair hand in having me as a parent - I couldn't be prouder. I guess I feel like Forrest Gump did when he found out he had a son and that he wasn't mentally retarded.

Each year as we approach the Christmas holiday - I am increasingly annoyed by the people around her trying to convince her that Santa Claus is bringing her presents on Christmas.
I wanted nothing to do with this part of the holiday tradition as I would like to have all the credit for buying her all the fabulous toys rather than some fat, old bearded Jackass.
Yeah - my heart IS in the right place...
Well - last year she was showing signs of sniffing out the whole "Santa isn't real" thing - so I let fly with "Honey - Santa is just some creepy old German guy who drank a lot and gave kids crappy hand made gifts every year". She handled this without incident, and seemed comforted that this guy wasn't slinking around our living room while we all slept - but she did ask if she was still getting gifts...

It wasn't long after that she realized the Easter Bunny wasn't real either. I explained to her that the Easter Bunny was really just some creepy old German guy who dressed up in a bunny costume, drank a lot and gave hand painted spoiled eggs to kids he hated every year. Again - she was okay with this. (Parenting tip: whenever you are faced with potentially crushing your little child's spirit, blame some creepy old German guy who lived hundreds of years ago. It usually works.)

For some inexplicable reason, however, she insists that the Tooth Fairy really exists. This wasn't an issue until very recently, however, as she only just started losing her baby teeth a few months ago and as a result caught me off guard. I didn't have a story prepared for the first two teeth she lost, and my mother in law beat me to the punch by promising her the Tooth Fairy would bring her something really, really great if she placed her tooth under her pillow. Well - what could I do? With such short notice and hardly any preparation - I was unable to weave a tale of how some drunk old German guy used to sneak into childrens' bedrooms and feel around under their pillows for missing teeth while they slept, and then leave them money... And besides - that would just give my baby girl nightmares!

For her first tooth I ran out after she had gone to bed and bought her a DVD. This was a hit, and I felt I had made up a little for possibly cheating her of fully enjoying the Santa Claus and Easter Bunny experience. Her second tooth was rewarded with a $10 gift card to Target. Her response to this was -
"Why does the Tooth Fairy shop at Target?" I told her to not question the Tooth Fairy because she knows whether you've been good or bad, or a little smart ass...

Well - last week, Girl announced to the family that she had another loose tooth and this time it was a front one. This was HUGE! Unfortunately - I hadn't the heart to let her in on the Tooth Fairy lie yet- so I just let it roll...
The tooth came out on Saturday (thanks to a little coaxing from yours truly) and she immediately took to washing the tooth and prepping it for the Tooth Fairy. As we put her to bed - I realized that I had forgotten about the tooth. She ran to the kitchen, placed the tooth in a plastic baggy ,to seal in the freshness I guess, and placed it under her pillow.
I kissed her goodnight, and immediately started searching the premises for a "front tooth-worthy reward". It was cold out, and late and I was exhausted - so I really didn't feel like going to the store to buy anything. Mrs. Chronically Insane and I managed to scrounge up $3 and decided that would have to suffice. I waited about an hour then quietly went to retrieve the tooth - which is no easy task in an 80 year old house with floor boards that squeak with every step you take. I reached under the pillow, but couldn't find the tooth. I reached a little farther - and still no tooth. Finally I pushed my arm all the way under the pillow forcing Girl's head to roll forward and grabbed the elusive tooth.

Fortunately - Girl sleeps like a brick - and was none the wiser to what was happening even with all the racket I was creating. After 5 minutes of fumbling in the dark with the stupid plastic bag, I managed to place the $3 in the bag and place it back under her pillow. In the morning - Girl rushed to our bedroom holding the plastic bag. "Well - all she gave me was $3 this time" she exclaimed, "I thought I might have gotten another DVD - but I guess not."

I saw the disappointment in her eyes and heard the sadness in her voice. I knew that this charade had gone on long enough. It was time to suck it up and tell her the truth.

"Well Honey, you see - there is this creepy old German guy..."

Smacks, Charms, Puffs, Snaps & Pops

2006-10-31T09:57:00.000-06:00

He's talking about cereal.
Here is the latest submission from Dublin O'Shea!

Welcome back my friends...

It's time, boys and girls, to take a trip to the land of yesteryear. Walk with me, if you will, down this trail of nostalgia. Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.

Remember Honeycombs? Frankenberry? Cap'n Crunch? Coco Puffs? Or the ever elusive Sugar Smacks?
Yeah, so do I. And as I creep toward death with one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel, I remember that those cereals were some good shit!
The commercials were great too. "Honeycomb's BIG, yeah yeah yeah. It's not small, no no no..." The boxes were brilliantly colored with crazy, LSD-induced cartoon mascots. And let us not forget the goofy and mostly worthless "prize" that came in the box. That toy gimmick had to be the greatest marketing idea of the 20th century next to the FlowBee, or the Ronco Food Dehydrator.
Now the favorite of the Harmon house was Frosted Flakes. This was a staple of our Americana from 1980 until somewhere in the mid 90's when both the kids were sent packing.
And Fruit Loops were forever banned after my mother, in one of her genius moves, bought 4 boxes because they were on sale. Or maybe she had a coupon. Either way... eating Fruit Loops every day, for 3 months will pretty much suck your will to live. And I still hate that damned Toucan Sam!
However, I'll admit that after much coercion and begging and being completely annoying in the cereal isle of the Hamady supermarket, my mother bought me the end-all, be-all cereal: Booberry. I was certain that this cereal would forever change my life. I mean, the commercial had a ghost in it. And Count Chocula was some good eatin'! Booberry had to be the greatest.
Now the important thing wasn't that I whined until I got my way. The key here is that my mother caved in. But not before laying down the ultimatum. I'm sure you've all heard this in some variation before. "I'll buy it for you. But you have to eat the whole box. I am not going to waste food. And I'm not buying any other cereal until you finish the Booberry. But you're not going to like it. And I'm serious, you have to eat ALL of it!"
I proceeded to explain to her that she had absolutely, positively nothing to worry about. I'd have the box gone in no time. She was crazy to have any reservations about it in the first place. Didn't she have faith in her only son?? And yes, I was quite the salesman at age 7.
So there I was, waiting anxiously to get home. I waited impatiently for the day to turn to night. I jumped in bed early in anticipation for the morning when I would finally be able to taste the Holy Grail of Breakfast Cereal!
And as the sun broke over the horizon, and the morning rays of sunshine peered through my window, I leapt from my bed and bounded down the stairs. I threw open the pantry, grabbed the cereal, made a dash for the milk, and got the biggest son-of-a-bitch bowl in the house. (I do NOT mess around with cereal! This is serious business, people!)
As I opened the box and tore opened the package, I noticed a strange aroma wafting from this great treasure. But it wasn't nearly as tantalizing as I had hoped. However, I would not be deterred. I poured myself a hefty bowl of Booberry and filled it to the brim with milk. I plunged my spoon (yes, I managed to get a spoon in all my mad dashing) into the bowl and took a bite.
I'll be damned if that was not the absolute worst tasting crap ever to be put in a box. Never had my tastebuds been so offended. And the worst part about it, my mother was RIGHT! NOOOOOOOOO! "Please dear Lord, let this not be so", I prayed. I have spent so much energy in acquiring this great artifact (and it tasted like it had been lost and buried for about 1000 years too).
Now my nightmare had come true. My mother was right, and I was stuck with this box of blue rabbit turds. And I had to eat it before I could ever hope to taste Cocoa or Fruity Pebbles again. No longer would my morning be infused with a sugar-induced coma brought on by one of my many favorite tasty, fortified, part of a nutritious breakfast, (I still can't figure out which part 8 pounds of sugar plays in nutrition) breakfast cereal.
After elementary school, the crazy breakfast cereals left our house for good. Old Tony the Tiger stuck around. But everyone else was replaced by grape nuts (oh God help us all.... they're REPRODUCING in my bowl!!!!), Honey Bunches of Oats, Cheerios, etc.
It wasn't until I made a joke the other day about wanting Honeycombs for breakfast that this trend was broken. My dad had a great idea and got me a box. Not just any box. The FAMILY SIZE box! I laughed and shook my head. But dammit, Honeycomb is GOOOD! Yeah yeah yeah! And after eating this box of cereal, I'm looking forward to Type 1 diabetes which should be fully onset after a few more breakfasts.

Flint's Got The Oldest Balls Of Them All

2006-10-30T15:49:00.000-06:00

A little shout out to my hometown...

I was reading the news for Flint, Michigan yesterday and my eyes skimmed right over the headline announcing that Flint was the 2nd most dangerous city in America - ( yawn... tell me something I didn't know ) and landed on the headline about the weather ball atop the Citizen's Bank building turning 50 years old.
"Hmm. That's neat" I thought to myself.
I was born in Flint and lived in the Flint area for 21 years - went to school there, attended Mott Community College, went to AutoWorld, went to Windmill Place and Water Street Pavilion, took countless tours of GM Truck & Bus - and I was very familiar with the Citizen's Bank building and it's giant ball... but I never knew it was a weather ball.
So now I'm fascinated. I want to know more about it.
I want my children to know more about Flint besides the fact that it is where people go to get shot. A lot.
I always enjoyed going to Traverse City, Michigan where my parents were raised, and seeing the old farms that overlooked Lake Michigan in the distance, the Cherry Orchards and beautiful, rustic mansions.
I wish my children could have visited places like Auto World and Penny Whistle Place, and seen what Flint was before the mid 1980's... But I guess I'll take what I can get.
I'm certain my kids will be thrilled with a visit to an old bank building with a 50 year old metal ball in the heart of America's 2nd most dangerous city...

(Being the architecture buff that I am - if any one from Flint has some cool shots of the Citizen's Bank building - I would like them... please send them my way?)

Image: www.flintcityshirts.com

K-Fed Says It's Okay

2006-10-29T22:08:00.000-06:00

In a recent interview with People magazine, Kevin Federline said "If you want to hate me, cool, hate me. You know why? Because all it's going to do is help me."

Well fuck! I've been helping this jackass for the last 2 years? It's time to change some things...

Dear K-Fed,

I love you! I think you are the greatest white rap star to ever perform. Not to mention the classiest! I don't think you suck, and I have never called you a horse's ass, hick-lookin' slimeball mother fuck, or turd burglarin' jacktard.
Nope - not me! Like I said - I love you! I've never said you're a worthless piece of garbage or sorry excuse for a human or that I wanted to kick you in the nuts. Every time I hear your music it inspires me and makes me want to bust some moves, rather than stab my brain out with a butter knife.
It really bothers me when I hear people call your ability to be a parent into question. I can't imagine how hard it must for you to be a father to like 4 or 5 kids, be a faithful husband, earn enough money for your families, and on top of all that - deal with the constant pressure of being the greatest white rap star to ever perform!
Well - I have to go now - I'm kinda putting together a demo that I'd sorta really like to send you soon and maybe you could tell me what you think.
I hope you are doing well and were able to read this... I tried not using any really big words.
Keep it real my brother, and peace out!

Your #1 fan,
Chronically Insane

I Cannot Offend You On My Own

2006-10-27T11:49:00.000-05:00

Blogs are like butt holes - everyone has one.
My good friend Dublin O'Shea is no exception.
I've had the pleasure and good fortune of knowing him since we were 8 years old, and I feel comfortable in assuming that he does in fact have a butt hole... and a blog. It is the latter, however, that I would like to draw your attention to.
He has recently taken to blogging - and I find his stuff rather funny and I think you will also.
Dublin O'Shea will be featured here occasionally and I hope you enjoy his first submission.

Welcome to my loving arms Dubby! The floor is yours.

Who was that teacher back in the day....?
By Dublin O'Shea

I am slowly beginning to realize that I am getting old. And the fact that I am slow to realize things wasn't my first inclination.

Now I know that most of you will scoff at my feeble attempts to convince you that I'm old. You are probably saying to yourself, "He's not old. He's only 30!" And to those who are older than 30, you may be right. Then again, you may be wrong. Is 70 old to a person who is 80? I don't know. Because those people are seriously old. I'm just getting started in my oldness.

I have existed on this planet for 3 decades. So what could I know? In that amount of time I managed to graduate high school and college. I've managed to travel and in those travels have visited a few third-world countries. In these countries, it is not uncommon for a person to die before they hit 40. In those terms I'd be in the latter portion of my life. Relatively, I'd be an elder in the community.

Maybe it all comes down to perspective. But the point of all of this isn't to prove I'm old. I already know I'm old. And how do I know this you ask? Because I can't remember shit.

I had a pretty good memory for faces. But names allude me like an illegal crossing the border. I like to blame it on the fact that I've met thousands upon thousands of people in my lifetime. As a bartender, I associated them with their drink of choice. But I haven't bartended for 3 years, and I still can't remember names. Faces are getting harder too.

Names aren't the only things that are vague and fuzzy. My friends Disconnected, Doug, and Bob have an affinity for bringing up things that happened in our past. Things that happened 10-20 years ago. And I'll admit that I can vaguely recollect a few of the events they bring up. But they remember with such clarity and exactitude (see, I can't even remember words so I have to make them up) that it truly boggles my mind. My old, feeble mind.

I could blame it on the hard years of booze and drugs. That's always a nice thing to blame stuff on. And you would think that mind-altering substances might cause deterioration of long term memory. However, this isn't proven, and probably isn't true. But that doesn't have to stop me from making excuses.

That sad truth of it all is I'm getting old. The ol' grey matter just isn't as efficient as it once was. I'm wearing down. It's time for an overhaul. Disconnected is losing his hair. I'm losing my mind. Now I can rest easily in the dull knife drawer. I'll be the dimly lit star. I'll slip and slide my way from the pedestal where I looked down upon the dullards of the world with disdain.

Why was I cast down from my place of genius? Haven't you been listening? Age and Time are working against me and making me a mere intellectual mortal. Curse you Time! (as I shake my fist into the air and yell like Captain Kirk) TIME!!!!!

Now what was I talking about?

This can't be good.

Just call me "Old Man River". And if you see me wandering down the street in my boxers, a Sombrero, and flippers don't worry. I'm going to get one of those dog tracking implants installed in my neck.

I'll have human LoJack.
And someone will be along to gather me up and take me back to the Home.

I Hope That Wasn't My Guardian Angel...

2006-10-25T21:54:00.000-05:00

Each morning I enjoy a very quiet walk on my way to the train station a few blocks from my home. It's the same thing each day.
I leave my home around 7am, walk down my quiet tree lined street where, at the end, a Golden Retriever barks at me, turn West, walk past the Elementary school, then South down another tree lined street to the train station.
This has been my routine for a little more than 2 years - and is my favorite part of each day. It clears my mind, and I guess you could say it is therapeutic.
It's not uncommon for me to trip over the uneven sidewalk as I mindlessly watch the squirrels hopping from branch to branch, and listen to the birds chirp their morning songs.
Ahhhh. Tranquil.

This morning was the same as any other morning.
Down my street, past the barking dog, the squirrels, the birds, the elementary school...
But then - a strange sight appeared. A piece that just didn't fit the puzzle so to speak...
A few blocks ahead of me I saw a man riding a bike erratically and heading straight for me.
I could see him waving at each car he passed.
A few thoughts crossed my mind.
My first thought was - "Get off the sidewalk Jackass! It isn't for bikes!"
My second thought was - "This guy must know a lot of people around here to be waving at everyone the way he is..."
My next thought was that I had better get out of the way, so I stepped to the side.
As he approached - I saw that it was a small Mexican man, and he was inebriated. As he passed me - he slowed his bicycle down, made the "hang loose" sign with his left hand and shouted to me - "Party on Man! The world is still spinnin'!!"

I walked a few steps then looked back, but he was gone.
At first I thought - "How strange..."
I continued my walk and it wasn't until I was standing on the platform, waiting for the train that his words went drifting through my head again.
"Party on Man! The World is still spinnin'!!"

"Hmph! Crazy guy", I thought to myself.

The train rolled up, I found a seat, put my headphones on and chose to listen to "Morphine" on my mp3 player. I slouched in my seat and closed my eyes.
Again - in my mind I saw the man on the bike and heard his words..."Party on Man! The World is still spinnin'!!"

This continued to happen throughout the day at work. Why was this sticking with me? It was such a "non event" and yet I couldn't shake this guy from my mind! I'm a fairly "happy go lucky" type of person - always looking for that silver lining... and hell! I have to admit that I'm partial to "partying on"...
As far as the world's continued spinning is concerned - I can't say that I have paid too much attention to that fact through my life - but I am aware of the position of the Sun at various times of day, and I recognize the change of seasons... yep - that sumbitch is in fact still spinnin' even as I write this blog post...

It's nearly midnight, and I haven't really linked any grand epiphany of any sort to this man...
I do believe in guardian angels, however... and it occurred to me that maybe - just maybe, God decided it would be appropriate for mine to be an intoxicated Mexican gentleman on a bicycle reminding me that life does in fact go on regardless of what happens, and more importantly to simply "Party on!"

A Deal Bigger Than It Should Be

2006-10-23T10:46:00.000-05:00

I'm facing a decision in my life that may change it forever. Kinda.

I have recently noticed that my hairline is deciding to run for warmer climates. Apparently warmer climates exist at the rear of my head between my ears...
This really comes as no huge surprise to me. Our office at work has a security camera. It often freezes - and last year I saw the back of my cranium in the frozen image on my computer screen and immediately recognized my father's bald spot. This lead me to 2 responses.
The first was - "Shit..."
The second was - "Why hasn't my wife told me about this?"
Yes - like any good spouse - I immediately find fault with my partner for things she couldn't feasibly be at blame for.
(I have yet to link her to the cause of the War in Iraq - but I'm working on it...)

So - the life changing decision I am encountered with is whether or not to shave my head and no longer worry about having any type of hairstyle...
If you allow your eyes to roam to my headshot slightly to the right - you'll see I don't spend much time on my hair - but it is nonetheless - a hairstyle of sorts...
I simply want to avoid being "that guy" who is hanging on to the little hair he has left - because "that guy" inevitably winds up wearing his hair in a comb over and looking extraordinarily creepy.
I can manage to look extraordinarily creepy without a comb over...

This decision really shouldn't be that big a deal. Many men encounter this same issue and just shave their heads and move on in their lives. But for me - it isn't that simple because I feel that I enjoy a very special relationship with my hair.
We have gone through so much together...
When I was a small boy I was the kid with one of those fat handled big toothed combs in my rear pocket.
When I was in junior high school I was the kid checking his hair in the bathroom mirror between each class.
When I was in high school I was the kid with the mirror in his locker so that I didn't have to walk to the bathroom to check my hair between each class.
Yes - I was that shallow minded, preppy bastard who thought his looks could carry him through a good portion of life without really applying himself.
Finally - when I went off to college - I attended a small private college and was exposed to about 1,000 conservative right-winger types exactly like me. And it nauseated me. All these people were wandering around, full of themselves, expecting everything to come to them with little to no effort and no realization that life wasn't what it was in high school...
It took me only 3 short months to realize I needed to change my perspective on life, and to change the way I felt people perceived me.
The first thing I changed? My hair style.
I cut my hair shorter and no longer used a brush or comb - just ran my fingers through it a little and called it good. As strange as it seemed at the time - this was the first step that really helped me change my focus...
Less on myself and more on the world around me.
I was recently called a liberal by one of my commenters...
Hmmm - that is a long way from where I used to be. My Dad would shudder at hearing this - but it made me feel alright (even though I don't consider myself one).
I still have the same hairstyle as I did back when I decided to "make that change" - just fewer hairs on my head. Which brings me to my dilemma...
I'm only 30 years old and my hair and I have so many unfulfilled dreams!

I have always wanted to grow my hair long and be the lead singer in an 80's hair band- but never did... For whatever reason - I just always broke down and went to the barber after a few months of trying to grow it out.

Recently I have thought it would have been nice to have had a mullet and play for a professional hockey team... if for no other reason than to be able to look back 20 years from now and say to my wife - "Hey, remember that time when I had a mullet and played for a professional hockey team? Crazy wasn't it..."
But again - in moments of weakness - I would find myself in the barber's chair getting a trim. Not to mention the fact that I never learned to iceskate.

So I still haven't decided what to do. I suppose if I do it and don't like it - I could grow my hair back - but that would just defeat the purpose it seems...

As vain as all this may sound - it really isn't about vanity.
It is simply one of those small things that I encounter in my life that I think about far too much, magnify it to uncommonly ridiculous proportions, and then write a blog post about.

Strange huh?

Possums Eat Taco Bell And Baby Poop

2006-10-18T08:50:00.000-05:00

Yeah - I'm just as surprised as you... I would have figured them more for the "bread and tampons" type of scavenger.
But nope - there it was all over my driveway this morning - tattered crap filled diapers and Taco Bell wrappers.
My train was scheduled to leave in 15 minutes and the station is a 10 minute walk away.
As I stood there and pondered my predicament - I noticed 2 things.

First is that baby poop and Taco Bell tacos are hard to distinguish one from the other.

And second - the little bastard that caused the mess was sitting next to the garbage can staring me down with his cold, heartless gaze.

Now - I am as much of an animal lover as the next person. In fact, much like my feelings on illegal Mexican immigrants, I believe Possums too have the right to stay in our country.
But this particular possum had earned a bad reputation throughout the neighborhood for being sneaky and mean, and he was pushing me to my baser, more Neanderthal-like emotions.
I had to do something about this...

I started scanning my garage for my axe.
"No", I thought to myself, "too messy".
I stumbled around the dark for a more blunt object.
A shovel? No - that would make too big of a splatter pattern on the driveway.
Then I spotted my daughter's pink Louisville Slugger.
"Aha! That's the ticket!"
As I slowly made my way across the garage to retrieve my weapon of choice, I looked to see if my target was still in sight. He was, and was still staring at me with his dark, steely possum eyes. I could tell he wanted nothing more than to continue his devil's work against me and my family.
"Not for long - you filthy rat bastard" I mumbled into the thick, chilly morning air.
I picked up the bat.
"Hmmm... aluminum... that'll make an interesting sound" I mused.
As I slowly crept my way out of the dark garage and into the fledgling morning light - the evil possum held his ground.
I glanced to either side of my yard to make sure no witnesses were around.
I started wondering to myself... "Does a possum squeal after receiving a blunt trauma to the head? I'll bet not - if you hit it hard enough."
I was now within 5 feet of the offender.
I slowly raised the pink slugger over my right shoulder.
The little varmint still wasn't making a move - just looking me in the eyes.
"Move you coward" I muttered. "Go ahead - try and run."
Still nothing.
I kicked a pebble at him.
"C'mon Stewmeat!" I whispered loudly, "Make your move!"
I couldn't just crush his little rodent brain in unless he made some sign of aggression towards me...
I mean - there is an unwritten code about this sort of thing.
I was now standing directly over my target.
As I stared back down at the creature - I swear I noticed a tear rolling down his furry little cheek.
"Crocodile tears" I thought, "not falling for that one... I'm way too smart".
I drew in one final breath before I delivered the death blow.

Then suddenly - a strange thing occurred...
I heard music playing softly from somewhere I couldn't quite place, and a warm, white glow began emanating from the possum.
I rubbed my eyes.
"This can't be happening" I said to myself.
I was overcome with sadness and a feeling of regret.
I lowered the bat and wiped away the tear that had formed in my eye.
I couldn't kill this little creature... he is only doing what he knows to do. He probably has little hungry babies somewhere anxiously awaiting his return...
I slowly brought the bat to my side and inched my way back towards the garage.

Just then the evil beast bared his teeth and lunged for my groin!!
I swung the bat with all my strength and knocked the little fuck all the way to the neighbor's yard.

It was over.
His reign of garbage can terror had come to an unexpected end.

"I've been wanting to do that to that little shit since last month" I heard a familiar voice say. I looked over to see my neighbor standing at our fence smoking his morning cigarette.
"Very nice! I had him cornered a few weeks ago, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I'm happy you did" he congratulated me. "Did he do that creepy glowing thing for you??"

No animals were harmed during the creation of this blog post.

Sweet Lou Is Coming!!

2006-10-16T11:08:00.000-05:00

A good... scratch that - A great sports weekend this weekend.

First - the Tigers are going to the World Series. I was 8 years old the last time the Tigers were in the World Series - and being from Michigan - I couldn't be happier. Even though I consider myself a Cubs fan - the Tigers will always be my AL team.
I like their chances against the Cardinals or the Mets - I have good reasons for seeing the Tigers dismantle either of those teams in a World Series - which I'm certain they will.

Closely related to the Tigers making it to the World Series is the birth of the newest Tigers fan over there in Michigan. My friends Doug and Renee just had a baby girl - for whom I am especially grateful to. You see - being the good superstitious baseball fan that I am - I noticed that for every day after the doctor had told Renee she was going to go into labor and she didn't - the Tigers won. This is going back to almost 2 weeks ago. All I asked the girl baby to do was to stay inside until the Tigers made it to the World Series - and sure as shoot - the day the Tigers took the pennant girl baby was born. I haven't asked Doug and Renee yet - but I'm certain Tigers fans the world over would agree that I deserve naming rights for their latest child.
Just a thought...

In football related news - Randy Moss and Terrell Owens are having the flattest years of their careers - which makes me happy because they are both cockloads - and it looks like Randy Moss may even be looking for a new team in the next 24 hours...
Oh - and the Bears absolutely massacred the Cardinals in an embarrassing 42 - 7 ass pounding.
Yeah - I know the actual game hasn't been played yet - but is that really relevant? And which of you reading this thinks I'm wrong about this anyway?

And finally - much to my amazement and pleasure - I'm going out on a pretty sturdy limb here and saying that Sweet Lou Piniella is coming to town to manage the Cubs.
This is beautiful! In case you aren't certain who Lou Piniella is - he was the guy in the broadcasters booth in the ALCS who looked and sounded like a Muppet.
He is a crazy bastard - and I can't wait to see him work his magic in Chicago!
I'm not saying he'll do any better than Dusty - but he'll definitely be more animated when losing...

Area Dorks Converge On Oswego

2006-10-11T23:36:00.000-05:00

Bring us your fat, your ugly, your introverted...

Last week marked the 11th annual Panther Marching Band Review in Oswego. Each year 10 area schools pile their dorks and the dorks' instruments into a bus and drive to a football field where the dorks' families are waiting to hear them play and to assure them that this experience will take them someplace later in their lives.

"It feels good to know that we are a part of something so big" said tuba player Anthony Thompson. "We are kids of all ages gathering to play our instruments in unison making one terrific sound. It also got me out of school early for which I am especially thankful since Jimmy Simmons threatened that he was going to find me after school and give me a purple nurple. I hate purple nurples..."

The dorks put on a musical display that would remain seared in the memories of the 53 people who showed up for the rest of their lives. In fact, when the Oswego football team arrived for their night practice - the marching bands refused to surrender the field to the players!

"It reaks of nerd here" said Jon Hartford, senior at Oswego High School and captain of the Panthers football team. "These fucking virgins seem to really be enjoying their 15 minutes of fame... That's okay - I think it's time for some serious wedgies! Wait until they're all wearing their underwear as head gear in about 5 minutes! Go Panthers!"

The dorks made a stand and marched away into the misty evening with their heads held high. Yes - at the end of the evening, there were no fat, ugly, introverted losers on the field.
Only winners.
Winners with really sore balls and ass cracks...

Nuclear Heated Freedom Fries Anyone?

2006-10-10T09:23:00.000-05:00

Heard anything about Nukes lately?
I typically despise the Redeye (for those of you not from Chicago - the Redeye is a free daily "newspaper" put out by the Chicago Tribune with watered down news stories and is supposed to appeal to younger readers) but today they made me laugh out loud...
Their front page was a picture of Kim Jong Il with the words "Nukes Of Hazard". Now I have Waylon Jennings singing "just two good ole boys" in my ear for the rest of the day. I guess it could be worse... it could be the Wiggles singing "Hot potato Hot potato".
So this is big news? North Korea has been developing nuclear weapons and now because they have WMDs we are going to have to invade right? Especially since they are waving their dicks at us and setting off baby nukes underground...
But I am concerned that the U.S. has made one very huge oversight... the French.
That's right - I said it! The French have over 300 nuclear warheads that we know of. All the U.S. has ever done is made France their bitch by pushing them around and then calling them pussies as they run away. But I feel our days of playing the intimidator to France are numbered.
Why so suddenly do I feel we need to worry about France?
Because French parliament just passed a proposal banning public smoking throughout France. This includes cafes, restaurants, hotels, casinos and even the National Assembly building. Do you realize what this means? The French are a pissy people as it is - but now that their smoking privileges are being taken away they're going to constantly be on the fucking edge!!

I find the following cartoon particularly appropriate...

A Post Worth Reading For Baseball Fans

2006-10-09T20:12:00.000-05:00

I have mentioned before that I was not raised a very big sports fan. It wasn't until I was an adult that I developed a great appreciation for the game of baseball.
To be very honest - I don't know much about Buck O'Neil other than the fact that he was a "superstar" in the negro leagues , missed out on being inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame, and from everything I've read about him - was an incredible human being.
I hope to have conversations with my kids in the future about today's baseball greats, and help them develop an appreciation for men like Buck O'Neil and what they have done for the game.

This is where I'll step aside and encourage you to read this terrific post from Minneapolis Red Sox about the recently deceased baseball hero - Buck O'Neil.

Please see "Some things bear repeating" by Minneapolis Red Sox

I No Longer Step Over The Puddles Of Urine

2006-10-06T10:08:00.000-05:00

I was raised in a very small farm community of about 2,000 residents just outside Flint, Michigan. Last weekend my parents paid my family and I a visit, which fortunately was rather uneventful. As I observed my parents sitting on my furniture, eating my food, watching my television and then eating some more of my food and sitting around some more on my furniture, I found myself in a reflective mood.
I found myself slowly realizing how my life as a child had been rather uneventful.
I look back and recall that most of my memories include sitting on my parents furniture, eating their food, watching their television, eating some more of their food and sitting around some more on their furniture.
I made, what I consider, very few friends - most of whom are my friends to this day, and recall at times even being discouraged by my parents from interacting with the few friends I did have.
Last evening, while driving home from dinner, my wife and I were discussing the weekend visit with my parents and the conversations I've recently had with some of my childhood friends. She pointed out how thankful she is that my parents weren't hers - which made me laugh a little, then she said she felt sorry for me... which, honestly made me laugh a bit more...
I say all this, not to conjure your pity, but to simply explain how I find myself a very different person from what I feel I was destined to become.
I can point to several experiences, since moving to Chicago and now suburbia, that have directly shaped the very person I am today. Some experiences have been joyful - like meeting Mrs. Chronically Insane and the births of our younglings, and unfortunately some tragic - like the sudden loss of my wife's and my closest friends a few years ago.
I have begun to realize my parents were sheltering me and my siblings from the world, from disappointment and from what they perceived as danger.
As I stepped into "real life", I consider myself to have been ill equipped for what I was about to encounter - life in Chicago.
At 21 years old, I rented my first apartment in the city. Within 1 month of living there, there was a shooting on my block, my car was broken into and I had witnessed 2 drug related transactions. Needless to say - in that first month my underwear had several shit stains on them.
Fortunately I had made a very good friend at my job, named Alex, who was a lifelong resident of Chicago. When I explained to him all the things I had encountered in these first few weeks - he simply smiled at me and replied - "Yeah - weird right? I guess your a city guy now..."
I found his statement strangely comforting.
In those few words, Alex was telling me what I wanted to hear.
I was a "city guy". I wanted my family and friends to see me as a man.
"These things are just a part of living in the city" he said.
The "tragedies" that befell me and those shocking things I had seen were not only a part of living in the city - but were a part of life. A part of life I had never before dreamed of encountering.
Fast forward almost 10 years - I'm a husband and dad, have a steady job and own a home. I can laugh about those things that were so abnormal and shocking to me at 21. I realize how I must have looked as I ambled around the city like a wide eyed country boy, finding every aspect of Chicago exciting when I moved here.
The skyscrapers were awe inspiring at first, but now I simply walk past them with out paying them a second glance.
The Lakeshore seemed amazing as I watched all the people rollerblading, running and biking on the beachfront, now I grumble about the stupid tourists being in my way.
Riding the train into the city was exciting and when I entered Union Station I would stand in the Great Hall and just look up at the vaulted ceiling, then look to find the stairs that the baby buggy rolled down in the famous scene from the Untouchables. Now I get annoyed by the panhandlers outside the train station and I no longer step over the urine puddles on the sidewalk, I just trudge right through 'em.
I've learned so much in my time here. I don't mean to sound jaded, or like I am tired of the city - I am not.
I love Chicago more than when I moved from Michigan and I don't think I'd want to live anywhere else. I want my children to experience the diverse culture here in Chicago that I never experienced in Michigan. The ethnic foods, the museums, theater, the history.
I want these things to become a part of their lives that they will never forget.
I simply want to look back 20 years from now and know I did right by my kids, and I want my kids to look back 20 years from now and realize we've had a blast.

Time To Blame The Mexicans

2006-10-04T09:26:00.000-05:00

I saw in this article today how some of the members of the board of trustees in a town near me, Carpentersville, are proposing legislation declaring English its official language and a law making it impossible for illegal immigrants to rent property in Carpentersville. This proposed legislation is supposed to help overcrowding and reduce the crime rate. Or, in other words, force out illegal immigrants.
Later in the day, I was watching Chicago Tonight and they discussed the same story. At that point I felt compelled to at least put my opinion out there...
This is the type of thing that pisses me off to no end.
You may not agree with me on this - and that is cool with me. Hell - I am married to a person who doesn't agree with me on this, but I say every illegal immigrant deserves a fair shot at U.S. citizenship. By fair - I mean that if you are here - you should be able to stay.
What have I done to deserve my U.S. citizenship? I was born here. Big deal! I took no tests, traveled from nowhere else, and never had to pay any money.
Many of these illegal immigrants are risking their lives trying to cross the Mexican/U.S. border. Many who begin the journey don't make it because of dehydration or exhaustion.
To me it seems anyone willing to risk death, illness and being arrested to enter our country should be given a fair opportunity to stay.
Should these illegal immigrants be able to speak English?
Yes - it will make living in our nation a better experience for them. But if they don't speak English - what is the problem?
So you are in line at the Bank behind a woman who can't speak English and the process takes 10 minutes longer than it could have had she spoken English.
Maybe you work at a grocery store and are met with a blank smile and a hand motion towards something on the shelf - but no English words.
How does any of this make your life worse?
Did you get frustrated? Impatient? Angry?
Did you say something to yourself like "If you can't speak our language - then get out of our country!"
Well guess what - I think you're acting like a spoiled turd and I believe you're getting a very small glimpse of how our nation was 200 years ago. We seem to have managed pretty well up to this point...

Irritated yet? Wait - I'm gonna be the guy who uses History to back up my argument...
The very make up of our nation and how it was formed dictates that these "illegal immigrants" deserve to stay.
American Indians were on this soil first. Isn't it great that they have been so gracious to you and I, and that their legislation has allowed us to live freely in their nation?

So the American Indians were here, then the Spanish, then the English and French. Together the Spanish and English enslaved and abused American Indians, then brought Africans, Mexicans, etc. African slaves ran off and had families with American Indians. Lower class Caucasians started having families with American Indians and escaped or former African slaves. The same occurred with Mexican slaves, French people, English, Irish. As time progressed - "Americans" came to be.
Americans now can trace their lineage to everywhere. India, France, Africa, Norway, Germany, Mexico, Ireland, Yugoslavia - the list goes on.

But somehow the U.S. has suddenly become the neighborhood bully who shouts "I got here first! I got here first! You can't be a part of my club unless I say so!!" - then changes the rules for joining the club to make it more difficult to join.

I may be over simplifying this - but I hope my point is taken... I haven't done any extensive research on crime rates in areas where the illegal immigrant population is greater - I'm certain it is higher. But I don't attribute that to illegal immigrants, I believe you can more accurately point to poverty as a motivator for crime than ethnicity. Take 20,000 impoverished white people, 20,000 impoverished African-Americans and 20,000 impoverished Hispanic people and place them in the same community. I bet the crime rates will be the same across the board.
Again - I have no numbers to back this up - but it seems that humans, not White people, Asian people, Mexican people or African-American people, start acting desperate when faced with what seems endless poverty and a feeling of hopelessness.
These illegal immigrants are human beings. Just like our grandparents who came over "on the boat".
I hate seeing people and organizations treat them otherwise. They should be able to rent property, get jobs and speak whatever language they want. It is part of what makes America what it is - ethnic diversity.
One of the village trustees interviewed on Chicago Tonight said she did not feel this proposal targeted Mexicans directly. She said that there are illegal immigrants of all nationalities, like Germans, Polish and Italians living in Carpentersville causing the crime rate to go up and creating overcrowding.
That's Bullshit. 40% of the population in Carpentersville is Hispanic... the proposal is directly targeting Mexican illegal immigrants.
The main reason this is even being proposed is M-O-N-E-Y. The village board is angry that illegal immigrants are not paying property taxes and are using village resources like Ambulance Service.
So perhaps rather than proposing legislation to get illegal immigrants out of town and make it harder for them to live here - propose a law that requires them to pay property taxes and to have health insurance - and base it on their individual income. Give them a reasonable timeline for becoming American citizens. Stop making them hide from the system. Encourage them to stay and make it easier for illegal immigrants to become part of our nation and continue the spirit of diversity that has made us so great.

Move Over Rabbits

2006-10-03T09:00:00.000-05:00

The Koala Bears of the Australian providence, Kangaroo Island, are having crazy amounts of sex. I'm talking seriously grotesque amounts of monkey type love. Just take a short walk through the Bush and you'll find Koala Bear brothels, Koala Bears passing around a bowl and placing their car keys in it, or you'll hear the distant sounds of Koala Bear love making - like moaning, groaning and Barry White.
Scientists have become very concerned about the tree population on Kangaroo Island because of the sudden Koala Bear population explosion. The average Koala Bear can eat upwards of one pound of Eucalyptus leaves in a day. The Koala Bears of Kangaroo Island are literally eating themselves out of house and home.
Local authorities are also very concerned about the high levels of Koala sexual activity.
One official states "We rely heavily on tourism. Who wants to bring their family to Kangaroo Island to show their children a bunch of cute and cuddly Koala Bears fucking each other's brains out? They aren't very subtle about it either... They'll do it any place they feel like!"
The community has tried involving local law enforcement, but very little can be done. "Unfortunately this is out of our jurisdiction" explains an officer, "so we can only sit by and watch the Koala's having enormous amounts of sex. They really are horny little beasts. I actually watched a male Koala bugger another male Koala in the Bush yesterday while on my lunch break."

A small group of concerned citizens on Kangaroo Island refuse to allow the problem to continue, however, and have organized to help fight the growing Koala population. They are calling themselves "Koala Me Bad". Jennie Carrol is the founder and president.
"We have taken it upon ourselves to single-handedly stop this Koala Bear population dilemma. We pass out contraceptives to nearly every Koala we meet, and inform them about our Wednesday night Sexual Intercourse Addiction Seminars. Not once has a Koala showed up to a seminar, and we simply find the 'Koala Kondoms', as we're calling them, unopened and strewn about the forest floor" says Carrol. "All they seem to want is food and sex. We aren't losing hope though - we are just as passionate as they are, we just lack their stamina."

One very flushed and out of breath Koala was kind enough to stop and talk to us. When asked about the sudden Koala Bear population increase as a result of all the sex they are having, he responded "Well, quite frankly, I cannot believe we are getting this much attention. But I'll tell you why we are doing it. Take a step backwards and open your eyes. Look at the World around us. Iran wants to destroy Israel. Israel, Lebanon and Palestine are at each other's throats as usual. There are atrocities and devastation happening in Darfur the average human either cannot imagine or chooses to ignore because of how unimaginable it is. Iraq wants to destroy itself. How many school shootings have we had in the last month? North Korea and Iran are developing nuclear weapons. The World is in turmoil! And the U.S. seems to think they rule the globe and have the answer to all these problems - but when they arrive they just make things worse by trying to place a bandaid on a head wound, so to speak.
So what are we doing? We are doing the things we love the most - eating and making sweet, sweet Koala Bear love to each other because we worry not that just our island will cease to exist in 10 years, but the entire World will. At this rate it seems everyone is trying to kill each other.
But what do I know? I'm just a cute and cuddly little Koala Bear..."

It's Not Called Babysitting When You're Watching Your Own Kids

2006-09-21T09:09:00.000-05:00

Someone once told me that having children keeps you young.
I now think that person is retarded.

Mrs. Chronically Insane recently took a part time job working at her Dad's car dealership. I encouraged the idea. I felt that since giving birth to our son nearly 6 months ago, this could do her some good and get her out of the house for a while. This left none other than yours truly to watch the kids 2 nights a week and every Saturday.
At first this seemed to me like the greatest idea. Hanging out with my kids, doing whatever we want, eating whatever we want, and no one around telling us what to do. We did a few "dry runs", but she was there as a kind of safety net in case things got out of hand. I proved myself quite capable of diaper changing and making bottles and such, so it was off to work for Mrs. CI.
Things started out well enough...
Girl and I built a box tunnel, made paper air planes and turned on the bubble making machine on inside the house.
Boy hung around watching Girl and I, appearing to enjoy watching us destroy things and then hiding the evidence.
Little did I know that the Perfect Storm was brewing just ahead...
You see - my wife didn't tell me that our son is an irritable little shit and that our daughter is a spoiled princess.
Apparently both children require constant attention and maintenance.

This is a brief glimpse into what occurred on the day my children conquered my spirit...

Boy eats every half hour and screams if you aren't holding him for more than 3 minutes. It takes me 10 minutes to perform a bowel movement. This is a problem.
Girl is 6 years old, and can't figure out how to open the bag of potato chips I just handed her for lunch.
Boy is in his bouncy saucer and has decided that taking a dump is a good idea.
Simultaneously, girl has taken the Giant Tootsie Roll I gave her for dessert and set it on the white couch and is asking how she should get the stain out.
I call Mrs. Chronically Insane - "How do you get Tootsie Roll stain out of the couch?"
"I have to go" she replies, then hangs up.
Stain can wait.
Boy want food.
Girl wants to watch Power Rangers.
I need to eat... need strength...
"Girl - watch Boy while I make him food and find something for me to eat".
Girl apparently has Attention deficit Disorder - I find her staring out window at neighbor as Boy chews on Kohl's catalog.
I feed Boy and eat one of his teething biscuits. Not bad.
Boy is sleepy. Okay this is good - I need a break.
Boy falls asleep - I tell Girl to go outside and play.
Girl slams door on her way out and wakes up Boy.
DAMN IT!!!!
Boy won't fall back asleep and wants only to be held. My back is sore and I really have to use the toilet. Okay - I can do this - I hold Boy and sit down to pee like a woman.
Hey - that worked!
Boy is getting really pissed now. I'll feed him again- that's what he wants.
Boy is enjoying Sweet Potatoes until he tries feeding himself and jabs his eye with his finger.
Boy is angry. Like seriously breathing razors angry.
Okay - keep composure. This sucks - but I am a man. I can handle this.
Girl comes in crying because neighbor just hit her in face with football.
Dear Lord please help me in this time of need... I'm feeling vulnerable.
I show Girl mechanics of placing hands in front of face and stopping ball from hitting it.
Boy is still angry.
Good Lord in heaven - what do you want from me?!?!
I turn the game on and this pleases me and Boy. Silence is restored until commercials come on. Boy screams.
Boy hates commercials? The game comes back on and Boy stops screaming and again is watching intently and calmly.
"Hmmm. Boy hates commercials..."
I call Mrs. Chronically Insane - "Did you know Boy hates commercials?" I ask.
"Yes - hand him a toy during commercials. I have to go." she replied.
"Our children are freaks, Honey." I say as she hangs up.
Girl comes in and asks me to tie her shoe.
"You learned to tie your shoes last year.." I say.
"But I want you to do it. And double knot them" she demands.
I stare disgustedly. She gets tears in her eyes.
Boy starts crying.
DAMN IT!!!
I tie Girl's shoes ( am tempted to tie both shoes together but don't ) and send her away.
Boy must be hungry again... it's been like 40 minutes since last feeding.
I feed Boy bottle and he falls asleep.
Time to clean up kitchen and get some food.
I make a sandwich, open soda and take a bite of sandwich.
I hear Boy crying.
UNBE-FUCKING-LIEVABLE!!
Boy wants to be held. I eat sandwich while holding Boy and drip mustard on his forehead.
I laugh out loud.
This wakes up Boy and he starts crying.
Girl comes in crying because neighbor boy doesn't like her being bossy.
No shit Sherlock.
One hour until Mrs. Chronically Insane gets home. I'm losing my grasp...
Boy cries harder when he hears Girl crying.
"Boy - stop crying. Girl - stop crying."
I deliver speech to the children about the terror being inflicted on the people of Darfur and how they should both be thankful for what they have.
Girl laughs and says - "Darfur is a funny name"...
Boy hears girl laugh and he laughs.
I keep saying the name Darfur - my children keep laughing.
I have guilt. But my children are happy.
Mrs. Chronically Insane walks in as I dance around saying Darfur in a funny voice.
I am embarrassed... but relieved. Help has arrived, and the day is nearly over.
I get yelled at for the house being in such disrepair.
This is the last crushing blow to my spirit.
I retreat to my garage and, in my weakness, cry a little while I chop firewood.

As I stood there, a broken man, in front of the fire I had built, I reflected on the day's events.
It made me wonder what life was like in the Stone Age when a man could club his wife over the head, have sex with her anytime he wanted, she watched the children while he hunted and gathered, and he got 3 square meals a day prepared for him.

I was just wondering... That's all I'm saying...

This Week's Forgotten Celebrity: Willard Scott

2006-09-16T07:45:00.000-05:00

Hey - remember that guy who does the fake weather report on The Today Show? You know - the guy who does "shout outs" to old people who are about to die. He played Mr. Poole on The Hogan Family. Yeah - him!
Well - he isn't dead yet!
I just saw him on this video clip of Meredith Vieira's first day as co-host on The Today Show. I feel really bad for him because he was acting like a fucking lunatic and making Meredith SO uncomfortable... It looked as though he was about to start humping her leg at any moment! In fact - if you listen - he says something about coming in the backdoor...
She was squirming out of her skin and the look on her face screamed "Please get this old Perv off of me!!"
I had no idea he was still on television, or alive for that matter...
The crazed look in his eyes was enough to even make Al Roker think about duct taping his asshole shut.
So this got me thinking... How do you put someone like Willard Scott out to pasture? Isn't The Today Show trying to put a younger face on it's show?
Maybe NBC hasn't had the heart to tell him he hasn't worked there for like 7 years. Judging from everyone's reaction during this clip, I got the feeling he wasn't supposed to be there, just showed up on the set and Matt Lauer was doing his level best to make it all look normal.
I read somewhere that after the "Meredith Incident", Willard was found naked, licking the tires of Vieira's Mercedes.
Poor Willard. Poor, poor Willard.

10 Reasons You're An Asshole And I Hate You

2006-09-14T11:17:00.000-05:00

Chances are, no matter who you are, that you've pissed me off at some point in my life. Who knows? Maybe I've done the same to you. I'm big enough to admit that. (Sorry, guy on crutches, but I was late for my bus and didn't feel like holding the door that long...)
I've compiled a list of 10 reasons why I can't stand you and why you should change so that I'll like you again.

1. Your Headphones Are Turned Up Too High
(Let it be clear that before I wrote this reason I made certain my mp3 player wasn't playing "Fuck The Pain Away" by the Peaches too loudly...)
I don't give a shit how cool, how retro, how badass or how into Celine Dion you are - turn it down. Do you realize how many times I've had to return to the beginning of the paragraph to understand what the author is saying?

2. Your A Woman In A Skirt Wearing A Backpack
Hey genius! Ever heard of friction?
Skirt + Backpack + Walking = bottom of skirt up around your waist in about 10 steps. I don't care how hot you are - that is absolutely nasty! Unfortunately the last woman I saw pulling this little stunt could have comfortably fit Verne Troyer between her ass cheeks. If you need to wear a skirt and have a backpack - don't put both straps over your shoulder... Please?

3. You're Spreading Your Legs Next To Me On The Seat
Did you not see me sitting here or are you trying to get "with me"? I'm not gay. I don't cheat on my wife. But I qualify your splayed legs and our outer thighs rubbing together a bold attempt at trying to get into my pants. Seriously - knock that shit off. Besides - getting a boner on the train is really awkward for me and really not cool...

4. You're The Excited Reader
It took me awhile to get used to people using those "hands free" devices for their cell phones while walking down the street, but I'm alright with it now. I just think you're fucking looney until I see the little cord hanging at your side. But please don't treat your book like a person. Laughing out loud, gasping, crying and then looking around to see if anyone is looking... Yes - I'm looking! And I think you're stupid! Unless it's one of those smut novels and you're all moaning and shit... and if you're not ugly and a chick... then it's cool I guess.

5. You're A Weak Signal Cell Phone Talker
"What's that? Your breaking up. I think I'm in a dead spot - can you hear me? I said did the kids get their lunches off the counter... off the counter. Did the kids get their lunches off the counter! OFF THE COUNTER! Can you hear me? Hello? Can you hear.. Hello? Hello? Yes - I asked you if the kids got their lunches... Can you still hear me? Hello? Did they get their lunches off the counter?"
Yes - I fucking hate you if you do that.

6. You Use A Golf Umbrella Downtown
Why? You are the rudest asshole on the street and what does that get you? There is absolutely no reason for you to use a golf umbrella while going down the street, knocking into everyone's average sized umbrellas and spraying water everywhere unless you have an ass 4 feet wide, can't walk and have to use a Jazzy to get around. Not to mention the fact that when you fold it up to get on the bus - guess where all the water is going Jackass??

7. You're Eating Next To Me On The Train
Listen - we all have to put in long hours sometimes - and it can be a pretty long train ride. I understand being a little hungry... so pack a granola bar or an apple or maybe even a small bag of chips. But you just put a brown paper bag on your lap and pulled out a pair of chopsticks!! This is going to get ugly isn't it...

8. You've Spilled Your Coffee On The Train/Bus And Didn't Say Anything
If you have done this - you are a douchebag! It didn't occur to you that setting your cup of coffee on the floor of a moving vehicle that lurches to a stop every couple of minutes may be a bad idea? I love that the contents of my bag are now soaking wet, sticky and smell like Hazelnut.

9. You Ride Your Bike On The Sidewalk
You fucking moron! You live in Chicago, where nearly every street has a bike lane. Get your sissy ass off the side walk - designated for pedestrians - and ride on the side of the street like every other bike rider in the city. And the next time you have the audacity to blow your little whistle at me or yell "On your left" at me - I will clothes line your ass and get the other pedestrians around to pummel you until your brains are falling out of your ears.

10. You Don't Fold Your Newspaper When Reading It On The Train/Bus
Just fold the damn paper in half! You can't read both sides at once anyway, and I swear to God if you let that paper hit me in the back of my head again when I'm sitting in front of you - I'm going to rip off your fucking arms!

September 11, 2001 - September 11, 2006

2006-09-11T08:54:00.000-05:00

Okay - I'll do it. Everyone else is blogging today about it - so why not, right?
I recently heard someone mumble "Isn't the media exploiting this?"
Fuck yes!
All the networks are making money from it and increasing viewership, but the way I look at it is that it isn't all bad...
Through all the coverage I've seen I've noticed one thing. We are getting educated about how other nations view America. Everyone seems aware of the possibility of this happening again. Of course every program about Sept. 11th 2001 and the tragedy that happened that day shows the Towers crashing to the ground. They show the men and women running for their lives. They show the firemen, paramedics and policemen looking completely defeated and covered in dirt and soot. They show the streets of New York littered with flowers and pictures of missing loved ones. Then it flashes to an American flag being erected out of a pile of World Trade Center rubble.
Exploitation. All of it.
For once though - I think we can benefit from this exploitation.
While I waited at the bus stop this morning, I overheard a mother explaining to her young daughter (about 4 years old) what happened 5 years ago and what today means. The little girl responded, " Our country needs to find a new place to live. "
My first thought was of admiration for that woman. I was happy to see her explain it to her daughter.
My second thought was - " You dumb baby! You can't move an entire country!!"
I've talked to my parents and other people their age and of that generation, and they had never lived to see such an event take place. Yes they saw the assassination of one of our presidents, and they saw the Vietnam War. But not since their parents' generation has our nation witnessed such an attack on our country. It hurts me to say, but my kids will never have the childhood that I had. The childhood that didn't truly know what living through a war was like. The childhood that left you with a feeling "everything is going to be alright".
I still remember listening to the radio the morning of September 11th, 2001 and hearing them say a plane had hit the World Trade Center in New York City. The first report I heard thought it may have been a Cessna. It wasn't until I arrived at work, and turned on a television that I realized what had happened. Even more terrifying, it was still happening. The 4th jet liner hadn't crashed yet.
It is still up to debate whether this shocked the government, but I think we all know it shocked us. It changed us. It scared us. How many of our kids saw us cry for the first time that day and on the days that followed. My daughter was just a baby, but I haven't shielded her from the ugly footage of that day. We've talked about it and she understands that this is terrorism, and that it happens in other countries frequently.
My little baby girl knows what being at war means.
It means she doesn't get to see her Godfather as often as we would like because he has served twice in Iraq. She doesn't get to see her older cousins - because they are in the military and are serving overseas and in the Middle East. It means asking "Daddy why are those people crying?" when we watch the news. My parents allowed us to watch the news as children and I don't remember seeing the images that we see in today's news. I can remember seeing skirmishes in Israel and Palestine, rocks being thrown, rockets being launched from rocket launchers, but not to the degree we see today.
But again - I think the exposure is fine. I don't want my son and my daughter being raised wearing the blinders I was raised wearing. This has happened to us. It may happen again and we need to live every day as though it will.
I'm not a flag waver. I'm not proud of some of the decisions our government has made. I don't support the war in Iraq.
I do appreciate living in this country and I support the men and women serving in the Middle East. I enjoy my freedom and the sacrifices made to keep that freedom. I enjoy seeing bikini clad women on billboards and on the sides of busses. I enjoy being able to talk and debate freely on whether I agree with our nation's leaders without fear of prosecution. I enjoy the freedom of being able to choose whether I want to join the military or not.
I support the thought of bringing home our troops as soon as possible. I support the thought of my children serving in the military as long as they understand what it means to do so - to sacrifice your life. It isn't just being exposed to the danger of dying, but being away from your spouse, kids, parents, girlfriend or boyfriend. Having sand in your crack for 4 or 5 days with out being able to shower. Wearing full gear in 100+ degree conditions.
So yes - I feel the media is exploiting the tragedies that happened in our nation on September 11th, 2001. In doing so, it has made the sights and sounds of tragedy more accessible, and our generation and our kids have a better understanding of what being in America is and how other nations feel about our nation. We need to prepare ourselves and our families for more hatred, more fear and more tragedy and how to deal with it all.
But more importantly, I feel we need to teach our children how they can change the way our country is, to change what we've become and how it all starts here with you and me.

Photo: www.sannerud.com

Fucking Favre and Other Football Stuff...

2006-09-10T21:27:00.000-05:00

People don't come to Disconnected In Suburbia for the latest in sports news or to get my opinion on anything related to sports - but it's the first official day of NFL action - and I have a boner.
First - a little bit about myself...
I am not from a family of sports enthusiasts. I come from 4 generations of pencil pushing, pocket protector wearing people who tend to bruise easily. This made participating and following sports difficult as a child. My Dad always yelled at me for not spending more time on the family computer - the Tandy 2000.
I can remember sneaking out to the family room to watch every Monday Night Football game and fighting my siblings on Saturdays over whether we watched the Saturday afternoon feature or the U of M game.
Fast forward to the present - I am 30 years old and love nothing more than watching baseball and football with my wife and kids on the weekends.
I have one small problem though... growing up in Michigan and now living in Chicago for nearly 10 years - I've managed to whore my allegiance to both Michigan teams and Chicago teams... not to mention, since I was a kid ( 15 years old ) I have had great respect and admiration for Green Bay Packer quarterback Brett Favre. But today, as I watched the Bears dismantle the Packers, I found myself hoping Brett Favre would suffer a career ending injury with every toss of the ball. I know that's wrong - but I hate to see a guy who has been the embodiment of playing like a champion closing his eyes and throwing up shit bombs every time it's 3rd and long. Which has been a lot lately.
Naturally - I was pleased with the Bears and look forward to a very promising season and watching them advance further in the playoffs than last season.
However - my Lions lost to Seattle in a close game. The Lions could never make it happen for Barry Sanders and are due. It still kills me that Barry left the league without a Super Bowl win and without passing Walter Payton's career rushing record. I would love nothing more than to see the Lions give the Bears a run for their money this season. Yes - I realize it won't happen - but let's just see if maybe they can beat the Bears in Soldier Field next weekend. As long as they pull that off - I will officially dedicate myself to hoping for the Bears to win our conference. Yeah I know - it's complicated.

Presently - I am watching the Colts vs. the Giants and could give 2 flying fucks that it's "Manning vs. Manning". I really don't care for either Manning, in fact - I think it would be great to watch someone sack either of them so hard that it made their eyes bleed... but overall it is a pretty good game.
At the end of the day though, it's about football - it doesn't matter who's playing - I just want to watch a good football game with bone crushing tackles, a 40 yard pass completed for a last minute touchdown, and 50+ yard field goal attempt to tie the game that misses by only inches!
Like I said - this stuff arouses me... Does that mean anything?

Photos: www.cnnsi.com & www.yahoo.com

So How Did Jerry Lewis Do?

2006-09-05T09:18:00.000-05:00

Yes - I was the Asshole walking around his house yesterday saying everything with an Australian accent. But it was done out of respect...
I didn't hear news of Steve Irwin's death until later in the day - as I was passed out in bed all morning fighting the headcold from Hell. When I saw the words scroll across the bottom of my television, I felt a little sicker inside.
I'd be lying if I said that I was shocked that "Crocodile Hunter" Steve Irwin was killed by an animal, but I do have to admit that I caught myself in mid-sentence telling my wife "I can't believe he's dead..."
His death has really bummed me out - and watching his show from now on is going to put a darker perspective on each episode.
This is the man who put Animal Planet on the map! He gave children (including my own ) the opportunity to learn more about dangerous reptiles than my generation ever knew. When my daughter was 3 years old - she would make certain that we watched The Crocodile Hunter every evening - and she still enjoys the program.
He entertained adults across the world. It wasn't until Steve Irwin came along - that any of us saw some fool jumping around in front of a camera, fending off a poisonous snake or ferocious crocodile all while explaining the beauty of the very animal that was about to kill or injure him.
As with any adult's death I hear about - I am naturally inclined to feel terrible for the children involved if there are any. Steve Irwin had two. I have a hard time imagining a childhood without my Dad around - and it makes me hold my kids a little tighter each time I hear about such a tragedy.
I think what strikes me most about his death though, is that he seemed like a kid himself. Maybe that is what weirded me out so much - kind of like when you hear of a child's death - it seems much more tragic. He had the enthusiasm of a toddler whenever you saw him on television - whether it was his show or a late night talk show interview.
I'd love to think he and his family will receive the respect and privacy they deserve - but given that he lived in front of the camera, and unfortunately died in front of one, I worry that they won't.

Photo: www.answers.com

The Weird Shit

2006-08-31T21:11:00.000-05:00

Pricey Pump Means Cheaper Hump
A brothel in Sydney, Australia has introduced a fucking discount to all it's clients. Seriously. It's a "fucking discount".
They simply ask that visitors bring a receipt from their last fuel purchase and the brothel will discount them 20 cents per liter of gasoline purchased and apply it towards their next session.
Somehow I know I should think this is a bad idea, afterall - my wife reads this blog everyday... But come on! It's Australian whores giving discounted blowjobs due to the high price of gasoline!!
Why couldn't our whores think of this first?

Naperville Mom Refuses To Not Be A Fucking Bitch
A mom in Naperville has refused an iPod someone anonymously donated to her daughter, but rather is taking her daughter's friend to small claims court for losing her daughter's iPod. She is suing for the cost of the iPod, the case for it and $50 in iTunes downloads.
This woman is a complete Asshole.
The daughter will now be known for the rest of the school year as "that cheap Cunt's daughter"...
Way to go lady! It's definitely worth sacrificing the last shred of dignity your 14 year old daughter has at her school just to prove your point to that irresponsible little bitch!!

That Is Some Bizarre Shit!
I have left these two alone. Never once have I said anything bad about them, but this is way overboard and needs to be addressed...
Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes have recently had their 19 week old daughter's first solid shit bronzed.
I'll grant you that that is really strange... but there is a bigger issue here.
The baby is only 19 weeks old!
It's taking SOLID shits that look like that?!?
What the fuck are you two feeding that kid???
My son is 20 weeks old, eats anything we put in front of his face (I swear - I think he ate a sock I had left on the floor the other night) and no way in hell do his turds look like what came out of Suri Cruise!

And Finally...
Have you ever woke up in the morning, and your first thought is a recollection of something you aren't certain was reality or a dream?
That happened to me this morning... I recalled seeing a Chinese woman do something so utterly strange and unreal last night on the Don Francisco show on Telemundo that I couldn't be certain it wasn't a dream.
Thank you YouTube for helping me realize that not even my dreams are half as insane as the programming on Telemundo...

Holy Damn! What's This Shit With The Virgin?

2006-08-24T21:10:00.000-05:00

No disrespect to Mary - but she seems like a tramp lately... she gets around more than my mom.
My mom's a tramp...

An 81 year old woman in Burbank recently discovered the image of the Blessed Virgin on the belly of her pet baby turtle "Mary". To me it looks more like Darth Sidious - but that's just me...
I have a birthmark on my left ass cheek that looks like Hamburglar - but you don't see me going out trying to grab headlines... but I digress.
This same woman had a priest bless her home, her pet dog "Precious" ,pet rabbit "Peter" and her rugrat grandkids a few years back. Now she has admitted she would like to get the turtle blessed.
That's fucking nuts right?
Now when it comes to religious matters - I'm pretty sensitive. Really - don't let the tone of this post deceive you. My friends will tell you I take religion pretty seriously - and that's why I consider this latest trend of Virgin Mary sightings a little disrespectful. She isn't just some whore coming over for a grilled cheese after humping your pet turtle, or hanging out under a filthy viaduct in Chicago giving out free blowjobs... so let's not treat her that way. It's offensive to lower a religious icon to that level. I was raised with the belief that in worship we are to make every effort to lift ourselves towards God - not that God, Christ or the Sacred Virgin (whomever you choose to place the emphasis of your worship on) lower themselves to our level.
It seems a bit naive and self centered to me for people who truly hold the Virgin Mother in such high regard to think she would be paying them a visit. And it seems just fucking retarded for them to believe she would reveal herself to them on a sandwich or small animal!
That's right 81 year old Burbank lady! I thought of cutting you some slack on this because your old - but with age comes wisdom - and Ma'am, I think you bypassed all those years of getting wise and caught the express train to Stupid Town. If I were Catholic - I'd light a candle for you tonight and pray that your head would find it's way out of your ass... but I'm not.
I'm Lutheran, and I don't think we light candles... do we?

All references to Chronically Insane's mother as a tramp are strictly prohibited to anyone but Chronically Insane and are done only for comedic effect.

Photo: Brett Roseman/SUN-TIMES NEWS GROUP

Daddy's Little Stoner?

2006-08-18T13:09:00.000-05:00

I was feeding my son the other day and I finally realized something I've been trying to put my finger on for a while now...
Babies are like stoners.
At least mine is... As he ate his sweet potatoes and tried eating his fingers - the similarities between him and one of my stoner buddies in college became frighteningly apparent.

My son always has that little crust of food at the corner of his mouth or by his ear.

He likes to just kind of stare out the window all the time.

Tends to breathe out his mouth more than what seems normal.

Drooling while awake or asleep is not uncommon.

Doesn't like taking baths which leads to that funky smell that's hard to get out of the couch after he's been lying there.

Almost always the most likeable person in the room at any given time.

Gets hungry about 10 minutes after eating.

Has an affinity for sleeping on the floor.

Loves to fall asleep to Pink Floyd's "Delicate Sound of Thunder".

Likes to lay on the floor and watch TV upside down.

Weird, right? I'm not too concerned - he's just a baby... and I'm pretty certain he isn't hiding anything from me - but if this behavior lasts much longer, I'm thinking of having an intervention.

Hand Over Your Genitals Please

2006-08-15T08:55:00.000-05:00

Each morning I enjoy looking for the latest video clips in the news on CNN.com. Featured this morning were "Britney Burps, Munches On Camera" and "Airport X-ray shows everything, yes everything".
Well - about 15 seconds into the Britney clip I realized this wasn't going to be footage of her actually chewing on a camera, so I turned it off because obviously I'd rather watch the outline of people's naughty bits on an x-ray machine...
The point of the news story was, to my disappointment, not about seeing people's junk but rather how reliable these x-ray machines may be and whether they're an invasion of privacy.
It raises an interesting point. These x-ray machines are able to see straight through a person's clothing - but it appears that they do not detect all liquid containers or possible explosives in shoes. The reporter in the video was able to place a clear plastic bag filled with liquid in his pants and in his socks and the x-ray machine showed no sign of the liquid. Worse yet was that the x-ray attendant handed him a metal plate to put down the front of his pants. There went all the fun!
So my concern is this:
What's to keep airlines from making strip searches mandatory? Airports already have the technology to see everything we don't want them seeing - but they aren't able to see what they are trying to see... it seems logical to me that the only way to prevent people carrying explosives or other weapons onto an airliner 100% of the time is with mandatory strip searches and crevice exploration. Then of course make it policy that all passengers sit on the airplane naked.
Now that leads me to a whole new topic of how to sanitize airplane seats after each flight, but I won't venture into that today...

Confession From A Bear

2006-08-08T12:08:00.000-05:00

Yes - I mauled that woman in Ohio... but hear me out. It isn't entirely my fault. I guess you could say that I'm a product of the system... My Dad left my Mom before I was even born - and the last time I saw my Mom I was a cub! The next thing I knew - they locked me up. All I've ever known was that God forsaken cage. It just kept getting smaller and smaller... I was going insane. Then I saw my chance. The man left the door open just a little bit - I knew it was bolt now or end up on the floor in front of a fireplace at some rich, old eccentric's weekend resort in Montana. Oh - the thought of wrinkly old people having sex on my back was too much...
I made a break for it but knew I didn't have long. I needed a place to cool out for awhile - so I ducked into this garage just around the way. Everything was good - I was just chillin', minding my own business when all of a sudden that girl came in. She screamed so loud it scared the Bajeezus out of me! My natural inclination was to run again - but then she started calling me some really nasty words - and well - after all that time in lock up - you learn to never backdown.
So it was on! I was all like "Oh yeah bitch? You ain't trifflin' with no panty waist, monkey eating, sissy ass bear!"
She screamed some more and went running into the house. I busted open the door just in time to hear her Momma yelling at her for running through the house and not taking her shoes off... Then Momma saw me.
Hand to God - I have never heard such language in my entire life! I could see where the girl get's her little potty mouth from! She came at me like the fuckin' Tasmanian Devil! Screaming, kicking, spitting... My head was pounding! I thought it from all the screaming these bitches were doing - then I turned and saw that little girl was beating me over the head with a fucking 16oz T-bone steak!
"Bitch! I'm a 500 lb bear! Do you not see these teeth and claws??" I said.
She just clocked me up side the head again and again! I couldn't see a damn thing! Then I heard the sirens. I had to get out of there fast. I wanted to grab one of them and take them with me - but there was no time - and they would have only slowed me down. I hated to turn tail without finishing what I started - but I had to hand it to those two... they put up a damn good fight.

The Mommies Are Coming! The Mommies Are Coming!

2006-08-08T12:07:00.000-05:00

As some of you may know, a month ago Mrs. Chronically Insane and I were blessed with our second child, a little boy. While my wife was recovering - I was in charge of dropping off and picking up our daughter from school. Over this two week period I was introduced to a group of women I call "The Mommies". I don't like The Mommies. They're kind of like the Latin Kings of the hallway at my daughter's school. My hair bristled every time I'd walk through the doors and God help me if I got there a few minutes before the door to her classroom opened. You could cut the tension with a knife. The Mommies could be seen just milling around the hallway guarding the door to the classroom as though it contained their injured gang leader. I once approached The Mommies and they shot me a collective glance that said " Back off Motherfucker - this is our turf! ".
Well - it's a month later and things are back to a more normal schedule. I'm back to work and my wife is the dropper offer and picker upper of my daughter once again. She has since quit her job and decided to stay at home with the kids - which I couldn't be happier about. But there's a problem... The Mommies smell fresh meat! I warned her of their evil glances and cold shoulders... but she seemed prepared... she seemed strong! And then it happened.. The Mommies invited her into their hallway posse to talk about the "new one". Fresh Meat... One of The Mommies requested a play date with our daughter and hers. Another of The Mommies gave her some diaper cream that's "just fabulous". And then came the fatal blow... Some of The Mommies have invited themselves to stay for my daughter's birthday party this weekend! The invitations plainly said to "drop off" and "pick up"! I don't want The Mommies here! They aren't welcome! This is MY turf! But they are strong - they are many! The Mommies smell fresh meat and they'll do what it takes to get it!
The Mommies are coming and I am afraid...

Another Reason Not To Visit Flint, Michigan

2006-08-08T12:06:00.000-05:00

Nearly 10 years ago I left Flint after having lived there for 21 years. For the most part - I've never looked back. That is due in large part to the fact that there really isn't anything to look back on. I was raised with despair all around... My friends' parents were losing their jobs at General Motors, packing up their families and moving to places like Tennessee and Kentucky to find new employment. The ones who didn't move took jobs as janitors, store clerks and ,if lucky, a delivery driver of some kind. My Dad was one of the lucky ones - he was able to take an early retirement when word came he would be getting "the axe" soon.
Oddly though, I do have one source of some very fond memories... The food! The food in Flint was pretty good. I can't claim to be an authority anymore - not having gone back much - but in high school and college I made my way around some of the finest eateries Flint had to offer. One of my favorites was the Old Olympic - which sadly - burned down this week. The news of this is what prompted this particular post. Next to Angelo's, the Old Olympic was my favorite place for a Coney dog. My friend Nikki and I would skip Professor Barber's Algebra class and head to Angelo's for a Coney dog. Angelo sold out to a new owner and the place was never the same, it may not even be there anymore. People in Chicago have no idea what a Coney dog is - they make the mistake of confusing it with a Chili dog when I try to explain it. Another great place was YaYa's. I loved the shredded Greek Chicken pita. I've never seen a sandwich (or in Chicago a "samich") like it again. For a brief period I worked at Flint's Bishop International Airport. It's claim to fame? The Concorde landed here once. My favorite lunch spot when working there was just down the way. Latina's. The best Stromboli in town! However - they too changed ownership after I left - and the food just wasn't what it used to be. After a few beers at the Torch - along with my buddies Seth and Bob, I would head over to the Halo Burger on Saginaw St. for an Olive Burger. You can't find those in Chicago either! One of the most distinguishing features of this particular Halo Burger restaurant was the giant Vernors mural painted on the outside. It depicted the Vernors Elves toiling over their delicious barrels of ginger ale. I wonder if the mural is still there...
Last but not least - and certainly worthy of honorable mention - is Zora's. This was the best "hole in the wall" breakfast joint I have experienced in 30 years of living. Zora was a 40 something, rough around the edges Harley babe who made the best French Toast I have ever eaten! Zora's pet dog could be seen on a daily basis greeting patrons as they entered the restaurant. I can only hope that Zora still remembers me as the guy who would hold the crusts of my toast between my teeth, bend over and feed them to her dog from my mouth. She seemed to find it endearing at the time...
Although the news of the Old Olympic burning down saddens me, it has also served to shed a little light on some happy memories amidst some otherwise dark and depressing times.

Thunderstorms Make Cats Horny

2006-08-08T12:05:00.000-05:00

If you live in the suburbs of Chicago - chances are that last night you got some really loud thunderstorms. Finally at around 11pm things started settling down and the whole family was tucked in for the night... or so I thought.
Shortly after 11 I heard a terrible screeching noise coming from outside. The noise was so loud it startled my wife and son from their sleep. I looked out the back windows - and there, in the middle of my backyard were two cats bumpin' and grindin' like no one's business! They were really enjoying themselves! Now - I hate to be a pussy or cock block - but my family needed their sleep!
I quickly rolled up a newspaper, grabbed a flashlight and stepped out to the backyard banging the paper against my leg, I fully expected this to frighten the cats. They didn't budge - just kept doin' the nasty...
"Scat! Scat! Go on!" I whispered loudly... still nothing!
"Hey cats! Stop having loud sex on my lawn!" I finally yelled. At that point - the cat on the bottom just looked back at me, and I swear it was grinning!
They finally had had enough of me bitching at them and decided to dismount and continue their party down the block.
Oddly enough - the whole episode left me realizing one very surprising fact... Cats do it Doggystyle...

Yeah - But What Are The Schools Like?

2006-08-08T12:04:00.000-05:00

First of all - Don't panic! It's not like you haven't been warned about this... Just a couple weeks ago I told you how History Channel is all over the fact that we are all going to die soon from some sudden catastrophic event. Remember I had my list of safe places to move in case of just such an occurrence? Well - as it turns out - I have one more place to add... Mars!
Stephen Hawking has theorized that that catastrophic event may occur in this century and is proposing we humans find an alternative place, er... um... planet to move to in the next 40 years. He has suggested that Mars is the best option. Now I was completely prepared to blow off History Channel, but this is fucking Stephen Hawking! You know - the guy who is Professor of Mathematics at Cambridge! The leading theorist on the existence and mechanics of blackholes! The distinguished author of A Brief History Of Time! Yes - that weird looking guy in a wheel chair who uses that creepy voice machine to talk...
Hawking is kind of the shit when it comes to things like this...? but Mars? Isn't there anywhere else to choose from? It's all red there and stuff. Not to mention the fact that if we populate the planet of Mars - that officially makes us Martians. Now - I understand this hasn't been proven yet - but what if there is intelligent life already on Mars? Do you think they've seen all the negative ways we have portrayed Martians? I really don't think they would be happy... How do you think we will get along? What if they already have some form of government in place. What if they aren't happy to have us there?
I guess we need a game plan... an aggressive one at that! We can't approach our future occupation of Mars all "half assed" if we plan on living there 40 years from now. It would be nice if we had some experience in this... you know - any previous occupation of foreign territories, fair and diplomatic relations with the natives, effective and well thought out plans on integrating thousands, maybe millions of new people into an established culture, that sort of thing. Hmmm...

Assdouche

2006-08-08T12:01:00.000-05:00

I woke up this morning and immediately had 2 realizations. The first was that I felt like a sack of Assdouche. The next was that I have never heard of Assdouche, but somehow it perfectly describes how I feel... Allergies are kicking my ass, my head feels like my brain may melt and leak out my ears, and I have a report due on my boss' desk today that is only 3/4 finished.
So of course I am doing what any responsible, dedicated employee should, I'm working on today's blog post on the train ride instead of the report I need to turn in...
My invention of the term "assdouche" at 6am this morning led me to today's topic... I am fascinated with invented words!
The other day someone taught me the term "Jacktard". This word describes, perfectly I feel, a person who is basically an asshole and you have no use for. In a more heated situation, I was told - "Jackfuckintard" is more appropriate. Used in a sentence: "Judging from the way the woman next to me on the train just reacted when she looked over and saw the word "assdouche" on my computer screen, she thinks I'm a Jacktard".
Mad props to the person who taught me this word the other day!
Another great word I've used for years is "Gumpus". My friends and I invented this word when we were in college. A "Gumpus" describes that part on the anatomy of some humans which resembles a pillow stuffed down the front of one's pants. Less flabby than a beer gut - the Gumpus can often lead a person to be mistaken for being pregnant. I have also heard this physical feature described as a "butt in front". Used in a sentence: "Holy shit! Would you look at the size of that person's Gumpus! Is it true that the bigger the cushion the better the pushin'?"
Yesterday my older brother was visiting from out of town and reminded me of a word we used as kids. He was sitting down with my daughter playing a word building game. They had letter blocks and he was building words and having her sound them out as they spelled them. He began with the word "art". He then added a "c" to the beginning - "that's cart" she exclaimed. He then took away the "c" and added an "sh" at the beginning... She looked at him, them to me... "Daddy - what's shart?"
"Ummm - honey it's a rare and exotic sea creature that no longer exists..." was my reply as I glared at my brother! I felt I had better not explain to her that "shart" is a combination of the words "shit" and "fart". Also known as a "wet fart"...
Finally, my friend Minneapolis Red Sox gets credit for a word that just made it's way into my vocabulary. "Radification". This describes a terrific vehicular modification he made to his truck recently. Rather than use it in a sentence - I will refer you to his blog. It is complete with definition of the word radification and a picture to better help you appreciate it's use.
I encourage you to take these words and incorporate them into your conversations at work or home today. Also - please feel free to submit any words you have invented to me...
Who knows? The term "blog" has become a culturally accepted term - maybe "assdouche" will be!

I Just Mega Shit Myself

2006-08-08T11:20:00.000-05:00

The long weekend combined with all the rain we've had has afforded me the opportunity to catch up on some of my favorite educational cable programs. Over the past week these programs have taught me one very important thing...
We are all about to suffer sudden and horrific deaths!!!
The History Channel has this great show called "Mega-Disasters!" The purpose of this program is to instill a sense of hysteria into the hearts and minds of every man, woman and child by using CGI to explain the worst possible scenario in the event of natural disaster. Last week I saw New York City and New Jersey get wiped out by the most wicked, fucking hypothetical hurricane I could have ever imagined! There were people drowning left and right, getting crushed under massive waves, being blown around on the streets... windows were blowing out of skyscrapers and swirling around like giant razorblades and huge buildings were crumbling into piles of rubble! It was awful! They had experts explain how plausible it is for a hurricane to completely ass fuck the entire Raritan Bay area by just hovering there for days without dying down! Just as I was about to turn the channel because it seemed a bit too absurd - they started showing real footage of a hurricane that devastated New York City in 1938! Holy Shitballs! This really happened!
A few days later, while channel surfing - I landed on Discovery channel's show "Mega-Tsunami." In this show - I watched CGI images of Portland, Oregon and Seattle, Washington getting pounded by the tallest wave ever "not recorded" in the history of mankind! Once again I saw men, women and children's eyes widen with fear and disappear into the dark wall of water that carried them to a watery grave... "Ugh" I thought, "Yeah - like that could happen..."
Enter the historical natural disaster guru. He showed us how, based on different soil samples taken in the Seattle area, the entire Pacific Northwest was devastated by a tsunami originating off the coast of Japan over 500 years ago, and is long overdue for a colossal sized tsunami that threatens millions of people with certain death! "Good Lord! Is no one safe?" I mused.
Nope! A couple of days ago the Weather Channel showed footage of killer tornadoes ripping through the Midwest. Now I got really worried, especially after they were showing footage of the governor of Oklahoma flying over the destruction path of a F4 tornado and stating "I believe that used to be a high school over there and that might have been a church from the looks of it..." It looked to me like a lumber yard took a shit on Oklahoma after eating too many peaches. It was breathtakingly terrifying. I saw a statistic showing that there have been more tornado related deaths recorded this year than in any previous year. And it's still early...
As I sat there, mouth wide open, watching in disbelief major city after major city getting completely wiped off the face of the earth through the magic of CGI, it occurred to me - what frightens me most is that my list of safe places to move my family is getting shorter and shorter. Good Lord! Only a few days ago I had to cross off Indonesia.

Dear Stupid White Girl

2006-08-08T11:18:00.000-05:00

You sat behind me on the train this morning shouting obnoxiously into your cell phone. You wouldn't shut up about how you were going to get "krunk" at Duffy's this morning and then end up at the Alumni Club with all your stupid girl friends. You swore that you would be smashed by noon. You were wearing little green antennae with four leaf covers bouncing at the ends. When the conductor came by to take your ticket - you asked where his green was? You then proceeded to explain to your friend on the phone how you asked the conductor where his green was and how hilarious it was.
Stupid White Girl - I really don't like you right now. I predict you'll be pregnant by 6 o'clock this evening - and I can only hope that the child born to you as a result of the days festivities will grow up to be smarter than you.

Earworms Suck

2006-08-08T11:16:00.000-05:00

I have a real bad case of Earworms lately... and just in case you aren't aware - Earworms are songs that get stuck in your head.
The one I have stuck in my head right now is that Spice Girls song "Wannabe" - that's the one that goes " Yo! I'll tell you what I want - what I really, really..." - you get the idea. The reason for this Earworm is that while we were at my mother-in-law's house for Mothers Day - my 17 year old sister-in-law blasted this song on her stereo and came dancing down the stairs wearing a pair of edible underwear over top of her pants... Funny stuff - but nonetheless - it planted the seed for one of the most annoying Earworms imaginable.
Another one that I'm having a hard time shaking is "Teach Your Children". I mentioned yesterday that I was serenading my wife in the car with this one. The reason for this particular Earworm is that last week while watching Wheel of Fortune - (pause here to laugh) - one of the puzzles was "Teach Your Children Well by Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young". Ever since - I haven't been able to get rid of it.
Next is kind of a cool one... Last week at work - my friend Rachel asked "Do you remember the theme song to He-Man??" Boy did I! I proceeded to hum the entire theme then yell " I HAVE THE POWERRRRR!!!! " That was my all time favorite cartoon ever. I can remember as a little kid - staring down at my Casio calculator watch just waiting for it to read 4:00. That meant He-Man time!
Finally - "It's Raining Men" by The Weather Girls... ugh! This one is cruel... my mother-in-law downloaded this as her ringtone a few weeks ago and wouldn't stop making her phone ring whenever she was near me. She was only doing it to annoy me! Well - she finally chilled out - and the song was finally out of my head. Then while I was watching the Daily Show one night last week - Jon Stewart did a joke involving a cell phone ringtone.. guess what the ringtone was? It's Raining Fucking Men!! Damn it! It's back and worse than ever!
I've tried replacing these songs with other songs, like the theme to Sanford and Son and Welcome Back Kotter - but that didn't work. I've tried looking at the lyrics and singing the song all the way through - that didn't work. So I guess what I want, what I really, really want - is to find a way to get rid of these friggin' Earworms once and for all...