Get The Band Back Together

I'd totally write a bunch of stuff right here but I have no time to do so.  Therefore, I'm dropping some pictures on your head.  If you have any questions, please comment and I'll respond in 2023.

2012 Election Is Coming to an End But Friday is Here.

EGB and BB are a bit sad about it all.  Even though they truly love the incessant tv ads, robo calls, knocks on doors, emails, radio ads,  social media blasts, emails, flyers, mailers, flags, campaign snacks, campaigners in the streets, and all things Obama-Romney....they know that all good things must come to an end.

And the BILLION dollars that have been spent to decide the next puppet(eer) have been totally well spent.  Good thing that our roads, schools, children are in such great shape--otherwise I'd be mad.

These guys spend all their time telling me about the world for my children--debt, schools, economic future. I'm not so sure they know what they're talking about.

They're not talking about fairness.  They're not talking about love.  They're not talking about who has the best pizza order.  They're not talking about diaper changing strategies when a hurricane goes off in BB's pants.  They don't care about my world.  That's ok.  They're not supposed to.  They can't. Not with the task they've been presented and the limited powers they're provided.  They're not kings. They're just-a man. A man in a big ol' white house.

That's what I'll teach my children.  I'll teach them--Be fair.  Be loyal. Think for yourself. Be ok with uncertainty. And be you.  None of this is being said with the billion dollars.  Unfortunately, our "leaders" aren't my children, but they sure act like it sometimes.

Not cynical here. It's just that kids don't give a damn.  At times I'm not sure if I do either as long as I have you all. It's a noisy world out there.

We don't have to look far beyond the little princes and princesses among us for the truth.  Look to the little ones and see if they care about WHO is the boss?  They just know if it ain't them they're pissed. Sounds like the rest of us.....

Put on your wings and get some. It's Friday. Ain't that what matters?

Belief.

 

Dogs, Babies, Smurfs and Cheap Beer

Recipe for a real good party.

I figure since I don't have time to write, videos serve a better purpose.  Videographic-high-sugar-caloric-memory-punch-in-the-head is the way I'm transmitting to you.  Sock it to you.

It's hard to think that a summer has come and gone.  EGB hit 4.  BB hit 1.  I hit old.  Dog hit biblical age.

I feel the urge to write, but weighty thoughts take time.  Time is a funny thing these days.  Remember calling cards?  Yeah, the plastic cards with 500 digits on them...For those in my reading audience that are calling their families in Sri Lanka, you still use them.  Y'all are retro cool like that.  The others of you in prison that still use them, get off my blog and do some pushups.  All others that have moved into the 21st century, this is what I'm talking about--calling cards and time.  Remember when you'd use the card on your buddy's landline to call your girl and have lots to say but no minutes left?  Get that 'beep beep' and you know it's all about to end....that's my life now.

I have a box of 2 minute calling cards with a mouthful of 30 minute conversations. Recipe for unbaked cake.

I'm working on a time app.  Download it.  You'll get more time to talk, write, reflect, and just do you.  However, I'm having a coding hiccup on the part where you can turn kid's farts into vacations in the Caribbean.

Until then.  Chew on this video.  Baby B and Orange C-Furry paid top dollar for the show.  It was a real quality performance full of modern dance, stuffed animals, and gangsta beats.
http://youtu.be/20NGBFHDIh4

Yup.  It's a chunky smurf, fuzzy baby, and an orange dog drinking spiked punch and partying into the wee  hours of the morning.  I was sleeping, but good thing I have a teddy bear cam and captured the whole thing.

They figured they got away with it. At first I was mad.  Then we all laughed about it.  Then a Rice Crispy and milk shot out of EGB's nose.  We laughed even harder until Baby B pooped on his leg.  Then I stopped laughing.  Party over.

What's REALLY Goin On?

I ain't sayin' where I've been hiding....

Save us.

Ever heard a bird choke on a pork knuckle?  You're about to.

Welcome to the asylum......


http://youtu.be/voJ6Ryla_6I

My Day. Friday.

Weekend, y'all.  Git yourself some.  

Still underwater, but figure by 2025 I'll be updating you on EGB's 4th b-day party.  Good things come to those who wait so quit being all antsy on me.  I'm busy.

Hang out in some grass and fight snakes.

Work yo ass out and nap it off.

Stare at someone.  It makes them uncomfortable.  It makes you feel powerful. Unless you're staring at EGB, she's super powerful which offsets staring power so you have to stare extra hard.

 

Goood Morning Old People!

Annnnnd.....

No one sleeps in this joint!  For serious.

Sartre's hell in "No Exit" sounds like a nice vacation these days.  Not serious. 

But my high school French teach would be proud that I referenced this play 20 years later after she kicked me out of AP class that I was essentially grandfathered into as a result of my sister's legacy as a mini-Marie Antoinette French polyglot.  Thanks sis for paving the way for my failure. Sort of serious.

On to real seriousness. Friday is here and we've got to take the party up a notch.

Show some gums.  Don't be scared.  Think of him as a piranha without teeth.  One aggressive gummer.

Hanging out with a headless lady who dresses just like me.  I like her.  She has impeccable style and doesn't say much.  I say a lot.  I need a lot of verbal bandwidth.  I kinda wish my brother was headless too.  He'd still have his cute toes and hands, but he wouldn't be blabbing and gumming and all that other stuff that irritates me.  Anyone got a headless baby that they'd like to trade?  I like ham sandwiches.

The whole world is ahead of you.  I know this sounds positive, but because I'm strapped in this damn torture device, I can't catch up to those fools that are getting further and further ahead.  I totally need to walk.  This blows.

Happy Fry Day

Things are cooking up around here.  Summer is around the corner. No one is sleeping yet. Seriously, when we survive all this I'm going too have some stories to tell you. Or maybe to a shrink.  

Here's a little nugget.

The other day EGB asked if she could go into the basement to get something from her kitchen. (I know, basement kitchens are dangerous, but we're living on the edge like that.)  After I said yes, she strutted her way down and then 30 seconds later proceeded to yell out a earth shattering shrill.

"What, what!?" I'm yelling at the top of the stairs wondering if she's fallen off the washing machine. (It could happen.)

"Daddy!  I heard a noise!!!!!" EGB is now paralyzed with fear.  

"What'd you hear?" As I had to go pick up the statue of ghostly white fear.

"Eeek, ook!!!!!!!!!"

"Ohhhhh.  That's easy to explain.  You heard the dryer or a small goblin."

"Noooo.  It was real!" Still shaking. "Daddy, it was a fox. Do foxes live in basements?".......

At this point, I realized that she TRULY thought a fox was in our basement.  

These are pivotal moments that I wrestle with as a parent.

I'm not sure about you, but in almost every conversation with a toddler, I push the elements of fantasy and reality without any major remorse.  It's fun to explore the annals of an unfinished mind. I mean, for how much longer can I tell her that we have a secret chocolate pool in a unknown gateway in our house or that I fight dragons when I go to work (partially true)?  She's knocking on the door of 4 and is getting mildly savvier about these types of things.

White as a ghost.  The realities of fear are very real.  So I did what any loving, caring, warm parent would do--I gave her some nunchucks and said, "Here you go kid.  You find that fox and bust his world up.  I know you're a girl and all, but it's time you put some hair on that chest."  And walked away.

Not sure what happened next, but I heard something that sounded like holes getting popped in drywall. 

The line between reality and fantasy should always remain blurred.  Growing older and full of this reality that things are and are not is quite boring, one-dimensional, and maybe dangerous for soul.  Ever notice that the visionaries of our times are those that don't accept reality?  Those that embrace what appears to be impossible to the rest of us.  Lucidity has its benefits.  That's the 3 year old in us all buried in layers of realistic perception.  But the only REAL reality is the POSSIBILITIES that exist in the universe.  EGB can tell you all about this if you come to her basement.

EGB is growing up quick and furious.  She's an emerging fuzzy-headed suburban mountain climbing ninja.

Some say me and my old dad look alike.  I don't see it.  He's scratchy.  I'm soft, but dangerous.  Betta believe dat.

It's friday yo. Get on your weekend hat and deliver some papers.  Maybe roll in some grass.  Grab a booby or two.  

 

What? Better look the other way or I'll vaporize you and take you to my leader who will sing bad karaoke to you.

Ever Feel Like....

You're working really hard at all of this and not really going anywhere?

Yeah?  Well you have a ton in common with Baby B and likely other 7 month olds around the world. 

Look around you.  Life can be a struggle, but there is growth in that struggle.  Keep on fighting, my people.

Delta Dawn What's That Flower You Have On?

So where have I been?

Making rock videos, of course. 

This one is one that EGB's mama sang in many a dusty roadhouses.  On long lingering summer evenings this tune was belted out in the spirit of the faithful searchers.  In her younger days they called her Delta Dawn. Wandering with a suitcase in her hand and looking for a mysterious dark haired man.   She never allowed anyone to know her.  She was always pretending. But she had the prettiest eyes, you'd ever laid eyes on. 

All the folks round here said she's crazy. 

EGB has that timeless spirit.  I have a feeling she'll be a searcher and likely searched, as well.  Hopefully, it aint by the Po-Po while she's on the lam after knocking off some 7-11s though.

Come on, Helen.  You did this good, but EGB gonna take your Grammy and melt it into a big gold plate for her cookies.

It's a Love Song.

All of it.  The good and bad.

I've been flushing out a blog post or two in my head.  Sometimes on  the trail runs. Other times in the car on the way to work.  They become grand thoughts that are whittled away by life and time.

I've not abandoned the blog.  I've not left you all.  I'm surviving on the precipice of family life. 

It's the middle of a love song.

All love.

 Innocence is a work of craftsmanship by me.  I work hard at being this sweet.  Usually I'll just snakebite your ankle and steal your candy.

 Fly like an eagle....Is that a boob?  I'm gonna attack!

I'm burning rubber, yo.

That Time of the Week

It's Friday!

If you have a big stinky sister, be afraid......they take toys and tickle.

Cute, but dangerous.  Eats rattlesnakes.  Call authorities if seen

Is It Friday Again?

If you all are truly wondering where the great tales of EGB and Lil B are.....they're sucked into a vortex.  A black hole of sleeplessness.

We're busy dammit! And Lil B hasn't figured out how to sleep.  I've been telling him it's not hard.  Just close your eyes and do it.  He's messing with me.  When he gets it you'll know because I'll be back as the blogging matador that I once was.

Fight the power y'all

Rock a smile from time to time.

Make someone read you a book and then stare at them.

Frrrriday!

Oh man.  It's been a wild ride in 2012.  I'd tell you but I'm not sure the prison guards will let me.

If you get one phone call from me.  Answer it.  I'll tell you a story or two.

Until then.....

Kick out the JAMS it's Friday! I'm possessed by warm milk and cookies!

 Am I the only one that's normal around here?  I just want to chill.  Pee in my diaper and just relax.  Maybe read a book or two.  That's all.  This whole scene is crazy.

 

Ok.  Thanks for the book, but did you really have to throw in the part about flying monkeys that like to eat babies for breakfast?  Huh?  Now, I can't sleep and mommy and daddy are gonna be mad as hell.

Boom!

It's storytime, y'all.

We've been through battle...the homecoming is near.  You're going to be floored on the stories I've got to tell.

Until then you'll have to be appeased by the EGB's storytelling delights.  Kids from all over the world have been flocking to our house at all hours of the day to hear the Great EGB and her story telling. Just last night at 3AM, I had to tell this 2 year old Estonian kid to turn around and go home.  I can't be having this type of interruption.  Nor can the EGB or Baby B.  They got brain cells to grow.

Pull up a chair, grab a box of tissues, and maybe some raisinets or a grilled cheese.  You're going to go on a magical ride like you've never been on before.  Bring your tickets and welcome to the 4th dimension.

Oh, in case you're wondering who "Darla" is...she's the EGB's alter-ego and sometimes nemesis.   Darla tells good stories, but also flushes socks down the toilet.  Darla will kiss you with the touch of a butterfly and at the same time prison shank you with a sharpened toothbrush. She's the best of both worlds.  If you see Darla, give her a quick high-five, then run.  It's for the best.

Parenting is quite the polarizing experience, huh?

And now presenting, "Darla and EGB Tell the Tales of Dora and Some Other Monsters"

Weekend Warriors Unite

For those of you with kids and are not too old to remember when your kids were little....Do you remember when Friday meant something? You know what I mean.  Cruising home from work.  Maybe hit a happy hour.  Holler at your people and see what's going down for the weekend.  The work week just melts away and you're ready to do whatever you damn well please.

You do? I don't remember jack.  Fridays now are more like...don't have to go to work so I'll likely be changing more diapers this weekend.  Oooh, can't wait to run to Target to get some ill thought out plastic Chinese toy for some little fart's birthday party we're heading to.  Maybe I'll get a chance to sleep into 4 AM.  Life is real weird now.

It ain't so bad.  My family is relatively cool.  They could have been child rock stars which would have made the weekends really fun.  Actually, little kid's rock concerts are extra weird, so scratch that vision.  They could have jobs and be really really tall so they could do housework and bring in cash.  Now that would make this fun.  Time to get some ROI out of these young-uns.  When is it too early to have the kids paint the house and mow the grass? 4?

You know who is going to have the most fun this weekend?  You guessed it. The legendary party animal.  The one banned from preschools all across the country.   Wears disguises to pizza buffets.  Drinks kegs of juice.  Pours milk on her head.  Poops in the yard.  Sleeps in the driveway.  Combs her hair with a blender.  Spits fire at computers.  Fights cats and grown men.

The most fun-loving 365 days-a-year weekend warrior.  The one spoken about in hushed tones around the world. Don't say her name too loud or she'll break out of her cage and bite your ass. The EGB!!!!

Where my party people at?

 EGB, by the way, oh so subtly resembles the great weekend warriors of our time.  EGB has most definitely channeled, the one-and-only, Mr. James Brown.  I heard EGB singing "I feel good! I knew that I would. Until I get thrown in time out! I feeeeeeel goooooood!"

 There is also an uncanny resemblance between the legendary EGB and the equally legendary Nick Nolte, whom despite this really comfortable and loving shirt likely made from a patchwork of Wendy's Jazz Caps and Jams, was not feeling so good after his bender.  I'm not sure how the EGB has located the spirits of Brown and Nolte as we feed her peas and read her Clifford.  She must have some secret stealth internet connection somewhere.  I'm calling the po-po on her.

 

Umm.  Wait a second.  This is my life?  Like this is my family?  My sister?  I'm stuck with you farm animals?  

Oh. Hell. No.  

I'm out.  I want a reassignment. Maybe a nice normal crew that goes to Chili's on Friday...maybe hits the playground on Saturday.  Maybe by an ocean or something.  Where's the return department up in this bitch?

Tell Em Whatcha Name Is

First of all, Happy New Year.  I've been living in a bubble, 1 mile under the surface of the ocean with no Internet.  So stop yelling at me.  I can't blog at you in a bubble, man.  I just came up for air, but realized my threads are really dirty and my kids need baths.  I'll get back to you with the many stories of the underworld....

Until then.  Little B wants to tell ya what his name is. 

Thanks to Aunt Rebel, Uncle Chicago Dave, Cuzin Pirate Ike, and Cuz Franny Fran for helping me spell my long ass name.

 

I have a feeling I have a long life ahead of me with this punk fuzzball trying to steal my thunder.  Yeah, everyone knows your damn name already.  If I had any hand coordination I'd shred that stupid paper on my table. Go back to the forest where you came from you stanky gnome.  It's my time to shine! And put some pants on, this is the Internet yo!