It's like crack, only more delicious

As recently as two weeks ago I didn't like pesto. I'm not sure what turned me off, but if I saw something with pesto on it, it may as well have been topped with pigeon shit. Or even worse, guacamole. Both are green, and both look a little bit like diarrhea. I don't like to eat green things, and I only eat my shit whole.

Then, when I was on vacation in August someone made their own guacamole. Out of respect I tried it, and it tasted a little bit like nothing. So, I learned to deal with guacamole. Nowadays, when I get a quesadilla and they ask me if I want guac on the side, I say yes. I don't actually eat it, but it can touch my plate, and I feel like the Mexican guy behind the counter respects me a little bit more than that douchebag behind me who doesn't get it.

Fast forward to last Tuesday. Tuesdays are my wife's night to go bowling. She goes straight from work and gets home around 7:30 or 8. So, it's up to me to get the baby fed and ready for bed, and to make dinner for Kym and I. I don't know how single parents do it, because this is no easy task. Most nights I make something easy that can just be thrown in the oven when Kym gets home. Last week I wanted something different. I decided I would make chicken sandwiches. I tried to pick a flavor that we both like, and that was Italian. I have no idea if pesto is even Italian, but for some reason I decided that I'd put pesto on them. And, of course, I made the greatest chicken sandwich of all time.

The downfall to making the greatest sandwich of all time is that I've become addicted to pesto now. Last night we had beef stew and I found myself wondering if it would taste good with pesto. In the middle of the night the baby wakes up and I bring her downstairs to have a bottle. As I get the bottle out of the fridge, I see the pesto looking at me through the corner of my eye. I can feel that it wants me as bad as I want it. I get angry at Daylight savings time because 4:00am is not an appropriate time to eat pesto. 5:00am, yes, but 4:00am is just absurd.

I don't even know where I'm going with this. I think I just feel guilty because I just had another chicken sandwich with pesto. I'm so ashamed. Tell me you'll still love me when I'm turning tricks on the streets for a bite of some four cheese pesto ravioli.

What should she be?

A chicken or a Leopard?

Wanna see my Nuts?

About twice a month we have vendors set up in the lobby or the cafeteria selling stuff. There's a rotation between a dude selling cd's, a chick selling stuffed animals, and a chick selling books. They rotate and come every 3rd month, but there is one steady vendor here every month. Some dude selling his Nuts. He actually calls them his Nut'z. For those of you that don't have Nut'z you probably think the same way I did at first... there's only like 3 kinds of nuts: peanuts, cashews, and almonds. How's he going to make any money selling that crap? Well, you'd be wrong. How ignorant of you to think like that.

He sets up and before long, people flock. I think people in thier cubes have a spidey-sense that the Nut'z are here. It's like pigs to slop, like flies to shit, like pedophiles to a Dateline sting. People go Nut'z (tee-heehee!). I'm not sure if people actually buy the Nuts, or they just pretend to be interested for the perks. The perks being free samples. "They get one peanut, one cashew and one almond... how great can that be?", I hear you ignorants thinking. Well, much to the shock of the non-Nutty informed community there's tons of varietys of Nuts.

When I saw him in the lobby today I knew I had to express to you, my faithful dozen readers, just how amazing the variety is. So, I decided for the first time ever, I'd grab a free sample or two. Or three, or four, or seventy-one. Yes, there are seventy-one varieties. My plan was simple. Walk down the line, act interested, grab a nut, pretend to put it in my mouth, then with a magician-like slight of hand, put the nut in my pocket. I'd do this over and over until I had 71 nuts in my pocket. (tee-heehee!) I'd go back to my desk, empty the booty onto my desk, and take a picture to show the world my nuts.

But, I chickened out.

Nobody Loves Me, Everybody Hates Me, I'm Gonna Eat Some Worms

I tried to let it go a few days, but it seems as if nobody's going to wish me a happy blogeversay. Thanks a lot! Just when I thought you cared.

Last year I wrote a MSPaint assisted recap of my first year. I figured I'd do the same for my second. In my first year of blogging I got engaged, married, and got my wife preggo. Not as much happened in my second year, but here it is nonetheless.




My mom fufilled her life (two year) long dream of dancing with Ellen on her tv show.




I redesgined my blog template to be a shrine to Hilary Duff. Tinapopo redesigned it based heavily on my bedsheets which she claimed to have never seen.





A lot of bloggers went away.




The coolest baby ever was born.




I met a blogger who dropkicked said baby across the resturaunt.

A poem

I've been too busy to have time to blog,
When I grow up I want to be a frog.

I've barely clicked on any of my links,
Someone's eating tuna and it really stinks.

I'll still be busy for the next few weeks,
Can birds give oral with those big beaks?

I'm stressed all the time, but the days fly by,
Is snuffleupagus a girl or a guy?

I'm not "on a break", but I don't have the time,
two nickels or ten pennies equals a dime.

I hope you don't feel like I'm neglecting you all,
I can't finish this right now.

Listen up!

Not only am I not quitting, but this is the first week since April 17th that I posted all 5 days of the work week. And, I actually think I've posted 5 times because I've been busy as hell and tried to take advantage of my breaks. Granted, all the posts this week have been shite. So, to make up for it, I'm posting a picture of my ass:


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And for no extra cost, you get the dvd extras including the outtake of what my first ass drawing was. Thank God I didn't post that piece of shit. That would have made me look like a bad artist.

Is it just my PC, or is my sidebar gone?

Question

Before Titso went on maternity leave she did a fair amount of traveling for work. While I would miss her while she was gone, it was kind of nice to have a few days on my own to go play poker, eat cereal for dinner, and not shower or change my underwear. She stopped traveling in her third trimester and has thus far avoided it since returning to work. She was told last week she was needed in Kansas on the 16th of this month, but got out of it by guaranteeing she would go for the week of November 6th. Leaving me with the baby. A single dad of a 5 month-old. So, my question: Do I divorce her now, or later?

Reflection

A week from Sunday marks my two year blogiversary. Pretty pathetic.

In an unrelated story, two guys that started a website about six month after me just made $1.65 billion. Pretty pathetic. It was bought by google, the same company that runs blogger. So, it's only a matter of time before youtube crashes everyday, you can't log on, and you can't upload anything.

In a very related story, I write all my blog posts in Word or in an email to make it look like I'm composing a work related document. (Yes, most of my work related documents contain pictures of bears attacking girls in a towel in a log cabin.) So, when I just went to login to blogger to post this... I couldn't! Surprise, Surprise.

Congrats Detroitians

Going through a few blogs this morning I was reminded of how wonderful of a weekend this was. Not only did the Eagles beat the Cowboys with TO doing nothing, but the stadium chanting my name the whole game (“OD… OD, OD, OD.. Ohhh D Ohhh D..”) made it that much more special. But nearly matching this greatness was watching the Yankees lose in the first round again. There’s nothing I love more than watching a $200 million lineup full of overpaid ex-Phillies go down in flames.

As awesome as it was, I think that Detroit celebrated waaay too much. Yeah, they went from a team that lost about 150 games 3 seasons ago to a team that beat the Yankees in the playoffs, but was it really worth all this?



The celebration started off normal enough. A little champagne celebration.



Then the champagne seemed to get violent. This stream went through the roof and drown a young child.



I thought it was a bit careless when they let a bear out to celebrate. It didn’t even make sense either. You’d think they’d have a tiger instead of a bear.



I really started questioning the celebration when they blew up the stadium. I guess they’ll have to play the rest of their games on the road.



Then the final straw in this ridiculous celebration. When did Detroit get The Bomb?

Thanks to Roonie for the real pics

I had a dream

The other night I had a dream that one of my wife's hair's somehow got wrapped around my tonsils. It was in a tight knot and I couldn't get it undone. It didn't hurt or anything, it was just annoying walking around with a long hair hanging out of my mouth. I have no idea what that means. It probably has something to do with how the Eagles are going to win the superbowl this year.

working from home





I'm not sure who to blame, so I guess I'll blame blogger. I was on youtube trying to post these, what I guess is over a week ago now. Nice service.

wfh

ignore

wfh

ignore

The best hour of my day

Since I don't have much funny to say lately and Monday's school killings happened about 30 minutes from where I live I thought I'd get serious for once.

Last night I got home from the Eagles game and got to sleep around 2am. I took the day off work and basically relaxed all day for a change. I also made it official: now everyone in the world has finally seen Pirates of the Caribbean. Having the day off reminded myself just how much working for a living sucks. We spend half of our waking hours doing shit we most likely don't want to do. One of the only enjoyable things I do during my 8 hours at work is peeking at blogs while looking over my shoulder to see if anyone sees me doing it. So, basically half of our waking hours are dreary.

For the past month the best part of my day has been the part of my day I used to spend sleeping. Up until a month ago I would wake up at 7:30, kiss Kym and Kenslee goodbye as they still slept (while Kym was still home on maternity) and head off to work. A little over a month ago Kenslee's sleeping patterns changed and I no longer need a 7:30 alarm. I have a 6:30 alarm clock made from my own flesh and bones. Now everyday Kym and I have the same schedule. Kenslee starts crying at 6:30. Kym gets up and gets in the shower. I get up and change and feed Kenslee. Being a dad of a 4 month-old is no walk in the park. It has been just as difficult and just as rewarding as I always pictured it would be. Kenslee is fussy a lot, but in general her best time of the day is after a long sleep. Kenslee and I spend about an hour hanging out every morning while Kym showers and gets ready for work. She eats, she smiles, she laughs, she watches Sportscenter with me, she makes faces that make me laugh, she makes waking up an hour earlier than I used to completely worth it. It's the best hour of my day.

Over the weekend Kym and I were talking about the school killings from last week and she said that she just couldn't see it ever happening at the high school Kenslee will eventually go to. And, now with it happening in an Amish school a few towns over, it's obvious it could happen anywhere. As a new dad, it pains me to think of what it must be like for the victim's families. I couldn't imagine waking up at 7:30 again.