It finally happened. Honea Express has moved to greener pastures, or possibly just out to pasture -- you make the call.

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Please pardon the dust and update your feed readers accordingly. Thank you - Whit

Wednesday, January 31, 2007

Aqua Teen Terrorist Force or Kaufman Prank from Beyond the Grave?

Oh, why is the Daily Bugle always picking on poor Spiderman? Doesn't J.J. know a hero when he sees one? Well, Spidey is not alone anymore. The superhero (according to the intro anyway) team of Fry, Shakezilla and Meatwad are getting press that would make Spiderman blush.

Apparently the creators of the show and the upcoming movie, which is basically a longer version of the show, placed some questionable ads all over some of America's major markets. Boston was the only town that bothered to notice them.

I'll admit, I loves me the Hunger Force, but despite the fact that it gets better ratings among men 18-34 (35 if you count me) than CNN, it is still not recognizable by the average man on the street. The fact that the ads were placed in subways and purposely made to resemble explosive devices complete with blinking lights was, in hindsight, not as smooth a marketing campaign as intended.

Is it funny? Kind of. It reeks of Wellesian paranoia at a time when our fears are most validated. Was it appropriate? Probably not. Some people, you know who I'm talking about, can't take a joke, and when that joke literally stops a major city from functioning during the middle of the week, well, it's gone too far.

Here's a theory, the Aqua Teen Hunger Force are in constant battle with the Moonites (as seen blinking in a subway near you)and Andy Kaufman, the one guy that might think this joke didn't go far enough, is called The Man in the Moon. There's a common belief out there that Kaufman isn't really dead, and now this? See where I'm going?

Maybe not.

Pre-Spring Cleaning

We have the day off today, meaning the whole family will be home today.

What will we do with our time together? Play some games? Plant a garden? Catch up on some reading? Probably not. We're going to clean. We're going to do laundry. We're going to do all of the things that we cannot get to during the course of the week. Frankly, it's anti-climatic.

It's time though. I had to Febreeze underwear yesterday. Zane crawls around in a fur coat that isn't his. Rather it is the collected sheddings of three stinky cats and two slobbering dogs. These are things best left undone.

Yes, our family will bond today, like socks and static, like peanut butter and ladies (you like to put jelly on a lady?). After all, a family that cleans together... is cleaner, and I'm guessing a bit more bored. Whatever, it's cheaper than Chuck E. Cheese.

Monday, January 29, 2007

Wrap it Up Yo ( A Weekend in Review)

Before I get started, I need to address something that just happened. I am sitting here at the table, which also doubles as the place to stack all things stackable, and Atticus sat next to me to signal that he was ready to take a break from Maggie & The Ferocious Beast, as well as the beating of his little brother, to have a bowl of hearty breakfast. There was a book and some bills in the space that he is accustomed to staking.

"Excuse me," he said, "but can you move this crap for me please?"

"Um, sure." I replied. I tried to hide my laughter. "It's not crap though." I continued. "That is stuff. There is a difference. Besides, it doesn't sound nice for little boys to use that word. Do you understand?"

"Yes." He answered. "Will you move this stuff so I can eat please?"

"Sure." I said.

I have a new post over at DadCentric. It's about crap stuff.

Speaking of DadCentric, Jason, Whiff, and I went to see Neal Pollack speak in Hollywood Friday night. We showed up kidless. We were the minority.

The reading was entertaining in its own right, but the kids, oh the kids, what an element they added. They crawled, meowing mind you, around Pollack's feet as he tried to maintain some semblance of seriousness. He couldn't.

It was appropriate though, and it was funny. He did manage to make it through the reading and then entertained a few questions from the fans, friends and family that filled the tiny Skylight Books.

He sat and chatted with the DadCentric posse and we all agreed that an actual male version of Blogher was due. I think he wants us to come to his place, but we'll see.

Afterwards, we grabbed some food and margaritas and talked about all things dad related, you know, poop, blogs and little green fairies. It was a good time.

Scarface is healing nicely. His fleshwound is smothered in Neosporin and kisses, and then covered by a layer of Backyardigan band-aids.

The walker is also a climber. The kid can't walk across the room, but apparently he has the skills and determination to climb up the slide that leads to his brother's loft bed. Needless to say this is being addressed.

I received a copy of Rejuvenile from Christopher Noxon in the mail and will be writing a review as soon as I finish it.

Our DVD player, the replacement to the one that broke, has broke. No, this isn't a result of kids and fingers, but rather shoddy craftsmanship. Needless to say Netflix won't be getting any mail from us for a while.

There you have it folks, our weekend in a nutshell. Walnut I believe.

Saturday, January 27, 2007

Annie Get Your Camera (You're Going to Disneyland)

I can't say I've ever followed the career of Annie Leibovitz, but I've heard of her. She takes pictures of naked pregnant women and various people that have never been in my kitchen. That's cool. I'm sure she's living the dream.

Recently she was hired in by the Walt Disney Company, that is the newer and smarter Bob Iger led Walt Disney Company, to do some promo photo shoots. The shots are amazing.

For more info go directly to The Disney Blog. Do not pass go.

Friday, January 26, 2007

Say 'ello to My Little Friend

I'm expecting a call from Sally Lieber any minute. As Atticus will tell you, this is what happens when you don't listen. Let that learn you son. Of course what he didn't listen to was his mother telling him not to run around the house in the dark, where his foot betrayed him in a hole and some bramble. Yes, we have bramble in our yard. It's left over from our days as Br'er Honea Express.

Needless to say, he's fine, but man, it sure makes him look dangerous. I hope this isn't step 2 in his master plan to become a pirate. You don't want to know what step 1 was.

Now the leg, huh?

Thursday, January 25, 2007

Parenting is the New Black

Jonathon, of Flailing My Arms, posed a question over at BloggingBaby that seems pretty relevant.

He discusses the phenom that is Neal Pollack (going to see him speak tomorrow, anyone else?) and his gift to parenting lore, Alternadad, and of course the inevitable mention of DadCentric, in wondering if we, being todays parents, are actually doing anything all that special.

As those of you with blogs know, I often leave comments on sites that are much funnier or better thought out than anything I actually post over here. Maybe it's the lack of pressure. Whatever. The point is that I'm going to do something I've never done before and copy my comment from BloggingBaby and use it in my post today. It's not cheating, look how much other crap I just added.

I believe the first comment (see original post) mentioned the key difference between our generation and those past. The Internet.

We may not be doing anything ground-breaking, but thanks to personal blogs and the very popular group blogs like DadCentric, StrollerDerby and Blogging Baby, the world is aware of what we do. Perhaps we have brought this glorification upon ourselves.

I don't believe that we have strayed that much from what our parents taught us. I grew up on the Beatles and Willie Nelson, and my kids are growing up on, well the Beatles and Willie Nelson. My apple didn't fall too far.

I do think that there is a wider acceptance of fathers being less "traditional", that is staying at home and being active in the actual rearing of the child rather than dishing out words of wisdom across the dinner table.

There are other considerations as well, one being that many people are starting families later in life, and this is leading to a generation of parents that are already established in their own identity when the child arrives. That identity likes to have fun. 30 is the new 20 you know.

That said, I'm not going to go all Public Enemy on you, because I think you should believe some of the hype. I'll take something as refreshing and solid as good parenting in USA Today any day of the week (except Saturday or Sunday apparently). Whether or not the movement deserves such recognition, hell, whether or not it is even a movement, that's a matter of opinion.

Me? Yes on the former, eh on the latter.

Speaking of opinion, it appears that the backlash has begun. I was wondering how long it would take for that bandwagon to hitch itself to this free ride.

It doesn't matter. You like the book. You hate the book. The book is a result of this suggested "parenting revolution", not the cause.

The only thing that does matter is that people are being active in the lives of their children, and if the media eats that shit up then all the better.

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Wednesday, January 24, 2007

I'm Never Drinking Again

Here's something you've probably already figured out about me, I'm a jackass. I tend to live in the now, and despite uttering mantras about only having 1 Guinness the entire way to the bar I am easily convinced to do otherwise.

Last night I joined some friends to say good-bye to one of them that is moving away. I was a good boy the entire time. Then some asshole suggested we move the party from El Torrito to a bar. Sure. Why not?

This is where my one beer chanting began. It ended about 5 minutes into the bar when I was handed a shot. It was all downhill from there.

In my defense, I've been pretty down lately and the idea of tying one on was growing increasingly appealing. I accepted the fact that I could do it and still wake up with the boys in the morning. Hell, I'm a trooper.

Hangovers are for people without kids. I've been throwing up all morning. I eat the toast. I puke the toast. On the brightside, at least I've been able to clean out some of that old stomach bile that's been stinking up the place.

It's ridiculous. Too much money and not enough sense. That's me.

Now if you'll excuse me. I have to change a smelly diaper. This ought to go over well.

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

Tragically Hip

The badass hipsters at DadCentric got some love this morning, all over the USA (Today). Don't worry, we'll wipe it up.

Big "Guy Love" props to our main man Jason for using "the man" to promote the um, men I guess.

What's it all about? Who the hell knows? It's just us doing what we do- used to be called being a "guy". Stuff like me sitting here with my kids watching Nick Jr., playing with Merlin and letting Atticus wear his Beatles t-shirt for the third day in a row. We haven't changed, and instead of setting the bar (ummmm, bar) too high, the rest of the world has decided to celebrate us for stuff we've been doing all along. Complicated? Not a bit.

USA Today also mentioned Babble, which I was too stupid to be a part of when I had the chance and now I live in a state of regret (CA). Call me Jay!

Also given mad props was the Neal Pollack book Alternadad. Obviously the book is getting some good reviews, and yes I'm reading it. What I don't understand is why the two (2) bookstores I went to on Sunday only had one copy between them. Not in a "we ran out" way, but in a "we didn't know this book was featured in The L.A. Times and USA Today" way. Hey Barnes & Noble, it's also been picked up for a movie, so clear an endcap.

Follow the links, and check out the rest of the DadCentric guys too. This can be your ticket out of nerdsville sucker.

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The Trouble With TiVo

Thanks to the glory of TiVo I have been able to maintain a constant viewing pattern of the shows I enjoy most, Scrubs, House, 30 Rock and Heroes. It's been nice knowing that my random and hectic schedule won't prevent me from Turk & JD singing about guy love.

The one thing that my wife and I never took into consideration was the rip caused in the space/time continuum when we wish to watch our recorded fix. Somehow a thirty minute show, twenty minutes sans commercials, now takes over an hour to watch.

It took us over two hours to watch House the other night.

The culprit(s) of course are the needs and desires of our children. Can't they stay full of food and poop for 20 minutes? The constant pausing and stopping, the standing and sitting, we're getting more than our share of calisthenics. I feel Catholic.

The option? Watch the programs at night. Late at night. This is what I did last night, well this morning actually, when I got home from work. I opened a beer, some ginger snaps and plugged the headphones into the tuner for an hour of uninterrupted Heroes action. It was bliss.

Of course I didn't get to bed until 3am and was greeted by the son(s) much earlier than my groggy little brain could comprehend. I'm mush right now.

At least I caught up on my programs- in record time. I also ate too many ginger snaps.

Monday, January 22, 2007

Wake Me Come Spring: An Unfunny Post

The Counting Crows* and Matt Costa were both right. It's been a long and cold December**. Even now, on the cusp of January fading, the ill effects of too much winter are standing strong.

There has been little rain, and somehow, despite a ring of white around us, there has been even less snow. There has been nothing but biting winds and bitter cold. The night air sinks to single digits and the mocking sun of mid-day barely breaks above 40. It is getting old.

The boys are home-bound, with boards of bored games. They are growing despite the never nourished requisite of bare feet in cool grass and the other offerings of endless summer days. They make their own sunshine and their laughter warms a house grown cold with waiting.

I do not fare as well. It is heavy upon me, the constant shutting of doors and stoking of fires. I too have shoes on my feet, and the numbness of their constraint spreads within me.

I am subject to these trappings that confine me. My job drains my spirit. It has broken me and brought me to heel. It takes more than I care to offer and throws me empty upon the icy sidewalk. It has beaten me.

Thus, I sit here sipping coffee, letting Ray Lamontagne soothe me while I wait for the laughter of two little boys to thaw me enough that I can muster a smile and make the most of what I must face- the standstill of another frozen day and the fresh bruises of another worknight that I am too tired to block.

*I found this Harry Potter video on YouTube.
**my poem that I am going to speak about next month at an Arizona high school

Sunday, January 21, 2007

A Review of a Review of Alternadad:

I have nothing but respect for Neal Pollack. That's why I haven't read his book. In fact, according to the sites I've been to lately, I may be the only dad under 45 that hasn't read it.

That's okay. I'm going to see him speak on Friday, and I'll have read it by then. I don't want to look like a total ass. Again.

Why haven't I read it? I have reasons. First, I too, have a book in the works about being a dad in the "now", and I don't want to be influenced- or worse, have others claim I was influenced, by Alternadad. However, since the latter is most likely inevitable whether I actually read the book or not, I may as well. I hear it's great.

Second, Pollack has ties with McSweeny's, and I am a bit jealous in that regard. Back when I thought Dave Eggers was the second coming I couldn't get much more than a short email from the guys at McSweeny's saying that they weren't interested in my writing. They didn't even email that much when I sent in nude photos. What? I took a chance.

I do enjoy Pollacks writing, regardless of the slight his buddy Eggers slapped upon me, and I do enjoy being a dad. Hence, I will read the book. Hence, I am awaiting approval to be added to Alternadad's friends list on MySpace. By the way, it's really hard to type with my fingers crossed.

Perhaps you are wondering how I can write a review of a book that I haven't even read. First of all, I can't imagine I would be the first to do so, and B) I'm not. I'm writing a review of a review. Of course I can do that, this is America.

Christopher Noxon
, he of Rejuvenile fame, wrote a nice piece for the L.A. Times Book Review section. The only section, I might add, besides the comics and Circuit City ad, that I read front to back (except for the parts I skip, like romance novels and Cathy).

The review was upbeat and appreciative. Noxon bought what Pollack was selling. If you're Neal Pollack you just sold a hundred more books. If you're Christopher Noxon, you may have just sold a few extra copies of your own creation as well.

I suppose that is the issue that spurred this post. It seems at times times that Noxon forgot what he was there for, and used the forum he had been allotted to exercise his own muscles. I'm sure most critics do so. I know I do (e.g., see that funny part about my fingers being crossed).

There's nothing wrong with doing so, assuming said muscles can carry the load. I'm not sure his did.

It was the ending. He ended the article by discussing the possibility of the next generation being pushed to Alex P. Keaton-esque extremes due to the leftness of the current parenting culture (the hip one anyway), which is a very valid view. Then he closed with this, "In other words, if you dress your kids in Sex Pistols onesies, will they grow up Republican?"

Again, nothing wrong with the question (my answer? I really hope not!), but the thought felt incomplete. Perhaps Noxon meant for me to put the paper down, take a sip of coffee and think, really ponder the outcome and consequences that might arise from putting my kids to bed with an Iron & Wine CD. I'm guessing that was his goal, but all it did was leave me feeling empty and unsatisfied, much like my wife on any number of occasions (sorry Honey). I looked to the next page, nothing. I looked for a "continued on...", but once again, nothing. It came up short (I said I'm sorry).

Yet, even as I sit here, being a hypocrite and flexer of puny guns, I can't help but feel a tinge of "what's next?". Could it be that is what Noxon intended, and only now, after dragging his good name through the mud, do I finally get it?

It's possible.

The important thing is that he liked the book. I plan to like it too.

In all fairness, I was not familiar with Christopher Noxon prior to this post, and having browsed his site(s), he appears to have some cool stuff going on in his own right. Check him out. Hell, I might write a review of his book.

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Thursday, January 18, 2007

The Sound of Silence

I've seen KISS in concert. I live in an area where sonic booms are the norm. I have a baby that cries in the night. I've been drunk in a library. However, none of these things can hold a candle to what is the loudest noise known to man- opening a bag of chips when children are sleeping.

What is it that amplifies the opening of an air-sealed bag? Granted, these Buttermilk Garlic Mash Potato Chips from Trader Joe's were sealed so tightly that I couldn't open the bag despite my trying my hardest. Really. This is the second time (same chips) this has happened. Even though my attempt failed it was still loud as hell, like falling in a vat of bubble-wrap. Kids from 2 streets over came running.

I finally had to cut the damn bag open with a knife, which was much quieter. Next time I'll just do that first. I suppose I should feel like a wuss for such a moment of weakness, but I'm just happy I got the damn bag open without waking the baby.

In my defense, yes I was trying my hardest, and yes, it was pissing me off, but much of my anger was at the noise of said trying, and I suppose that if I went Hulk on that bag it would have "opened" all over the kitchen. That would be a no-win.

Hence, the knife. And the sleeping baby. And the yummy chips in my belly. And nothing but the soothing sounds of My Morning Jacket to challenge the weak noises that claim to be all of that...but not a bag of chips.

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

My Head(er) Just Got Better & Other Tidbits of Blog Puberty

I am in debt to Peter of Chocolate Makes It Better fame (and of course fellow hipster at DadCentric) for taking what was once a boring piece of blank space and filling it with my new header. Fantastic!

Not only did he do all of the work, but he had to walk me through the damn thing like my life coach the first time I had sex (to the left, to the left, to the right, to the ...what the hell? Ah, you're pathetic!). It didn't hurt as much this time.

I've also done a bit of tweaking myself. You know dumb-guy stuff that I could figure out on my own. Namely I removed the link that used to be across the top of the page for my Honea Express Soundtrack and replaced it with a fancy little window over in the left sidebar. I also added about 70 more songs to it. What can I say, I loves me the music.

Here's the Ipod tangent.

My wife has been using an Ipod Nano with her Nike+ running shoes and has gone from running 0 miles a month to having run over 50 miles in January. The damn thing keeps track of miles and calories, talks to you (along with messages from Lance Armstrong) and plays your workout music. She just hooks it to the computer and Itunes gets freaky with Nike and she gets a little bundle of exercise joy.

Me? I got the second-hand Ipod Mini when she went all Mork on my ass (Nano-Nano...I know it's nanu, but this is my post).

As far as I know they've stopped making the damn Mini, but that's okay, they've gone smaller. Who says size doesn't matter? Click here for an Ipod Shuffle review.

End Ipod tangent.

See, I'm going through some changes here, ala puberty. Pardon me if my voice cracks.

The Softer Side of Boys

S-O-C-K-S? What's that? Did you just ask me what time it is in Spanish?

No? Oh, my three year old can spell socks all by himself, but he can't put them on his own damn feet. What kind of bass-akwards learning experience am I providing here?

My poor kids don't get out much. They have each other, and the animals, that provide hours of wrestle-mania type entertainment, and of course they have a television full of fake remotes, sing-a-longs and a mild-mannered octopus, but not very many friends.

It's not that we're unsociable or elitist. Well, maybe a little elitist. It's just that our friends that have kids, okay boys- I admit it, in the same age group all live over an hour away. Needless to say, it's a project.

About the only chance they have to be around other kids is the hour or two that they spend at the gym daycare. Zane is too small to care and Atticus, well he would rather make pancakes on the fake stovetop then get pushed by a pack of wild children that have obviously inherited a bit of the 'roid rage. I can't say that I blame him, but cooking? Pancakes? Come on boy, at least throw a steak on there.

Thankfully, he doesn't say anything like, "Those boys will be hungry after they beat each other up Dad, hence the breakfast."

He just says they're mean, and despite being able to dress themselves, they can't carry on a conversation in anything but English. How savage is that?

That's okay boy, I'll put those s-o-c-k-s on you. And it's 10:00.

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

Oh! The Butts You Will Wipe!

With sincere apologies to Dr. Suess, here's how my morning has been:

There will be smells that could faint a skunk
These smells will stink and when gone they stunk

You may find them lingering in butts of boys
littered with peanuts, corn and tinker toys

Cold wet paper is your only defense
keep the fingers relaxed, don't let them tense

It may be smooth like warm peanut butter
It may be chunky like butter with nutter

Perhaps it will leap to the limbs of your hand
If you jump or do flips, then watch where you land

Oh, the butts you will wipe, they'll smile for you
raise them up in the air, they'll frown for you too

When all is done and the buns are wrapped fresh
then you are done and may scrub off your flesh

It's not a curse, and I know it's not fun
it's just what you do for Thing 2 & Thing 1.

Monday, January 15, 2007

A Moment to Unwind

I went out for a beer tonight after work. I had an hour and a half to hang with co-workers and talk about the stupid shit I used to do and the stupid shit they're still doing (they're younger).

We talked about relationships, sports, fights, music and parenting techniques. It was conversation without worry. I could say "fuck" when I meant "fuck" instead of "firetruck" or whatever it is that escapes my lips when I realize the walls have ears.

They all went elsewhere, other bars and more beer. I drove home waiting for my heater to catch up to the 24 degrees that was the night air, listening to The Mountain Goats and tasting the aftermath of 3 pints of Guinness.

I was relaxed, and that is something I've been missing lately.

3 Day Weekend! Minus 2 Days.

I know it's a three day weekend for many of you, but not us here at Honea Express. We got one day, and we liked it. We had a lazy Sunday. It was nice.

I have a short list of what quantifies a good Sunday:

a) spent time with family

b) did not work

c) watched football

d) did not put on pants- all day

e) drank beer

f) received emails from high school students writing an essay on one of my poems- first year that I've been Googled and contacted, hope it doesn't leave a rash

...and that's pretty much it. That's how Sunday is supposed to be, give or take a few more beers.

How was your one day weekend?

Sunday, January 14, 2007

Monthly Post @ DadBloggers

I'm taking my job-bashing on the road. Today I stopped at DadBloggers.

Burning Bush

It's official. George W. Bush is insane.

Not only is he going against the wishes of the world and the American people, but now he's giving the finger to Congress- including members of his own party.

The man is out of control. He needs to be careful or he's going to find himself hiding in some foxhole avoiding trail for crimes against humanity.

Impeachment takes too long. All we can hope for is that Cheney will grow a pair and take Dubyah hunting. Look Dick, a quail on the Bush!

I'm guessing this is going to send up a flag and possibly cause the FBI to start reading my blog again. That's okay. I like the attention. Just leave some comments this time Mulder.

Friday, January 12, 2007

Friday Night. No Lights. (what a waste of a good title)

Three things: I'm up on DadCentric, I'll be up Monday on DadBloggers, and Brett Dennen (link is for his MySpace page, but you can find him on iTunes) has a damn good sound.

That's all.

Thursday, January 11, 2007

The Best Offense is a Good Defense: A Basketball View of Parenting

When it was just Thing 1 it was all about the zone. One parent could guard X and the other would defend Y. It worked fairly well. Sure we would give up some points, but hell, the kid had a great offensive game.

Now, with the addition of a teammate, that being of course Thing 2, we've decided to go man. That's man to man for those of you that aren't savvy in the ways and lingo of basketball. Basically, I guard one boy and my wife the other. At least that's what coach drew up in the locker room.

What Phil Jackson didn't address is how this defense would apply in a fast-break 2 on 1 situation. That being when my wife is at work for 12 hours and I'm alone with them.

I've gone to great lengths to prove to them that we are on the same team, encouraging that we run a triangle offense together. It doesn't fly.

Why would they make my life easier when they could have much more fun making it difficult?

So what do I do? I play a bit of everything.

When I'm trying to pee and Thing 2 appears like clockwork in the doorway I go man. It is tough. It's like guarding Jordan. The kid wants his hands in the toilet, regardless of the fact that I'm using it. Or maybe because of that. I don't know. Luckily I spent a few summers of my childhood attending a basketball camp, and while it didn't pave me a road to the NBA, it did provide me with the footwork to keep in constant motion around the bowl. Plant and move, slide, slide, it's electric, boogie-woogie-woogie, shake, aaannd flush.

The rest of the time I don't fare so well. My alone time with my boys has become something of a photo shoot for the proverbial poster shot (see right). Granted, I've got the height advantage and can block a few here and there, but they've got speed and numbers. Basically I don't stand a chance.

I am the Washington Generals. I can't hang with these guys (shown below with kids from the daycare at the gym- the ball and the spaghetti are mine).

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

BloggingBaby Knows It's Stuff

I would like to thank BloggingBaby, specifically Johnathon of Flailing My Arms fame, for throwing me out a shout (did I use that correctly?).

It's nice to know that I can now count the number of people that get me on almost one hand!

Sleep Is For Suckers

Hello, my name is Whit, and I'm a sleepaholic.

At least I used to be. I'm currently 3 years awake. It isn't easy fighting the desire to sleep, especially with all of those sheep from Serta offering to trade me a soft matress for my S.A. token.

Yet I march on. I've gone to great lengths to deny myself the comforts of a good nights rest.

It makes my head hurt, true, like I've shunned asprin for the calming effects of (more) cowbell. Still, I think it is worth it.

It's not that I'm saving myself, ala highschool, for the "right time", in this case the big sleep. Rather, I have just accepted the fact that late to bed, early to rise, is not going to do anything for the circles under my eyes, and the sooner I accept it the better.

I've actually come to the point in my life where I feel like I'm missing something if I sleep past 8. As much as it pains me to realize, I'm becoming a morning person. To put it in perspective, that's like Bush becoming a Muslim. It's a big change.

I pass myself sometimes, there in the wee small hours of the morning; me stumbling through the dark, clutching a baby and searching for the coffee grinder, and the ghosts of my past, just returning from a night of everything and falling to bed with the light of the sun. Some people feel chills when they rub against the supernatural, but I'm only bumping into memories, and they leave me feeling warm and glad to be awake.

3 years awake and no rest in sight.

Monday, January 08, 2007

Clean & Lean: A Wimp in the Gym

I did something today that I never even considered before. I shaved and cleaned-up before I went to the gym. Perhaps it was my inner-metrosexual, perhaps it was just vanity. I did look like a hairy piece of shit.

As I was running on the treadmill, listening to Calexico Wu Tang and watching subtitled episodes of The View and Rachel Ray Sportscenter I started to think, man, I look better than every guy in here. That's not to say I was better-looking or more fit, but they all had mullets and Walkmans (yes, the actual cassette kind) and I had on running pants from the GAP. I looked great.

What the fuck are you doing? I thought. Why are you comparing your togs to the dude on the butterfly press when there are some really hot young ladies jogging right in front of you?

"What are you looking at?" asked my wife on the treadmill next to me. Oh yeah, that's why.

"She's making clam chowder." I said nodding to Rachel Ray. I figured that was the safest route.

The gym is a funny place. There are women walking around in spandex that have no business, absolutely no business, wearing it. Their bellies bulging out between the pants and the top like a busted can of biscuits*. I don't know why they can't be more like the modest heavy-set men and just hike their sweats up over their gut like a classic pair of turtle-neck pants.

That said, I suppose I shaved prior to going to the gym so that I would feel better about myself. Little did I know that all I really had to do was make fun of others. Odd how I could have missed that since it's carried me this far in life.

Of course, I'm sure I made someone else feel pretty good too, for what I had in style I lacked in fitness, and they don't make ipods big enough to cover my weak ass. Maybe I should get a Walkman.

*I know, I've used that one before, but hell, it's funny.

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Sunday, January 07, 2007

B*#@%s Ain't S#!t & Other Covers

I was being a geek and checking out my MySpace page last night and clicked over to my good friend (but not in my "top" friends) Ben Folds. Apparently he is having a contest on You Tube for fans to make their own video for this song. Pretty clever and funny stuff.

Warning: This post has somehow morphed from my adding a video to me expressing the depths of my mancrush on Ben Folds. I'm sorry. But not really. Make sure you listen to the song at the bottom of this post too, don't let the video scare you away!

I also stumbled upon some of his live stuff, a cover of Postal Service's Such Great Heights, Elton John's Tiny Dancer(This opens a Sony Music Box with a handful of Fold's videos, do yourself a favor and check them out. Yes, all of them.) and a whole concert filmed for MySpace. Finally, here is the cover of Dr. Dre's Bitches Ain't Shit. I'm guessing I don't need to warn you that the lyrics are not family fare (unless your family is a bunch of ho's, then I guess it's okay). Also, about halfway through you'll get a good look at the audience and what they show is really freaking cool.

Jam on!

AND THAT'S NOT ALL!!! Having written this post I searched near and far to find a copy of this duet with Rufus Wainwright that we were lucky enough to see live last tour. Fucking awesome!

Friday, January 05, 2007

UPDATED: Post About Basketball with Random Tangent About Bloghim Thrown In

Today I'll be speaking on something that is very dear to me. Arizona Basketball. Frankly, it rules. Lute rules. That's about it in a nutshell. I'll go on record as saying that they will be the champs this year. If Bloghim actually happens in Vegas between now and March then I'm throwing down money to back that prediction.

Who am I kidding? Bloghim won't happen by March, but it's a nice thought. BTW, this is how I do Vegas:
*This is the update: With apologies to Anthony, I should have elaborated on "Bloghim". The truth is I forgot that anyone actually read my ramblings, so it just slipped my mind. Bloghim is a mythical meeting of male bloggers, it would probably take place at Loch Ness or Pamela Anderson's house, anyplace with free monster rides. For a clearer vision please read MetroDad's take. He seems to have a good handle on it. END UPDATE.

Now back to the topic at hand, what I really wanted to talk about was Arizona alumni, namely those in the NBA. Has there ever been a collection of talent from one school playing so well at the next level at one time? I doubt it.

Look at this list and tell me what college program is being better represented:

-Gilbert Arenas
-Jason Terry
-Mike Bibby
-Richard Jefferson
-Luke Walton
-Andre Iguodala
-Channing Frye
-Hassan Adams
-Damon Stoudamire
-Salim Stoudamire
-Loren Woods

Not only that, but there will be at least two more additions to that list next year. Olson has got himself a factory in Tucson. UCLA and Duke can stuff their sorrys in a sack, respectively. This is the year of the Cats.

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

A New Post & Something Funny That I Saw

I actually got off my lazy ass and posted something over at The Disney Blog. That's good since one of my resolutions was to do just that. January 3rd and I'm still going strong! Next stop the gym, or the vicinity thereof.

Oh yeah, something funny that I saw- on my way home I sat behind some hybrid ecological -friendly type of car and there was a Bush campaign sticker on it. Do they just cancel each other out? That's like wearing a fur coat to a Vegan restaurant. I can only hope it was supposed to be a joke.

***Just updated A2Z with some Disney trip photos if you are so inclined.

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

Ford Tour 2006-2007

Have you seen Gerald Ford yet? His body is apparently on tour and coming to a town near you.

What is up with famous people, most notably dead famous people, having their pickled remains flown all over creation for complete strangers to gawk at? I know they are supposedly coming to pay their respects, but the whole ordeal doesn't seem very respectful to me.

James Brown did it, but hell, he's used to touring. President Ford was not much for the limelight in the past few years. In fact, I think I've actually seen Chevy Chase more. That's saying something.

It seems more roadside attraction/poke it with a stick than anything else, which I suppose is the American way. We do like poking stuff.

R.I.P. Mr. Ford.

(and rest in funk Mr. Brown)