Today is Kevin's wife's birthday. It is also the date their daughter was diagnosed with juvenile myositis. This is their story.
Our pediatrician admitted it early on.
The rash on our 2-year-old daughter's cheeks, joints and legs was something he'd never seen before.
The next doctor wouldn't admit to not knowing.
He rattled off the names of several skins conditions -- none of them seemingly worth his time or bedside manner -- then quickly prescribed antibiotics and showed us the door.
The third doctor admitted she didn't know much.
The biopsy of the chunk of skin she had removed from our daughter's knee showed signs of an "allergic reaction" even though we had ruled out every allergy source -- obvious and otherwise -- that we could.
The fourth doctor had barely closed the door behind her when, looking at the limp blonde cherub in my lap, she admitted she had seen this before. At least one too many times before.
She brought in a gaggle of med students. She pointed out each of the physical symptoms in our daughter:
The rash across her face and temples resembling the silhouette of a butterfly.
The purple-brown spots and smears, called heliotrope, on her eyelids.
The reddish alligator-like skin, known as Gottron papules, covering the knuckles of her hands.
The onset of crippling muscle weakness in her legs and upper body.
She then had an assistant bring in a handful of pages photocopied from an old medical textbook. She handed them to my wife, whose birthday it happened to be that day.
This was her gift -- a diagnosis for her little girl.
That was seven years ago -- Oct. 2, 2002 -- the day our daughter was found to have juvenile dermatomyositis, one of a family of rare autoimmune diseases that can have debilitating and even fatal consequences when not treated quickly and effectively.
Our daughter's first year with the disease consisted of surgical procedures, intravenous infusions, staph infections, pulmonary treatments and worry. Her muscles were too weak for her to walk or swallow solid food for several months. When not in the hospital, she sat on our living room couch, propped up by pillows so she wouldn't tip over, as medicine or nourishment dripped from a bag into her body.
Our daughter, Thing 1, Megan, now age 9, remembers little of that today when she dances or sings or plays soccer. All that remain with her are scars, six to be exact, and the array of pills she takes twice a day to help keep the disease at bay.
What would have happened if it took us more than two months and four doctors before we lucked into someone who could piece all the symptoms together? I don't know.
I do know that the fourth doctor, the one who brought in others to see our daughter's condition so they could easily recognize it if they ever had the misfortune to be presented with it again, was a step toward making sure other parents also never have to find out.
That, too, is my purpose today.
It is also my birthday gift to my wife, My Love, Rhonda, for all you have done these past seven years to make others aware of juvenile myositis diseases and help find a cure for them once and for all.
To read more about children and families affected by juvenile myositis diseases, visit Cure JM Foundation at www.curejm.org.
To make a tax-deductible donation toward JM research, go to www.firstgiving.com/rhondaandkevinmckeever or www.curejm.com/team/donations.htm.
Cure Juvenile Myositis Awareness Day
What If We’re All Just Fictions In The Mind Of Some Trippy Dude Named Black Hockey Jesus?
Talk about amazing coincidences! I took my family to Myrtle Beach for vacation and asked Black Hockey Jesus to write a guest post for me. But get this! It's so crazy. It's like we're all part of some Cosmic Plan orchestrated by the Unfathomable Wisdom of the Universe. Black Hockey Jesus actually LIVES in Myrtle Beach and here we are, together, doing a live blog interview.
CHAG: What's up, BHJ?
BLACK HOCKEY JESUS (nervous): I am very happy to be here, Chag. It is very nice to meet you in person and to be featured on your very popular blog, Cynical Dad. I should stop saying "very" so much. I am honored to be here and excited. However, I am nonetheless very relaxed and unnervous? Wait. Is unnervous even a word?
CHAG: No. I don't think so.
BHJ: Damn! Shit! Damn shit! Can we edit that? Can we just scratch that part where I say I'm unnervous?
CHAG: Don't worry about it, BHJ. Let's just move along. First question. You've only been blogging for a month, but you seem to be doing well for yourself. How have you managed to make such a big splash in such a short amount of time?
BHJ: I have no idea. It's been totally crazy. But I'll tell you exactly what I did, Chag. No secrets. First, I read a million books in my early 20s in search of Truth & Beauty and other Important Junk until I had a philosophical crisis and peered into this totally rad infinite abyss filled with chaos & fire. Then I wandered around minding my own business for 10 years just doing all kinds of different stuff and thinking. When I started the blog, I approached it like 2 jobs. The first and most important job was to write the best posts I possibly could. The second was to figure out who was who in the blog world and to try and make an impact. I visited 500,000 blogs and found the people who were on every single blog roll. Then I read all those popular blogs and tried to make funny or intelligent comments on their posts, hoping they would check me out and like what they found. My first big break was when Baby On Bored liked my post about the Fat Bald Retarded Kid and mentioned me in her blog. Then Jenny The Bloggess mentioned me on Twitter and put me in The Houston Chronicle 3 times. The only reason anybody reads me is because of Baby On Bored and Jenny The Bloggess. They completely rule the universe. I have this totally sweet fantasy where my wife has a perverse midlife sexual awakening and decides she's down with a threesome. I look her in the eyes and tell her that I love her like ancient waters love the blue mountains. Coincidentally, at the same time, Baby On Bored's husband has an affair with Rachel Bilson and leaves her and Jenny The Bloggess's husband ditches her because she's a total nut job. So anyway they both find out about this threesome (because I boast about it heartily on my blog) and they plan a fight to the death at Mandalay Bay in Las Vegas for the right to be in the mix with me & my wife. It's called the Wrangle For The Triangle and it stirs up this whole media frenzy. But right before the fight begins, I leap in the ring, declare that there's enough of me to go around, and we all move to Utah. Isn't that one of the dopest fantasies you've ever heard, Chag?
CHAG: Well… that's actually a nice lead into the next question. Your blog seems to revolve around fantasy and imagination and the way they intermingle with reality. Could you say a little bit about that?
BHJ: Sure. In fact, I don't even make a very big distinction between fantasy and "reality" because fantasies are such a big part of my reality. Fantasies are reality. Imagination is real. Sure, things happen in the concrete world. Then all of a sudden you're imagining a bunch of stuff. These experiences occur seamlessly. All day long. I talk to my daughter. I think of my dead friend. A guy cuts me in line. I imagine busting his mouth open all bloody & toothless. This back and forth movement is what my entire life is made of, like waves coming and going on the ocean shore. I also frequently use a postmodern device where I reveal my posts to be self-conscious artifacts rather than transparent representations of "real" life. The posts aren't really real and I like to have them announce this and expose themselves.
CHAG: What do you mean exactly, BHJ? I'm not following.
BHJ: Well, for instance, you're not really interviewing me, are you Chag? You're actually just a device I'm using to create a guest post for your blog in the form of an interview to introduce myself to your audience.
CHAG: That's pretty trippy, BHJ. Because I feel like I'm really interviewing you but you're just inventing the whole thing. It begs the question: What if we're all just fictions in the mind of some trippy dude named Black Hockey Jesus?
BHJ: [shrugs shoulders—looks mysterious]
CHAG: OK you're kinda freaking me out. Next question. What's your sense of being welcomed (or not) into the blogging community? It can be kind of cliquish.
BHJ: O for the most part it's been very warm and hospitable. I already mentioned Baby On Bored & The Bloggess. Metrodad's offered me some awesome support. i am Bossy stopped by and commented. You put me on your page as your Current Infatuation. Tons and tons of people, too many to mention, have been super nice to me. Sadly though, I think it's the nature of the writer's frail ego to dwell on the negative. And no matter how many cartwheels or triple lutzes I pull off, I simply can't get Girl's Gone Child or Dad Gone Mad to acknowledge my existence. I have come to imagine them as my neglectful blogger parents. They're always too busy to pay attention to me and as a result I'm developing a handful of addictions to hard drugs and auditioning for porn. Eventually, I'm going to join one of those 12 Step programs and write a 4th Step and discover that I am truly lovable in spite of being ignored by Girl's Gone Child and Dad Gone Mad. Everyone in the whole world will hug me. So I hope your readers don't think I'm all about the sour grapes because I'm actually crushing my sour grapes and turning them into sweet, sweet wine. This is of course a poor metaphor to use in relation to a 12 Step program but it'll have to do. Girl's Gone Child and Dad Gone Mad's spiteful neglect is ultimately propelling me toward an awesome path of self discovery and spiritual growth. Soon, all my blog posts will be peppered with simplistic clichés about letting go and accepting everything or the courage to know the difference between wisdom and alcohol or stuff like that.
CHAG: You didn't mention Dooce. Any word or support from Dooce?
BHJ: O I'll never hear from Dooce because of our rocky past. I knew her back when she was plain old Heather in high school. We even dated when we were sophomores. I actually lost my virginity to Dooce when we were listening to "It Takes Two" by Rob Base & DJ E-Z Rock. It was like we heard "It takes two to make a thing go right / It takes two to make it outta sight" at the perfect moment in time and we devoured each other in a fit of unpracticed lust. Then, get this, she left me for some college dude. What kind of wack college loser dates high school sophomores? Anyway, Dooce never even gave me back my class ring. Hey Dooce! Are you reading this? How about returning my frickin class ring?
CHAG: Is this for real? Are you serious?
BHJ: Totally. I mean it's not like the ring had a real ruby or anything. It was just a cheap garnet. But it's not about the price anyway. It's about the memories. The memories, DOOCE!
CHAG: Well we're out of time, BHJ. But you promised me a song of the day, so what'cha got for us?
BHJ: Well Chag, I read on your blog that you never understood Neil Young and I almost swallowed my tongue, so I thought I'd have to go with Neil. But it seems obvious to me now that the song of the day needs to be: "It Takes Two" by Rob Base & DJ E-Z Rock. I want my ring back, Dooce!
CHAG: Thanks for doing this, BHJ.
BHJ: Namaste.
Song of the day: It Takes Two by Rob Base
Hope you all enjoyed the interview with Black Hockey Jesus. But I've got a small confession to make:
I am Black Hockey Jesus.
God it feels good to get that off my chest.
I'm sorry if I hurt anyone's feelings, but I just wanted to try something a little different. But then everything spiraled out of control.
Ok. I'm not fooling anyone. If you've ever read The Wind In Your Vagina, you know I'm nowhere near as funny as Black Hockey Jesus. Or creative.
But I am far sexier.
And if you're one of the few people on the planet still not reading The Wind In Your Vagina: what the hell are you still doing here? He is one of the funniest writers out there. Every single post makes me laugh out loud (how many sites can you say that about?). So drop what you're doing and check him out. Now.
And don't give me this "I don't have time to read another blog" crap. If that's the case, drop me and read him instead. You'll be much better off.
Who Would Have Thought That A Girl Like Me Would Double As A Guest Blogger?
Today's guest blogger is Marla/FADKOG from the extremely funny ...For A Different Kind Of Girl. Marla might very well be the world's hottest bookseller (Don't believe me? Read the comments on her blog and check out the number of guys fawning all over her.). Marla also has great taste in music (Hell, she's the only person I've ever encountered online that's heard of The Rainmakers (She was actually in one of their videos (How cool is that?))), which is the reason I asked her to be my very first Guest DJ. See? I'm kind of like Kevin Smith. I use the same actors over and over.
She was paid handsomely for the kind things she wrote about me below. You don't think someone would do such a thing just for the hell of it, do you?
When I was 14 and spent my weekends watching Friday Night Videos, I made a vow to myself that I would never date a boy who didn't have the same firey passion for music as I did. The simple fact was, I needed someone secure enough in themselves to accept the fact that, regardless of the good times we had together, I'd one day leave them and become Mrs. Simon LeBon. Nevermind that "would never" was more realistically "might never," for it wasn't like a lot of boys were clamoring to date the photo editor of the school yearbook. I know that sounds sad, but I was OK with it, because what if TBS Night Tracks decided to show the unedited version of "Girls On Film" that night? I'd be screwed, and not as in cheap cheerleader on prom night style.
A few years later, I emerged as a glorious butterfly from the cocoon of the school darkroom and took off flying, minus the vow I made for myself. With couple boyfriends who said they liked Men At Work, but failed to prove it when tested, I eventually found myself back in front of the television on Friday night, puffy-eyed from crying over a break up and hours spent watching MTV. Irritated I hadn't held strong to my promise, I heeded the sage advice of Matthew and Gunnar Nelson, who, in their classic "After The Rain," told me "He never really loved you from the start. The only thing he ever gave you was a broken heart. Don't be afraid to lose what was never meant to be..."
It was time to recommit. I decided right then that I must return to my bleached blonde, severely shaved roots and seek out a partner who completed me and my collection of Prince albums.
I tell you all this not as a confession of my overall lameness, but as my professed and entirely blogical adoration of Chag. Chag is, I believe, the epitome of the type of person I would have attempted to charm back in my dating days. And by attempted, I mean we would have been at the same party, and maybe (because we're quite shy) we would have looked at each other and been all, "Hey," and "Hey yourself," and then moved on. But I would have asked all my friends about him, and then pulled a Blaine in Pretty in Pink and sent him kick ass computer messages in the school library until he agreed to hang out with me. A couple awkward dates later, we probably would have opted for a cool friendship.
But we would have still rocked prom together (theme - "Puttin' On The Ritz") hardcore!
Perhaps my confession comes as a shock to Chag. Or maybe that time he emailed me and told me I'd quickly tire of real life him and his real life ways after I proposed marriage in recent comments was his way of telling me to step off. If so, I'm sorry. I can't quit you! I believe we are equally snarky, as tightly wound, wonderfully cheap, and share a heartfelt respect for Cinderella.
The band. Not so much the fairy tale.
Also, the man is incredibly helpful (please hurry back and talk me down from setting a season pass on my TiVO for the new season of The Two Coreys, Chag!). Chag is the boy I vowed to spend the rest of my life with when I was 14. He's lucky our paths have only crossed via our blogs, because I can be pretty seductive in the way I say "Hey." I consider myself lucky our paths crossed this way because it took someone like Chag, with his equally fiery appreciation of music, to stand up and proclaim with me that "Pop Goes The World" is a damn fine pop song.
And to trust me with writing a guest post for his blog. It was a request I took as a seriously as if I was given first dibs on writing in his yearbook, which, had we gone to the same high school and hung out together making fun of the super popular kids, would have been filled with photos I had edited.
I'm well beyond 14 these days, married to a man who who has cuteness on his side because he knows so little about music and refuses to allow me to toss out his Rockwell cassette, and still imagine that one day, despite everything, I will be Mrs. Simon LeBon.
I will also be watching this season's episodes of The Two Coreys, even if Chag urges me not to, for part of me is perpetually 14.
Plus I need something to watch on the weekends now that videos no longer seem to exist.
Song of the day: Come Back And Stay by Paul Young
Braces
Today is a special day for me: Dave from Blogography is filling in for me! I've been a fan of Dave's site for over two years now (yeah, I always arrive late to the party). Dave is a very talented guy: he's a great writer, takes amazing photographs, and is an incredible artist/illustrator (my apologies, Dave, if I'm saying that wrong). He blogs daily about his thoughts, things he enjoys, and things that piss him off, and often includes a cartoon of Lil' Dave and Bad Monkey. I'm sure most of you are already reading his site, but if you're not, you should really check out Blogography.
This is not Chag.
My name is Dave, and I have my very own blog called "Blogography."
For reasons which mystify even me, I have been selected to write a guest-entry here at Cynical Dad. This is ironic on a number of levels, not the least of which being that I am neither cynical nor a dad.
Well, okay, maybe I'm a little cynical.
Mostly about becoming a dad.
This was not always the case. There was a time when my main goal in life was to fulfill the American Dream by getting married and laying claim to my 2.5 children. On top of being a nice tax deduction, they would also provide a convenient scapegoat when you go buy yourself a cool new toy (like the latest Star Wars LEGO set) or awesome snack-foods (like Hello Kitty gummy treats). Everybody will assume that you're buying this stuff for your kids, so you can then play with your LEGO and eat Hello Kitty gummies free from judgement (just so long as your kids never find where you hide them).
But things never seemed to work out. In my twenties I was too busy having fun to be tied down and raise a family. In my thirties I was too selfish to sacrifice my time and money to settle down and raise a family. Now that I've reached my forties, I'm too set in my ways to be beat down and raise a family. I'd try to be sad about it all, but knowing I won't have to pay for braces when my kids hit puberty is a pretty cool consolation prize...
Instead I'm content to borrow other people's kids from time to time. Kind of like a rental program for guys who want to taste the Kool-Aid without having to commit to buying an entire picture of the stuff. You get many of the benefits of being a dad, but with a no-penalty, full-return policy at the end of the day.
But, alas, no kids of my own. At least none that I can foresee.
So do I have any regrets?
Kind of.
Did you know that your kids count towards qualifying to drive in the carpool lane?
21 Club
If you're at all familiar with my site, then you already know Motherbumper. She's helped me blog The Oscars and The Scripps National Spelling Bee (and by helped, I mean she made all the clever jokes while I sat around with my finger in my nose). She's taken a turn as Guest DJ for a week. She is also someone I consider a true friend. So when I decided to beg pay ask a few people to write some posts for my site while I was on vacation, I just had to have her start off the festivities.
Ok. Enough of my gibberish. Here's Motherbumper:
Perhaps the best thing about blog sitting for someone on vacation is the fact that you can snoop around in the medicine cabinet, replace the liquor with water, and search for contraband at leisure. Not like when I was a teenage baby-sitter and had only the length of time it took to eat dinner at the local kick-a-boo and watch a feature length motion picture to discover what fetish/kink/gasp-worthy characteristics lurked beneath the smiling family.
But that's not what I'm here to babble about while I'm watering these sad, sad plants and dusting this here shrine to the vinyl EPs and LPs. Isn't that archway made of plastic 45 rpm record inserts and guitar picks just stunning?
Anyhow, I'm hear to babble about me and some past exploit that I've failed to prattle on about over my place. I've talked about living with the skaters before but have kept most of those stories offline because holy crap, my folks read my blog. Yet I've sort of gotten over that fact. Mostly because I'm too old to be grounded. Finally. Hell, it only took close to 39 years. So lets talk about my 21st birthday. Note that I'm doing this because I'm naive enough to think my family lives in a cave and has no idea about hyperlinks.
Anyhow, in Canada twenty-one is not a significant birthday unless you were really looking forward to finally being able to rent a car. But when you have three close friends who all have their birthday in the same week, well that only means one thing: party all week until your head explodes, a limb is severed, or you lose your job (whichever comes first). Good times.
This particular birthday we decided to have two house parties that straddled the party weekends. The first involved borrowing a drink menu from one of the crazy huge bars in town that served a gazillion kind of drinks. And when I say borrow I mean take off the table and never return it. We used this menu to create a gift list and we actually had the balls to assign some guests a bottle to bring so we could recreate our favourites. Pure genius. It must of been my idea. Can't remember though, I was too drunk during the planning stages.
The second party though, well it turned out different. Not bad different, more like hilarious different. Sometime during party week - it's hard to remember when due to aforementioned drinking - one of the hotties we all knew, promised each of the birthday girls that she could shave his head at our end of birthday week party.
He was hot. Like Eddie Vedder hot (it was the early nineties), he wore a kilt and it looked so right, and he wasn't an idiot. And we were all pretty-much single (I was on a break, I swear). Anyhow, other people found out about his promise and a few more guys followed his lead and offered to do the same. Well on the evening of the party as things progressed, the head shaving began and I must say, getting to shave a bunch of good-looking guys heads in the middle of a packed party was pretty freakin' awesome. But then one of the younger guys volunteered to have it done - he was underage and I swear was not drinking because he was one of those stone-cold amazing skaters (and snowboarders) who treated his body like a temple - anyhow, he jumped in the chair. He swore it was okay so we shaved his head like he was our best friend's younger teenage brother - know what I mean? Trust me, it was cute. And he looked good with a shaved head.
So the next morning, everyone in the house was lazy and hungover when the phone rings. Turns out that underage recently shaved head guy's parents were not impressed that their son shaved his head at a party and he was grounded until he was thirty. And he was being shipped off to boarding school. Can you imagine the guilt we all felt? Because you know, it's all about us.
For the rest of the summer we felt awful when we thought of him going to boarding school. But as the school year came closer, the grounding wore off and the boarding school didn't materialize.
So then we had him let us tattoo our faces across his back with ashes and ink.
Oh I'm kidding. It was our initials.
Anyhow, it was pretty much worth it because some of those guys looked super hot with a shaved head, let me tell you.
Song of the day: Hunger Strike by Temple Of The Dog
Live Blogging The Oscars
Despite the fact that I had only seen one Oscar-nominated flick this year (Juno), I decided to blog the Oscars on Sunday night. Thankfully, I wasn't alone. Motherbumper dropped by and covered the red carpet (not my bag) and helped with the ceremony, too!
MB: Yo, it's motherbumper and I'm camped in front of the boob tube with my bucket of chicken and laptop (really, what more does a girl need). I don't try to fool myself and think I could ever look like those Hollywood folk so why not enjoy myself with some grease and couch potatoing (is that a verb? if not, it really should be). Chag doesn't do red carpet stuff.. which is funny considering I usually do red carpet only. What can I say? I'm totally superficial when it comes to award shows.
Oh running out of time, - must find wet wipes to keep grease off keyboard.
MB: Okay, I'm watching some pre-stuff and apparently no one has shown up yet. I'm salivating at the thought of Paris showing up and getting thrown out of the ceremony. She apparently has been banned. Right now, it's all media interviewing media, talking all about years past, and having the Juno vs Atonement Best Picture debate.
I will not hide the fact that the only movies I've seen from this year nominee list are Eastern Promises, Ratatouille, and Surf's Up. Now that's just plain sad.
MB: ohhhhh aerial coverage on ABC is care of the Good Year Blimp. How archaically poetic in this day of technology.
MB: They are saying it's cold so let's prepare for HIGHBEAMS folks! (I never claimed to be mature).
MB: Galliano red dress worn by Heidi Klum - media jumps on fact that she isn't wearing Michael Kors. Is that considered a fashion faux pas? Her bag doesn't match the dress. That's as catty as I'll get with her. Seal looks dapper. They look like they might go for a quickie in the coat closet before the show. They're like that.
MB: Dude with mike (didn't catch name) said because of the strike there was only 10 days to write jokes for Oscars. Apparently it usually takes seven months. Yikes! that's pressure for Jon Stewart.
MB: George Clooney is there and lone behold, he's wearing a suit. It looks ironed so I'll say he put together a successful ensemble. Good lord, the people are going nuts. To me, he will always be George Burnett from the Facts of Life. Yes, I faithfully watched FoL... everyone has their vices.
MB: Tom Wilkinson looks like my Dad. He looks relaxed and seems to be giving the interviewers a look of "wow, I can't believe you are asking me these silly questions". That's my Dad (Editor note: Tom Wilkinson is not my Dad).
MB: Amy Ryan - love LOVE the colour of the dress, like the shoulder, but not sure about that belt. My goodness, those earrings are incredibly swingy. They look like they would hurt if they were say, I don't know: embedded in your back because they were hurled across the carpet from too much head shaking. Oh god, please stop shaking your head, Amy!
MB: George Clooney's date is wearing a very ummmm 80's dress. I think dress was at my prom in 1987. I'm not sure how I feel about that.
MB: That film critic Richard Roeper is covering the red carpet on ABC and he just said that Atonement didn't deserve a nomination. That's pretty funny and kinda ballsy. I didn't see that movie but mostly because it looked too boring. I've been known to be wrong about these things.
MB: Oh I wanted to see American Gangster. So many people are wearing red - it's crazy. My favorite so far is Ruby Dee (American Gangster).
MB: Who is that in the leopard print dress? I have to see it full length - that is one crazy looking dress. Is that Diablo Cody? DAMN she looks good.
MB: Amy Adams looks nice in green but my god! could that have any more seams? Daniel Day-Lewis - love the brown piping, kinda gives it a lawrence-welk appeal. Only he could carry that off. Jennifer Garner looks freakin' spectacular. I don't care if she is wearing "boring" black, she rocks.
MB: Amy Adams purse is to die for. Miley Cyrus is keeping the red theme going strong. Why is she at the Oscars? Is this to pull in the tween demographic?
MB: Laura Linney looks poured into her dress - in a good way. OMG I love that leopard print on Diablo Cody - skull and cross earrings - oh break my heart - I have a couple of new girl crushes.
MB: Sean P-Diddy Puff-Daddy Combs (SpdPdC? ) is wearing a bow-tie. Now that's what my Dad would be wearing. (Editor's Note: SpdPdC is not my Dad).
MB: Saoirse Ronan is so cute. I want to adopt her. Oh lordy, who is wearing the fish dress - or is that a mermaid? OH MY HOLY Jessica Alba is rocking her bump. Too bad about the dead bird on the neckline.
MB: I'm totally taking back the Jennifer Garner comment - I just saw it full length and it reminds me of a something that was pulled over a toilet paper roll in my childhood neighbour's black and white bordello inspired bathroom.
MB: So that Mermaid dress is on Marion Cotillard (La Vie en Rose) and it's Jean Paul Gauthier. That makes sense. But I've never really liked the idea of mermaid dresses ever since that episode of 90210 when Donna wore the mermaid costume to that frat Halloween party and almost got taken advantage of because of a wardrobe malfunction. Yup, mermaid dresses are almost always bad news.
MB: Viggo is breaking my heart. Is that his daughter? Big sigh. He looks like he just walked out of a funeral in a western but he's rockin' that lapel rose. I loved Eastern Promises but I'm a sucker for the Cronenburg/Mortenson combo. It's his niece. That makes him the coolest uncle ever.
CD: Do the ladies still get all hot and bothered for Patrick Dempsey? Or has his time past?
MB: Past. Mark my word: past. Oh god, spare me, Regis is here.
CD: I think either Regis or Ryan Seacrest has to show up for every one of these things. It's a law or something.
CD: John Travolta looks like Eddie Munster to me.
MB: New crush: Javiar Bardem. He's so Steve McQueen. I have a confession: this is the first time I've heard Miley Speak - her voice is deep. Are you sure she's 15 and not a 35 well preserved smoker?
CD: I was just telling Ella I think Miley's voice is deeper than mine.
MB: I demand proof of her age. Mickey Rooney is there? (he's still alive?)
CD: We'll find out for sure when they do their People Who Died montage.
MB: PriceWaterCooper is in the house! (sorry, I used to work for them). I'm legally obligated to do that.
CD: Thank God for teen pregnancy!
CD: Stewart's jokes would probably be much funnier if I had actually seen some of these movies.
CD: That Across The Universe costume looked like something from Yo Gabba Gabba.
CD: She's a costume designer? Couldn't she have designed a better dress for herself?
CD: Nicely done, Diet Coke! We need more zombies in commercials.
CD: Final score: Carolina 89 Wake Forest 73.
CD: The Oscars would be a lot shorter if it weren't for all these damn montages. Twenty minutes in and they've given out one award.
CD: @Darren: I have no idea what Persepolis is. But I know there's no damn way my daughter would "read" an animated movie.
CD: Was Katherine Heigl nervous or what?
CD: I'm sure the people behind the Oscars are glad the voters didn't give the award to Norbit.
CD: That song got nominated but they couldn't throw a bone to Kimya Dawson?
CD: Every time I see Amy Adams, all I can picture is her character from Drop Dead Gorgeous.
CD: @Mandy: I'm ashamed to admit this, but I actually kind of wanted to see Enchanted.
CD: Why is The Rock here?
Ella: (while looking at The Rock) He looks like he could be the Oscar.
CD: Whit is posting Oscar pics over at Famecrawler.
CD: @Cher: According to IMDB, Jeffrey Dean Morgan played the role of Denny Duquette on Grey's Anatomy (my wife thought the same thing you did).
CD: I'm rooting for Casey. I've always thought he was the more talented Affleck.
CD: And Jeffrey Dean Morgan Javier Bardem wins the Best Supporting Actor award.
CD: Pee Wee!
CD: Raise It Up didn't do it for me either, but that little girl has some pipes!
CD: Wes Anderson needs to let Owen Wilson start co-writing his screenplays again.
CD: First, a montage on periscopes and binoculars. Then a montage on startled awakenings. Now, a montage on bee stings. The hell?
MB: The strike is really showing it's impact. I'd believe this ceremony was put together by the event committee at Dunder-Mifflin. And holy stumbling announcers.
CD: Motherbumper... shhh! Jessica Alba's on!
MB: Dude, she's giving the recap of the nerdy AV awards. OK the Jack and pregnant people in attendance was the best joke so far.
CD: What? She was talking?
CD: I love the Coen brothers. I need to see this movie. Glad to see they won the Adapted screenplay Oscar.
MB: Miley Cyrus? How the heck does she get to present? What has she done of significance? And I think that's the first time she has ever said the word "culture".
CD: I don't know how they choose the presenters. I'm still aghast over The Rock.
CD: Whit was right. That's How You Know was better than the first Enchanted song. But not by much.
CD: The baby goes to... By far the funniest joke of the evening!
CD: The writers wasted Seth Rogen and Jonah Hill. Pity.
MB: I like the way Forest Whitaker says "Blanchette". Rawr.
CD: I like Laura Linney. I'd like to see her win. Or Ellen Page.
CD: Show of hands, please. Who has actually seen La Vie en Rose? That's what I thought.
MB: OMG I had that dress for dinner the other night. Served with a some dill in a cream sauce. It was delish.
CD: Even Jon Stewart is bored. He's playing Wii.
CD: @Mandy: Thanks for proving me wrong!
CD: @Darren: Me, too. I was always an arthouse regular. Not anymore.
CD: Falling Slowly was by far the best song of the night thus far. Great tune!
CD: After seeing some of the past Best Picture winners, do you think the Oscars ever wish they could have a do-over?
CD: I enjoyed the piece on Robert Boyle. I hope I look that good and can speak that well when I'm 98.
CD: Like I'm really going to live to be 98.
CD: @Whit: I would like to see them let EVERYONE talk. Unless you start thanking your mother's gardener and your old babysitter or something like that.
CD: Penelope Cruz just doesn't do it for me. Am I alone?
CD: After hearing those three Enchanted songs, I don't want to see that movie anymore. Definitely rooting for Falling Slowly.
CD: I'm glad Falling Slowly won, too.
CD: Thanks to Whit, I'm now a Penelope Cruz fan (every male should check out the link he left in the comments).
CD: It was nice that they let Marketa Irglova back on stage to say her thanks. They must be running ahead of schedule.
CD: Someone needed to write out Cameron Diaz's lines phonetically on the teleprompter.
CD: Time for the People Who Died montage!
CD: I always hate this part where some dead celebrities get more applause than others. They should mute the audience during this portion.
CD: @Bagger's carpet boy: I haven't seen Youth Without Youth. And yeah, I'm pretty disappointed with Stewart tonight.
CD: "Auto mechanic by day, hero by night" sounds like the next summer CGI blockbuster.
CD: I'd like to see Michael Moore win just so he can get up there and rant for a bit.
CD: Feel free to throw me a line in the comments, people. We've reached the dull portion of the Oscars.
CD: @Mandy: Is Shake Hands With The Devil a documentary? According to IMDB (which can be wrong), it looks like a movie based on a book.
CD: Come on, Diablo Cody!
CD: Yes! You gotta love the former stripper wins Oscar storyline. Wonder how long till Hollywood turns that into a movie?
CD: This just shows Juno won't win Best Picture. They always give the screenplay nod to the movies I like and then snub them for best pictures. See: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Almost Famous, Fargo, The Usual Suspects, Sideways, Little Miss Sunshine, etc.
CD: Will Johnny Depp ever win an Oscar? Or will he be collecting an honorary one years down the road?
CD: Yeah for the Coen brothers! I love all their movies, but just haven't gotten a chance to catch this one yet.
CD: And a Best Picture win for the Coen brothers as well! Definitely have to check this flick out soon.
So there you have it. I'm done. Going to bed.
I'd like to thank Motherbumper for helping me out on the ride. I'd like to thank everyone who came out and commented during my live blogging. I'd like to thank everyone who dropped by. I couldn't have done it without you guys! I'd like to thank my wife, Ella, for putting the kids to bed tonight so I could do this. I'd like to thank--
[cue the "get the hell off the stage" music]
Song of the day: Milkshake by Kelis
Justice In The Car Line
I've mentioned before that I'm not a big fan of the car line at my daughter's school. Luckily, I only have to go through this hell once a day. In the mornings, we can walk our children into school and since I'm an overbearing, overprotective father, I use this option.
But others aren't as neurotic smart as me. They choose to drop their kids off in the car line.
The drop-off area is about six cars long. However, the doors to the school are at the back of the drop-off area, so it's quite tempting for a parent to stop his car in front of the doors and drop his kids out there instead of driving to the front of the line. People do it all the time. And it pisses off the teachers who are manning the drop-off line, waving the cars on.
Last week, I watched a mom stop at the doors instead of pulling up to the front of the line. She saw the teacher frantically waving for her to pull her car forward, but the mom ignored her. Her child got out of the car as the teacher waved. Her child shut the door as the teacher continued to wave (seriously, I thought she was going to take flight). And then the mom s-l-o-w-l-y inched up to the front of the drop-off line until her car was right next to the teacher.
And then she flipped off the teacher!
YES!
I would never have the balls to do this. Sure, I flip off fellow drivers on a regular basis. But I wouldn't flip off a teacher. Even if it wasn't my child's teacher, there's a chance that Zoey or Zed might be in her class somewhere down the line. And you know all the teachers talk, anyway. There would be retribution. You don't want your kid to go through elementary school known as "The Kid Whose Mom Flipped Off Ms. Crabapple." But it would probably get you out of all PTA obligations.
So I lived vicariously through this mom. She had done what so many before her had longed to do. I was so enamored with this hardcore mom that I flagged down her car and made out with her.
Song Of The Day
Guess what, kids? This week, I decided to give you a break from the hairbands, early 80s hits, and mainstream alternative that occupy this spot every day. I asked Greg Barbera from hopeless cases to man the DJ booth this week. Don't know Greg? Let him introduce himself:I've seen a lot of bands in my day. I've interviewed a lot of bands in my day. I have a lot of records and CDs that my wife would like me to get rid of and yet I always seem to find more records that I want. My love for music is so intertwined with my daily life it would be hard to imagine a life without it. I currently sing and play bass in a band called Chest Pains (it can be argued that I can do neither).
Greg will be here all week. So without further ado, here's his first selection:
I believe it was around 8th or 9th grade when I first got exposed to underground (ie: noncommercial) music through my bmxin' and skateboardin' friends. One of my friends lived in a neighborhood called Flower Valley and there was this guy who drove a VW Bug and wore Vans and – if I recall – had a mini-ramp in his backyard. His name was Peter Murray and he was in a band called Marginal Man. Another guy, a quirky dude with bad fashion sense, worked at the movie theater at the shopping center near my house. His name was John Stabb and he was in a band called Government Issue. Seeing these two guys around shattered that fourth wall for me and showed me that you didn't have to be or act like a rock star to be in a band. I would eventually end up seeing those two bands many times during high school and they would be the doors that opened me to punk rock and the D.I.Y. aesthetic. There was this other band from my neighborhood that the long hairs liked called The Obsessed. Their singer was named Wino and he looked like Lemmy from Motorhead. It can be argued that The Obsessed gave birth to the metal subgenre doom rock. Wino went on to play with St. Vitus, Spirit Caravan and Hidden Hand. Back in the mid 80s they were one of the few metal bands – possibly the only – that would play with bands in the punk scene. There's a great documentary floating around the internet that's worth checking out.
Song of the day: Streetside by The Obsessed
Hot For Teacher
Today, Zed was expelled from Little Gym.
Ok. Not really. I don't think you can get expelled from Little Gym as long as your fees are current. So think of it more as self-expulsion.
Regardless, we're not going back.
Zed loves Little Gym. He loves to climb on the equipment, do flips, and run around like a crazy fool the entire time. When we pull up to the strip mall where it's located, he starts smiling and is all but ready to jump out of the car before I put it in park.
And the instructors? He looooooves them. They're all cute little twentysomething girls.
Today, I ruined everything.
This week's skill was doing a flip on the balance beam. Since these kids are just normal two-year-olds and not freakish Romanian gymnasts, they needed both the instructor and the parent's help to accomplish the feat.
I was holding Zed's hips as his instructor placed Zed's hands on the balance beam. She then started him in the flipping motion. As she did this, I decided that I had better get in front of her so I could catch Zed in the followthrough.
As I hurried past the instructor, my hand moved right across her ass.
I don't know what the hell happened. I think I was like Ash in Evil Dead II and my hand just took on a life of its own.
Even though the ass-grabbing only lasted 0.8 seconds, it was enough time for me to turn red, vomit, faint, and wonder if she could file a sexual harassment suit against me.
So now we're looking for a new way to spend our Tuesday mornings.
Preferably something that doesn't excite my Evil Dead Hand.
Song Of The Day
One of the great things about opening up my DJ booth to others is that my guest will occasionally point me to a kickass song I was previously unfamiliar with. Today, SciFi Dad does just that. Thanks, man!One night at a club, I was listening to this band when the guy standing in front of me decided it would be a good idea to mosh - by himself - while everyone else stood still and listened. He bounced around and started pissing people off. Never being one to deal with annoyances well, I tossed him away when he bumped into me for the fifth time.
Apparently, he wasn't expecting my help, because the next thing I know he's in my face screaming and yelling. He was quite a bit taller than me, but I was no small guy either, so as he continued to yell, I clenched my fists and took a breath, waiting for him to throw.
He shoved. Good enough, I thought to myself, and went to lift my arm, only to discover two buddies of mine holding my wrist. They were pleading with me not to do anything, but I broke free and shoved the guy, knocking him over. Then she pried my hand open, took it in hers, and held on.
"Let go."
"No. Come here and hold my hand."
"Damnit, how can I hit him if you're holding my hand?"
"Exactly."
When the song finished, the lead singer said, "Uh, that was a song about making friends."
Song of the day: Anna Is A Speed Freak by Pure
At Least He Wasn't Playing With The Dog's Toys
We took the kids over to a friend's house today for a playdate. You know how the first thirty minutes of a playdate are wasted because the Away Team is too busy checking out the Home Team's toys to actually play with the Home Team? Well, these people had enough toys, gadgets, and other fun things to eat ninety minutes.
Unless you're Zed.
While his sister was checking out the toy store, Zed was checking out the dog's cage. He kept walking inside (it's a very large dog) and closing the door behind him. And then he would laugh at us from his cell. And we would all laugh.
But as my mind filled with thoughts of purchasing two of those crates for use at our house, I decided it was time to take him into the playroom.
We Have A Winner!
I was beginning to think that no one was going to win my contest. But The Lovely Mrs. Davis came in and hit it out of the park. Congratulations! I'll be sending a mix CD and a lapel pin your way. And I'd like to thank everyone else who entered.I'll write a post tomorrow and give you a little bit of backstory on each item (if you're interested).
Song Of The Day
SciFi Dad is back today with another selection for you guys. Hope you enjoy it.I grabbed their first CD, Four, the first time I heard Run Around. The combination of harmonica and folksy-bluesy guitar was like candy to my ears. And the tongue-in-cheek lyrics of this song always make me laugh.
Song of the day: Hook by Blues Traveler
Stuff Only I Care About LVII
Weekly Random Thoughts On The Carolina Panthers
The Panthers were beaten by the Titans last weekend, 20-7. The Panthers are 4-4, a half game behind Tampa Bay in the NFC South.The Panthers have been outscored 51-14 the past two games. Rock!
Playing QB for the Panthers this year is kind of like being a drummer for Spinal Tap. It would've been a much different season had Delhomme stayed healthy.
Wow. Week Ten and I'm already making excuses!
The Panthers play Atlanta this weekend. Other than an upcoming date with San Francisco, this might be the only game the Panthers win the rest of the season. But it's at home, and the Panthers haven't won there in almost a year (they last won at Bank of America Stadium on November 19, 2006, a 15-0 victory over the Rams). Still, I say Carolina pulls out a 17-14 win.
The Cynical Dad NFL Rankings
1. New England Patriots (9-0)Finally, they're number one on my list.
2. Indianapolis Colts (7-1)
It would've been a different game had Harrison played.
3. Dallas Cowboys (7-1)
I love having Tony Romo on one of my fantasy teams.
4. Pittsburgh Steelers (6-2)
They put 38 points on the board against the Ravens.
5. New York Giants (6-2)
They've won six in a row, but those wins came against teams with a combined record of 13-36.
6. Detroit Lions (6-2)
After God's Team smacked the Broncos last weekend, they deserve a spot on my list.
The Perfect Scenario
I would like to see New England play perfectly for the rest of the year, trouncing every opponent, until the AFC Championship game. Then I would like to see Indy stomp them into the ground.Why? It's not that I hate the Patriots. Actually, I've been rooting for them. I love watching a team that can put a lot of points on the board. I love Belichick's "screw you" attitude. And I'd love to see a team run the table just to shut the '72 Dolphins up.
But I've had it with Bill Simmons. He's turned into a whiny, insufferable bitch.
Sunday Morning Hangover
Here are some of the more interesting/entertaining posts I've come across this week:- Dave proves The Secret is bullshit.
- Eliza shares the most talked-about turd in the history of man.
- Jozet advises you to pick warm and inexpensive sports for your children.
- Lisa swears she's never going to Chuck E. Cheese's ever again.
- Liz pens The Old Fart Musical Creed.
- Mamatulip's son dresses as a member of Insane Clown Posse for Halloween.
Last Chance
I'll be posting the answers to my little quiz Sunday evening. If you haven't entered yet, get cracking. You could win a mix CD and a Limited Edition Cynical Dad lapel pin.Song Of The Day
Good news, folks! I'm handing over my turntables to SciFi Dad this week. He'll be here for the next seven days, providing selections for your musical pleasure.In the late 60s, a 17-year-old boy started a band when he moved from Detroit to Chicago. They had a few albums and one hit (this song). The lead singer went on to better things. You know him as Ted Nugent.
Song of the day: Journey To The Center Of The Mind by The Amboy Dukes
Stuff Only I Care About L
Weekly Random Thoughts on the Yankees
The Yankees went 4-2 this week, bringing their record to 84-64. The Yankees are five and a half games behind Boston in the AL East and hold a two and a half game lead over Detroit for the American League Wild Card.Friday night's game against Boston was one of the sloppiest games I've watched the Yankees play all season (it was also one of the worst officiated; the strike zone was all over the place for both teams). But at least they won the game. And I'm going to pretend Saturday's game never happened, ok?
Wishes: for Cleveland to keep winning and for Detroit to start losing.
Weekly Random Thoughts On The Carolina Panthers
I really didn't think the Panthers would win last week's game, but they ended up crushing the Rams 27-13. They are in sole possession of first place in the NFC South.It's amazing what a new offensive coordinator can do. It's nice to see them mix up the play-calling rather than follow last year's recipe for disaster of running the football for three straight quarters and then finding themselves ten points down in the fourth.
This week, it's a battle of undefeated teams as the Panthers host the Texans. Carolina will win, 24-10.
Weekly Random Thoughts On The Carolina Tar Heels
The Heels lost to Virginia today, 22-20, bringing their record to 1-2. Even though they're still on pace to honor my prediction of three wins for the season, I have high hopes for the future. They have a very good young quarterback in redshirt freshman T.J. Yates. He has nine touchdown passes in the first three games of the season. No other Carolina QB has ever accomplished this feat.Bill Belichick
Bill Belichick is a great coach; one of the best if not the best in the NFL. He had no reason to videotape the other team's defensive calls. While I think he should've been suspended for a few games, it's time to move on. I'm dreading watching Sunday night's game against the Chargers. They'll be talking about CameraGate the entire time and probably have four or five cameras on Belichick at all times.Earlier this week, I heard some idiotic sports radio talking head saying Belichick was trying to get caught. Why? To get pressure off his team. Apparently, Belichick was tired of the media naming them this year's Super Bowl champs. He didn't want his team to start believing their press. So he created a little negative press of his own to put the spotlight on him and not his team.
Belichick is a great coach and is obviously very intelligent. But come one. I think someone's been drinking the Belichick Kool-Aid.
Link Of The Week
This post, by Rebecca at Girl's Gone Child, was so powerful I thought it deserved a place of its own.More Mr. Show!
Bob Odenkirk and David Cross, the geniuses behind Mr. Show, will be bringing a sitcom to HBO.'Cause I Have To Talk About Hair Bands Every 4.5 Days
L.A. Guns, Hanoi Rocks, and possibly Vixen will be touring Europe together next year. I hope this tour hits the States.Sunday Morning Hangover
Here are some of the more interesting/entertaining posts I've come across this week:- Elle has some words for the lady in the supermarket.
- Jessica dreams of a world without crap-filled goody bags.
- Rockstar Mommy throws a partay.
- Wordgirl deals with Our Lady of Pimientos and her vehicle of destruction.
Song of the Day
Motherbumper is back for her final day as guest DJ. I hope you all have enjoyed her musical selections and accompanying stories as much as I have. Thanks, MB!It was third year university and my boyfriend at the time, who's name escapes me (but I remember he had one eye - Phil? Or was it Steve? Maybe it was Quentin* - whatever - he was one of three guys I dated that had only one eye - apparently in my part of Canada, eyes are easy to lose) - what was I saying? Oh yes, well Whatshisname and I went to see The Cult. I though Ian Astbury was da' shit and consequently broke up with Whatshisname because he thought Astbury was a pansy.
You don't knock my man-crushes, SB knows that and that's why I married him.
And let me tell you, every time this song came on in a bar, I'd be dancing like a fool, even if there was no dance floor.
*I kid, his name was Dick. Or was it Mick?
Song of the day: She Sells Sanctuary by The Cult
If She Was Half As Smart As She Thinks She Is, I'd Have A Future Nobel Prize Winner On My Hands
On the way to school:
Zoey: I shouldn't be in kindergarten. I should be in first grade.
Me: But you'd miss all your new friends!
Zoey: They can just come with me.
Me: Why do you think you should be in first grade?
Zoey: Because I already know all this kindergarten stuff.
I have no idea where she gets all this confidence from. I wish some of it would rub off on me.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to stick a few pins in my Big Papi Voodoo Doll in preparation of this weekend's sweep of the Sox. Whose arm do you think will fall off this weekend: Clemens or Dice-K? Or both?
Song Of The Day
Motherbumper is back again today with another great song for your listening pleasure. This time, she talks about the song that got her kicked out of a van.Continuing on my trip down the road of Motherbumper's youth, I found this one while searching on YouTube. I laughed so hard when I accidentally tripped over this song the other night; I haven't listened to it in ages. It will always be "the song that got me kicked out of the van, onto the side of the road, forcing me to walk back to town because I played one too many times" song from 1990.
Nowadays if a boyfriend kicked his girlfriend out onto the side of the old highway, forcing her to walk the last five miles, there would be a committee established to define "how much of an asshat can boyfriends be to annoying girlfriends" or something like that. But back in the good ol' days I got what I deserved for abusing the tape deck (yes, tape deck - gah, I'm feeling old).
Song of the day: In Green Fields by Big Drill Car
Like Ice Cube Said, "It Was A Good Day."
Today I didn't even have to use my AK.
Plus!
Today was Zed's third day of preschool. It was also the first day that he didn't cry when I dropped him off.
Preschool has been tearing me apart. I wonder if he knows what's going on when I drop him off. I feel guilty for leaving him with strangers. Even though they say kids learn a lot from other kids, I still beat myself up and question if this is truly what's best for him. On his first day of preschool, after his teacher kicked me out of the room as she picked him and tried to comfort him, I sat in the car for about fifteen minutes, wishing someone would pick me up and comfort me. Wanting to go back in and take him home with me.
But I didn't. I composed myself, drove home, and paced all morning. When I picked him up that day, he was crying. Not still crying; he was upset because they had just come in from playing outside and apparently he wasn't down with that plan. But seeing him crying once again killed me. I thought about taking him out of preschool.
But we pressed on.
When we went inside today, the kids were playing with blocks at a table. I took him over to the table, sat him in a chair, kissed him, and walked away. He watched me as I unpacked his backpack. Then he turned back to the table and started building a tower.
I was the one who almost started crying.
I snuck out of the room and watched him through the window for a few seconds. He looks happy, I told myself. So I left. I still went home and paced, but with a little less guilt than usual.
When I went to pick him up today, he was playing near another boy. They weren't playing with each other, but they were sitting on the floor right next to each other, playing with dinosaurs. When I picked him up to leave, he started crying. He didn't want to leave. Which made me feel much better about preschool, but it also made me feel like crap at the same time.
I know preschool will be good for him. He's sitting during circle time. He's participating in art projects. Last week, his teacher told me he told another kid, "Give that back" when the kid took a ball from Zed. We've never heard him string three words together. So something's rubbing off on him there. Plus, he's learning to stick up for himself. But it still bothers me. I just can't stop wondering if he truly understands what's going on.
I know preschool will be good for him. Eventually, it will be good for me, too.
Song Of The Day
Ok. Enough with my dramatics. Motherbumper is back with another musical selection, kids. While she's not stripping for you today, she is hanging out with rockstars.So continuing with the quasi-theme of songs of Motherbumper's youth, I decided to cash one out from the happy memory bank. In the early 90s I attended a super fantastic week-long music fest that featured some kick ass bands: Sloan, Red Kross, and Doughboys were by far my favs. As luck would have it, and probably due to my new blond locks and single status, I sweet-talked my way into the after party at the end of the week-long celebration. I woke up 1200 kilometers away full of stories that are not fit to print since my Dad might read this. Even though I'm close to being forty, I'm still scared of getting grounded (or losing my inheritance).
Song of the day: Fix Me by The Doughboys
If I Strip For You Will You Strip For Me?
For today's song of the day choice, Motherbumper picked a number that she would have used as her theme song if she had become a stipper. I thought that was an interesting topic for conversation, so I want to ask you: if you were a stripper, what would your theme song be? And if you are/were a stripper, feel free to critique the others' choices.
Personally, my stripper theme music would either be Closer by Nine Inch Nails or Copacabana. I'm undecided.
Song of the Day
It's Motherbumper again. Since I have a tendency to be long-winded, I'll keep this short: When I was young(er) I figured if I ever lost my sanity and decided to be a stripper, this would be my theme song. 'Nuff said.Song of the day: Thunder Kiss '65 by White Zombie
Couple Named World's Worst Parents
LAS VEGAS -- In a Saturday evening ceremony held at the Bellagio Hotel and Casino, Chag and Ella Holland were named "The World's Worst Parents" by Parenting Resources Magazine. "While it's a disgrace to be thought of as the world's worst at anything, let alone parenting, at least we got a free trip to Vegas out of it," Ella told reporters. Added Chag, "this trip is free, right?"
"The Hollands had been on Parenting Resources Magazine's radar for most of the year for past parenting indiscretions, but they really outdid themselves this week," Parenting Resources Magazine spokesperson Amber Wright stated.
"Yeah, we screwed up, but it wasn't totally our fault," Chag explained. "Every day, Zoey brings home mountains of papers from kindergarten. Newsletters, lunch menus, bus route information, fundraiser information, PTA letters, school rules, all kinds of crap. Did they really expect us to read every single piece of paper? I don't have a Personal Assistant."
Amidst the abundance of papers was a newsletter which outlined their daughter's homework assignments for the week. "The sad thing is Zoey tried to let us know about it. On Tuesday, she told us she had to tell three things about her family at school the next day. On Wednesday, she told us she needed to know her Student ID Number," Ella said. "It wasn't until later that night that I found the newsletter. The next morning, we were cramming at breakfast, hammering her Student ID Number into her head."
"She's in kindergarten! They're not supposed to have homework," Chag added.
The Hollands have since learned their lesson. They have vowed to read every scrap of paper they find in their daughter's backpack.
Song Of The Day
Motherbumper was kind enough to take over the turntables for me this week. She'll be picking the songs of the day this week and writing a little bit about each one (if anyone else would like to DJ for a week sometime down the road, drop me a line). Without further ado…This opportunity to play DJ gave me the chance to dig around the archives for some of my favorite blasts from the past. The hardest thing to do was narrowing down the list but I managed (barely). I decided to go for a quasi-theme of songs of motherbumper's youth - something I have fought hard not to give up. But as the responsibilities of parenting become unavoidable, I must admit it is Bumper's turn to be the youngin' and I must be the fist shakin' ol' fogey. So here is my first trip down memory lane (omg even saying that makes me feel damn old).
As a young, irresponsible lass I lived in what we called the House of Skate. We had no cable on our TV, no VCR for entertainment, but be damned we had a mega-speakered sound system that made us just that much more endearing to our neighbors (well that and our penchant for setting off firecrackers at odd hours). Oh yes, we were the neighbors from hell. Firecrackers aside, this song featured in what was probably our most annoying habit that for some strange reason, the neighbors tolerated. On Saturday mornings, everyone that lived in the house had to be work at the ungodly hour of 9 AM so one of the more organized roommates always cranked this song to wake us out of our drunken stupors. Ditch Digger was an anthem of sorts, our marching song that led us off to our horrible stinkin' "working for the man" McJobs.
These days, I would kill to be able to sleep that late in the morning. Growing up and being all responsible-like really sucks.
Song of the day: Ditch Digger by Rocket From The Crypt
A Letter To An Ex-Lover
Pssst… Hey guys? All the women are at BlogHer this weekend, so we're free to walk around the Internet in our boxer shorts while belching and scratching our balls (as necessary).
I just spent the last three hours watching two of Major League Baseball's worst teams' Single-A farm systems square off against one another. Why would I do such a thing? $1 Draft Night, baby! So I apologize in advance for any incoherent ramblings, lapses in logic, misspellings, grammatical no-nos, and all that jazz.
Anyway, I thought now would be the perfect time to write a letter to an ex-lover.
Dear ESPN--
I can't remember when our relationship first began. '85? '86? Regardless, it's been a long time and it'll be hard to imagine life without you.
But I'm gonna try.
First of all, let's talk about your website. There was a time when I refreshed the MLB trade rumors on an hourly basis. Your fantasy football section was indispensable. Now? I have no idea because you want me to pay for these services. Everything worth reading seems to be Insider Only information. Oh sure, I get a subscription to ESPN Magazine as well as access to your Insider information for my $39.95, but come on. It's 2007. Who still reads magazines? Don't you make enough money on your site from your Circuit City, Heineken, Cisco, etc. ads? And that's not counting the 10,000 other ads telling people to watch your station, which in turn earns you more revenue. Cut me some slack, guys.
And while I don't want to go to in depth on the issue, let's just nix all future attempts at original "entertainment." I don't need a miniseries about poker, the '77 Yankees, or a movie about Dale Earnhardt. Stick with what you know -- sports.
But you don't really know sports anymore. I remember when SportsCenter was my life. On average, I probably watched it at least twice a day. Now? If I want scores or information, I head to ESPNews. There's too much extra crap I don't need on SportsCenter . First of all, you've taken up valuable real estate on my tiny bedroom television with the What's Coming Up Next bar on the right side of the screen.
But the most offensive thing lately has been the whole "Who's Now?" garbage, where you pit two athletes against each other and have viewers vote who is more important, more current, more now. Who cares? But then you devote several minutes of SportsCenter to the topic. I don't really care to see Stuart Scott discuss if Alex Rodriguez or Peyton Manning is more "now."
Last week, you had Jessica Biel and Kevin James pimping I Now Pronounce You Chuck And Larry joining Stuart Scott in the "Who's Now?" discussions. While I appreciate the eye candy (that Kevin James is a major hottie), my soul dies a little every time I watch one of these segments.
I know I won't be able to completely leave you. You've got me for Monday Night Football and most MLB broadcasts. But if I want to go online for scores or insight, I'll go somewhere else.
Who's Now? Not you, babe. Not anymore.
Hugs & Kisses,
Chag
P.S. I want my CDs back!
Song Of The Day
Ok. Marla from …For A Different Kind Of Girl is back for her fourth and final day as Guest DJ. I hope everyone has enjoyed hearing and reading about her selections as much as I have. If anyone else would like to DJ for a week sometime down the road, drop me a line.As much as I love music, you'd think I'd have a vast concert history to back it up. A drawer full of tattered concert t-shirts and mangled ticket stubs. Well, not so much. My first concert was Foreigner when I was in junior high. They were touring in support of the Foreigner 4 album, and I really just went because I was offered a free ticket from a friend. The experience was a bizarre one for me, for until that point, I was used to only getting tinny sounding music from my stereo. I was bit! However, where I grew up is hardly a hotbed of quality concert stops. We're a bit of a drive-through state for bands. That didn't stop me from seeing Weird Al in concert here, though. Twice! Jealous? No? Don't blame you. I don't admit that to many people. Just strangers on the internet.
The best concert I've had the opportunity to attend was U2's Zoo TV production when they stopped here. Achtung Baby is the CD that always tops my list when playing the "What would you want to have with you on a desert island" game (if the desert island was fully wired for sound and electricity. Details!), and I did all I could to be at this particular show. My seats were essentially three blocks behind my apartment, which was 40 miles away from the venue, but I didn't care. When the stadium lights went down, the stage illuminated with screens flashing "Everything You Know Is Wrong!" and "Reject Your Weakness." I went numb. Even after this long, hearing the first notes of this CD gives me pause.
And honestly, I think
"Every artist is a cannibal,
every poet is a thief.
All kill their inspiration
and sing about their grief"
is one of the best lyrics ever. Ever.
Song of the day: The Fly by U2
Some Days Just Suck Until Construction Workers Dance For You
My cellular phone vibrated. It was Ella.
Me: Are you on fire?
Ella: What?
Me: Are. You. On. Fire.
Ella: No. Why?
Me: What do you want?
Ella: Nothing. I just called to see what you were doing.
Me: I'm standing in the middle of Chuck E. Fucking Cheese's.
Ella: Oops. Forgot.
Me: Yeah.
Ella: Ok. I'll let you go. Have fun! [maniacal laughter] I love you. Bye!
Today was one of those days full of rushing around like crazy while accomplishing nothing. Zoey had to be at summer camp at 9:00 AM, which meant we had to leave the house at 8:30 AM. Zed and I got back around 9:30 AM, which left me forty-five minutes before his therapy session to straighten up the house, do some laundry, and other crap. After his session, Zed and I hit the backyard before picking Zoey up from camp. We then headed to Chuck E. Cheese's for a birthday party. A normal visit to Chuck E. Cheese's sends me over the edge. A visit to Chuck E. Cheese's after a morning of bouncing all over town?
Let's just say I was cursing the pizza rodent as I was loading two hyper, sticky, tired, complaining, and overstimulated children into the car. I was still cursing because I couldn't find anything on the radio. I was still cursing because traffic was backed up due to road construction.
And then I saw Mr. 250-Pound Construction Worker standing by the side of the road.
He was trying to entertain his coworkers by doing The Cabbage Patch. I have no idea if they smiled or laughed. But I know I did. And all the leftover crap from my busy, cranky morning washed away.
Thank you, Mr. 250-Pound Construction Worker.
Song Of The Day
Did you know Marla from …For A Different Kind Of Girl appeared in a music video? She recounts her brush with fame on her third day as Guest DJ.In my mind, I'm a video vixen. I'm the girl who slithers across the top of the car in the Whitesnake video. I'm that chick in Warrant's Cherry Pie clip. I'm every girl in Robert Palmer's clips from the 80s. Those babes in the audience of every hair metal band's performance videos? The ones who lift their shirt just prior to the cut back to the singer looking directly at the camera, nodding and sticking out his tongue? Yeah. That's me, too. I'm what Def Leppard referred to as a video vamp. With an overactive imagination.
I did perform in a music video once, in 1989. Perhaps you caught it if you happened to be up at 4 AM on some random Wednesday night, flipping channels and landing on MTV. That's the only time MTV seems to play videos (you're welcome for that tired cliché). See that hot girl stage right? The shadowy one? The one swaying her hips and clapping her hands? No, not the one with the mullet in the front row. Just a bit further back. Pink shirt? Yeah. That's me. I swear. This shot at fame in a clip for The Rainmaker's Spend It On Love was my introduction to the video babe lifestyle, but before succumbing to the drugs, drinking and groupies, I retired. One and done, I always say.
I met members of The Rainmakers while attending lead singer Bob Walkenhorst's college alma mater, the perks of being friends with broadcast majors at a time when Rolling Stone was championing them as the next big thing. From that moment on, I basked at Bob's feet to take in his Zen-like and sarcastic manner, hung out with them, followed them around for shows, interviewed them, and got to call myself a video vamp. If I could wish for anything, it would be to take credit for coming up with the lyric "The generation that would change the world is still looking for it's car keys" and that the Rainmakers, gracious and unpeggable, were still putting out music today.
Song of the day: Spend It On Love by The Rainmakers
Another Boring Night In Suburbia
This is how I spent my Sunday evening (actually, it was early Monday morning). But just to liven things up a bit, I'm going to tell the story in reverse. Let's kick it Memento-style!
July 23, 2007 2:00 AM
I headed back to my house as the cop banged on my neighbor's front door. You did everything you were supposed to do, I reassured myself. It's in the cop's hands now. I walked inside, grabbed a drink, and turned on the television. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep without the knowledge that my neighbors were aware of the situation, so I went back out on the front porch. My neighbor and the cop were standing at the crime scene. Good. I can go to bed now.
July 23, 2007 1:45 AM
"It's about time they showed up," the tall firefighter told me as the police car came down our street. The firefighters walked over to the patrol car. I stood there, shuffling my feet, readying myself to tell my story for the fourth time that evening. The short fireman pointed at me. The cop started walking in my direction.
"You're the witness?" he asked.
"I'm the one who called the police. I saw a dark pickup truck. Other than that, I'm not much of a witness," I said nervously, probably acting like I was the one responsible for what had happened. I don't do well around police. Or any authority figure, for that matter.
I gave the cop my story along with my name, address, date of birth, and telephone number. I explained to him why I had taken so long to contact the police. I was beginning to think I was going to have to go down to the station to fill out an official report. But instead the cop said, "Ok. That's all I need. You can go home now."
"Are you going to wake them up? Because I'm worried they'll come out--"
"Yes. I'll wake them up and let them know what happened," the cop said.
July 23, 2007 1:00 AM
"They're not going have their sirens on, are they?" I asked. "It's pretty late and I think the whole neighborhood is asleep."
"Sir, they will follow whatever procedures are necessary in a situation like this," the police dispatcher told me. "Now I need to ask you some questions."
"Okay."
"Are you in any immediate danger?"
"No."
"Is anyone around you in any immediate danger?"
"No."
"Someone will be there shortly. Goodbye."
I hung up the phone and started cursing. "Damn it!" I screamed to Ella. "Why did I let you talk me into calling the police? What if they come down the street with their sirens a-blaring and it turns out to be nothing? What if I don't know what the hell I'm talking about!"
She said nothing.
"I'm going to bed. You deal with this." I said.
"Nuh-uh. You saw it. You deal with it. I'm going to bed."
A few minutes later, I heard the fire truck coming down our street. "Good," I said. "At least they don't have their sirens on."
I walked outside and met the firemen in front of my neighbor's home. They examined the scene, asked me what had happened, and wrote down my name, address, and phone number. "Is this what I think it is?" I asked, nervously.
"Yes," the short firefighter replied.
"What happens now?"
"We call the police. This isn't our problem," he replied.
"Are you going to wake them up? Are you going to tell them about it?" I asked, pointing at my neighbor's home.
"No. This is isn't our problem," he reiterated.
July 23, 2007 12:30 AM
"You really need to call the police," Ella told me. I ignored her; I was busy at the computer.
"Jackson?" I asked.
"Maybe," Ella replied. "But that doesn't sound right. I don't know."
"You know, one of us really needs to start paying attention when people introduce themselves to us," I said.
"I know," she replied.
After a few moments of silence, I asked, "Simpson?"
"No. Definitely not Simpson," Ella stated (Turns out I was right. Their last name is Simpson).
"You really need to call the police," Ella said once again.
"Just give me a few more minutes," I begged. I really didn't want to call the police. What if I was wrong?
But I had a plan. Our neighbors had just moved into the house a week ago. We knew their first names but not their last names. We knew the neighborhood where they used to live, but not the street. So I used my laptop to go through their old neighborhood, street by street, scouring the names of the people who lived on the streets. I was hoping to find a match with their first names and, ultimately, a phone number so I could just call them on the phone.
I always wanted to be a detective.
"You really need to call the police," Ella said firmly.
"FINE!"
July 22, 2007 12:15 AM
"Honey? Honey, wake up!"
No response.
"Honey! Wake up!" I try again.
"What do you want?" Ella said, sleepily.
"A bomb just went off in our neighbor's front yard!"
"WHAT!" Ella screamed as she sat up in bed.
"I think a bomb went off in our neighbor's mailbox."
"A bomb? A real bomb?"
"A homemade bomb. There's a huge jug in the street. There's foam inside the mailbox and some black residue inside the mailbox. It's on the ground, too."
"You went down there? What were you thinking?"
"I don't know. I heard a loud BOOM! and I thought it was a car backfiring, so I went outside. I saw a dark truck down by our neighbor's mailbox. There was lots of smoke. Tons of smoke. The truck sped away. I really thought it was a backfire. But the smoke didn't go away, so I walked down there to check things out."
Ella quickly threw on a shirt and sweats and we went outside. She stood on the porch as I started walking toward the smoke.
"Don't go down there!" she screamed.
"I've already been down there once. The bomb's already gone off. There's nothing to worry about."
"Don't!" she yelled as I continued to walk toward the smoke. I coaxed her down off the porch but she wouldn't go anywhere near our neighbor's yard.
"I can't believe no one else heard this," I said as I walked back into our yard. "What should we do? I don't want them to come out tomorrow morning and touch their mailbox. What if they get burned or something?"
"You really need to call the police," Ella said.
Song Of The Day
Marla from …For A Different Kind Of Girl is back for her second day as Guest DJ (btw, if anyone else would like to DJ for a week sometime down the road, drop me a line). Take it away, Marla!I grew up in a small town with two radio stations and no cable television. Madness! I remember actually being excited the first time I heard Air Supply's Lost in Love on the radio. It was as if I was just discovering music for the first time! Then I shook the insanity out of my brain, turned the dial to the other radio station and waited. Eventually, I was rewarded with Duran Duran. As was the case with many of the bands I grew up enjoying, Simon LeBon became my pretend husband. John Taylor was my dalliance. We got along delightfully. A few years later, Nick Rhodes married a woman about 15 miles from where I lived, and I thought two things: "Wow! Nick Rhodes isn't gay or else this is some of the most clever marketing I've ever seen!" and "Well, there's obviously hope for me! Simon's bound to make a wrong turn on the way to the wedding and spot me browsing BOP magazine pinups of him when he stops at the convenience store and asks for directions. We'll live happily ever after!"
Interesting how that didn't seem to work out. Alas, I love him still. I own all the albums as a symbol of my love and fidelity to Simon LeBon.
I would, however, still consider a dalliance with John Taylor.
Song of the day: Careless Memories by Duran Duran
