Don't Splash Ze Pot

Ahhh, what a splendid weekend of family and babies. The little ones are exceedingly cute now. A few words here and there, and the pitter patter of little feet all over the place. If you tell Natalie to squat she'll stick her little booty out, which is already pretty cute, but when she happens to be wearing "Go Irish!" spankys it's pretty much face-implodingly adorable. Both of the little ones were a little wary of me, but that's okay, I'd be wary too if I was a foot tall and an unfamiliar giant kept waving at me like an idiot. All in all it was a nice weekend of oohing and aahing, cards, eating, and chatting. We also solidified plans for a beach house stay on the Carolina coast this September, which I guess will be the first real family vacation we've taken, so I'm pretty pumped about that.

The flight back was pretty outrageous. The co-pilot to Atlanta was glorious. First off, he had one of those slow russian accents, so everything he said was already awesome. Think John Malkovich in Rounders. Hchee beeyat me, stlait ahp. Geef hcheem hchees mahney. So he gets on the PA as we're boarding and tells us "I am sorry for the gloomy day, but I am here to cheer you up" and plays a very peppy tune on his accordian, which he apparently flies with. "You can dance the tarantella to that!" he said when he finished. Ah! From there on out it was non-stop comedy, in that slow meandering russian way he had:

• "Do you all know the 11th commandment? I do not know if you have heard it, but I will tell it to you: THOU SHALT NOT BLOCK THE AISLE."
• "Ladies and gentlemen, the bad news is that we have been further delayed into Atlanta due to the inclement weather. The good news is, I just saved a bundle on my car insurance by switching to Geico."
• "Folks, Delta has instituted a new policy, and that is if we should hit turbulence, you may grab and hold the hand of the person of the opposite sex next to you. Then they decided that was discriminatory. Discriminatory? Yes, and now you can hold the hand of the person of whatever sex you want. Ah, I am finished."
• <Plays God Bless America on accordian> "PLAY BALL!"
• "Ladies and gentlemen, if you enjoyed your flight today, you are welcome to share your feelings at delta.com or by writing me a note on a 20 dollar bill, which you can give to me on the way out and I will spend it. My name is Andrew. Or, if you did not enjoy it, my name is Josephina and I work for Aer Lingus."

But by far the awesomest thing of all was the landing, during which he played a recording of a galloping horse slowly coming to a stop. Excuse me, but shouldn't you be landing the plane right now? Somehow we got in safe and sound. I got the impression that many of the people around me didn't think he was very funny, but I engaged in several hearty chuckles, and you've certainly got to admire the effort.

The flight into South Bend was of course less eventful, except that it was snowing on me. It was one of those Embraers, in the very back seat of the single row, and there was a vent above me that would periodically spit out little white ice crystals. Awesome. Also, I was next to a screaming baby, which was actually kind of cute because her parents, who looked younger than me, clearly did not have any idea what to do. They just kept passing her back and forth looking embarrassed for an hour and a half. Finally when we pulled into the gate, all the power went out except for the emergency lights, and I guess they were having some kind of trouble getting the door open because we just sat there in the dark for a while. Everyone was kind of whispering about what was taking so long, and suddenly the father of the screaming kid shouts out "STOP BREATHING MY AIR!" I laughed loudly. I was the only one, besides his wife. Well, I thought it was funny.

I finally got home around midnight and Lizett promptly wished me a happy birthday, citing the fact that it was technically the 26th. You may note that my birthday is the 28th. What a hooker.

And finally, gloriously, I received a wrecking this morning so savage and yet so insanely, unbelievably unlikely that I couldn't even pause to feel wrecked, I just kind of stood back and went "Holy crap I can't even BELIEVE that happened." Have you ever heard the Dave Chappelle bit where he talks about when something so racist happens you can't even be mad, you're just amazed? He says it way better than I can. But man, suddenly I know exactly how he feels. The wrecking is not important in itself, the point is only this: up until today I considered myself to be agnostic, but I tell you now, there definitely IS a God, and man, He is a pretty funny guy. Dark--very dark--but funny.

Hot Sundae

I have returned victorious from an illegitimate hour-and-a-half lunch, because the "I'm so excited, I'm so excited, I'm so scared" episode of SBTB was on, and I simply could not tear myself away. Childish? Yes. Irresponsible? Yes. In less depressing news, I just talked to Lizett post-soldering-iron-of-justice and aside from sounding like she's talking quietly around a gumball or something, she seems no worse for wear. Of course, she's probably high out of her mind right now from whatever they knocked her out with. I remember after I got my wisdom teeth out I was so loopy that I requested--and received--a hot and delicious bratwurst. It was perhaps the most preposterous and ill-advised scheme ever put forth by man, and ended oh so predictably in disaster. Anyway, incredibly even to me, the first thing I said to her when she called was not "How are you feeling?", but "If you flip to TBS RIGHT NOW you can catch Jesse saying she's so scared!" which, now that it is documented, may well go down in the annals of history as man's greatest shame. I am personally responsible for man's most preposterous scheme and man's greatest shame.

Seppuku II

As I am typing, Lizett is somewhere in Houston with a scalpel down her throat, getting her tonsils out. You'd think this story would be about concern for her, but you'd be a fool. I guess the recovery is pretty asstacular, so I sent her a heartfelt ERRRRMMM-inducing card and some goodies to pass the time once the liquid vicodin runs out. Now you'd think this story is about how awesome I am, but again--fool. See, I attached little post-it messages to each item to illustrate how witty and clever I am, assuming they would be viewed by Lizett and summarily destroyed--not that they were wildly inappropriate or anything, but they were clearly rated R for Adult Themes, Strong Language, and References To Smelly Pirate Hookers. They were not intended for Lizett's mother, who somehow managed to view them. And by somehow I mean, Lizett showed them to her. Thanks, Lizett. One of them contained--get ready--The F-Word. I am mortified. MORTIFIED. I do not typically use The F-Word. You could not make me say The F-Word in front of Lizett's mother if you had my nuts in a vise grip, and now I've managed to do so before actually meeting her. Ha ha ha! I laugh so I don't cry.

In other news, Jim Caviezel was in the office to sign up for some classes. I didn't recognize either his name or his face. Afterward everyone told me he's That Guy Who Played Jesus. I was unimpressed. Then Jan told me he was also the Count of Monte Cristo. THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO!? The Count of Monte-Freaking-Cristo was in my office?? Did anyone SEE how much ass he whooped in that movie? I feel like my badassery has been increased a hundredfold just by being in the same room with him. I wanted to deliver some terrible wrong upon him just to see what sort of elaborate revenge he would exact upon me. The Count of Montre Cristo. THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO, BABY!! ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?

I am out of here bright and early tomorrow for some sweet, sweet family/baby action. It will be awesome like that time I met the Count of Monte Cristo.

Much Sun, My Everything Hurts

This Saturday was a day of glorious outdoor activity. I got up early for a round of golf, not a problem for once since I had gone to bed at about 10 on Friday following several hours of napping--so, I guess really I went to bed at like 7. It was glorious. Anyway, the weather could not have been better--sunny, warm, but with a pleasant cooling breeze. In a bizarre role reversal, I had a calm though average round while Ball's rage continued to climb until his very glare detonated the unfortunate small woodland creatures who happened upon it. I helpfully suggested that he recenter his chi, and he rather graphically responded that I recenter my lips around his...something. I'm not sure, the details are a little fuzzy. Ha ha! I'm so clever.

From there it was onto the pool for lounging and baking. We stuck it out as long as we could, but by that time it was so blazing hot that even laying out was too taxing, and also I think my nips were starting to burn. So, in a bold and completely sane fit of genius, we decided to go play tennis--at 2pm--on the hottest day of summer. Brilliant! We picked up a couple liters of water each on the way and proceeded to play one of the more lethargic sets in the history of tennisdom. I was through both my liters well before the first set was out, and finally at 6-6 we simply surrendered without bothering with a tie breaker. What drives us to do these things?

After the most refreshing shower in the history of refreshing showerdom, we headed out to meet Jani at Outback, because Jani loves steak. Can't get enough of it. In classic Jani style, she was about an hour and a half late, so Ball and I amused ourselves visiting some of our more loved establishments for some preparatory beers. First we visited Hooters, where something awkward happened that doesn't translate well via writing, and then Chilis, where something awkward happened that works a little better. See, Jamie the bartender was in and spotted us on the way out of the kitchen, or more accurately spotted Ball, and for many awesome reasons, none of them awesome, unsneakily fled the vicinity for the remainder of our stay. Kind of a GASP--flee! What a whore.

Outback was delicious. Jani talked about what Jani always talks about. Ball made a comment that is horrifying even for Ball, and will haunt my dreams for the rest of eternity. Also, he left the ol' 100% tip about 25 minutes after vowing to never again leave 100% tips, making it the worst vow in the history of worst vowdom. Jani invited us to some party she was going to after dinner, and though we knew nobody there, we agreed on the condition that she DD and we be allowed to be the shady dudes who show up with 40s and cigars.

It was fine. It was an outdoor affair, nicely rounding out our day of glorious outdoor activity. We played some cornhole and drank some semi warm 40s. The bathroom didn't have a lock, and there was a dude outside amusing himself by saying "yeah, no one's in there." I fell for it, and it was awkward. He was much larger than me, or he may have ended up with warm 40 on his crotch. Jani, in one of her lamer moments, proceeded to engage in a chugging contest with the host. Thanks, DD. Fortunately it turned out we did know a few people there, or rather they knew us, and they gave us a ride back, or Jani might have ended up with warm 40 on her crotch and a stick in the eye. Actually she did anyway as right before I left Jani followed me into the bathroom, yadda yadda yadda, and now I can never hang out with her again. Anyway, the girls we knew turned out to be Lorraine C's old roommates, prompting me to instinctively cover my manly parts, but it turns out they were both very nice and hardly hated me at all. Hooray for not being hated!

Sunday it rained.

I've got a short week coming up. This Friday I'm heading down to North Carolina to see the nieces. They're both extremely cute, but I'm particularly excited to see Natalie as I haven't seen her since she was very wee, and now she's doing all sorts of fun 1 year old stuff. Plus, with everyone down there it'll be fun to see some baby interaction. I was hoping to bring Lizett along to meet the fam and ooh and ahh over the babies, but unfortunately she developed a bad case of fin rot and is scheduled for a soldering iron of justice to the gullet that very day. Please keep her in your thoughts and prayers, that she not get too fat during the ensuing week of exclusive milkshake and ice cream consumption. Amen.

<Vomit>

Ugh, I feel like shat. I look like a bum. I've got my homeless man stubble going on and my face is crackly-dry from the scalding hot water I streamed directly into it for 20 minutes this morning. I've been sick since the weekend, the herp I think, and last night I inexplicably decided to celebrate my four day anniversary of feeling like poop with a few pitchers at Corby's--and then for reasons so complex and insane that Stephen Hawking and Jesus combined could not even begin to understand them, proceeded to stay up until 4am. Balls, I'm tired.

The rest of the week has been pretty good, aside from the coughing and hacking. Ball exploded a bird on 4 yesterday, which, though a little tragic, is far more impressive to my mind than a hole in one. Hitting the pin in one stroke is pretty impressive, but you're more or less working on two axes. To have precisely the right coordinates to nail a bird in three dimensional space--that's a once in a lifetime shot. Well done, and may God have mercy on your murderous soul.

Reunionesque III: That DOG Is Playing FOOTBALL

Are you mentally prepared for the ride of your life? A long, detailed and only-interesting-to-me account of the weekend's activities, loosely based on fact but wildly exaggerated and in many cases flatly altered to make my adventures seem wackier than they actually were? Perhaps I will steal some pictures of local landmarks from GI and pass them off as my own! Perhaps I will talk about things exploding, or being punched in the face! Perhaps I'll make a Super Troopers reference, or talk about the Death Hook! I don't know. I don't know if we'll have enough time.

So, no detailed account. Fun was had, shiznittery attained. I summoned a waitress with the ol' chop-chop hand clap. I gave up my previous dream of starting a sitcom and making that joke where someone says "bilingual" and the dumb guy thinks they meant "bisexual" in favor of a new dream of driving a car packed with meat and fresh baked goods off of a cliff. Ball may or may not have engaged in the motorboating of my property. There was a minor car crash and a falsified report of having to pee outside the BK Lounge. Anti-diarrheal medicine was found and ownership denied by all. Later, a chimpanzee pulled this lever that covered us in fish guts from a conveniently played silo and drove off through the wall in an ice cream truck. Finally something exploded and I was all like "Mother of God."

Standing At The Edge Of Tomorrow, Today Today Today Today Today!

We went to Corby's super early last night, as is now apparently the Thursday custom. Sarah tragically wasn't working, her shift covered by the morbidly obese bouncer--technically he has bigger breasts but he still got a lesser tip. Suckaaa! I was in the bathroom at the end of the night, and Drunky McPsycho runs in, tears streaming down his face, yelling about how it was his birthday and he didn't "got no" friends and all he wanted was something cold to drink. I guess it doesn't sound that wacky, but try to picture a weeping middle aged man screaming at you in a bar bathroom--what was I supposed to do? Logistics prevented me from bolting. I thought about telling him I didn't got no money, but I figured anyone unstable enough to openly cry in front of a random stranger in the bathroom is probably fully capable of murder, so I gave him two dollars and he responded, bizarrely, with:

"Yeah, you went to college, right?"
"Yes."
"Then you understand, man! You understand!"

O...kay. Also, I am relatively sure some son of a bitch at the post office watched one of my Netflix movies before delivering it. 3 movies were sent out the same day, two received last Friday, the third received just this afternoon--the envelope torn completely in half and taped back together. There's a little stamp on the front that says "UR APOL (new line) OST OFFI (new line) UTH BEND, 4", which I take it is some sort of awesome apology. Really tugged on my heartstrings. Well I hope you thoroughly enjoyed Sideways, Mr. corrupt outh bend ost offi employee, because I will have my revenge if it takes me 50 years. Tenfold.

My Temporary Nemesis

With the slow summer season hitting and my primary source of IM distraction out of the country all week, I've had naught to do and have thus been reduced to harassing the one coworker in my age bracket (name withheld to protect the innocent), Jan, pretty much nonstop for 8 hours a day. Only by harassing I mean saying kind, sweet, and encouraging things to which she has needlessly and insanely responded with savage threats and insults, such as (but not limited to):

• I hope you catch fire!
• I'm going to light you on fire!
• I'm going to get you fired!
• I'm picturing you engulfed in flames!
• Self-immolate!
• You will burn!
• I'm going to bite your ankles and watch you topple like a tree!
• I'm going to kick you in the shins!
• I'm going to throw a milky way midnight at you!
• I will decapitate you!
• I will destroy you!
• I hate you!
• Unlike you, I'm not a murderer!
• Unlike you, I don't hate children!
• Unlike you, I have a soul!
• Satan!
• White devil!
• Lucifer!
• I will kill you!
• I will execute you!
• I will be sure to blame my psychosis when I do you extreme harm!
• You are about to suffer a violent murder-related death!

Actually I think I might have said some of those. That last one definitely sounds like me. The point is, I'm great, she is the devil, and this is going to be the best President's Day ever.

One Year Pic

ERRRRMMMM--Good Lord, how cute is this child? My spleen has ruptured.