Thursday, January 24, 2013
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
November, 2011 slinks off like a hussy in the night
In which your humble narrator decries a sizable portion of his public, and throws some stuff together to squeak in with an end of the month post.
Buenas Noviembre, blogketeers! Two of the seven of you that read this tripe have had the temerity to bitch to my actual face, or my online face about the lack of content 'round these parts, lo these many months. Well guess what, suckers? There's a whole world of web-er-tainment out there that doesn't involve me verbally abusing you for showing that you care about my "musings". (Seriously people, weak.)
I could use this opportunity to kvetch about how BUSY I am and make excuses for not updating, but that would be lame. I haven't gotten around to it okay? I'm a bastard, but you, gentle reader, know that already.
So what's the happy-haps, you enquire? That question is most definitely answered with a list. You know you want one.
Buenas Noviembre, blogketeers! Two of the seven of you that read this tripe have had the temerity to bitch to my actual face, or my online face about the lack of content 'round these parts, lo these many months. Well guess what, suckers? There's a whole world of web-er-tainment out there that doesn't involve me verbally abusing you for showing that you care about my "musings". (Seriously people, weak.)
I could use this opportunity to kvetch about how BUSY I am and make excuses for not updating, but that would be lame. I haven't gotten around to it okay? I'm a bastard, but you, gentle reader, know that already.
So what's the happy-haps, you enquire? That question is most definitely answered with a list. You know you want one.
- Homophones. Learn about them here. (Caution: contains extremely effective use of profanity.)
- Child #1 and Child #2 were both Superman for Halloween. Child #2 continues to wear the cape around the house.
- Google Buzz sucked when it occurred and then continued to suck as it went away. Also all my inappropriate blog posts seem to have gotten indexed to my real name, you know the ones where I whine about my petulant entitled students? That was a problem as it's difficult to project the necessary sense of warmth and caring for the children when I'm slagging them off on the interwebs.
- Seriously, I love 35% of my students, and am generally cool with about 96% of them. It's the remaining 4% that make me want to stab myself in the eyeballs with a screwdriver just to avoid reading their terrible, terrible emails.
- Child #2 loves beans. They are seriously her favorite food.
- Child #2 loves farting for comic effect. This may be related to the previous item.
- Did I mention I made 6 pies for Thanksgiving? I did. That was down from 9 last year.
- This list is over because I need to feed my family vegetables. We need vegetables to live.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
The Listicle: 10 Things I've learned in my eventful absence
In which your humble narrator squeaks in with a September post, apologizes insincerely and lists 10 factastic aphorisms to tide over his adoring public until later.
1. Yeah, so, dissertating. It turns out this takes an ungodly amount of time. Sorry (insincere) about the lack of posts.
2. We went on vacation. To Maine. In the car. 3860 miles, roundtrip. Everyone survived. It was mostly fun. We saw a lot of Rust Belt, and went to Trader Joe's stores in many exotic locations, like Cleveland Ohio and Portland, Maine.
3. Maine is pretty. It is also eerily like West Virginia, only northern, and people have decrepit boats on their lawns instead of just cars.
4. "Concatenate" is a great word.
5. So much better than "listicle."
6. But unlike "concatenate," "listicle" is a portmanteau word.
7. "Portmanteau" is a great word.
8. Child #1 turned 4. He is no longer a rotten baby, but has matured into a rotten (but loveable) kid.
9. Child #2 has a thing for Elton John, whose name she pronounces "Molten John."
10. I have postulated that the universe exists on a continuum that runs from douchey to lame. The exact middle point of that continuum is occupied by the recumbent bicycle.
11. Bonus Item: I deeply regret (insincere) the pain that this will likely cause recumbent bicycle enthusiasts.
1. Yeah, so, dissertating. It turns out this takes an ungodly amount of time. Sorry (insincere) about the lack of posts.
2. We went on vacation. To Maine. In the car. 3860 miles, roundtrip. Everyone survived. It was mostly fun. We saw a lot of Rust Belt, and went to Trader Joe's stores in many exotic locations, like Cleveland Ohio and Portland, Maine.
3. Maine is pretty. It is also eerily like West Virginia, only northern, and people have decrepit boats on their lawns instead of just cars.
4. "Concatenate" is a great word.
5. So much better than "listicle."
6. But unlike "concatenate," "listicle" is a portmanteau word.
7. "Portmanteau" is a great word.
8. Child #1 turned 4. He is no longer a rotten baby, but has matured into a rotten (but loveable) kid.
9. Child #2 has a thing for Elton John, whose name she pronounces "Molten John."
10. I have postulated that the universe exists on a continuum that runs from douchey to lame. The exact middle point of that continuum is occupied by the recumbent bicycle.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Be Polite
In which your humble narrator encourages civility in his offspring.
Scene: preparing children for bed time. Child #1 is brushing his teeth in his bedroom, concludes his dental hygiene session and proceeds toward the door to exit his room in order to rinse his toothbrush in the bathroom. His mother is standing the doorway impeding his progress.
Scene: preparing children for bed time. Child #1 is brushing his teeth in his bedroom, concludes his dental hygiene session and proceeds toward the door to exit his room in order to rinse his toothbrush in the bathroom. His mother is standing the doorway impeding his progress.
Child #1: Mama, get out of the way!
Me: That's rude. Try again, politely.
Child #1: Mama, may you please go away?
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Epistolary Dump
In which your humble narrator corresponds with entities unlike to respond or sue him.
Dear Youth of America,
Put some damn clothes on, and seriously, you're going to live to regret that tattoo one day.
Dear State of New York,
Congratulations on letting the gays get hitched. And extra special congratulations for doing it legislatively. Just don't go buck wild and let corporations get married even if Antonin Scalia thinks they're people too.
Dear People who "Make Their Voices Heard!",
Isn't sort of an exercise in futility to "make your voice heard" every damn day in a culture where exactly no one listens? I suppose it sounds better than "I like to shout my opinions all the damn time!"
Dear Peter Falk,
Rest in peace. Goodbye, Columbo.
Dear Rest of the United States of America,
I am in no way responsible for Michele Bachmann. Just because she lives 20 miles from me doesn't mean I have any insight into that big bag of crazy.
Dear Youth of America,
Put some damn clothes on, and seriously, you're going to live to regret that tattoo one day.
Dear State of New York,
Congratulations on letting the gays get hitched. And extra special congratulations for doing it legislatively. Just don't go buck wild and let corporations get married even if Antonin Scalia thinks they're people too.
Dear People who "Make Their Voices Heard!",
Isn't sort of an exercise in futility to "make your voice heard" every damn day in a culture where exactly no one listens? I suppose it sounds better than "I like to shout my opinions all the damn time!"
Dear Peter Falk,
Rest in peace. Goodbye, Columbo.
Dear Rest of the United States of America,
I am in no way responsible for Michele Bachmann. Just because she lives 20 miles from me doesn't mean I have any insight into that big bag of crazy.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Literal and Metaphorical Dark Clouds
In which your humble narrator becomes confused about his geographic location, packs off the children into the care of trained professionals, encourages trained professionals not to allow Child #1 to walk at the end of any lines, and receives a teensy ray of email-delivered hope in his ongoing battle against imminent professional despair and eventual penury.
So it's June, which means apparently, that it will first rocket up to 103 degrees and then rain for three weeks with temperatures barely cracking into the 70s. This is the weirdest weather year in the Cities that I can remember and I've been here for quite a while. But today is sunny and nice and I feel good.*
The children are now "in care" three days a week. Child #1 is at day camp which is going well with one entirely predictable exception. On Wednesday two lines of small children were passing in a hallway, Child #1 was at the end of his line, no doubt rambling along without the slightest attention being paid to his surroundings. He managed to get turned around and start following the other line of children to their destination. No one realized this until adults responsible for the other group of children realized they had picked up an extra child. At this point of course, Child #1 snapped back to the reality that the rest of us inhabit and started to freak out, wailing, "I'm supposed to be in Beth's room!" He was promptly deposited back with his group though it apparently took him a little while to calm down.
How can one put this politely? Child #1 lacks focus. He is a terribly sweet child who has a certain difficulty in, shall we say, goal-directed and sequential behaviors. He has been strenuously arguing against my assertion that after using the toilet, pulling one's pants up before trying to flush, wash one's hands, and leave the bathroom will actually make the entire process more efficient. He rejects my narrow, linear, temporal conformity strongly.
Also, this morning I received an email indicating that I may get my dissertation data before the State government shuts down next week. If this in fact occurs, I can do my analysis this summer and (fingers crossed) complete my thesis. The only good dissertation is a done dissertation.
*By which I mean I do not feel actively bad because I am sublimating my anxiety with unusual success.
So it's June, which means apparently, that it will first rocket up to 103 degrees and then rain for three weeks with temperatures barely cracking into the 70s. This is the weirdest weather year in the Cities that I can remember and I've been here for quite a while. But today is sunny and nice and I feel good.*
The children are now "in care" three days a week. Child #1 is at day camp which is going well with one entirely predictable exception. On Wednesday two lines of small children were passing in a hallway, Child #1 was at the end of his line, no doubt rambling along without the slightest attention being paid to his surroundings. He managed to get turned around and start following the other line of children to their destination. No one realized this until adults responsible for the other group of children realized they had picked up an extra child. At this point of course, Child #1 snapped back to the reality that the rest of us inhabit and started to freak out, wailing, "I'm supposed to be in Beth's room!" He was promptly deposited back with his group though it apparently took him a little while to calm down.
How can one put this politely? Child #1 lacks focus. He is a terribly sweet child who has a certain difficulty in, shall we say, goal-directed and sequential behaviors. He has been strenuously arguing against my assertion that after using the toilet, pulling one's pants up before trying to flush, wash one's hands, and leave the bathroom will actually make the entire process more efficient. He rejects my narrow, linear, temporal conformity strongly.
Also, this morning I received an email indicating that I may get my dissertation data before the State government shuts down next week. If this in fact occurs, I can do my analysis this summer and (fingers crossed) complete my thesis. The only good dissertation is a done dissertation.
*By which I mean I do not feel actively bad because I am sublimating my anxiety with unusual success.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
I'm #2!
In which your humble narrator learns his place.
Child #1 succesfully completed his first year of preschool yesterday. After a celebratory lunch at Costco (he picked it) we did some grocery shopping. Having recently returned from a brief trip to Ohio and Iowa there was no food to speak of in the house.
At the last stop (a liquor store, but you know, a nice one next to the grocery, not one filled with bums or anything), Child #1 so enchanted the cashier that she gave him a sucker. He was enraptured.
After loading the groceries into the van I scooped up Child #1 over my shoulder to put him in his seat. He giggled and said "I love you, Daddy."
"Aww," I replied, "I love you too."
"And I love my sucker," he continued. Not being one to realize when to leave well enough alone, I asked, "Who do you love more, Daddy or your sucker?"
"My sucker." Without missing a beat.
Child #1 succesfully completed his first year of preschool yesterday. After a celebratory lunch at Costco (he picked it) we did some grocery shopping. Having recently returned from a brief trip to Ohio and Iowa there was no food to speak of in the house.
At the last stop (a liquor store, but you know, a nice one next to the grocery, not one filled with bums or anything), Child #1 so enchanted the cashier that she gave him a sucker. He was enraptured.
After loading the groceries into the van I scooped up Child #1 over my shoulder to put him in his seat. He giggled and said "I love you, Daddy."
"Aww," I replied, "I love you too."
"And I love my sucker," he continued. Not being one to realize when to leave well enough alone, I asked, "Who do you love more, Daddy or your sucker?"
"My sucker." Without missing a beat.
Friday, May 6, 2011
And the Worm Said "Wheeeeeeee!"
In which your humble narrator ventures out and digs up some Oligochaeta.
Since the weather has broken we've ventured out into the yard again. On a recent trip to Target, the children demanded that we purchase watermelon seeds for the garden. Sure, kids, why not? Nobody likes watermelon that much, but why should that stop us from growing tons of the stuff?
While the progeny amused themselves in the yard I began to dig up the sad little strip of earth that some day will be a watermelon patch. Hoo, doggie there were a lot of worms. So I think to myself, "kids love worms!"
"Hey, kids!" I exclaimed, "come look at these worms!"
Both children obediently trundled over to get a load of the squirming masses. Neither was particularly squeamish, and soon both were carrying worms to and fro about the yard.
It wasn't until several minutes later that I looked up to Child #2 happily chattering to her wriggling earth worm while standing to next to the little kiddie slide that we had earlier hauled out of the garage.
"Here you go, worm," she said, "you go down the slide. I'll give you a push."
Since the weather has broken we've ventured out into the yard again. On a recent trip to Target, the children demanded that we purchase watermelon seeds for the garden. Sure, kids, why not? Nobody likes watermelon that much, but why should that stop us from growing tons of the stuff?
While the progeny amused themselves in the yard I began to dig up the sad little strip of earth that some day will be a watermelon patch. Hoo, doggie there were a lot of worms. So I think to myself, "kids love worms!"
"Hey, kids!" I exclaimed, "come look at these worms!"
Both children obediently trundled over to get a load of the squirming masses. Neither was particularly squeamish, and soon both were carrying worms to and fro about the yard.
It wasn't until several minutes later that I looked up to Child #2 happily chattering to her wriggling earth worm while standing to next to the little kiddie slide that we had earlier hauled out of the garage.
"Here you go, worm," she said, "you go down the slide. I'll give you a push."
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Damn You, Elton John
In which your humble narrator explains how, according to Child #1, an aging British pop sensation soiled his bath tub.
I was sitting in the bathroom giving Child #1 a bath tonight. They have some bath markers, you know, for the funness. Child #1 picks up the red marker and starts scribbling all over the side of the tub. Conversation went as follows:
I'm pretty sure that the boys at preschool have something to do with his recent blood fixation. Either that or he's a vampire. Whatever.
I was sitting in the bathroom giving Child #1 a bath tonight. They have some bath markers, you know, for the funness. Child #1 picks up the red marker and starts scribbling all over the side of the tub. Conversation went as follows:
Child #1: This is Elton John's blood.
Me: Wait, what?
Child #1: This is Elton John's blood, all over the tub.
Me: How did Elton John's blood get all over the tub?
Child #1: (Waits, pondering, then:) Elton John was in the tub and he cracked.
Me: You are so weird it makes my hair hurt.
I'm pretty sure that the boys at preschool have something to do with his recent blood fixation. Either that or he's a vampire. Whatever.
Friday, April 22, 2011
The Salience of Rain Gear
In which your humble narrator goes to the library with his offspring and is caught between opposing tides of activists in his usually quiet neighborhood.
It's raining and cold (still) so after dropping Wife-a-roo at her place of employment, I drove the children back to the neighborhood, but detoured to the library a few blocks from our house.
The library is across the street from Planned Parenthood.
Today is Good Friday. I had, of course forgotten this. A pleasant (and tiny) police officer waved us into the Library/Rec Center lot after I rolled down my window and cheerfully explained that we were just here for the picture books, thank you.
Both camps were marching around in their little penned-in enclosures soliciting honks from passing drivers and waving placards. Both children spent a fair amount of time looking at the spectacle as we climbed the steps up to the library entrance.
Child #2's only comment on the circus-like atmosphere? "Look, that lady has a pink umbrella! I like it!"
It's raining and cold (still) so after dropping Wife-a-roo at her place of employment, I drove the children back to the neighborhood, but detoured to the library a few blocks from our house.
The library is across the street from Planned Parenthood.
Today is Good Friday. I had, of course forgotten this. A pleasant (and tiny) police officer waved us into the Library/Rec Center lot after I rolled down my window and cheerfully explained that we were just here for the picture books, thank you.
Both camps were marching around in their little penned-in enclosures soliciting honks from passing drivers and waving placards. Both children spent a fair amount of time looking at the spectacle as we climbed the steps up to the library entrance.
Child #2's only comment on the circus-like atmosphere? "Look, that lady has a pink umbrella! I like it!"
Monday, March 28, 2011
Your List of Lists
In which your humble narrator taxonomizes awesomeness.
It's a March round-up, y'all. First up:
Things that are Awesome
It's a March round-up, y'all. First up:
Things that are Awesome
- Archer
- Fat Tire
- Chili-Mac from scratch
- Brunch with friends whose children play with our children largely unsupervised
- When Child #1 describes his stomach bug which produced a lot of diarrhea with the statement: "My bottom is sick."
- David Bowie
- March Snow
- Wife-a-roo's "raise"
- Trader Joe's parking lots. They are designed by the Architecture Firm of Satan, Satan, & Beelzebub.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Airing Out the Winter-Musty Children
In which your humble narrator decamps from the old homestead.
It hit 40 degrees and the sun came out so the children and I left the house on booted feet to inspect the melt in the neighborhood.
Here they are pictured pontificating on some mud. A good time was had by all.
On our way past the local parochial school I overheard one small boy indignantly retort to another, "I'm not a little kid! I'm six and a half, and I play violent video games!"
It hit 40 degrees and the sun came out so the children and I left the house on booted feet to inspect the melt in the neighborhood.
On our way past the local parochial school I overheard one small boy indignantly retort to another, "I'm not a little kid! I'm six and a half, and I play violent video games!"
Saturday, March 12, 2011
No Rest for the Weary
In which your humble narrator realizes that he has spoken too soon.
Apparently one of our former Republican legislators who found himself out of job when the Pawlenty administration closed up shop managed to have himself appointed a Regent of the University in addition to his part-time gig in the Humphrey School of Public Affairs.*
From Tim Post's piece at MPR:
I'm begging you University, please stop. I'd like to go back to writing about my kids' insanity, snot and verbal abilities some time soon.
*Where he pulls in 80k per year. Part time.
Apparently one of our former Republican legislators who found himself out of job when the Pawlenty administration closed up shop managed to have himself appointed a Regent of the University in addition to his part-time gig in the Humphrey School of Public Affairs.*
From Tim Post's piece at MPR:
"At today’s board meeting Sviggum apologized to his new colleagues for putting them in an awkward position. But he told them he didn’t think his work as an instructor and a regent would conflict."Oh, gosh no. Just take his word for it.
I'm begging you University, please stop. I'd like to go back to writing about my kids' insanity, snot and verbal abilities some time soon.
*Where he pulls in 80k per year. Part time.
Friday, March 11, 2011
More Woes at The U
In which your humble narrator wonders what embarrassment to expect next.
It continues to be a lousy week at the University of Minnesota. I mean on top of previous issues.
Big budget cuts are coming, preceded by the corporatist weasel words we've all come to expect.
We're number four! We're number four! We're the fourth most corrupt athletic program in the country!
Oh, and a math professor from a lesser local University punched Goldy in the head.
At least next week is spring break. So we've probably got a week's reprieve from embarrassing scandal. I'm going to spend my time grading some papers in a modest, professional manner without embezzling, assaulting or humiliating anyone. You're welcome, University.
It continues to be a lousy week at the University of Minnesota. I mean on top of previous issues.
Big budget cuts are coming, preceded by the corporatist weasel words we've all come to expect.
We're number four! We're number four! We're the fourth most corrupt athletic program in the country!
Oh, and a math professor from a lesser local University punched Goldy in the head.
At least next week is spring break. So we've probably got a week's reprieve from embarrassing scandal. I'm going to spend my time grading some papers in a modest, professional manner without embezzling, assaulting or humiliating anyone. You're welcome, University.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Hold your applause please
In which your humble narrator burns with righteous indignity.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you my University.
Sheesh. I'm starting to feel about my academic home the same way as one of my undergraduate Religious Studies professors described his relationship to the Roman Catholic church: "Well, she may be an old whore, but she's still my Mom and I love her."
Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you my University.
Sheesh. I'm starting to feel about my academic home the same way as one of my undergraduate Religious Studies professors described his relationship to the Roman Catholic church: "Well, she may be an old whore, but she's still my Mom and I love her."
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Accidental Profanity
In which your humble narrator recalls an inadvertent insult to his sister.
Child #2 is starting to get very interested in letters and colors, even though she's not yet 2 years old. This is because she is freakishly brilliant. Also evil. This child is ornery in a way that the other one never was. This reminded me this week of when Child #1 was learning letters
Sister-of-Me was sitting in our living room while Child #1 played with some brightly colored foam letters we had gotten for him. He selected a couple of letters and toddled over to my sister and said "Look, Auntie! F! U!"
It was indeed a purple F and a yellow U, and of course, completely innocent. I fear that if Child #2 learns F and U that she may mean it.
Child #2 is starting to get very interested in letters and colors, even though she's not yet 2 years old. This is because she is freakishly brilliant. Also evil. This child is ornery in a way that the other one never was. This reminded me this week of when Child #1 was learning letters
Sister-of-Me was sitting in our living room while Child #1 played with some brightly colored foam letters we had gotten for him. He selected a couple of letters and toddled over to my sister and said "Look, Auntie! F! U!"
It was indeed a purple F and a yellow U, and of course, completely innocent. I fear that if Child #2 learns F and U that she may mean it.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Mailbag
In which your humble narrator remembers to answer the queries in the mailbag.
Dear Rotten Baby,
I live near the St. Croix River and there's this weird smell around my house lately. Sort of like charred Gouda? What's up with that?
-Cheesily Confused
Dear C.C.,
The offending odor wafting over the frozen St. Croix is the state of Wisconsin going up in flames. Since "America's Dairyland" contains the highest concentration of cultured dairy products in the nation, you're experiencing some off-gassing from the labor struggles of our neighbors to the east.
You see, C.C., in the past election everyone decided that they were pissed off because a historic financial collapse 15 years in the making wasn't solved in 18 months. Therefore the peoples were filled with anger and decided pretty much to vote against incumbents all over the place to "send a message." That message was "I is super angry! Also dumb! Mostly I just want someone to validate my feelings because I am a whiny, petulant crybaby electorate." And now everything is perfect forever. Hooray!
Dear Rotten Baby,
Will the stupid winter never end? Seriously? 74.9 inches of snow so far this winter. I'm tired of looking at it, driving in it and shoveling it.
-Tired of The Snow
Deat TOTS,
Your imitation of a repining weasel leaves me breathless. Of course winter will end. What apparently won't end is your constant litany of complaint about things over which you can exert no influence what-so-ever. Please, learn a lesson from the local Scandihoovians and bear this burden stoically for a change.
Dear Rotten Baby,
While it's clear to everyone that you make up letters to answer in this feature, you seem especially vituperative lately. Does setting up imbecilic straw men to pummel make you feel like some sort of big man?
-Concerned Reader
Dear C.R.
Yes.
Dear Rotten Baby,
I live near the St. Croix River and there's this weird smell around my house lately. Sort of like charred Gouda? What's up with that?
-Cheesily Confused
Dear C.C.,
The offending odor wafting over the frozen St. Croix is the state of Wisconsin going up in flames. Since "America's Dairyland" contains the highest concentration of cultured dairy products in the nation, you're experiencing some off-gassing from the labor struggles of our neighbors to the east.
You see, C.C., in the past election everyone decided that they were pissed off because a historic financial collapse 15 years in the making wasn't solved in 18 months. Therefore the peoples were filled with anger and decided pretty much to vote against incumbents all over the place to "send a message." That message was "I is super angry! Also dumb! Mostly I just want someone to validate my feelings because I am a whiny, petulant crybaby electorate." And now everything is perfect forever. Hooray!
Dear Rotten Baby,
Will the stupid winter never end? Seriously? 74.9 inches of snow so far this winter. I'm tired of looking at it, driving in it and shoveling it.
-Tired of The Snow
Deat TOTS,
Your imitation of a repining weasel leaves me breathless. Of course winter will end. What apparently won't end is your constant litany of complaint about things over which you can exert no influence what-so-ever. Please, learn a lesson from the local Scandihoovians and bear this burden stoically for a change.
Dear Rotten Baby,
While it's clear to everyone that you make up letters to answer in this feature, you seem especially vituperative lately. Does setting up imbecilic straw men to pummel make you feel like some sort of big man?
-Concerned Reader
Dear C.R.
Yes.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Nobody Nose the Trouble I've Seen
In which your humble narrator titles a post with an excruciating pun, curses evolutionary biology and slowly returns to the land of the living.
Having caught yet another cold after only a month of relative health, last week, I proceeded to get another infection of my maxillary, ethmoid and frontal sinuses. Fortunately for me my regular doctor had referred me to an Ear, Nose and Throat specialist after the last round and my appointment conveniently fell just as I got sick with the latest plague.
The charming ENT doc numbed up my face and shoved a large scary metal thing up my right nostril to have a bit of a look around while making the ever reassuring comment "Yeah, it's pretty gross in here." I shouldn't complain, she was really very pleasant about the whole thing, and she vacuumed out my sinuses free of charge, leaving me without congestion for at least a half hour. After a sample of some snot from somewhere in the vicinity of my right eyeball and a few blood tests, it was concluded that I was severely infected with some hideous bacterial agent. After a few days of unpleasant antibiotics, I am at least feeling human again.
Evolutionary biologists have not come to a consensus as to the adaptive purpose of the sinuses in the human head, to which I inquire: "What the hell are you evolutionary biologists spending all your research dollars on? 'Field research' in Vegas? Coke binges? Betting on the ponies?"
Having caught yet another cold after only a month of relative health, last week, I proceeded to get another infection of my maxillary, ethmoid and frontal sinuses. Fortunately for me my regular doctor had referred me to an Ear, Nose and Throat specialist after the last round and my appointment conveniently fell just as I got sick with the latest plague.
The charming ENT doc numbed up my face and shoved a large scary metal thing up my right nostril to have a bit of a look around while making the ever reassuring comment "Yeah, it's pretty gross in here." I shouldn't complain, she was really very pleasant about the whole thing, and she vacuumed out my sinuses free of charge, leaving me without congestion for at least a half hour. After a sample of some snot from somewhere in the vicinity of my right eyeball and a few blood tests, it was concluded that I was severely infected with some hideous bacterial agent. After a few days of unpleasant antibiotics, I am at least feeling human again.
Evolutionary biologists have not come to a consensus as to the adaptive purpose of the sinuses in the human head, to which I inquire: "What the hell are you evolutionary biologists spending all your research dollars on? 'Field research' in Vegas? Coke binges? Betting on the ponies?"
Friday, February 4, 2011
Morality Play in One Act
In which your humble narrator relates the spirit of goodness in Child #1.
To begin, some background. Child #1 goes to the local liberal Jewish preschool. We picked this school for several reasons. First, it's only 2 miles away. Second, they offer generous financial assistance. And third, and most important, the preschool teachers at this school are ladies of a certain age who have been teaching preschool since your humble narrator was a wee tyke. Preschools should be run by sweet little old ladies. Child #1's teacher is named Joannie.
The Scene: our car on the way home after preschool.
To begin, some background. Child #1 goes to the local liberal Jewish preschool. We picked this school for several reasons. First, it's only 2 miles away. Second, they offer generous financial assistance. And third, and most important, the preschool teachers at this school are ladies of a certain age who have been teaching preschool since your humble narrator was a wee tyke. Preschools should be run by sweet little old ladies. Child #1's teacher is named Joannie.
The Scene: our car on the way home after preschool.
Child #1: I have to do a good deed.I'm so relieved that we won't have to endure the trauma of him being rude to the tooth paste. And I know the tooth brush couldn't handle it.
Me: What?
Child #1: Joannie said I have to do a good deed. I have to.
Me: Okay. So what are you going to do?
Child #1: A good deed. Joannie said so.
Me: Yeah, but what kind of good deed?
Child #1: I will brush my teeth politely. (Yells) It's a mitzvah!
Thursday, February 3, 2011
It's a New Year in Hate
In which your humble narrator brings the mad dizdain* to five offending abominations.
** See? If I had said "utilizing the word 'utilize'" I would be a heinous douche.
- My house, she is the structural equivalent of the type of crack-addled, welfare queen that only exists in Republicans' imaginations. She always needs something. A roof, a furnace, a new water heater, new toilets, et cetera, et cetera, ad nauseum.
- The intimation from students that I'm supposed to respond to emails sent after 9:00 p.m. within an hour or two. Here's the deal students, my kids go to bed at 7:00. Then it's Me time which involves equal quantities of beer and Netflix streaming. Then I go to bed.
- Using** the word "utilize" instead of the word "use." Seriously, why?
- George Stephanopolous. This one isn't entirely rational. He just bugs me.
- The recent decision on the part of Child #2 to stop saying "no" and "yes" but rather to say "nope" and "yep" which are, in case you didn't infer it on your own, completely impossible to distinguish between when she's got a damn pacifier in her mouth.
** See? If I had said "utilizing the word 'utilize'" I would be a heinous douche.
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