Triptophan Withdrawal

Well, we made it back safe and sound, and the day will be spent pulling out Christmas decorations, and visiting our Disney On Ice friends...

Tomorrow Deb and I are taking the week off from "MISSION: Monday" due to the Holiday, but we will be back on Monday Dec 8 with 3 new blogs and a GRAND PRIZE ANNOUNCEMENT!!

In the meantime, after we get all this holiday crap out of boxes, tomorrow I am gonna post a couple of pictures of some of our favorite holiday things...I hope you will come sign a Mr. Linky, and do the same.

Happy Sunday.

I also give thanks for...

What's more, I also give thanks for...

them.

I give thanks for...

Today, and everyday, I give thanks for...

her.

WW - Nothing is completely as it seems...

This holiday season, as we begrudgingly go to spend a special day with one person who we could care less about seeing, remember one thing.

Everyone has something inside that you may like.
This year, see if you can find it.







This is an enormous tree near my house that some generous soul lights with tens of thousands of LEDs every year, and people come from all over to photograph. All those lights out to the absolute extremities of its branches. It is a truly amazing sight.

If you are new to my blog, or if you have a WW or a post you are proud of today, leave me a comment and a Mr Linky below so I can come visit yours!








Thanks again to Angie for another ragin' Wordful Wednesday...

Here's how its done...#5 Use Protection, Please.

Two new blogger tips today...

But before we get to the main course, when is the last time you backed up your blog?

"Um...back up...my blog?"

Yep, just because your blog sits on a field of Google servers doesn't mean it couldn't be lost, hijacked, spammed, or deleted accidentally by...you. If you are blogging on "Blogger", then this nifty little program will be just for you...The Blogger Backup Utility. Download it, and use it. It backs up your posts, template, images, comments, the whole kit and caboodle.

Next, we all know it's crucial to protect ourselves on the internet, but are you protecting your computer, files, and memories FROM the internet?

Virus protection is a no-brainer these days, I know, but one question...are you paying for it? You really don't need to...There is a GREAT and FREE virus protection package out there called AVG that has been rated very highly by multiple credible sources...CNET gave it 5 stars, and PC Magazine wrote:

"AVG Free offers very good (and very free) protection against viruses and spyware—just a tad better than free competitor avast!. As a bonus, its real-time LinkScanner technology keeps you from clicking search links to dangerous sites. It's an excellent choice if you need free protection against both viruses and spyware."

So the next time your virus suite tries to bill you $80 for annual protection, give it the boot...I have run AVG successfully on 3 computers at home for 4 years now, without issue. And equally as important, without cost.

Snip, Snip, Waddle

So, let's talk about this vasectomy thing.

And I fully understand that the vast majority of you reading this are women, and the obvious reactions and comments will involve comparisons to childbirth, hysterectomies, menstrual cramps, chronic UTIs, LEEPs, and something about making bread. I get that you have it worse, and better, and that you are simply better creatures. I get it.

But today, I want to ask you to put on your phallus and stepchildren (figuratively), look down at your new boy junk as you might normally gaze upon your own girl bits, (and I know you do this, I married one of you) and consider the following scenario.

You are standing in the procedure room with your Urologist and a pretty nurse with nothing between them and your insecurities but a wafer-thin cotton shroud. Despite having spent your life trying to protect your treasure trove from random eyes and injury, here you stand today having given permission to a guy with multiple needles and a small knife to approach your babymaker with intent to maim.

The shroud goes up, and despite the number of times you told yourself that you would not watch the expression of the pretty nurse when door number 1 went up to reveal the 9:30am prize, you look. And though you told your wife that she would be the last woman to gaze upon your self-importance outside of the morgue, today nurse Betty gets to see what 6 months of anticipation and a cold procedure room do to the male form. Blissfully, the shrinkage and scenario force a joke into your mind long enough to miss whatever reaction Betty had to your offering:

"It's like a penis, only smaller."

We turn our attention to Dr. Scalpel, who is intent on avoiding your concerns, and has produced a needle, which he takes under the tent for a little crowd warmup before the main event. Only the needle has brought a friend as well...hellfire. It's a party now.

Next Dr. Beelzebub reaches for his knife, which you immediately think is WAY too small to be a threat, and then quickly scold yourself for wishing for a LARGER cutting untinsel. Shame on you, moron. There are scissors, some snipping, some cutting, sawing, retrieval, more snipping, tying, some origami, and one blowtorch.

One blowtorch.

"Is it that much of a threat to you, Dr. Jellyfinger? When I was here 6 months ago and you had your arm in my rectum up to the elbow playing proctological hand puppets, you don't think you did enough damage to my self-esteem? Now you want to play matchmaker for your blowtorch and my scrotum?"

As you are standing there drawing a mental image of Dr. Kevorkian's early demise, the sickening smell of burning flesh enters your olfactory awareness, a small wisp of smoke escapes the tent, nurse Betty grimaces ever-so-slightly, and a voice rises from below:

"Don't mind me, I'm just having a weenie roast."

How many times have you said that one, you sick bastard...head swimming now, dizzy, concerned looks, helping you back into your clothes, and some reassuring notes from the doctor...

"We're gonna need you to come back in 4 weeks to give us a sample to make sure everything...took."

(................whatthefu.................)

Pushing you towards the door now, the 9:35am cutting board is already in the hall. Hands you a copy of your disclaimer and, you assume, your warranty...and directing you to the window to PAY for all of the above.


Now, ladies, I have never had a vasectomy. The wife is asking, and I am considering...but all of the above is what my mind has done to the prospect of being gelded. Will somebody hold my hand? Emotionally, that is...Betty doesnt need more female companionship in the procedure room.

This is why you do it BEFORE you move in.

This is the way we spend $6k
spend $6k
spend $6k
This is the way we spend $6k
so earl-I-in the mornin'

This is the way we tear up sh*t
tear up sh*t
tear up sh*t
This is the way we tear up sh*t
so earl-I-in the mornin'

This is the way we O-ver pay
O-ver pay
O-ver pay
This is the way we O-ver pay
so earl-I-in the mornin'

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

WW- How to eat chocolate when no one is watching.

I couldn't find inspiration in the topics that MamaKat had outlined today, so I am creating my own. Call it marching to the beat of my own drum, call it childish insolence, whatever. I call this topic, "how to find a private moment with your best friend."

1. Location - selecting your environment is crucial. Pick a location that will allow for noise, but also will allow you the time needed to move through all the steps without interruption. I prefer the kitchen which has quick access to a deep trash can, and allows me a field of vision that will alert me to intruders. But certainly the privacy of your car works as well.

2. Variety and Quantity - This is personal preference, and certainly the quantity is between you, your God, your arteries, and your life coach. When it comes to chocolate, I prefer "brown", and all that it encompasses. Just no nuts. Nuts are a distraction. Creamy center? Absolutely. Amend the nut comment- Cadbury Fruit and Nut.

I also prefer the small, individually wrapped sort, the kind you put in the holiday bowl for when your guests come over, but that have to be refilled because you put them out WAY too far in advance of guests. I like the small ones, since you can have it in your mind that you are just going to have four, but then you accidentally grabbed five, it's strangely...ok. And you can always go back to the bowl...you know...for dessert.

3. Preparation - Whatever you do, DO NOT unwrap them all at once. If you do this, and then are tempted to pop them in your mouth one at a time, you will be melting chocolate with your fingers. Bad move. Melting is the mouth's work. Instead, unwrap them one at a time, popping each in it's turn in your mouth.

Do you know why this is so crucial? It's about TEXTURE. I'll explain.

4. Execution - Especially in the case of Hershey's Kisses or simple bricks of plain dark chocolate, rate and quantity are the key. The moment of bliss will come when you can feel the first piece melting and running around your gums, and then you throw one last virgin piece on top of the others, creating a mouthful of chocolate in varying stages of decomposition. At this point, savor, but don't swallow. And PRAY that no one comes in the room, necessitating flushing your Picasso down the esophageal toilet.

Swallow in sections now, releasing what you need to in order to in order to explore the remaining treasure. Work at a speed that is comfortable for you and your hiatal hernia, and sadly finish. Realize that your hand has been gripped around the empty wrappers for the past seven minutes, and place them down the side of the brimming trash can so as to avoid their detection.

5. Repeat - If you think that your time is still in abundance, along with your needs, you may repeat the above steps. Depending on how many times you return to the bowl, make a note to buy a replacement bag tomorrow so as to avoid any inquisition.

6. Milk. - Finally, when your palate has moved into the post-coital aftermath stage, drink milk from the gallon jug off the door of the fridge. This will be a pleasure in itself, but will also aid in the hiding of evidence. Swish it around. Swallow. Sigh. Head upstairs to the bathtime screams, and try not to think about the pimples packing their bags excitedly for their vacation at Your Face.


I can already hear my wife's words as I finish reading this instructional:

"You really do this??"

Thanks to the lovely MamaKat for her creation of the Writer's Workshop, and for setting the stage for this pathetic confessional.

WW - Swing loowww...Sweet Chariot....

Child Protective Services has wonderful employees. We have met many of them over the past 4 years. To our CPS families, Happy Holidays to you and yours, and we will see you at the hearing.




If you are new to my blog, leave me a comment so I can come visit yours... If you are a returnee, then you know what is expected of you. ;-)

Also, do you have a better caption for the photo above? I'd love to hear it! er...See it! er...Read...aw hell..whatever...






Thanks again to Angie for another ragin' Wordful Wednesday...

WAL-MART NEWSFLASH

First off, I have an unconfirmed report that Wal-Mart may have upped the price of Oak Leaf wine to $2.97. This is a stunning blow to those of us who have been drinking it after your 4yr old throws her 78th fit of the day and you finally get her to bed, and reach for a bottle.

I will be pushing past my liver pain and trekking to the local Wal-Mart with Wal-Mart Bingo Card in hand today (Thanks, Candice, you smelly pirate hooker) to verify this tragic development, and will report back.

And to those of you who tried this wine and threw it back in my face for it not being the second coming, I think you may have missed the frickin' point...

It's not a great wine. It's an average wine.

It's a GREAT wine...................for $2.88.

It's a MIRACULOUS wine..............for $2.88.

Now, for $2.97......................we'll see.

Who did this. WHO the HELL DID THIS??!!

the horror...the...horror...



$2.97, and out of stock. If you need me, I'll be in my room.

The hottest girl in a very small school.

I first kissed a girl in 1984. Not the book, the year. True to some Orwellian prophecy however, people watched me do it, and I was confused and terrified the entire time.

Now you must understand, I had kissed girls before. A couple of Barbies will attest to the fact that I had normal male urges...I simply lacked supporting actresses. Being a somewhat sheltered teenage boy and the little brother to a hellcat older sister, I had not yet seen much action, clearly.

Always husky and pimple-ridden, my high school experience in Holland had been a 3 year collection of sub-par sports performances, grades only good enough to keep me out of a special education program, quite a bit of Southern Comfort and 7up, and Marlboro Lights. And hash. Plenty of hash. In retrospect, maybe it was the Black Afghan that kept the girls away and made exams...foggy.

So one night I headed to our school-funded gathering place, "The Hole", to finish out an evening with my extremely small clique after a full evening of 16 year old drinking at one of my fav bars. I say "one of", as I had been patronizing the local bar scene since the tender age of FOURTEEN. It boggles the mind of a parent now, that Queen Beatrix in all her wisdom believed that there is nothing wrong with a 14yr old drinking whiskey as long as they wash it down with cheese, fried food and chocolate. Just don't drive.

So, The Hole. Enter Jay, standing coolly at the doorway in my fartootightformyphysique jeans, docksiders with no socks, blue buttondown (no logo, couldn't afford Izod or Polo), Varsity letter jacket with no tournament patches, pins, or anything at all to signify I was more than a 3rd stringer. Polo cologne, all pimples popped. Ready for ...companionship.

And there she was. Suzan. The most beautiful girl in the school by many accounts, with her long flowing blond hair, angelic face, and I am stopping at the neck. But be advised, she looked...nice.

She had often said hello to me, and I had often wondered what was wrong with her for doing so. Sometimes gave me a hug, sometimes an intriguing glance, but certainly every encounter was a trophy in my poorly stocked relationship case. And once again she turned, saw me, and smiled.

Now, to describe my lack of experience would not do it justice. So I will paint the picture this way, and I am quite serious when I say, my version of "running the bases" was slightly different from most...a home run would be inked on my scorecard if I got a slow dance from Suzan.

I approached her, summoning every ounce of courage I had to ask the question, at which she smiled brightly, took my hand, and led me to the dance floor...which was...empty. She grabbed me, settled into an embrace, and I entered the gates of Heaven under the watchful eyes of many from our small school.

It was like...well, it is at this point I run out of words...to hold someone that beautiful, swaying with her, smelling her hair...it was like...

She suddenly pulled back from me, looked deeply into my deer-in-a-headlight gaze, and kissed me. Not a peck, mind you, not a teaser, she planted one. A big one. A wet one. I felt her tongue, and realized I was outmatched, and unprepared. Suzan had been around the track, and I, in my Radio Flyer, was having a hard time keeping up with her Andretti-like advance.

But it was a hell of a ride.

We kissed, and kissed, and kissed, for what seemed like hours, but may have just been the duration of "Hotel California" Then, taking my hand again, she led me from the dance floor through a shocked throng of gaping-mouthed friends to start our three month "romance". At the end of three months, you see, and with that jewel on my arm, I began to summon the stares of more girls, and like the proverbial kid in the candy shop, I broke up with the lovely Suzan.

Pretty sure she was tired of coddling me through our makeouts anyway.

Wherever you are today, Suzan, I wish you health and happiness, and I thank you for taking a chance on a nerd like me.



Thanks to the lovely MamaKat for her creation of the Writer's Workshop, and for setting the stage for this pathetic confessional.

Adults and "the tolerant" only, please.

WARNING...I am combining a Photostory Friday and a blog recommendation in this post. Only, the blog in question is not for the faint of heart, or humor. That is to say, if you are even REMOTELY easily offended, click away, and come back tomorrow. Some/MOST of the content found in the aforementioned blog is crude, crude, crude, and hysterical. So if that is not your thing, simply don't go there. That being said, for the rest of you, enjoy the show.

I want to tell you about a woman I met. It is a rarity that I find someone who makes me laugh out loud in a Wal-Mart parking lot like she did today, and even rarer still that I laugh so hard I am afraid I may pee. And I have PHENOM control...ask my wife...I have been known to say, "Boy, I really have to pee", and then 4 hours later realize I haven't gone yet. A bladder like a leather saddle bag. Anyway, I digress... The point I am ungracefully trying to make is...she cracks me up...BIG.

From time to time, I like to show you blogs I like, love, respect, or that simply slay me...and this one is the latter. So along the lines of PhotoStory Friday, let me show you some of her work...and if you decide you want to click over to her, you will find the link below. But again, be advised...this blog could be construed as off color to...well...many. Me, I think it's frickin' hilarious.

May God and Tom Cruise be with us all this day.

Regarding her homosexual cats...




And this should hit home for many of us...





Behold, the lovely...Candice. You are one click away from being in her head. Now's the time to back away and pray. And for those of you who haven't bookmarked me, make sure you do...I pull crap like this all the time...leave me a comment and let me know how much I offend/insult/invade/inspire/slay you.

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

Feel the Burn.

I seriously feel like this every time I try to work out.



If you are new to my blog, leave me a comment so I can come visit yours... If you are a returnee, then you know what is expected of you. ;-)

Also, do you hav a better caption for the photo above? I'd love to hear it! er...See it! er...Read...aw hell..whatever...







Thanks again to Angie for another ragin' Wordful Wednesday...

Somebody seriously owes me for this one.

Deb over at DirtySocksandPizza is in the process of pulling a winner for MISSION: Monday...go see who won...

And then come back and behold...The Suburban Fotie.



During these tough economic times, we should all be looking out for one another. Today, I introduce you to Oak Leaf Merlot, from the slightly liberal but always beautiful state of Northern KAH-LEE-FO-NYA.

What makes this wine so special, you might ask? Why should I break away from my Clos-du-Bois, my Menage-a Trois, or my Mad Dog 20 20? Why should I put stock in any wine that you claim to be entirely drinkable and even downright pleasant?

Don't take it from me, take it from Frickin' Sam Walton himself.

That's right, my skeptical friends...read it and weep.

Wal-Mart, $2.88

As in, twofrickineightyeight, yo. As in, I felt ridiculous pouring it in anything but a paper cup, but I dressed the pig anyway.

Don't believe me. Pay $14 a bottle for your preferred label. OR...you COULD pull a switcheroo with your regular swill, and see if your hubby can even tell the diff. Watch his face light up when you tell him the price. And then build a small shrine in the corner of your dining room to a guy you have never met, and who didn't steer you wrong.

And finally, to my non-imbibing friends, I know this may not appeal to you. Fortunately, soon enough there will be a national, government run healthcare plan that will enable me to quit my job and accept the free healthcare paid for by hard working honest and sober Americans like yourselves. Free healthcare that will be IN ADDITION to the ALREADY FREE healthcare that the underprivileged in our country enjoy. Thanks for looking out for me...it was killing me having to get up and go to work everyday to pay for my own healthcare coverage. When the Vodka and Oak Leaf turn my umbrella-sized liver that final shade of magenta, I will be so grateful that I didn't have to pay for my own medical costs. Not to mention I have LOVED how our China-sized government bureaucracy has run Social Security, Medicare, and the Welfare system. Can't WAIT for them to get their grubby paws on healthcare.

And before you softies fire off a nasty comment, know this: I LIKE Obama. I didn't vote for him, but I LIKE him, and I HOPE for him. At the same time, I simply don't agree with some of his solutions for our country. (And to be further fair, I don't agree with a bunch of the Republican agenda either) But one thing is for sure...if it wasn't enough for our taxes to cover county hospitals before, now we may get to pay even MORE to insure the uninsured. Make me a believer, President-Elect Obama. If you are going to create another national entitlement program to go with our current list of failed/ing national entitlement programs, make us one that WORKS, and that we can be proud of.

Until then, my plan is to quit work, buy cheap wine, and enjoy the good life.

With the money I am gonna be saving on alcohol and x-rays, I should have enough for a rockin' funeral.


"Satire is a sort of glass, wherein beholders do generally discover everybody's face but their own"--Jonathan Swift

Sunday, Bloody Sunday...in Real Time

I have often complained of the weekend, particularly of the days when my wife works, and I am left to calm the herd. So today I will be taking you through the day on my blog...a moment by moment account of the action. And yes, I am aware that I am probably making the day worse by taking my eye off the ball. I make this sacrifice in the name of entertainment. Check back throughout the day...the action may be fast and furious. I welcome your comments of support or criticism throughout the day...Hope you enjoy. (Remember, tomorrow is MISSION: Monday with a great new giveaway!!)

---

Jay's Selfishness, Sarcasm, & Negativity Real-Time Feed

---

7:20pm   Lights out. Crossing the finish line. The irony of today has been that I set out to show you what a complete and utter disaster Sundays are, and of course, end up having a pretty damn good one, relatively speaking. Regardless, I still am sitting here feeling like I got hit by a Babies-R-Us truck, but on the grand scale of weekends, not too shabby. Now it's time to clean the kitchen, and prepare the Sunday night grocery shopping list...am I the only husband you know that goes grocery shopping by himself on Sunday nights? Pretty sure I am... Thanks to all of you for coming along for the ride today, and for your words of encouragement and condescension. ;-)

7:18pm   Reading C her story...a LONG story about Fuzzy the rabbit...gets all the way to the last page and asks...
"Who is Fuzzy?
"Um...the rabbit?"
"Oh." Thinks for a minute...
"Why did I get 2 treats today?"
"Because you were a very good girl again today."
"YAY!! Tomorrow I am gonna be a REALLY good girl."
It would appear that today I taught my daughter about commerce. And bribery.

7:00pm   Putting B to bed...brushed his teeth, read his fav book...carrying him over to his crib and...spits up red Jello. Back to changing table, brushing teeth again, ignoring smell of baby vomit. Didnt seem to bother him, and I sure know I loved it.

6:18pm   C just saw the picture of her and B and said, "Awwwww, we're so cute!!!"

6:00pm   Ahh, Mr. Murphy...SO predictable to see you. Thanks so much for encouraging B to spill an entire carton of milk on himself...really...nice move.

5:45pm   Jello. There's always room for Jello. Check to make sure I am pulling the non-Stoli variety out of the fridge for the kids...

5:15pm   Dinner run...scream, laugh, scream, laugh, scream. Ordering dinner has never been so easy with the category 4 hurricane in the back seat.

4:15pm   Just bribed the kids to eat frozen peas for a snack instead of fig newtons or worse...told them I would take them to eat a special dinner if they ate their peas...again contributing to the weight problem in this country by making food a struggle AND a reward.

4:10pm   hey! Jenny J just gave me an award, the world's LARGEST, in fact...I may have to start a whole new blog to simply accommodate it!

4:00pm   Wassup, pimp. I dont think B understands about "bling" yet. But certainly the dog will be thrilled that the kids are using the dog toys to entertain themselves, and STILL no one is playing with the dog.

3:45pm   Um...ok..found them.

3:40pm   C was sweet and got to have a treat, B woke up crying, but quickly resolved with the right book on the changing table...Ok, seriously, this is the frickin twilight zone...where are my CRAPPY kids?

3:20pm   What the...a 2.5 hour NAP??!! This day is lookin' UP!! (maybe I went a little heavy on the benadryl...)

12:30pm   Both kids down for nap without issue...maybe I'll just...ZZZZZZZZZZ

11:55am   Lunch. Don't ask me what they ate. At some point Child Protective Services will be FORCED to act.

11:25am   Tried a walk around the block...the neighbors came out to see what the screaming was about. Took them back to the house, and re-shackled them.

10:48am   C yells out of bathroom "Do you want me to wipe, or you wipe?"
"You wipe", I reply.
"I already did."
"Then...why...never mind.."

10:20am   2 tantrums...here we go. One snack related, one missing mommy, which is a sure sign of suspect male parenting.

10:00am    Ok...2 kids up, one breakfast, one snack, and just realized I have not ingested anything yet this morning. Start with coffee, see how it goes. So far so good, giving the morning a B- so far. Apart from the 3:30 fiasco...pretty optimistic of me, huh?

9:10am    Fishtooters. Big one.

9:09am   Ok...B has been asleep for 15 hours and Nana freaked me out about that, so we are going to wake him up.


8:32   C finished dressing and redressing. Very proud. Hello Kitty? Check. Hanna Montana? Check. Anti-psychotic washed down with sodium bicarb? Check. Waiting patiently for Nana to call...we LOVE us some Nana. Wait...just realized I am being a selfish cheap bastard...calling Nana now.


8:27am   Wife calls...no explanation for the lack of kiss. Sweet of her to spare my feelings. She must have been focused on keeping her makeup fresh for someone at work...note to self...hire P.I.

8:25   C wants to paint. Translation: C wants to get paint everywhere and cause B to throw a fit during breakfast because he wants to put his hand in paint.

7:35am   C wants english muffin, dog wants out of bed. Everybody wants something. Leave me the hell alone. Get muffins out of freezer in freezing garage, stand with dog out in freezing cold to verify we have poopage. Gonna HAVE to put on more clothes...

7:16am   C walks out of office, and then rips off her first string of "fish tooters", as she calls them. Turns around, giggles. First of many.

7:15am   C wanders into office to ask: "Do you want me to get dressed?"
"You can if you want", I reply.
"No, Dad, I asked you a question."
It's official, she IS my daughter.

6:34am   Into the living room to remove pullup. C has clearly invited friends over during the night to help her fill it...brimming...

6:31am   C is coming down the stairs, and will throw the first fit of the day if she doesn't get to say goodbye to wife. Grab her, run outside in the freezing cold for kiss. MAJOR crisis averted.

6:30am   Wife says goodbye, but no kiss. Breath must be simply horrific.

6:15am   Wife is trying to hack her way through the vanity with her hairspray can...I am sure of it. Hairdryer is the loudest available on the market.

5:30am   Wife gets up for work. Starts 30 minute shower. Sleep is now fitful at best.

3:30am   B wakes up and starts screaming. Wife rolls over, slaps me, tells me to go see what's wrong. Get out of bed in a sleep-interrupted stupor. Make it to the bottom of the stairs. B stops crying, goes back to sleep. Step on toy. Back to bed.