He Was A Peaceful Loving Man

Who?

Not me.  I'm crayyyy.  Yup, some dude bumped his shopping cart into mine and I took his children and sold them on E-Bay.

It's Martin Luther King we're talking about here.  That peaceful loving dude.  I'm not going to wax poetic about the man.  I'll leave that up to my 5-year-old mop-head, EGB.  She's in kindergarten where she's learning real stuff, with real teachers, and how to fight boys.

I asked her what she learned in school and she didn't give me the ol, "nuthin'".  I got real answer that let's you into the psyche of a youngster.  They tell it to you straight.

EGB for President of this whole damn place.

Side note--a few days after this, she started weeping at the dinner table.  I asked her why and she told me she felt "so sad that the brown people were treated the way they were by the white people.  And it was just because they were brown."  She felt it all.  Internalized the pain of history.

Leave it up to a 5-year-old to see and feel the world as it should be--fair.   I know that big heart is going to crush her someday, but it's my hope that she dreams as big as her heart.  If so, we'll all win.

Stay true to your hearts little ones.

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.

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!

Happy Friday or Else

We're holding it down.  Seriously.  Times are real weird right now.....my brother is messin' up my program.  It's time for some changes. 

EGB is gonna start regulating.

Happy Friday

I hope you get your moo-moo on. While your at it wear your slippers outside.  No rules.

This is the new look at my pre-school.  They're thinking of banning me for being such a trendsetter.  I breathe style. Work it y'all.

Dad Blogger Product Review

Since this blog is so popular we've almost broken Google with our extreme traffic, I figured it be a good idea to review products from time to time to let the world know what the most famous family thinks of various products.  We get so many free products in the mail that our mailman wants to fight me. 

Keep em coming product people.  I know sometimes you have to make a decision between us and some punk ass mom blogger.  No fluff here.  I keep it real.  And if you send an envelope of cash, I'll say super nice stuff.  I'll even be happy for a slice of pizza and a semi-cold beer...

Up next in my inventory of reviews is.  The Comb.  It came from China and while it looks all pretty and white.  It works pretty bad.  It's basically a medieval torture device for EGB.  BB thinks it's funny, but he also thinks pooping in his pants is funny.  I don't.

So to all you parents out there who are contemplating the purchase of a comb, think long and hard about what you're getting yourself into.  Your fingers and a bucket of butter might just do the trick.

Papa Dangerous Product Rating Score= "I'll fight you for making this"

I Think EGB is Handling This New Situation Quite Well

Some days is all cool.

 Other days it's a little confusing.

Happy Friday and hang tight.  It's going to be a wild ride.......