Friday, April 29, 2005

Today's Post Brought To You By The Letter "S"

Today I am wearing my shirt with the an ancient red & yellow symbol emblazoned on my chest. It stands for Simon of course.

My checkout person at the grocery store was named Juanita. She saw my shirt and said to me with a grin and a wiggly dance, "At night, I have Batman pajamas that I put on and jump out out of my room singing Nana-Nana-Nana-Nana Na Na!"

Who knew Batman was actually a middle aged, frazzly, red haired, hispanic checkout lady in the deep south?

I gave her a hi-five. :)


Thursday, April 28, 2005

Underwear! Haircuts! My Most Self Indulgent Post To Date! Send Flowers!

I've been overly hyper the last few days. Maybe it's the loud orange surf shorts I'm wearing. Cause I've never had board shorts before and don't they just look spiffy? Or that after two days of swamp rain it's brilliantly gorgeous outside so I simply must run as fast as possible around the building a few times because I can. Who knows. Who cares! Boingy boingy boingy...

I promised to get away from me, but I've got nothing else to blargh about. Oh, right well there was the flat tire yesterday, but that merely proved how much of a wussy I am at changing a tire. Of course the lanky tow truck guy did have a nifty spinning tire iron thingy, so it wasn't really fair.

To make up for previous incompetence, I attempted a marathon at the store in the last 10 minutes before they closed and bought toothpaste, razors, toilet paper, laundry soap, and a hairbrush. Although I lost points for forgetting the sunscreen. Because it was the very thing that motivated me to do the dash in the first place. I seemed to run out of everything all at once. So in celebration of new beginnings I bought new underwear too. And hey, while I'm at it let's be crazy and get some boxer briefs for a change. Now I'm all clean shaven and feelin' funky fresh. Although it's fun being a hobo, I don't always enjoy the holey draft in my pants.

Note to Future Self: Always wash new undies before first use. Especially the odd one-off blue pair that you'll never admit to owning, yet came assorted in the sealed package of white ones, but you didn't realize it till you got home and it's not big enough of a deal to complain about. And that secretly you got a silly thrill out of wearing them but won't make a habit of it. Cause nobody sees your undies anyway. If no clean undies left...find an excuse to call in late until you've done the laundry. And really, you don't know where they've been first. Lest you look down in the shower later and wonder if you have a medical condition that is causing you to turn into one of the Blue Man Group. Venture forth commando style only in dire emergencies. Like running out of Clif bars or Sharpies that work and you need one RIGHT NOW. And that above all else you also enjoy run-on sentences.

The new toothpaste feels like I have saliva control issues when I use it. The older kind didn't foam up this much, so if I use it in public some may think I have zombie cooties. Yahoo, my teeth are squeaky.

I thought that my hairbrush was just getting ultra dusty on it's own because of the state of my house. I was tired of purging it of dust bunny warrens. So I used the new brush this morning and realized that the dust was coming from my hair and not the other way around. Oof. No wonder I have weird sinus problems. It's definitely time for a haircut.

Intermission: Excuse me, while I recover from the really intense bit of horseradish that just flew up nose. Talk amongst yourselves. Yowza!

I usually get a haircut at every life-changing event so I'm about due. About now, my hair is down past my shoulders. I do like it long and it's the first time it's looked actually good long. It's a bit like a swarthy, heavy metal pirate with an edge of Jesus hippie. Except usually a lot cleaner. After about a week it gets sticky, but I finally learned that you don't wash it every day either. I can stick my finger in an electric socket to duplicate that look if I ever need to.

It's times like these that I'd like to post pictures, but I really must resist.

It'll probably be short. Maybe I'll pomp it blue and get sunglasses to complement my shorts. I'm tempted to just go in for the $4.99 coupon special at the haircut farm since I had to buy other amenities this month, that's all I can afford. I can't justify spending more than $10 for a cut, but... generally you do get what you pay for. It's the curse of being visually aware but lazy. The first good haircut I got since I was six years old was the day before my wedding. I think it was only $20 but she may have cut me a deal since I was gettin' hitched. Although I looked like a seminary student it was still swell to have a 'do that looked groomed and stayed that way.

Probably get one at the same time as the monkeys. Monkey No. 1 has always had a Charlie Brown hurricane swirl that eventually would fro out if left to it's own devices, like mine does. Monkey No. 2 has remarkably straighter Dennis the Menace hair but flips and curls, which is also similar to mine. If they go long enough you could just call them Hobbit and Elf for short. Which I think is kind of adorable in a Shaggy-goes-to-Middle-Earth kind of way. Luckily, they don't just have daddy to rely on when making these choices. Poor monkeys, though. They may be doomed to suffer "roadkill hair" that plagued me through my early years. Somebody actually did ask me once in junior high when I'd be putting the animal on my head out of it's misery.

OK so now I've just had lunch, I'm full and the sun is warm. I wonder if anyone would notice if I just knocked out the wall, stripped down to my skivvies and had me a snooze on the lawn. As soon as I get the sunscreen. :)


Wednesday, April 27, 2005

Speaking of Wailing Monkeys

Seems I've started a nightly routine I can't get out of. Monkey No. 1 requires a short concert of me at bedtime. And really, how can I refuse since he's the only audience that really counts. I'm sure he'll grow out of it so I'm enjoying it before he tells me to shut up. Monkey No. 2 sings to his own march right now, so this is really for me and J-dawg.

Unfortunately, by that time of day my brain is fried and it seems my repertoire for lullaby's and soothing songs that calm the beast seems to be lacking. The usual kid's stuff just bores me to death, and he doesn't always dig it anyway. So I'm trying to expand the definition of what can be used as a good night song.

Although Twinkle Twinkle still makes the cut because that's the first song he sang when he was three. We do that one together.

So, do tell, my denizens of the blogdom, what song do you like to drift off to dreamland with? Got a favorite tune in your family? I'd love to hear it. In a foreign language? No problem. Something ultra-obscure? All the better. If I get a lot of suggestions I'll learn 'em and post later which ones gain the Monkey Triple Z Seal of Approval.

Peace and Nocturnes,

The American Gigolo...I Mean...Idol Recap

At first I thought there was some kind of technical problem where the performers just couldn't hear themselves on stage. With the exception of Anthony, everyone sang flatter than a deflated whoopee cushion. And no one truly hit one out of the park this week. Nevertheless (again I only try to critique this weeks performances not the overall ranking):

1) Three way tie. Each excelled in some aspect, either stage presence, general appeal, or technical proficiency (but none in an overall manner). So in that order:

Bo. At first I would have put Vonzell at the top this week, but the more I thought about it, Bo seemed to at least equal this time around. Now if only we can work on pitch accuracy with both of the grungy boys that are left. True, the nature of rocking out is to catapult your energy in it's most raw and unrefined state often at the expense of clarity, but to rock in the right key is so much more impressive.

Vonzell. She always gets me to smile. :)

Anthony. What to say. Technically he did quite well last night. I want to like him and I did try. The tones in his voice are quite clean and pleasant and he can hit the high notes with ease. But his consistent choice of fluffy songs and awkward movements just don't push him into the "ultimate superstar" that seems to be what this show is supposedly looking for. He's like John Tesh + Michael Bolton - Receding hairline x Valium. Which if you like that kind of thing, then good for you. For this week at least, I don't think he deserves to go.

2) Two way tie.

Constantine. He's certainly got a look if nothing else, especially for the song he picked this week. His charisma is definitely there, but always suffers from a high-energy wobble and shake in his delivery when he's trying to put the power behind it. There just seemed to be something...missing.

Carrie. Hmmmmmm. Well...just kind

3) Scott. It seems like there is a slight sign of resignation setting in his demeanor and performance, so hopefully there will be a merciful goodbye this week on his behalf.


Tuesday, April 26, 2005

Can't You Hear The Grinding Gears? Think Think, Fluff For Brains...

Close Friends.
Faraway Friends.
Office mates.
Bloggers, Stalkers and Other Onliners.

Multiply the above by varying degrees of illness, apathy, unfortunate circumstance, insomnia, rage, despair, delusion and fettered distraction. Sometimes all at once. I so wanted to add "sauced" but I don't think many of them drink (except maybe the bloggers). Much.

Fellow mankind, not as seen on sitcom TV...sigh.

And then there is me... a bit wired, tired & mired in my mind...but not fired. Beware the cake left in the rain.

Although, aside from a recent rash of perpetual foot-in-mouth syndrome, I seem to be doin' alright and shaking things off like I'm in a rubber latex suit. And then my monkey sidekicks are happy and hanging from the rafters so maybe it's just a grown up thing.

Maybe I should throw them all in a pool filled with something soft and squishy spiked with spirits and let them wallow for a while. But then there's that whole thing about wretched excess. Suggestions?

Oh, yeah. If you haven't seen Kung Fu Hustle, you must. Even if you don't like martial arts films. Even if you don't like slapstick comedy. Even if you don't like subtitles. Go feel happy for a couple hours. Because I said so. :P

Bewitched, bothered & bewildered,

Saturday, April 23, 2005

Of iMacs and Mexican Chocolate...

I fired up my iMac today for the first time since I got it back from having brain surgery a few months ago. It had an aneurysm last year before Christmas. I'm not sure if foul monkey play was involved but the autopsy was inconclusive. But there it was, the blinking "?" of doom that implies "What's your name again?".

I've got a bit of computer knowledge so I thought maybe I could mess with the innards. I found a very useful article that had some hardcore fixes for loosening up the drive parts that included giving the drive a whack with your hand, putting it in the freezer for a while or if you are really brave, put it in the oven at 350 degrees (use pot holders!). But all this required that I get the drive out of it's shell. Upon inspection it reminded me of alien spaceship technology. So off to the repair shop it went.

The good: They installed the new drive with the most recent operating system including programs I didn't have before (Garageband here I come!).
The bad: My old drive was irrecoverable and I had to buy a new drive.
The ugly: I never backed it up so about three years worth of art, music, and money stuff has permanently vanished.

I moved it to work, since my home is currently a slightly depressing hovel with mold growing in places I'm afraid to venture into. It had an insane amount of updates to make when I connected to the internet. Plus I only have dial up at home which I share with the rest of the family.

I didn't realize how much I missed it until I started it up and the bright electric blue LCD display greeted me with a remarkably empty desktop and made me smile. Certainly a computer is just a computer, and I have more speedy and powerful machines at work. I've used Macs all my life more out of habit rather than some kind of ridiculous "alliance" with an operating system. When I bought this one, I also got a Wacom tablet and started experimenting with drawing right into the computer. It's the best tool I've ever bought. I used to be such a purist about keeping art away from the digital realm. My, how things change. Computers don't have to be a replacement but merely another mark making device in my creative arsenal.

On a completely unrelated topic, since I've now sufficiently established my geek wanna-be status...

My favorite place to eat at around here is a muy delicioso Mexican restaurant called Casa Tina. Almost everything on the menu is available in a vegetarian version. It's full of colorful, mismatched chairs and tables and you can bring your own hot sauce to add to their collection in exchange for a drink. Observe:

Rule No.1: You can drink the water. (You may get sick, but you can drink it!)
Rule No.2: Shout for service. (It sometimes gets noisy and only the strong-voiced survive!)
Rule No.3: If you drink the water then shout for service, it may be too late.

Molé Poblano (Say it "Moe-lay", like a naked subterranean rodent with a sombrero) is a type of Mexican chocolate sauce cooked with roasted peppers and chili. If regular chocolate is sweet for the soul, this stuff is on the verge of pornographic. It's yummy.

I recently discovered the Lärabar. They are unprocessed, vegan, non-gmo, all that healthy crap that makes me feel good to eat. The ingredients list never exceeds more than 5 or 6 items I think. Besides loving that, I was psyched that they have a Cocoa Molé flavor (so new it's absent from their site), that's as sabroso as the Molé Poblano. Now I can have my fix for Mexican Chocolate and eat it too. :)


Thursday, April 21, 2005

Currently, I Will Be Five

As heard on a Tuesday night in the car:

  • GB: (providing the soundtrack) Lalalala...
  • J-Dawg: Knock Knock.
  • Daddy: Who's there?
  • J-Dawg: Caribou.
  • Daddy: Caribou who?
  • J-Dawg: Caribou Strawberry Ahahahaha!
  • Daddy: Say what!?
  • J-Dawg: Caribou. Strawberry. Daddy, I'm hilarious.
  • Daddy: What's he doing with the strawberry.
  • J-Dawg: He just, you know, smooshed it on his face and now he's all sticky.
  • Daddy: Oh, sounds like he needs a bath.
  • J-Dawg: Daddy, that's just silly, caribou doesn't have bathtubs. He's too big so there's no room in his house.
  • Daddy: No bathtub but lives in a house. Got it. So how does he get clean?
  • J-Dawg: He licks it off. Like on the animal shows.
  • Daddy: Of course.
  • GB: Hey dadee, wook wook, itssa ehrpwane! Wanna fwy?
    (Translation: Why look father, there happens to be an airbourne vessel passing overhead. Pass the Grey Poupon.)

Peace and Caribou,

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

How Many Push-ups Was That?

I just read this post, fixed numerous typos and will make an effort not to be so infuriatingly vain in the future...

I've figured out that the arms are my favorite part of the human body. Forget the six pack, give me a gentle yet sturdy set of articulate arms. From the shoulders to the tips of the fingers. Although they are only really attractive when attached to the rest of a body, I'm not really into dismembered appendages all that much.

I've been working out now about 3-4 times a week since January. I looked at my arms the other day and said "Well, hello there? Where did you come from?" There are these weird bumps forming, I'm told they are called muscles .

So I went to get some new undies the other day and for the first time ever I bought a couple of sleeveless muscle shirts (Hey look! We're on sale!). Maybe it was it's convenient placement next to the stylish boxer briefs (Hey look! we match! Buy me too!) or maybe the come hither look of the devilish but pretty model (Hey look, I'm too sexy for my shirt! And pants!). Who needs porn when you can just go to the underwear section in Target. Ultimately, I was remarkably embarrassed to buy them and it took me half an hour of picking them up and putting them back.

Some people might relate this to obtaining a "forbidden" item like condoms for the first time late at night at the drug store (when you should be thinking about your homework instead). When I was in high school, as far as I could tell, you didn't have them because you were concerned about safe sex. It was all about status. Pull out the wallet to show off your learner's permit. Oh my, how did that get in there. Yeah, baby let me show you my dad's new car. I didn't have a wallet because I had nothing to put in it. Thus no condoms for me. Besides, there was no way I'd be doing the deed until I was married.

I think actually, the first time I used one was after Monkey No. 1 was born. The itchy guy behind the counter always gives you a double glance. And sometimes a once over. Sorry dude, I'm already gettin' some tonight. Anyways you should get that eye twitch checked out. The lady cashiers are always unemotional about it. I can detect waves of "Yeah, Yeah, Well I gotta shove a cotton stick up my vagina every month. That's right, the hole down there is called a vagina. How about if I try and insert one into your prize posession. Bastard." Either that or they're irresponsibly perky about it.

Okay so that was a bad example since I was never ashamed to buy rubbers. It's usually fun to go in the store and pretend you don't know where they are just so you can ask the awkwardly aged stock boy to get their reaction.

Where was I? Oh yeah, the shirts. One more thing. I'm not your average coastal dweller. I don't go to the beach. To some that's treason. I drive home for about 45 minutes in mid afternoon sun which is quite enough. So my left forearm is unintentionally browner than my right, each sporting a bizarre farmer's tan that phases into the "Oh-god-my-eyes!" stark white of my shoulders.

I tried the shirt on and somehow a medium was too big. So after exchanging them and swimming around in lycra cotton blend for a bit, I had to perform some yoga gone worng with my arms to finally find all the corresponding sockets. That should have been a sign. Then I look in the mirror.

Yeesh. I look rather freakish. The only way I'll be wearing these in public is with long sleeve shirts and think I am doing something sneaky. But it still felt oddly...refreshing. Which means I'll probably end up with amputations to both my arms when the revolution hits.

It wouldn't be Tuesday without an American Idol assessment. My ranking is pretty simple this week. No question that Vonzell is more than every woman. The rest equaled out in that they were all just okay. I really have no idea who's going this time. If I had to compare from last week Bo, Scott and Anwar did better, Carrie and Constantine slipped, while Anthony stayed about the same. It seems the field was pretty level and everyone is getting quite comfortable on stage.


Monday, April 18, 2005

Look at the Pretty Colors!

Working late tonight. Called my wife to see how her day was and that I won't be over for bedtime stuff tonight. She's exceling at her new job apparently. No surprise there though. :)

Monkey No. 1 says something that I can't quite make out because he often holds the phone too close and it comes across like high pitched, white noise. But cute, giggly white noise. Then a thump echoes through the receiver. "High five, Daddy, high five."

Ha! "Right back at ya buddy."

Monkey No. 2 likes to kiss through the phone sometimes. "Okay bu-bye!"

I can breath perfectly tonight. And I found some art here at work that I thought I had lost when my hard drive died. And I discovered that the printer I got for Christmas two years ago and have never used...totally rocks. Who wants a postcard, I'm dying to print some out. I've really got to get some art up here. :)

Sometimes, things are good.

Peace and High Fives,

I Have A Superhero Complex

First order of business.

Please keep one of Simon's friends in mind this week as they'll be going through some really rough shit. Out of habit, I make an effort not to curse but there's no other words for it. It's simply rough shit. If you pray, now is the time. I'm sorry it's vague but I can't go into detail. It involves the fate of fellow happy monkeys, so that should be enough. Just send some good words out into the ether today for "Simon's friend" and they'll find their way to where they need to be. It's all that I can do for them, so you have my humble thanks in advance.

Everyday I seem to run into someone that is having a trial that they can't seem to get out of. It's like an acute awareness and compassion for others tribulations has been supercharged since I recently came out. Without that barrier, there's no more kryptonite in my pocket. I'm out of my stupid funk these days and my desire for psychological content has morphed into more physical endeavors. With the rest of the blog world in play it's now increased exponentially.

Unfortunately, my solutions for others are always impossible. It's slightly ostentatious, but for a brief moment I live in a world where I can just absorb it all with a hug or a gentle touch to the shoulder. Or snap my fingers and it'll be fixed. Or just a helpful glance will wist it away. Once in a while this actually works since subtle distractions can unwittingly carry weight. But for larger tasks, much greater actions are required and usually out of my tiny grasp.

The problem with being an inept gay superhero is that often I'll have an encounter that lays heavy on my heart (especially when it's none of my business) or catch some weird vibe from a friend, and I don't know what to do. When advise is not advisable, do I leave it be or do I offer some kind of service? When it's not life or death, at what point does trying to help become an intrusive annoyance? It's a two sided coin, one side coated with medicine, the other with poison. It's my secret source of power and yet, if I let it, it consumes me to the point of shutting down.


So for now I openly offer my ears. You cansend them by post or email if you like. Just don't don't chop yours off first like some tortured artists I've known, it can be a bloody mess.

PS. If you are ever on the AIM you can also try giving Signalite a shout and he may shout back. The password is "Shazam!"


Saturday, April 16, 2005

Man's Best Friends

Wow. I mean. Wow:
Human Descent

Sweet Dreams,

Friday, April 15, 2005

The Taxman Cometh

With the wonders of an internet connection comes the advent of filing taxes electronically. (Actually, I can't ever remember doing it any other way...) For all of us procrastinators and financial klutzes, even if you do them the day that they are due, it's still all good. I've never waited till the very last minute though, on taxes. Until now. I think I have a grey hair or two.

Now the actual process takes me about say 10-20 minutes with some nifty program like TaxCut, TaxMachete or TaxWolverine. Also available in the more comprehensive TaxJungle Plus (Includes a real machete when threatening your computer's life to give you a refund). I don't have complicated investments, several jobs, farm property, or an international traveling circus, although I do house acrobatic monkeys. Ah my lovable little tax deductions. Gathering all the proper papers that filter in at the beginning of the year seems to be the stumbling block. My house tends to eat anything that is important. Often I have to give it the Heimlich to regurgitate them. But along with that comes a dust storm that engulfs all in it's path. Hence my inability to breath this week.

So I've been poking at it with a stick for the last few days, putting in a form here and social security number there, and wondering the same things as last year, like if my brief obsession for saving all the cool bottles that various natural drinks come in counts as a deduction for a "hobby expense".

With recent events in the past few months, all of the sudden, guess what. It's mid-April. No problem, finished it up this mornin', ready to file it online. Luckily there is a screen included that says "Review your Return". Things are looking good, doot da doo, yup here's my W2 for 200...3. Great wads of donkey spit, what did I do. I suppose the big black bold "2003" should have given me a clue. I have no earthly idea where the heck my 2004 W2 is lurking. No problem. It's probably here in the office. But I've just cleaned my desk. Which means it has to be at home. That's a problem.

Warp factor 10. My radio must have been picking up some vibrations as NPR was playing some kind of schizo-scherzo piano piece. In the meantime I've called my wife. "Hi honey, so tonight I thought we'd play John the Baptist and you can be Salome. Would you like extra pepperoni on that platter with my head?" Cue the apocalyptic orchestral score. I make it home and the edge of the wasteland stands strewn before me. Now is not the time to panic. Focus, man! My mind is transfigured into a quixotic machine. "Right, then, have at you demonic piles of paper!" Sneeze, hack, wheeze, loogie, loogie, dunk my head in the sink, sneeze some more, rinse, repeat. A moment of clarity. Three seconds later into the brink and here we go again.

After tearing things up and down I realize this far more counterproductive than it should be. I've had the thing for the past two and a half months so I really haven't a clue where to begin. I even dumped out the entire recycle bin with three months worth of junk mail and assorted paper products to see if in a fit of blind fury it was lost in that sea. But alas no. So after a half a day of reverse thrashing, I was starting to lose my enthusiasm and have that sinking feeling that the end is coming. When lo and behold, somewhere in between a stack of old books and some random monkey wall mural, a crisp white paper shined forth bearing the correct date that I was traversing the time/space continuum for. Mission accomplished, insert William Wallace victory roar, only with more supportive undergarments.

All is well, filed and even a refund at that. And house is substantially cleaner than it has been in quite some time. On the way back to work, a triumphant victory march played at full blast.

Have you done your taxes or is your Friday night date with a taxman? Hopefully he's cute.


Wednesday, April 13, 2005

Has Anyone Seen My Youth Lately...

So here we are again at work at 11 at night. And my day of rampant thoughts have me exhausted. Either that or it's the allergies. I'll just keep writing it down on scrap paper and napkins and the running text file on my computer. And someday I'll have time to make it seem less like incomprehensible monkey dooky, uh, dawdles, er, doodles.


Tuesday, April 12, 2005

Insane in the Membrane

So it's close to midnight and I just wanted to write something because I just want to while it's still Tuesday, it is Tuesday right? But it seems there are lots of accidents in my mind at the moment and I'll be stuck here in the traffic for a little while cause the cops are taking their sweet time getting it cleaned up. I wonder how much it costs to get insurance on a random memory? I don't want to go to bed. But I'm so tired. The last few days, something opened the floodgates on the babbling streams in my head and I can't write them all down fast enough because I've got all this other real life stuff in the way. But I'm trying to make a cohesive thing out of it and hopefully it will end up here in some form.

Oh, I know I can serve up some cheesewiz and give my 'Secret Simon Says" version of American Idol. As before, here's my personal rundown of how this weeks performances turned out. Am I the only one that feels old that some of these pups were born in the mid eighties?

  1. Anthony - Kind lad, you got my personal top place this week. You picked the perfect song for your voice and presence. Even though you still have the odd physicality of someone looking for a prom date, it was full of genuine enthusiasm.

  2. Carrie AND Vonzell (Tie) - To the former. "kitten trying to be a tiger", a bit perhaps, but who cares at this point. I didn't even care that you didn't quite hit those last wrenching notes. Bring on the Pat Benetar anytime, darlin'. Just don't wreck your voice in the process.
    To the latter, Miss Work the Crowd, Encore! I want more! Ah the vitality of youth, you may very well pull it off as well if you're careful. ;)

  3. Constantine - I have a very strange relationship with you sir. You're weird and creepy and... hypnotic and endearingly odd enough all at the same time. I'm not sure I can forgive you for picking "Bohemian Rhapsody" with full knowledge that it would be truncated so severely. That's probably a blessing, though, as I'm not sure I could have watched you for that entire epic. But a good performance nonetheless.

  4. Anwar - Good show. When you get it right, it's quite right.

  5. Nadia - Sigh. I'm still rootin' for you girl. Hang in there.

  6. Bo - What happened sir. Your body was there but there seemed to be no spark. I was slightly reminded of a marionette for a moment who had his strings in a twist and couldn't get out of a rut.

  7. Scott - Sorry sir, it's really time to go home.


Monday, April 11, 2005

Nothing That Monkey Emissions Won't Cure

The Time: Dinner.
The Place: At the table.
The Mood: Sick, Tired and Agitated.
The Players: Monkey No. 1 (J-Dawg), Monkey No. 2 (GB), Mom & Dad-In-Law, My Mom, Wife & Me

Monkey No. 1: I want corn.
Me: Ok here you go...
Monkey No. 1: No wait! Not corn. I want the cranberry.
Me: Alright...
Monkey No. 1: Oh no, no! Not cranberry. I need the big hot dog.
Me: You've got a corn dog on your plate already.
Monkey No. 1: But I want the big one there.
Me: Just eat what's on your plate first buddy and if you're still hungry...
Monkey No. 1 (whine): Noooo, I need the THAT hot dog.
Me: J-dawg, please eat what's on your plate first before you go for more.
Monkey No. 2: ~~Munch, munch, snarf~~
Monkey No. 1: No. I want THAT one.
Me: Just eat J-dawg.

Dad-inLaw: Hey you know we've got ice cream for dessert.
Mom-in-Law: Grandpa, shhhh.
Monkey No. 1: Can I have dessert now? I want dessert now. It's time for dessert. I'll just go get it.
Wife: No, J-dawg, we have to wait til everyone is done eating.
Me: J-dawg, get back in your chair.
Monkey No. 1: I'm just gonna go get dessert.
Me: J-dawg, get back in your chair, now please.
Wife (exhausted) : Please listen, J-dawg.
Monkey No. 2 (singing): Once upon a time a donkey and a wee little man was he... OK Bob.

Monkey No. 1: Can we have dessert now?
Monkey No. 1 (in his best coy voice): Oooooh, just gimme a chance.
Dad-in-Law (with a cold): You need to listen, buddy. Let's learn some patience.
Monkey No. 1: I'm just gonna go get it.
Monkey No. 2 (Lies down on his chair.): Nigh-night. Sweep tight.
Me: GB sit up please. J-dawg, sit and wait otherwise, you won't get any, understand?
Monkey No. 1: No! I don't wanna!
Mom-in-Law: OK. How about this, if you can not say anything for a few minutes. Then we can have dessert.
Monkey No. 1 (increase in pitch): Whhaaaaat?
Mom-in-Law: Ready, go!

Everyone sits in silence. Monkey No. 1 looks around deviously. Mutual giggles are stifled.

Monkey No. 2 (still lying down): ~~loud stinky fart~~

Laughter erupts from all.

Monkey No. 1: I'll get the dessert!

Evening saved. :)


You Can See Up Orion's Skirt From Here

Ever feel drunk without ever having touched a drop of the drink in your life?

Peace and Stars,

Thursday, April 07, 2005

Time Warp

A week? It's been a week? How'd that happen.

If I wanted to chronicle every detail that has happened in the last week or so this post would be about the length of a short novel. I really enjoy my daily fix of blogging now. I kick myself for every day that goes by and ends up being time for bed and I can't type two words without passing out. I've more to say now than ever it seems. However, it's only fair to spare you from posts that read something like
"sakldjfghawer erkjgbhsdÅ@ǧÇVàVÇV tyÇ¡Ç¡hÅGÅGÇ≥fdvs khdkhsdf gjkh;;[pp"
after my face smashes onto the keyboard mid-thought from exhaustion. Which happens. Hence the slight discoloration that has seeped under the clear plastic casing of the keyboard from not being able to clean out the drool. So here's the abridged version of what I meant to post on those days.

4/1 Fri: How To Be An Invisible Man
April Fool's Day. Ever play a trick on yourself? I should give seminars on it. Also my Awesome Mom-in-Law's Birthday. I am going to miss being legally related to this family someday.

4/2 Sat: Monkey No. 1's Fifth Birthday
Instead of going to work like I usually do on Saturday I stayed home to try and clean. That didn't get too far when I found a $25 gift card for the grocery store. Yay! More organic treats for the monkey's. Took my mom grocery shopping, then watched the boys while my wife had a night out. Deservedly so.

4/3 Sun: Monkey No. 1's Birthday Party.
The weather was Incredible so we had it outside. It was full of some Bam!, a little Pow! and other sundry Shazams! The cake I made was quite Incredible as well. Not that there was any kind of theme or anything. Probably more on this later.

4/4 Mon: Sneezing Fits + No Sleep x Busy Weekend = No Work Today

Today I passed out for most of the day and woke up at 3PM. Which invariably means something has hit the fan at work and I'll have some fixer-up to do tomorrow.

Random Visual Poetry: In the Monkey Containment Center at the gym (a.k.a. the child care room) I passed by something like squashed gourd that had been chucked against concrete, with some semblance of eyes, fingers, mouth, nose and all it's secretions binding it together, like a Dali painting trying to commit osmosis through the glass panes. He pulls his suction away for a moment to giggle at me as I wave "Hi" and then resumes his newly acquired ability in the aquarium.

Got a surprise package in the post from my dear sister. It contained a new vegetarian cookbook, a new CD of Emiliana Torrini: Fisherman's Woman which she accurately described as "finally found something you'll like and will be surprised at how much you like it" and an old, small newspaper clipping that probably only I would deem as cool:

Two of my best guys, Ben and Duncan, at the same concert? Why I didn't go is beyond me. My sis rocks. That's all there is to it.

Too bad my final experience of the evening ended in a phone call making my wife upset again. Blargh.

4/5 Tue: Dinner at Moe's
Cavorting with Monkey No. 1 for the evening. My wife feels better again. I think. Girls confuse me. More on this later, too.

4/6 Wed: Observing Official Bring Your Sick Monkey To Work And Not Get Anything Done Day
    I celebrated by:
  1. Bringing Monkey No. 2 to the doctor's to determine the hacking he's been at is now bronchitis.
  2. Picking up prescription at the drugstore while Monkey tried to flip out of shopping cart.
  3. Stopping by my house to pick up some things, like my cell phone which my wife has said I should staple to my head along with my wallet and car keys. It takes a total of 3 seconds for Monkey to successfully knock over newly organized piles of bills and other important papers and a computer.
  4. Going to work where "Oh yeah, forgot, he's three." Even though he's sick he's not lethargic, except for sweating from the marathon of chasing said Monkey through a warehouse without his pants on. And cleaning my swivel chair of a dissected almond butter and elderberry jam sandwich (which is profusely tastier than regular PB&J* by the way.) He's still not old enough to sit still for the Incredibles all the way through. But a singing cucumber doing the tango with a manatee named Barabra has him mesmerized. Sorta.
  5. So after getting tired of "GB, sit!" "GB, no!", "GB, stop painting yourself with permanent marker." and of course "GB, get down from the robot cockpit before you hurt some unsuspecting galaxy." we left early.
  6. He finally crashed on the ride home. And I crashed when we got home.
  7. Conspired with mom-in-law to make balsamic roasted chicken, sauteed spinach and mashed cauliflower for dinner which really hit the spot.
  8. Then I went back to work until midnight. Cause I can.

Today: Currently slipping through the stream...maybe more later. Maybe.

*PS. Some countries think it's weird that we spread peanut butter and jelly together between slices of bread, but then I probably wouldn't eat Raw Horse Flesh Ice-Cream either so it's probably an even trade. If you want to see more wacky flavors make sure to start at the beginning. "Strong stomach required to view this photo gallery."