D2’s taken a liking to “taking photos.” My wife and I both dabble in photography, so D2 has been imitating us with the toy camera we bought for her. Last week, I decided to have a little hipster fun and let D2 take a mirror self portrait – I’m sure you’ve seen them before, or maybe you were taking mirror self portraits before they became so mainstream. Here’s the result.
I love her asymmetrical pigtails.
This post is part of #iPPP (iPhone Photo Phun), where we link up photos taken from our smart phones. Any smart phone.
Bethany over at Organic Enchilada just chided me for not blogging in all of April. My initial response was much like the response I give my wife when she reprimands me for not doing something for a long time: “What??? How dare you! I’m pretty sure I did [whatever I am being reprimanded for].” So I open up my blog, blow off the dust and sure enough my last post was on March 31. ^_^
It seems there’s quite a massive case of blogstipation going around. Whether it be lack of motivation, lack of clever ideas, or trying to find your bloggy self, it seems
I’m many bloggers are struggling. So what is it? Is the Internet hitting critical mass where there are so many content creators that it’s hard to come up with any new ideas? Or maybe we’ve been feeding ourselves too much pulled pork and not enough vegetables and we’re backed up like D1 was and can’t pass a massive turd of a post and need the help of someone to reach in and pull that post out of us. Well, Bethany, congratulations! You just grabbed the groundhog and pulled it out of my a…errrr, blog.
Being a responsible blogger, before writing a post related to constipation I decided to do some research and it led me to this Wikipedia page: the Bristol Stool Scale. It was developed by Dr. Ken Heaton, and it’s safe to say, he’s had a pretty crappy job. And his 7 types reminded me of this old, old page: The Different Types of Poop. Wow. I can’t believe I linked to an angelfire page on my blog. I feel like I should sign up for an AOL account and throw up some random gifs like Strong Bad’s website.
Anywho, I’m hoping to get on an Internetamucil program here shortly and should be more regular, but until then, what are some of your remedies for blogstipation?
I know, I know – it’s Wednesday. But I need to begin my return to more-regular blogging with an appeal for mercy.
To my readers: Have Mercy! I know, I know. When we first got together, I gave you what you wanted regularly – sometimes, multiple times a day. Things were fresh, fun, and sometimes, a bit wild. Ah, youthful love. Next thing you know, I’ve got more subscribers to my RSS feed and blog, and followers on Twitter, and suddenly, it’s like we’ve been married for a very long time. Now, I don’t give it up as regularly, often citing how tired I am, or how busy I am at work, or how I’ve been getting headaches so often. And then last week, I didn’t give it up at all.
I won’t lie to you – I’ve been wondering. Wondering if your love for me has waned. Wondering if you’ve found a new, hotter piece of butt. Wondering if our relationship will ever return to what it was. And I’m sure you don’t want to hear any excuses, but like any guy in the midst of an argument with a significant other I’ll
keep talking and digging a deeper hole for myself offer the following reasoning: it’s not you; it’s me.
A lots been going on (trying to sell/buy a home, planning a family missions trip to Thailand, work has actually been busy, kids have been sick, etc…) and while I still find you irresistible and want you, I just haven’t been able to give you what you want as of late.
But all that’s going to change. I’m going to give it up (more) regularly and maybe even learn a few new tricks. RAWR.
What about you? Has 2011 been crazy busy?
It’s been a while since my last Merciful Monday post. Rest assured that isn’t because I haven’t done stupid things. For those new to the blog, Merciful Monday’s are for me to apologize for stupid things that I’ve done in order to start the week off with a clean slate (not to mention using my sweet, MS Paint-made logo – I consider any chance I can use Uncle Jesse’s hair to be a good thing).
To my car: Have Mercy! You’re now two years old and it shows in the way I treat you. Did I drive off again after leaving a drink on top? Yes. Did I bother to take you to a car wash to get the
love handle maker high fructose corn syrup corn sugar off of you? No. Did a flock of birds decide to take a collective dump while they were flying over you? Yes. Did I bother to get you washed? No. I just waited until it rained. Is there a slightly unpleasant odor emitting from under D1’s carseat? Yes. Am I utterly horrified and completely unwilling to clean out whatever is under there? Absolutely.
But rest assured that my apparent lack of care towards you does not accurately reflect the way I feel about you. Now that you’re reassured of my love for you, I hope you keep chugging along and make it to at least 200,000 miles.
To the seams of my pants: Have Mercy! Lately, you guys have been turning from innies to outies due to my misguided attempts at hibernation this winter. Please, please, please don’t split on me at the worst possible moment. Especially you, crotch seam. And in a similar vein…
To my waist: Have Mercy! Lately, when I go to shower, I find that my
baggy skorts boxer briefs have left an imprint on my waist. In fact, if the Hanes were sewn on the inside, I’m positive that I’d be branded by now. And my gut and muffin top? Let’s just say that I may or may not be acting like a teen girl with an unwanted pregnancy and always wearing baggy hoodies and making sure I keep my hands in the front pocket so as to conceal my front bulge. No ladies, I’m not happy to see you; that’s just my gut. Speaking of front bulges…
To my manhood: Have Mercy! If you didn’t notice, I mentioned the word “ball(s)” quite a bit in my previous post (32 times if you were keeping count). I think I was seriously compensating for this week. You see, this week, we celebrate D1’s 3rd birthday (time went by way too fast!) and the big thing we’re doing is taking her to Disney On Ice presents Princess Wishes. As if Disney on Ice weren’t emasculating enough – we’re going full-bore Old Testament eunuch-making with the Disney Princesses. But I love her so much – so I say meeh to losing my manhood. In fact, bring on the tea parties and playing with dolls, I say! More Belle! More Briar Rose! More Pink! More glitter!*
*Pop’s note: this is why I’m secretly hoping one of our future children will be boys – I figure Nerf guns and blowing stuff up will restore my manhood. And if that doesn’t work, there’s always the blue pill. GO SCIENCE!
What about you? Do you know a Muffin (top) man in your life? What do you need forgiveness for as you begin this week?
Huh. My last Merciful Monday post was on 10.11.10 and today is 1.10.11. I’m sure there’s a binary joke I could make in there somewhere but I don’t want 10. Sheesh. First post of this new year and I’ve already made a lame joke AND it was geeky to boot. I call this a win.
Anywho, I figured I’d start the year off by apologizing to my wife and amusing my readers. So here goes:
To my then-girlfriend: Have Mercy! Forget what De Beers tells you: a diamond isn’t forever; a woman’s memory is. Especially when it comes to their love interests.
It was 2002 and we had been dating for a few months. I saw an article in The Washington Post touting Citronelle’s lobster burgers. For those that are unfamiliar with the DC area, Citronlle is a well-reviewed, hoighty-toighty restaurant in Georgetown. Being poor college kids at the time, there’s no way we could’ve afforded a regular dinner there, but the lobster burger was supposed to be amazing and only $10! This served several purposes for me: 1) I get to say I took my gf out to Citronlle, 2) she gets to tell her friends that her bf took her to Citronelle, thereby me receiving the simultaneous admiration of her friends and the ire of their respective bfs, and 3) I only take a $30 hit to do so.
Even back in college, we cleaned up nicely. She looked exceptionally gorgeous that night. We got into my ’92 Corolla and we valet parked it, since it was the only option available at the restaurant. To say that was the crappiest car the valets parked that day would be like saying Christina Hendricks has big boobs: a huge (har har) understatement.
I confidently walked up to the hostess and said, “Pop – reservation for 2 at 7pm.” “Right this way, sir, ” she replied. She took us to our table and aside from Pearle Vision, I’ve never seen so many glasses in my life. Seriously. How plastered do people get at these pricey joints?!
The server comes to our table and asks us if we’d like anything to drink. “Just water, please,” I replied. “Still or (something) water?”, he asked. After a recent fine dining SNAFU in which we paid $10 for a bottle of carbonated water, I asked, “Which one is free?” At this point, I’m sure this song is going through your head (not really). After confirming our order of free water, the waiter took away ALL the glasses (cue sad trombone).
We then looked over the menus to find the lobster burgers and to our surprise, we couldn’t find them anywhere. We asked another server (apparently, the first server was just the drink guy) if they no longer serve the lobster burgers, and she told us that they are only served in the bar area. Whoops. Taking it all in stride, I told my gf that we could splurge, after all, I am a smooth operator or maybe even the most interesting man in the room. We settled on the $75/person 3-course dinners.
The other thing to note about the dinner was that there was a dedicated server who came out and cleaned off the breadcrumbs. Being a college kid, I was always impressed if I walked into a bar and it didn’t smell like urine, so you can imagine how impressed I was by the bread cleaner dude.
Anywho, the dinner was great and we had an awesome conversation.
The check comes and I briefly calculate how many books I’d have to sell back at the end of the semester to pay off the charge. I get my wallet out and HORROR!
And no, this wasn’t one of those cases when you’re hanging out with your friends and you’re faking like you forgot your wallet and ask for a spot.
I look coyly over at my gf and ask, “So uhhh…how good are you at washing dishes? Because we may have to wash a LOT tonight.”
Thankfully, she had her credit card and she picked up the check. The most interesting man in the room suddenly became the most single man in the room.
Actually, for some reason, my gf was able to look beyond this dating SNAFU, and today, we have two beautiful daughters.
Anywho, we walked out to get our car and YUP! You guessed it. I forgot cash for tipping the valet. Thankfully, she had cash. Otherwise, I would’ve had to scrounge up all the change from my ashtray.
And understandably, my wife hasn’t forgotten this. Even today, whenever we go out on a nice date, I’ll say, “Don’t worry – I have my credit card.”
To my readers: Have Mercy! I thoroughly enjoyed my hiblognation and am grateful for those that are still around. Here’s to another year of bl0gging (with plenty of food porn)!!!
So what about you? Do you have any dating SNAFU stories? What do you need to apologize for as you begin this new year?
Another Friday and you best believe I’ve got stuff to flip off. Sure I’ve got lots to be happy about, but little things have been annoying me as of late. Maybe I am getting more crotchety as I get older? Well, dear readers, whether you like it or not, here’s my crotch on full display.
To Thanksgiving: FLIP OFF! Really?! Thanksgiving is next week? Why does it seem like the holidays are sneaking up on me this year? And why am I already putting on holiday eating weight before any holiday dinners/parties? I guess I like to overachieve.
To gift cards: FLIP OFF! Does anyone else hate receiving gift cards? Maybe it’s because I’m the guy who either A) loses/forgets where he put his gift cards or B) waits for a sale that never happens or C) keeps them in his wallet and constantly forgets about using them even when he visits a particular retailer to use a particular gift card. Gift cards only require a little bit more thought than cash, e.g., “He’s a guy, so I’d better buy a Best Buy gift card and not an Ann Taylor gift card.” or “She’s a girl so I’m guessing she’d rather not get a gift card to Bass Pro Shops,” and yet, somehow they’re an acceptable gift. Worst of all are those AmEx or Visa gift cards – it’s basically like giving cash only you’re not and you usually have to pay an activation and/or maintenance fee on them. Visa advertises the cards by saying, “Give people the freedom to buy what they want.” So the people who give them usually think, “Wow. I am such a thoughtful friend. I’m giving my friend to freedom to go buy what he or she wants because it’s like cash. *pats self on back*.” You know what else is like cash? Cash.
This makes no sense to me. So if you ever want to give me a gift card, just give me cash. I promise I won’t be offended.
Also, I just realized this rant may result in me getting nothing but Ann Taylor gift cards for Christmas.
To parents at the mall who don’t understand the concept of a personal bubble: FLIP OFF! Sure, our kids are sharing germs in the play area but that doesn’t mean you gotta get all up in my bit. Here’s a diagram to help you understand.
And you, overly friendly dad? We nearly touched junks. That’s never a cool thing.
And you, dad who adopted Korean kids and wants to practice Korean? I get that you want to practice but maybe you should practice with people you know, not random people at the mall. And maybe you should learn more than just how to say hello.
Other Dad: ahn young hah seh YO!
Me: Uhhhhh, hello.
OD: Are you, Korean?
Me: *thinking: what gave it away? My big head or my small eyes? Or do I smell like garlic?* Yes, I am.
OD: That’s great [gives me his whole history on why he speaks Korean to random people who look remotely Korean]
Me: Ummmm, Ok. So is that all you say in Korean?
OD: Pretty much.
Thrilling discourse. Really. I should go to the mall more often to see 8 year old girls wearing short short skirts with their tall tall Uggs and enjoy more enlightening conversations. At least Sarku is always giving out free samples.
To parents who change their kids at the table at a restaurant: FLIP OFF! Yes, public restrooms can be disgusting and if there isn’t a changing table, your baby has to engage in diaper change aerobics, but for the love of all that is good and holy, PLEASE STOP CHANGING DIAPERS AT THE TABLE! I’ll be the first to admit, I’ve left some nasty diapers in some awfully tiny bathroom trashcans, but I’ve never subjected other diners to the nastiness that is a poopy diaper. Furthermore, it’s going to be very difficult for me to eat curry again, particularly dal, at an Indian restaurant.
*whew* that feels better. What about you? What in your life deserves to be flipped off today?