This Blog Is On Life Support

Apparently, no one here can get their act together. I hate to say, "I told you so." Well, actually, I love to say that.

Please let it be clear to everyone that I was the star of this blog. I was the king. I was the fucking Elvis of this blog.

I had hoped that my training and instruction would have helped these poor fools, but no--some people just can't be reached. So this once fine example of exceptional writing has died on the vine. Has become putrid. Has rotted, like a pungent heap of compost.

Has no man here the will to succeed?

Birth Control

My wife and I are currently debating if we want to have kids. We are in the process of weighing the pros and cons. A friend, who recently had twins, just emailed me this. I’d say this goes in the “con” column.

Last night we cooked dinner. Fed the babies theirs while ours got cold. When they were done, Kirsten and I started eating while they played on the floor. About 5 minutes into eating Kirsten says;

"Someone threw up, was it a baby or the dog?"

"I don't know" I say, "but neither of the boys have anything on their shirts or faces".

Meanwhile we notice both boys have already stepped in it and are now tracking it around and Kirsten says "unless it's poop". Me being a typical man, am thinking it can't be, they have diapers on and that doesn’t look like poop. Well, it WAS POOP. Not to get too grotesque, but it was the consistency of puke but smelled like poop and more of the same was in Stan's diaper (some must have squirted out the leg holes).

Now we realize we have poop on the floor and on both babies’ feet and legs. It is now bath time for both boys, while I clean up the floor (thank god for laminate flooring). I clean up, and then woof down the rest of my cold dinner while Kirsten starts the bath, then we switch and I finish the bath while Kirsten eats. I get the babies out of the tub and dried off and we leave the bathroom to go down the hall to get new diapers.

While I am putting a diaper on Stan, here comes Timmy naked and running down the hall PEEING the entire way (again thank god for laminate) and then sits down and starts playing in it. Now I need to re-wash him and keep the clean one from joining him in the puddle o' pee, then clean up the floor before they can get to it again.

The story of seven strangers

After an intense beginning, the Real World Austin has lost a little of its punch. I swear, the episode where Danny found out his mother died was some of the most riveting television I have ever seen. This poor kid, after just suffering a broken face and subsequent surgery, gets home on Valentine’s Day and has a message to call his dad. As he makes the call, the camera zooms in on his face and we hear his father tell him his mother just passed away. The staggering look of incomprehension in his eyes was gut wrenching.

And then good ole Wes offers to the camera:

"I once lost a friend in high school so I know exactly how Danny feels."

Um... no Wes, you don’t. I am sure losing your friend was sad but being told your mom died on Valentine’s Day, while having it taped live for the world after just hanging up on her a few days ago, is a little different. Advantage Danny.

But Wes is ok. He thinks every girl wants him and if they don’t show interest, they really do want him but they are just playing head games. I wonder what color the sky is in Wes’s World.

It looks like it may be getting good again next week. Danny is thinking of dumping Melinda so fireworks will surely ensue. If I were in the house, I’d slap him upside the head with a toaster. (Instead, he is actually taking advice from Wes. Maybe Danny isn’t that bright) Melinda is fun, personable and hot. Danny, according to Mrs. Binx, is hot too and has the same qualities so they make a good couple. But no, he wants to go play the field. I see lonely nights in the hot tub ahead for him.

The rest of the cast is somewhat forgettable. Neimiah is ok but I am waiting for the episode where his head explodes like in Scanners. It almost happened last week. Someone spilled a beer on him at the Dizzy Rooster. He claims it was because he is black so went ape shit. I guess it had nothing to do with the fact that the bar was mobbed with drunk people who were about as stable as Margo Kidder. He’ll either become very quiet or take a page from Falling Down and start tearing up Austin. I’m rooting for the latter.

I understand they are currently filming the next Real World in Key West. I want to take a road trip down there with the Mrs. I’ll give her permission to seduce one of the cast members and then I can come barging in the house to break it up. That’ll be some good television. Better than Taradise, that’s for sure.

NAME THAT TUNE

As I was sitting here, the Stealers Wheel song Stuck in the Middle starting playing. How can you listen to that song without thinking of Michael Madsen dancing around, right before he goes Van Gogh on the cop?

It got me thinking of other songs that are defined by movies, and I am not talking about title tracks on soundtracks. Yes, the Boss's Dead Man Walking reminds of the movie but that's too obvious. Ones like;

Old Time Rock and Roll - Tom Cruise sliding around in his tighty-whities in Risky Business.

Eye of the Tiger - I still see Rocky training while he thinks of Clubber Lang making a pass at his frumpy woman.

Unchained Melody - Swayze; Moore and lots of clay. Roger Ebert once argued they shouldn't have replaced Whoopi Goldberg with the ghost Swayze for the final kiss with Moore. I whole heartedly disagree. Talk about a movie buzzkill.

Build Me Up, Buttercup - After the surprise that the Brett was actually Brett Fahv-ruh, a rigid Favre danced on screen to the closing credit cookies in Something About Mary.

There are many many more but when I starting typing, these were the first few to pop into recollection.

Got Milk?

Jamaica was great even though my liver may be a little pissed at me. But that’s understandable since my normal breakfast consisted of eggs and a dirty banana, which is a Jamaican rum drink. After breakfast, a nice purple rain cocktail would usually do the trick, followed by some vodka lemonade slushees and eventually Red Stripe. Like Danny Glover in Lethal Weapon, I am getting too old for this shit.

Here are a couple of the memorable moments from the trip:

**Under the stairs of one of the buildings was a little ceramic gnome. One night as we passed him, my wife noticed a something at his feet. It was a baggie with three very large perfectly rolled joints. The next night we decided to check again and this time there was a little bag of mushrooms. He thus became known as the magical gnome.

The last morning, when I opened the curtain to our room, there was the gnome sitting right outside my door. It was a little spooky. Either someone was fucking with me, or this little guy was Chucky’s Caribbean drug cousin.

**There are many activities to entertain the guests. I entered a Hedo Hunk contest. It was like the Miss America pageant if Bill and Ted ran it. One round was asking the contestants’ questions and if you answered wrong, you got your ass paddled. Have you ever had a Ping-Pong paddle snapped over ass? I have. There’s nothing like walking around with paddle marks on your cheeks for 2 days. Try that, Miss Nebraska!

**Without being too graphic, there was an instance where this girl let this guy (who wasn’t her husband) have a little suck on her breast. As he pulled away, I noticed a strange look on his face. The girl started laughing and said, "Did you get some? I’m lactating." He starting spitting and we all started laughing.

She then proceeded to use her boob like a squirt gun spraying all of us. Mouth agape from laughing, I got a little taste of the milk from the spray. For the record, the milk was warm and sweet but the whole incident was a little disturbing.

Yes indeed. Good times.

Back on American soil

Just got back from Hedo Jamaica last night. They screwed up our reservation so we ended getting up stuck there an extra day. Poor us. I think I am still buzzed.

Forming complete sentences is probably still a good day away. It was a wonderful weekend of police escorts, magical gnomes and breast milk. A trip report will soon follow. Ya mon.

On a lighter note

My wife and I are off to Hedo in Jamaica Friday morning. No tropical storms so we should be ok. I packed my sunglasses, flip-flops and little else. Back in a few days.

PS - Don't you think they'd be more lenient on you if you shot the deputy instead of the sheriff?