ADVANCED PARTY PLANNING

My son is turning 5 years old in a couple weeks.
I am his social coordinator.
I didn't apply for the gig, it was thrust upon me.
But where to go? What to do?

Well there's always Chuck E. Cheese.
150 amped up little brats, screaming for more tokens. The bells and sirens and bleeps and bloops. The teenager in the 5 foot rat suit scaring the crap out of little party goers, like Godzilla stomping through munchkinland. Oh, and the finest pizza shaped cardboard money can buy. OOOhh, sign me up.

There's mini-golf.
My son and his pre-school pals wielding clubs around like light sabers. Me,wading through the water traps for hours because little Jimmy with the wicked slice had to have the black ball. The eventual golf turned hockey game that breaks out because no one wants to wait their turn. And pullin kids down as they climb the rocks like fire ants in a flood. Pass on this one.

How 'bout bowling.
Yeah, here's a good idea. Trying to get these little tricycle motors to lift a ball half their body weight. Spending an hour tying up 22 tiny little shoes on 22 stinky little feet. Sending the 4 man mini-rescue posse to find Connor in the bathroom because it's his turn. Calling the attendant every 3rd frame because the ball is stuck half way down the lane. And let's not forget the impending trip to the alley game room, where I'll be pulling in chairs for boosting up these baby non-gamers who can't get Frogger across the road anyway. Head on- apply directly to the forehead. Pass again.

Maybe we'll just stay home.
Maybe, go to the park.
Maybe, I just won't tell him it's his birthday. He is only 5. Think he'll know?

IN DENIAL

Well, after 5 attempts, I have given up on you Blog Catalog.

I am left with the sadness of what could have been, but will never be.

E-mails were sent. Phone calls were made.

Yet the rejection notices continue to pour in like the salmon of Capistrano.

Application declined.

5 times tried, 5 times denied.

But do not weep for me Blog Catalog.

For I have found another, http://www.bloghub.com/

Our final straw, our last chance, dashed by the text version of a dagger through the heart; "Your blog is too new and does not have enough content to make it truly valuable."

Ahaa.. but the joke is on you Blog Catalog.

My newborn blog does not contain aaanything which should be construed "truly valuable."

And anyone who reads my ramblings looking for, or hoping to find anything "truly valuable", needs to be duct-taped and whacked in the knees with a tack-hammer.

DRIVIN MR. D.J.

Pardon me sir, but if you will no longer require my services, I shall be retiring to my quarters for the evening.

Drivin to pre-school.

It seemed quiet.

Way too quiet.

This is what I saw when I spun around.

Little guy, checkin his a.m. stock quotes before he begins his grueling, finger-paint/ nap / playground schedule. Hmm... it appears Fisher Price is up an eighth...

Or maybe the little freeloader is in the Classifieds.

If he could actually read, I'd ask.

.....GOES AROUND

Once in a while, when least expected, the karma gods will send you a little sign.
Just to show they have a sense of humor.
Today, karma god smiled on me.
Not a little grin. Not a small smirk.
I got the Cheshire cat - just ate a box of Crest whitening strips smile.
Read on, my karma retributional friends.
My pinhead, arrogant, self-indulgent, nothings ever good enough, bossman, decided to pay me a visit at my jobsite. As one might expect, he shows at the lunch hour, when rather than tending to our delegated tasks, we are eating.
He summons me from my convenient store cuisine with a somewhat demanding "my time is more valuable than yours" tone in his voice.
I comply, disparagingly. Still chewing.
He proceeds to the living room of the house, pissed about who knows what for who cares why.
When part way through his idiotic speech about lunch breaks, ...it happened.
In front of about 6 carpenters, a painter, and a stone mason, ...it happened.
I sneezed. I'm not talkin "achoo, scuse me" sneeze. This was a from the diaphragm, wall decorating, pull a muscle in your back, duck and cover, beauty of a sneeze, that only could be summoned by the gods of karma.
For as they would have it, the sneeze was accompanied by a small piece of lunch, which launched itself from my uvula and perched itself precisely between the eyes of my attacker.
...He didn't notice.
...We didn't tell him.
How could he not know? He looked like he had just been hit with a snowball.
Why didn't anyone say anything? Cause karma god had their tongue. That's why.
He finished his ramblings about nothing. And with big, white, chewed up, food morsel still holding, firmly centered on his uni-brow, in all its' hilariously gross glory, he sped off.
Thank you karma gods.
I needed that.

PLANT-A-PET

We have a new pet. It's not gonna lick my face or wag it's tail, but it ain't gonna crap on my carpet either. It has no legs, so it doesn't need to go for a walk, and it doesn't eat anything. It never needs a bath, and won't bark at the neighbors. We should have got one of these a long time ago. Mans' best friend, without the stink.
Ch-Ch-Ch-Chia. Nice.
The anticipation of our bald little friend turning into a green afro-sporting mule has been tough, but there were chia-issues. It could have been less prep, but the chiastructions chiasuck.
Submerse chia-head in water. Done.
Wait 24 hrs. Done.
Soak seeds in water. Wait 24 hrs again. Crap.
If only I had read further on day 1, we'd be smearing gooey hair tonic on schedule. Instead, I was explaining to a 4 yr old, the importance of reading all the directions first. Lesson learned.
Now, I'm proud to report that all seed-goo has been spread as instructed and we will soon be bringing our friend to chia-cuts for a trim. Maybe a mohawk. Maybe some chia-dreds. Maybe not.

WHOA, WHAT, YAY, OUCH...

The circus was in town this weekend and, being the world champion dad that I am, I loaded up my co-ringmaster and my own two clowns to witness the greatest show on earth. Problem was, we had a better view of Jupiters' moons than the multi-colored merriment happening at ground level.

It's hard to be amazed by the"high flying trapeze act" when it's happening beneath you. We could only see the trapeze people when they swung out from under the enormous light rigging. They were probably pretty good. I'll never know.

The circus also handles their own concessions. In other words, there's no way they're gonna attempt to scale the stadium steps with that big popcorn bag carrying stick in tow. The cotton candy guy gave it a shot and, after a brief appearance, was never seen again. I equate it to scaling Mt. Everest, even the bravest people only try it once.

It wasn't all bad though. The iron testicle competition was fantastic nut-racking fun for the whole family.

This years contestants; Dude jumping on and off of a horse at full speed, slammin his stones every way he can to make the judges cringe ; Chinese guy flipping between swinging metal poles without using his hands, commonly referred to as the "Asian Crotch Catch" ; and neon-mohawk guy bouncing around on his saddled innertube, abusing his onions for our enjoyment. There was no clear cut winner, but I'll bet you a kick in the groin, the male members of the audience still haven't unclinched their thighs.

HOW COLD IS IT

It is 31 degrees in Largo Florida.
IT'S 31 DEGREES IN LARGO FLORIDA.
Read it again.
Thirty-one. Trente y uno.
31 is for ice cream flavors and Montana summers.
It's just wrong for describing Fla temps.
So very wrong.
This morning I saw a car with a Canadian license plate heading north. (I hear Sasketchewan is having a 34 degree heat wave.)
I think there is a rock in my boot, but I'm afraid to check. I may find that my pinky toe has frozen and broken off.
Someone call Al Gore, global warming has officially ended.