Soon, my loyal minions. Soon.
Blargh
So, I’m sick. Again.
I really hate being sick. I mean really hate it. Not only do I hate being sick, but I hate everything about being sick. I hate all the tissues that rub my nose raw, the mucus that lodges in my chest, the various aches and pains whenever I move and all the cold and clammy sweat that cocoons me in a blanket of yucky slime. Most of all, I hate the fact that as a self employed individual I don’t get any paid sick days off, like a certain wife I could mention who enjoys rubbing those kinds of things in her husbands face when he’s deathly ill.
And really, what’s the point of being sick if you can’t get paid for it?
Sounds Of Silence
There is so much I wish I could talk about.
If I could speak, I might be able to tell you how spending the last month with my in-laws has been… interesting, to say the least. Were I able to utter the words, I might explain to you the massive differences between how our families show each other love; over-feeding people vs. humorously insulting people, for example. And I might also mention that what is normal for one household to do, even in their own home, might be interpreted as an insult to the others. Were I not under a gag order, I could mention in-law snore-offs during football games, some people’s inability to try new foods, their frightened dismissal of anything done differently from what they have done in the past and their complete lack of technical know-how that makes it impossible for them to properly use any household item from 1980 forward including, but not limited to; cooking using a Wolf stove, turning lights on and off using dimmer switches or operating a touchscreen TV remote. My current speech impediment keeps me from imparting to you the absolute insanity of someone I know of who might insist on using a $15 screwdriver to remove weeds from a patch of weed infested dirt that the homeowner has said many times over would be ripped up and replaced next summer with actual grass. I can’t possibly tell you about how some truly crazy people I know feel the need to collect every circular in the neighborhood on their daily morning walks only to loudly proclaim over breakfast how expensive everything is compared to where they live so maybe they should give you money because obviously you’re too poor to afford to eat. And, last but certainly not least, let us not forget how my zippered lips keep me from ever telling another living soul about all the ‘helpful’ advice on, and ‘constructive’ criticism of, the way HoBiscuit and I take care of the Mighty Baby.
Wow, the stories I could tell if only I could talk to you.
But I can’t.
Oh well, at least I can tell you that by next week I should really be back to a daily-ish posting schedule. And this time I actually mean it.
Oh, don’t try to hide that smile. I know that makes you happy.
Infantastic
I thought I could handle it.
Just me and MightyBaby in the house while HoBiscuit and the In-Laws went out for a much needed day out. For some stupid reason, I thought MightyBaby would behave as she almost always does, sleeping most of the day away, the peaceful tranquility only occasionally punctuated by bouts of crying to get food or to be changed.
Unfortunately, my day has gone something like this;
Zero Hour: “Oh, she’s such an angel. She’s sleeping, she’s got on a clean diaper and she just ate, so there’s nothing to worry about. You guys go out and enjoy yourselves, I can take care of her. I mean, you’ll only be gone for about 4 hours, how bad could it be?”
5 Minutes Later: “Why are you crying? You’re supposed to stay asleep so daddy can play Halo3. Do you have gas? Is that it? Gas? Or could it be…?”
30 Seconds Later: “Holy crap! That’s NOT gas!”
5 Minutes Later: “OK, feel better now? Another clean diaper for you and now you can go back to sleepy-land, right?”
30 Minutes Later: “Why won’t you go to sleep? You’re supposed to be sleepy. You had a big meal, a clean diaper and no gas. Sleep for daddy, please?”
15 Minutes Later: “Daddy never realized how difficult it is to type emails with one hand. Perhaps daddy should look into buying a voice recognition program?”
15 Minutes Later: “Ixnay on the ogrampray. Daddy bets a screaming baby in the background would mess up the voice recognition software. Oh well, daddy will just have to train you to take dictation when you’re a bit older as punishment for this inconvenience, won’t he?”
30 Seconds Later: “Daddy was kidding! Come on! Just because you didn’t like the joke doesn’t mean you needed to voice your opinion quite so odorifically! Now daddy has to change you. Again. And stop looking so proud of yourself, it’s not lady-like.”
30 Seconds Later: “Daddy takes it back. He’d be proud of this, too.”
10 Minutes Later: “OK, now daddy bets you’re hungry. Well, you’re in luck! Daddy just happens to have 3 ounces of special BiscuitMilk for you right here. And daddy knows that after a big meal you like to be burped and then you’ll fall into a deep, peaceful slumber. And then daddy can play Halo3! So, bottoms up!”
30 Seconds Later: “Hmmm, that was fast. Now daddy wonders if he was supposed to let you eat the whole thing so quickly…?”
30 Seconds Later: “Exorcist Baby! Exorcist Baby! Exorcist Baby!”
30 Minutes Later: “Right. Well, now you’re all clean and changed. You’ve eaten, and retained, some small amount of food. And you’ve been sufficiently burped. It’s about time for you to sleep, so how about we turn off all the lights and rock in the chair for a bit and see if that helps put you in the mood?”
15 Minutes Later: “Well, rocking sucks. How about we try walking?”
15 Minutes Later: “Walking sucks even more. You’re still crying and now daddy’s tired. How about we try sitting quietly on the couch?”
10 Minutes Later: “Much better. Couch is good. We love Mr. Couch, don’t we Mighty Baby? No more crying, daddy can rest and even better, once you fall asleep daddy can just put you down on the couch and play Halo3 with you right next to him so he can keep an eye on you. It’s genius!”
5 Minutes Later: “What’s with the big, sad eyes? Why are you staring at daddy like a lost puppy?”
5 Minutes Later: “You’re beginning to creep daddy out with that big-eyed stare. What are you looking at? Daddy’s not that handsome.”
5 Minutes Later [whispered]: “Do you see dead people?”
10 Minutes Later: “What? What did you see in daddy’s face that made you smile like that? Does daddy have a booger?”
5 Minutes Later: “You’re so lucky you’re cute.”
30 Minutes Later: “OK, you’re drifting off now, you’re getting sleepy, I can see it. So, how about we put you down next to daddy on the couch, on this nice, soft blankie, and daddy plays some Halo3? Is that OK?”
30 Seconds Later: “OK, before daddy can play, he needs to use the bathroom. Please stay asleep so daddy can pee, OK?”
5 Minutes Later: “Whew! Daddy feels much better now. OK, time to play some Halo3!”
30 Seconds Later: “Why are you crying? All I did was turn on the XBox… Hey! Did your mother teach you to hate video games already?”
10 Minutes Later: “Well, you’re starting to fall asleep again and your mother will be home soon, so Iguess I’ll just put you down in your crib.”
5 Minutes Later: “Sigh. NOW you fall asleep? 5 whole minutes before your mother is supposed to come home?”
5 Minutes Later: “Hi Honey! How was your day? Did you all have fun? Us? We were fine. We had a great time together and MightyBaby was an angel, of course!”
And I still haven’t even opened up my Halo3 box yet. Dammit.
Legendary
I just received a gift from the gaming gods.
That’s right, I have in my possession Halo 3 Legendary Edition with Halo Spartan Mjolnir Mark VI Helmet! And you know, that helmet is about the same size as my little girl’s head… Anywaste, if anyone, ANYONE, believes that I will be doing anything productive this weekend they are so mistaken, it’s not even funny. I plan on sitting down in front of my 106″ HD projection home theater screen, firing up the 7.1 speakers, strapping on several diapers and simply playing Halo until my eyes literally fall out of my skull. And if you think that’s obsessive, or just stupid, may I point out to you the MASSIVE amount of willpower I am showing by waiting until this weekend to even open the game?! OMG, I hope a week-long woody doesn’t leave me with permanent nerve damage, or anything.
Halo 3 iz da shizzam!
Burning Question
Have you ever farted so powerfully that it actually burned? What’s up with that?!
Meatasaurus
I need meat.
I know it’s healthier for me to eat vegetables and green things and stuff, but the honest to goodness truth is that I need to eat meat to survive. Not, “I like to eat meat.” Nor, “I’d love steak with my salad.” Not even, “I really like having at least one meal a day be of the meat variety.” No, these statements do not do justice to the fact that my body MUST have meat in order for me to be happy.
And right now I am not happy.
This is because I am not eating my quota of meat every day. You see, MotherBiscuit and FatherBiscuit are staying with us right now to help us out with our new baby girl. I really, truly do appreciate all the help and advice they’re giving us. Without their help HoBiscuit and I would probably have been overwhelmed with everything we needed to do once The Mighty Baby arrived, but thanks to their help and support we’re actually rested and of sound mind and body.
But the food situation…
Let me fill you in on a little background. When HoBiscuit and I were dating and I went with her to visit her parents they would feed us such foods as would make anyone feel like a king. 12 course dinners, 7 course lunches and breakfasts’ of such bounty as to cause the kitchen table to buckle and collapse from the weight. They took care to find out what I could and couldn’t eat and made dishes to cater to my needs. Each meal had at least two different meats for me to choose from. They welcomed me with open refrigerators and showered me with their culinary confections.
But that’s all changed now.
Now, all I get is some watery soup, iceberg lettuce, plain white rice, some shredded potatoes and, if I’m lucky, scallion buns. Did you notice what was missing from the above menu? Oooo, nice try. You’re right that dessert wasn’t mentioned, but that’s not the most glaring omission of my most recent dinner. Do you need a hint?
A whole freaking course, is what!
No meat! None! MotherBiscuit didn’t even pass the rice over some meat scraps left over from last week to infuse the hint of meat odor onto it. At the end of the meal MotherBiscuit asked me if I liked it, and I said yes thinking there was more coming! I didn’t realize that the meal was over. If I had, I might have asked for seconds of the potatoes and chased that down with about 25 scallion buns!
OMG, I was soooo hungry!
Now, I realize that just by being here MotherBiscuit and FatherBiscuit are doing us a massive bit of help. They truly are. And lest you think I’m complaining about their good intentions let me state here and now that I appreciate everything they’re doing to help. I just wish that over the course of their stay that MotherBiscuit will find it in her heart to once again begin cooking real meals so that when I leave the table I am actually full. I mean, I’d cook more myself but every time I get near the stove MotherBiscuit appears at my shoulder like some wraith and begins asking questions. And there’s really no good way a good son-in-law can answer questions like, “Is my cooking not good enough for you?”
Man, I gotta get me a steak before I kill something.
The Monster
Dear Morpheus, son of Hypnos, how I do miss you.
So, I’ve got myself one of those, what do you call them… ? Ah, yes. Children. And now I can’t seem to find enough time to do anything, especially sleep. And in case you didn’t know, I really, really like to sleep. At least I think I do. It’s so hard to remember since the last time I slept was months ago and I believe it was for a whole three seconds.
Come to think on it, that might have just been a long blink.
Anywaste, as I have discovered, these children things are like adult anti-sleep pills in tiny demon form. They drown your ability to sleep as if they were some giant vat of Red Bull and, even if all they’re doing is sleeping themselves, you find yourself sitting at the edge of their crib watching them sleep to make sure they’re sleeping well.
It’s as if this mini-beast has swallowed my free will.
However, it should be noted that just as some hostages form symbiotic bonds with their captors, I find myself willingly submitting to my new master’s will. When she cries for food, I find HoBiscuit and offer her to my tiny goddess. Should the Mighty Baby desire a nap, I will gladly kill the garbage truck driver who dares to meander down our street with his loud truck that caused her to furrow her brow. And should she have gas, I am first to gently pat her back and help that nasty air get out. But, what about the poop, you ask? Well, I have to draw the line somewhere and my line is right above the Mighty Babies buttocks. Because for “Teh p00p” we have a wall hook, a power wash hose and a hair dryer.
OMG, that stuff is nasty!
The Arrival
Extra Baggage
Just so you know…
This conversation took place in the London, Heathrow airport when I was stopped by a security guy.
Airport Security Guy – “I’m sorry sir, but you’ll need to check one of those bags.”
GeekMan – “Why?”
ASG – “You’re only allowed one carry-on bag when going through security.”
GM – “But I’m only making a connection here.”
ASG – “I’m afraid that you still need to go through security, so you can only have one bag.”
GM – “Curious. You would think that someone, somewhere would have mentioned that little piece of information to those of us making connections here before we got on the plane in New York.”
ASG – “That’s not something I have control over, sir.”
GM – “Alrighty then. I understand that you have your rules and I’ve got to follow those rules, however I think we might have a problem.”
ASG – “What problem?”
GM – “Well, one bag has two computers in it and the other has camera equipment.”
ASG – “And…?”
GM – “Well, I can’t check either bag because the equipment contained in them is both fragile and expensive.”
ASG – “Ah. I see.”
GM – “Yes. So, in this situation, what would you suggest I do?”
ASG – “Well, if you could somehow stuff one bag into the other…?”
GM – “Interesting tact. However, I feel the need to point out that the process of ‘stuffing’ fragile equipment tends to cause problems.”
ASG – “I see. I had not thought of that.”
GM – “Any other suggestions?”
ASG – “You could fly back to NY and find a direct flight to your final destination.”
GM – “Let me get this straight. In order for me to make it through this security checkpoint with two carry-on bags you’re suggesting that after having flown 8 hours to get this far that I fly back to NY for 8 hours, book another flight that doesn’t come through London and then fly to my actual destination?”
ASG – “Well, that would solve your problem, wouldn’t it?”
GM – “That’s true, but I would like to note that following that plan would cause me to be fired and thus negate my need to travel in the first place.”
ASG – “Ah. Well then, that leads to my next suggestion…”
GM – “I’m not quitting my job.”
ASG – “Well, if you’re not going to even listen to my suggestions…”
GM – “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to be so negative. It’s just that I don’t know what I can do about this and I’d really rather not miss my connection flight.
ASG – “Well, maybe you could just hand carry the camera…?”
GM – “And 4 lenses? That would be very awkward.”
ASG – “How about hand carrying the computers, then?”
GM – “Wait. Do you mean to tell me that there’s no restriction on things I can carry onto the plane as long as they’re NOT in a bag?”
ASG – “Well, yes.”
GM – “Amazing! So, I can bring both of my computers and this knapsack of camera equipment onto the plane as long as I’m holding them in my hands outside of the case?”
ASG – “Of course. It’s not how much you have with you, but how many bags you have that we regulate. You could strap a Volkswagon to your ass and we’d let you through as long as you were only carrying a small bag along with it.”
GM – “Brilliant! So, I’ll just take out both of these very expensive laptops and carry them throughout the airport for everyone to see, will I? Along with my knapsack of super-expensive camera equipment?”
ASG – “Sounds good.”
GM – “Do you happen to have any bumper stickers?”
ASG – “Pardon?”
GM – “Well, I’d love to stick a bumper sticker on my forehead that says, ‘Stupid, tourist guy. Please mug me.”
ASG – “…”
GM – “Sigh. So, I’ll just take these laptops out and check my bag, then?”
ASG – “Yes. And please be quick about it. I’ve got puppies to kick and kittens to drown.”
Remember, when traveling overseas always check on the rules and regulations of EACH airport you’ll be going to and make sure you aren’t going to run into a problem like, for example, having too many carry-on bags to make it through security. Otherwise, you might find yourself standing at an airport urinal crying as you try and fail to balance two laptops on your head so you can pee.
And airport security people are mean. Just… mean.