In an homage to my new worldwide interweb friend Coal Miner’s Granddaughter, I have decided to throw down a shotgun style post covering many topics at a very shallow depth.
After bitching yesterday about 3doh’s inability to sleep, last night was nearly nirvana. Of course, nirvana cannot be achieve with three children. Ever. Unless they are all in their 40’s and you are dead.
The wife said a few magic words:
“Hey, do you know where the Orajel is?”
(Here is where you would insert that sound of someone running really fast as they scramble and slide thru the foyer towards the stairs, followed by the sound cartoon people make when they run very fast and the floor rolls up behind them).
I come running back downstairs and into the den, hands held high in victory, as I showed the wife two Orajels: one regular and one NIGHTTIME!
I was cautiously optimistic, but just in case, I let my excitement get the better of me and ejaculated a little bit…in my mind.
She rubbed some Orajel in his mouth as I put the other ones to bed, and when I came back downstairs, she said he was “in bed.”
That usual means 30-45 minutes until he’s mad and crying again, but not today baby.
The boy that wouldn’t sleep went down at 7pm and awoke at, and I wipe a tear from my eye as I type this, 3:30am, took a bottle, and slept again until 6:30am! I got so much fucking sleep that I was nearly delirious when I awoke.
Of course I left out the part where 2doh screamed several times and I eventually had to go get her and bring her to our bed, meaning that the boy’s sleep was tempered somewhat by the fact that I had an uber strong 2 year old kicking the shit out of me, but it was joyous nonetheless. No crying = a happy daddy.
So, I got in the shower this morning refreshed, revitalized and with my brain functioning at a speed that I would compare to watching two hummingbirds getting it on.
My first noted thought?
“Sweet Jesus. I am so happy that worked that I may have to masturbate with that Orajel. Nevermind. It’s all the way in the bedroom.”
Then I farted.
Last night we had garlic wings from Wild Wings and my fart smelled EXACTLY like the wings did, and that got me to wondering…
When you take a dump, it usually smells terrible. How is it that your body can take all of the good out of food and leave you this horrific presentation in form and appearance, yet you can eat a garlic wing or some eggs, and an hour later it smells like what you ate?
Anyway, the logical path of this thought was, what if your body took the bad stuff out and your dumps smelled like, say, grilled salmon or a nice thick ribeye or some mussels or something? How great would that be?
And that led to me thinking about peeing (because I was peeing) and I thought about that old urban legend about a chemical that would turn purple when you peed in the pool. Does that actually exist? I mean, I’m not bragging, but I pee in the pool every single time I go in the pool.
Yes. That’s right. I. Pee. In. The. Pool.
Fuck you. Your kid pees in the pool every time he / she gets in too. What’s the difference?
But since I can’t get any closure on the chemical rumor, I never take any chances. I always drift around, just barely skimming by some kids playing together. And I’m usually walking backwards. That way, if I see the purple cloud start, I’m pointing at those little uncivilized bastards that peed very near me. And my purple bathing suit.
Next, an American tragedy.
According to this story, one of the greatest American Heroes died yesterday.
Herb Peterson, 89 years young (and survived by fat fuckers like me that have had bypasses), was the inventor of the fast food item that literally changed the world:
The Egg McMuffin.
Now, you have to ignore a couple of facts. First, It’s name is wrong. It’s not an Egg McMuffin. It’s a Canadian Bacon Muffin with egg. They sell a sausage mcmuffin with egg, which means the meat is the variable and not the egg. But I guess back then, putting any breakfast sammich on a menu AND an english muffin was cutting edge stuff, so I’ll give the people from McDonald’s a pass on that. (I will NOT give them a pass on that fucking McRib. I’m guessing the guy that invented THAT abomination is in jail or Purgatory, as it was not ribs, but pressed hog anus with bbq sauce).
Even today, the egg mcmuffin is the perfect breakfast sammich. And it’s the healthiest thing calorie-wise on the menu.
I am sad. I may stop for one on the way to work tomorrow.
God bless you Herb Peterson. You are an American hero.
And one final item.
Today was the day to do my expense reports from my trip to The Great White North.
I know. I went in February. But I’ve heard that the best way to have an accurate expense report is to put your receipts in a lot of different places and then wait a month to fill that shit out.
Anyway, as I was perusing my two week hotel bill, my eyes were drawn to the “incidentals.” If I had just said incidentals, that would have meant phone calls, meals, and cough drops from the hotel store. But “incidentals” means pay per view porn.
Fuck you. You know you do it when you’re in a hotel alone. Don’t judge me. And I must say that the fact that hotels have now added digital television (ahem…fast forward and rewind) to your remote options has really enhanced the viewing experience.
So on two occasions, I decided to flip thru the menu of naughtiness. But then I remembered the rest of the story.
Over the middle weekend, I had a few beers and decided to select a film. I did, watched it for about 15 minutes and fell asleep. And no, by fell asleep I don’t mean masturbated or “combed my hair” or anything else.
The next morning I got my mid-week statement under the door.
I looked it over and was disgusted. SOMEONE had ordered a movie that was thirty five fucking dollars!!
Turns out, the title I selected was intended for 24 hours of continued use instead of just one viewing. I think it’s best that I didn’t know that. If they sent me to a cardiologist in Canada for a sinus infection and the flu, my groinal abrasions would’ve probably gotten me sent to a dentist>
Ditto for NPR.
What say you?