Fantasy coffins are not really something that I expected to find in life. Mostly because I don’t fantasize about coffins. Sure, sometimes I think about death, but not in the same stream of consciousness as coffins I will be buried in.
Well, I hope you find yourself well adjusted and highly likely to buy a ‘normal’ coffin after viewing the hammer, pineapple and other such lovely burial encasements.
Please burn me up after I die.
Via Dave Barry.
Photographing children is tough, especially when I’m photographing Abby. I recommend that if you’re going to photograph children that you sedate them with strong, doctor prescribed, medications. Make part of your initial consultation a direct instruction for sedatives. Worst case scenario you discover that the client doesn’t want to use you. because you’re a drug dependent hack.
Legal Disclaimer:
This is satire. I do not in any way suggest that people really use drugs to limit the mobility of children, cause children to obey, sleep, wake up, breath or anything else. Say no to drugs. Unless you’re diabetic or have issues with depression, cancer, HIV/AIDS, hypertension, heart disease, gum disease, certs disease or any other disease of the small breath freshener variety. As the father of a two year old I strongly encourage you to never run with scissors, play doctor in a co-ed situation, run by the pool, run in the street, run for president or wear pantyhose with a run in it. Furthermore I won’t tolerate any sort of comment suggesting that this isn’t right. Nor is it left. In fact if you’re right handed, left handed or ambidextrous I don’t care. Except for if you’re left handed and I’m married to you. You know who you are.
So, Jessica, being a daredevil of sorts and feeling dissassociated from the normal female pattern of counting calories tried the chantico from Starbucks tonight. Now, I’m going to warn those of you who are sensitive readers, those with weak constitutions and communist manifestoes to stop reading now.
OK, so what she ended getting was 20 grams of fat, a tiny cup and what tasted like liquid brownies. I had one sip and I feel like I’ve already gained enough weight to have replaced the Etheiopians in all of the 3rd grade Ethiopian jokes I told as a kid (you know, the ones where they’re so skinny that the wind whistles through their ribs when they run…). This literally tasted like a really moist chocolate browny. It’s fantastic, it’s almost so good that it would be fat-tastic. I think that Starbucks really took a gamble because in the end super-chocoholics are going to be sticking with chocolate bars made in foreign countries with 95% or more cocoa in them. I also think that most Americans will not know that they’re getting 20 grams of fat with their drink.
Did I mention it has 20 grams of fat? Oh, sorry, I did. I can eat a mediocre can of chili and it only has 14 grams of fat. However, this drink is not mediocre, I just had one sip and now I have to check into rehab. Pardon me if I drop off into a Carbohydrate coma…
Lord have mercy on the man who’s wife wears this.
Jessica was mildly upset that I said she could make conversations with just about anyone at any given time and that she was cursed with this happening since she married into my family. However, if I get her one of these I’m sure to earn more points.
MyMom can go just about anywhere and start conversations with people that she’s never met. I don’t know where she got it other than my dad’s mom, who also manages to do the same. She literally runs into people in the strangest places. My Grandma once had a small collision in a parking lot several hours from her house with a guy she hadn’t seen for a long time. Now Jessica is following into these, married into, footsteps. How?
Today she called to cancel our old Bank of America account and is now still on the phone with the gal at Bank of America. No, she’s not arguing over details of where checks should be sent, she’s not worried about getting security questions right. She’s telling her about Abby’s cough. She’s chatting about all sorts of things. So… I declair it as a pseudo-Peterman trait.
Update: It turns out that it was the gal on the other end. Jessica was not being chatty.
Update Update: It turns out that the gal was telling Jessica that she really wants her 22 and 19 year old sons to have grandkids for her with their girlfriends. I personally hope that there’s a ring on some finghers ahead of time. However, I didn’t cancel the account so I couldn’t cause an argument. My luck she’d have left the account open to spite me.
Some of you may have seen this report wherein we find that there is a huge pile of cow poop flaming… and it won’t go out. I don’t find this particularly problematic because
Also, if cows are responsible for a large amount of methane then we should harness this and then we’d be cooking with gas.
Many moons ago I would put Abby’s baby pants on her head and take pictures. Today, much to my delight, Abby put her own pants on her own head and let me take pictures. Of course she still moved so much that they didn’t come out great, but I’ve come to expect that.
Behold, Abbypantz.
Yesterday Abby insisted on stripping down into her little two year old birthday suit and running around the house like The Flash. Cutely, she had a bandaid (some white and blue thing) right above her left buttock. Even more cutely she sat upon the toilette and pronounced, “I have a cute bottom, Mama!”
With a headline like this I couldn’t pass it up: ABC News: Democrats Call Rice Liar, Bush Apologist. Isn’t politics a nasty business? I think they should remove the plank from their eye before they worry about Rice’s splinter.
In other news, pots and kettles are both black.