We're in Florida for Christmas, and it surely does not feel like Christmas since the weather is overly pleasant for this time of year, although the humidity (currently 94%) is a deal breaker.
There are some times when the "dad" has to take hit for the team, and today would be one of those occasions. See, previously I would have not suspected that I would be making a blog post on Christmas day, yet here I am. I am here because my family is at DisneyWorld without me. The park was "filled to capacity" and so I didn't get in. But everyone else did. Meanwhile, I've done a couple loads of laundry, burnt an omelet, and have yearned for a nap, of which will probably not come. I'm just not big on naps; but this has slightly changed with my high-maintenance princess-in-training.
I suppose I cannot complain too much. After all, I've never been too keen on Disney anything. Buggs Bunny was more my style. Still, this is the day you're supposed to spend with family. And I know they plan to stay until the fireworks display. Maybe I'll take a dip in the pool, soak in the spa, and blame the water for those tears in my eye.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Aargh!
So this is my punishment for making fun of King Triton and his slow swimmers. Super.
As you know, or will know shortly, we're expecting a girl instead of a boy now, which immediately sent my wife searching through names since before we were totally fixated on boy names. No more.
Clearly there is some correlation going on here. A few of my other manly man friends who grew up with me in the Pacific Northwest have also only spawned women-folk, and I am not sure why. Perhaps it is to even out the playing field -- after all, we are manly men. But on the other hand, it could be a curse or even a parting gift from our Order of the Arrow adviser, who, coincidentally, controlled the water for the region.
On the one hand, my daughter will have a sister. On the other, more proms, weddings and other girlie things such as drama. Oooo I can't wait. The good news is that my wife was gracious enough to say that I can buy more weapons now, which I fully intend to do so. But I'll probably have to turn one of my daughters into a tom-boy. Both will get some sort of self-defense class, perhaps Judo or Jujitsu. Of course, I'll inventory some mace/pepper-spray for them and the obligatory "all penises are evil" tattoo on their foreheads -- last thing I need to hear is "daddy I'm pregnant" before they graduate from high school.
*sigh* I'm sure I'll think of more stuff to fret over in the not-t00-distant future. Girls are so scary when you have no idea how to manage them. So far as I am concerned, you give them jewelry and shoes and things work out fine. Throw in a lame romantic vampire book and it's even better. But this ... this is on the verge of madness. Guess I'll have to watch more Little Mermaid, see how King Triton manages all his daughters ... and still have time to curse me. Wait, King Triton sucked at it, Ariel being the example therein. Crap. Ariel. Crap, crap, crap!
As you know, or will know shortly, we're expecting a girl instead of a boy now, which immediately sent my wife searching through names since before we were totally fixated on boy names. No more.
Clearly there is some correlation going on here. A few of my other manly man friends who grew up with me in the Pacific Northwest have also only spawned women-folk, and I am not sure why. Perhaps it is to even out the playing field -- after all, we are manly men. But on the other hand, it could be a curse or even a parting gift from our Order of the Arrow adviser, who, coincidentally, controlled the water for the region.
On the one hand, my daughter will have a sister. On the other, more proms, weddings and other girlie things such as drama. Oooo I can't wait. The good news is that my wife was gracious enough to say that I can buy more weapons now, which I fully intend to do so. But I'll probably have to turn one of my daughters into a tom-boy. Both will get some sort of self-defense class, perhaps Judo or Jujitsu. Of course, I'll inventory some mace/pepper-spray for them and the obligatory "all penises are evil" tattoo on their foreheads -- last thing I need to hear is "daddy I'm pregnant" before they graduate from high school.
*sigh* I'm sure I'll think of more stuff to fret over in the not-t00-distant future. Girls are so scary when you have no idea how to manage them. So far as I am concerned, you give them jewelry and shoes and things work out fine. Throw in a lame romantic vampire book and it's even better. But this ... this is on the verge of madness. Guess I'll have to watch more Little Mermaid, see how King Triton manages all his daughters ... and still have time to curse me. Wait, King Triton sucked at it, Ariel being the example therein. Crap. Ariel. Crap, crap, crap!
Friday, December 5, 2008
It's just rude
As some of you know, I've been looking for work just like so many other folks these days. Well, a few weeks ago I had a job interview with HeadStart. Today I went in for a follow-up and basically, an offer to work there provided I pass a physical and urine analysis. I don't fear too much of the outcome, but my blood pressure was slightly elevated in the "normal" area.
Here's what I don't like, and maybe you can agree: I don't like dirty old doctors with cold hands man-handling my privates. And the fact that this guy had to do it thrice really irritates me because in the end, I had to pay for it! I mean, I vigorously coughed twice, but "just for good measure" we did it once more. Super! I don't know, maybe he considered it a date or something, but he could at least have a little common courtesy next time -- warm up the hands, and maybe fetch me a heavy shot of morphine. I'd rather not remember these sorts of things.
The worst part is that now I feel like I need a heavy dose of Viagra. I can still feel the coldness gripping the life out of ... uhm, me. But, as he told me with a solid smile, I don't have a hernia. Great, but I also don't have a libido either. I feel there is a coorelation. Maybe next time he can give me a ride in his red Corvette that was so prominently parked outside the clinic. But then, maybe I could charge him next time too. I mean, if I'm going to incur mental scars, I want to at least make a buck or two while doing it. It's the American way.
Here's what I don't like, and maybe you can agree: I don't like dirty old doctors with cold hands man-handling my privates. And the fact that this guy had to do it thrice really irritates me because in the end, I had to pay for it! I mean, I vigorously coughed twice, but "just for good measure" we did it once more. Super! I don't know, maybe he considered it a date or something, but he could at least have a little common courtesy next time -- warm up the hands, and maybe fetch me a heavy shot of morphine. I'd rather not remember these sorts of things.
The worst part is that now I feel like I need a heavy dose of Viagra. I can still feel the coldness gripping the life out of ... uhm, me. But, as he told me with a solid smile, I don't have a hernia. Great, but I also don't have a libido either. I feel there is a coorelation. Maybe next time he can give me a ride in his red Corvette that was so prominently parked outside the clinic. But then, maybe I could charge him next time too. I mean, if I'm going to incur mental scars, I want to at least make a buck or two while doing it. It's the American way.
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