Memoir Monday: We 3 Little Kings

Memoir Monday



Remember my buddy J.T.? He’s the one in Afghanistan fighting for our freedom right now! If not, go back and read this post. Or this one.

Well, J.T.’s parents used to go out of town occasionally.

And when teenager’s parents go out of town and leave them on their own, everybody knows that said teenager will immediately call some of his buddies to come over and have many adult beverages.

I’m not totally sure that was J.T.’s original intent this time. If memory serves me, he was much more interested in using this time to pursue that forbidden fruit that his girlfriend of the time had been hiding under her clothing
.
However, his buddies still showed up, with Little Kings in tow, and promising not to disturb the fruit sampling.

These “buddies” were Me, Carl, and Rosie.

Now, before you say anything, YES, Rosie sounds like a girl’s name. BUT not in this case.

Nope, Rosie was a friend of ours from another town that would occasionally stay the weekend at Carl’s house. Carl used to go to Rosie’s school, before moving to ours, and they were best friends. Rosie was a really cool dude.

A side note: You know how people joke about being the “mailman’s kid”. Well, Rosie WAS the UPS man’s kid. True story. His parents were white as white can be. Rosie was born needing a green card and nursing on salsa…….It didn’t take his dad long to realize that mom had been getting too many special deliveries from the Mexican UPS man……..Guess he found out What Brown Can Do For You……….It will screw your wife while you’re at work……Anyway, dad split.

Back to the party.

So, the “buddies” originally honored their promise to respect the young couple’s privacy and just be content with their Little Kings.

After polishing off several packs of Little Kings, that promise was a little harder to remember.

The boys became a little more unruly with each empty bottle.

After J.T. threatened to put an end to their festivities, the boys moved on.

J.T.’s mom had a really nice tanning bed in their house, which the boys decided to use.

Carl, being the most light-skinned of the 3, went first……Rosie would be going last, of course.

About 10 mins into his session, Carl fell asleep/passed out.

Ed and Rosie decided to turn the timer back all the way.

It is unclear how many times this occurred until Carl finally awoke, resembling the signature item on Red Lobster’s menu.

The boys took great pleasure in smacking Carl on the chest and back the next day.

Good times.

I Survived the Land of Banjo Music

I’m back.

I just returned from a lovely, fun-filled, family vacation (sarcasm) in the Smokie Mountains.

I kid. It was great.

For those of you who have never been, the area of Gatlinburg/Pigeon Forge is a built up touristy area located at the foothills of The Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

There are shops and restaurants and hotels and go-carts and mini-golf and dinner shows and aquariums and craft places and shootmeinthefacenowpleases and all kinds of family fun.

I prefer calling it Hillbilly Vegas.

If you are the sort of A-hole who always likes to correct people, you might be saying, “I thought Branson, Missouri was called Hillbilly Vegas.” To which I would reply, “Why thank you, A-hole, for reminding me of that. However, Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg are basically the same as Branson, only with a lot less God and Jesus.”

But since its farther east, I should call it, Hillbilly Atlantic City.

Regardless, I am home.

We were going to stay until this Saturday, but the weather was supposed to get crappy. Plus, coming back early saves money. Saved money equals happy wife. Happy wife equals happy husband. *eyebrow waggle*…….hahaha…I wish

I was trying to keep up with everybody’s blogs while I was gone, but the “High Speed” wi-fi at the hotel was slower than dial-up. (Might want to work on that….ahem…..Best Western)

So, after my reader got up over 500 posts, I just hit Mark All As Read and pretended you never happened.

It’s like I never left.

If you did write something really funny that I missed, let me know and I’ll swing by and comment.

Also, my kids now refer to me as Daddy Texts-A-Lot, after spending most of my time on my phone texting peoples.

I see no problem here.

I just pretend it’s my rapper name.

These Dumb Kids Nowadays Are A Bunch Of Thieves!

I got in a little hot water a few months back with an old classmate, for making fun of her for using the word “Bogus” on Facebook.

I don’t remember what I was talking about, probably something Earth Changing.

But she responded with, "something, something, something, girl nonsense, something, blah, blah, blah", and then it happened.

She dropped the “Bogus” Bomb.

I was like, “Hahaha, you said 'Bogus', which would be totally appropriate if this was still 1989 to 1993.”

She didn’t appreciate my comments, as most people don’t.

She went on and on and on to inform me that “blah blah blah (I lost consciousness at this point but eventually came to and still didn’t care what she was saying because my comment was funny.)”

Basically, her feelings got hurt. Which commonly happens when I am around people.

Just ask my kids? Bunch of tender hearted cry babies that they are.

Scratch that… "Those witnesses are bias, Your Honor!….AND the little one is a milk addict and therefore unfit to testify!”

Anyway, my former classmate (who I might add, hasn’t talked to me since---go figure) was trying to tell me that she works in a school and “bogus” has made a comeback.

Seems the kids in this generation are as big of thieves as the kids in my generation were.

First, they steal our styles (I thought I saw parachute pants at the mall the other day! Seriously?), and now they are stealing our words?

Unbelievable!

Anyword,

After yesterdays post, I remembered this Facebook thing. AND it got me thinking of three things:

1. I hope they bring back the mullet and tight-rolled jeans/shorts (SWEETNESS!)
2. I wonder what other words they are stealing from us.
3. And, I wonder what ones they are missing out on.

This post deals with number 3.

I hear kids, especially my 11 yr old & his friends, saying, “No offense, BUT…”, which they follow with the bluntest crap you should never say to someone.

UNLESS…


You do like my generation did, and follow the bluntness/cruelness/offensiveness/meannest words or actions with….


“PSYCH!”

Yes, “Psych!” made it like it never happened.

It was the best!

It would totally work with my 6 yr old & his friends too, who also say mean crap but follow it with, “It’s opposites day!”

Come on!

It takes WAY LESS effort and fewer words to say “PSYCH!”, than either of those.

Just think what they could save on texting alone.

Work SMARTER, not HARDER!

Not only are these kids nowadays thieves, but they are dumb thieves.

My generation may have been thieves and lazy, but at least we had the “working smarter” thing down.

P.S. I Still Love You Bogus Andrea...................PSYCH!....hahahahahahaha

Memory Lane In Pictures.....Before Alzheimers sets in.

I had to do this before Alzheimers sets in.




You may have to click some of these to enlarge them.








Some of these are SERIOUSLY out of order....But, I had to do this before Alzheimer's sets in.





I promise never to do this again.

I just had to do it before Alzheimer's sets in....Did I say that already?

Enough With The Harassment, Disney!!!

Disney is still harassing me!




This is basically the same thing as the Navy Tailhook Scandal.

But with Mice.

And minus the sex stuff.

Still, basically the same thing.

My lawyer says that I will soon be able to invite all my readers to Ed's World, formerly known as DisneyWorld.



*Please excuse my bedhead. I have been unable to get a restful nights sleep because of the continued harassment.*

Disney Is Effing With Me, Some Not So Tragic News, and They Tried To Warn You...

(the subject line of this email reads: "Get The Best Mickey For Your Kitchen From Disney Parks")

What the Eff, Disney?

Are you reading my blog?

Are you just taunting me?

Did you steal my idea of Mickey in the kitchen?

Granted, yours are products with your iconic rodent’s likeness, while mine was just a dead Mickey in a trap in my kitchen, but still.

I’m claiming that is copyright infringement on your part.

Also in the news…

Much like his career 20 years ago, Corey Haim has been found dead.

Let that be a lesson to all you kids.

Acting kills!

Especially when mixed with 8-balls of coke and meth.

And am I the only one that feels Toyota’s new slogan is ironic?

I mean, it’s not like they weren’t trying to warn people.

Hell, look at that last one. It’s even showing you skid marks from some poor shmuck trying to get his to stop.

The only way they could have made it more obvious was by adding either, “Uncontrollably”, or “Without Warning”.

Should of bought a Honda.

WiiFit Hurts My Feelings Again....And Awesome Kid Names

WiiFit Hurts My Feelings Again

WiiFit: “Step on”
*Me steps on*
WiiFit: “Oh Sh*T! It’s you again!”
Me: *SIGH*
WiiFit: “Back for more, Big Guy?”
Me: “…….”
WiiFit: “Fair enough. Lets get on with it, because you're killing me here.”
*calculating*
WiiFit: “It’s been 13 days since your last visit.”
Me: “Yeah, well my feelings were a little hurt last time, so I've been walking at work instead.”
WiiFit: “Well, now that you've grown a pair, let’s see how you’re doing with reaching that ridiculous goal you set…..Looks like you have lost 2 lbs. Hahahahahahaha! That’s a little short of your goal of 22 lbs in 2 weeks....Better hurry up! LOL!”
Me: “First, did you just 'LOL'? And secondly, I'll have you know I was doing good the first week. I was watching what I ate, and exercising every day by walking at work. But then last week, I kind of fell off the wagon. I started eating whatever I wanted and only walked 1 day. So I know I put back on some of the weight I lost.”
WiiFit: “I’m sorry. The WiiFit board has lost communication with the Wii, because you were monologue-ing."
Me: *blink*
WiiFit: “Maybe your thumb just has a stuttering problem? You meant to select 2 lbs, but your thumb was like ‘2-2-2-2-2-2-2-2’ lbs.”
Me: *GASP*
WiiFit: “Seriously, why do you even try?”

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Cool Kid Names....BUT Be Careful

I was listening to the radio the other day, and they were talking about this study on how kids names can influence who or what they become when older.

Evidently, they have found that what parents name their kids can have a somewhat self-fulfilling prophecy effect on the kids lives. Mainly it focused on boys names.

Here’s some of the examples they gave:

A kid named Russell Spike, who went by Rusty, became a huge school bully, and later a criminal.

A kid named Maxwell Fightstrong, or Max, became a Marine Corps Drill Instructor and decorated war hero.

A family had three sons named Warren (or War), and Gunther (or Gun), and finally Herodius (or Hero). Their last name was Legend. They all became State Champion wrestlers, and later soldiers.

I got to thinking…

I should have named my boys “President”.

Plus, with a last name like Adams, they’re practically shoe-ins.

Then I realized, being named "President Adams" wouldn’t necessarily guarantee that they would become President of the United States, because voters are stupid.

They might just become President of the Pedophiles Anonymous.

Or President of the Gay and Lesbian Association.

And nobody wants that on their resume.

Plus, I like my kids names.

R.I.P. Mickey

The Quest to Kill HoudiniMouse

I've gotten several questions about my ongoing battle with Robomouse.

Here's the latest, in vlog form.





Victory will be mine!

For inspiration, I will be playing Bon Jovi's "Wanted Dead or Alive" as I bait the traps.

Fun Times With The Family...And How I Was Almost Eaten Alive

Wife giving 5 year old a bath last night

Wife: “SAM!”
Sam: *playing in tub and clearly not listening to mommy*
Wife: “Sam! You peed all over the toilet again! I am tired of cleaning it up! You better start wiping off the seat when you are done!”
Sam: “mmmhumm”
Wife: “Did you hear me?!”
Sam: “Yes.”
Wife: “What did I just say?!?!”
Sam: “I peed on the seat.”
Wife: “And?!?!”
Sam: “Wipe it off?”
Wife: “Right. So, what are you going to do next time?!?!”
Sam: “Keep doing it.”

*He had clearly gone back to not listening*

Lunch conversation yesterday between Me, Wife, and Mother-In-Hell, about the upcoming Tornado Alley Roundup in St. Louis

Wife: “A weekend in St. Louis will be fun. I’ve never been there before.”
MIL: “You have. We just didn’t stop.”
Me: “That’s how all my visit were. I’ve driven through St. Louis several times, but never went INTO St. Louis.”
MIL: “Oh Liz, you’ll love it. I remember when I saw the arches for the first time.”
Wife: “..........”
ME: *blink, blink*
Wife: “Arches?”
MIL: “In St. Louis.”
Me: “I think you were at McDonald’s.”

*clearly she doesn’t remember seeing “them” for the first time.*

While at lunch, my wife says that she is sure we have a mouse.

The dog has been camped out by the piano for hours, whimpering.

No worry, I say, because we still have the Live Traps I got last time we had a mouse.

I go home at lunch, bait and set the traps, and return to work.

Wife texts me to say that the 5 year old just brought her one of the traps, asking what it was.

GREAT.

When I get home, I go about resetting the trap, which the dog later sets off again.

In the meantime, the wife and I begin a thorough clean up and inspection of the area.

She finds bedding and mouse turds. I find little plastic toys it has been trying to eat.

Yep, we have a mouse.

I get out the vacuum and start sweeping the area behind the piano.

The dog is standing close by, like she’s about to get a treat.

Just then, I hear a thud.

I turn around in time to see Godzillamouse running at me.

I scream like a little girl and start running in place, because I’m a manly man.

My wife breaks into uncontrollable fits of laughter.

The dog is still looking behind the piano, and completely misses KingKongMouse as it charges Pamplona style, intending to devour my leg and ego.

At the last second, by the grace of God (or because it was frightened by my studliness), it veers into the kitchen and under the stove.

A thorough search of the stove yielded no mice.

This morning, the traps were still set.

So far, the overpriced Live Traps have caught a 5 year old and a dog, but no mice.

In my defense, here’s a picture of TerminatorMouse from last night.

As you can see....Mice are sucky spellers.

Stickman Goes Shopping...

After much delay....and procrastination....Stickman rides again.






Taadaah!

I think the soundtrack makes it.

COMING SOON!!!!!

Church, Movies, and Hockey

Here’s what happened the rest of my weekend.

I went to church, because I love Jesus.

I was “On Time”, which meant the 5 normal parking spots were taken.

I’ve been telling the elders at the church that we need a REAL parking lot, but since I’m not Jesus, they don’t listen to me.

We have a huge empty lot next door that just needs some gravel put down and “BAM!”, parking lot.

Usually, I have to park down the street and walk a block or two.

It’s like they’re trying to kill me.

I’m starting to think that the reason they don’t put a parking lot in is because they don’t want me to have anywhere to park so I will go somewhere else.

Sunday, I parked in that empty lot.

That will teach them.

I did this in the spirit of brotherly love, of course.


After church, my wife decided to bless me with a day to myself.

“Why don’t you call Jimmy (brother-in-law) and see if he wants to go to a movie.”

Sweet!

(She probably just felt bad because she left me with the kids all Saturday.)

(Or she was trying to sabotage my diet plan so I wouldn’t become svelter than her, because she knows that I can’t go to the movies without a GIANT tub of buttered popcorn and a couple packs of Twizzlers, which I wash down with a Diet Coke to offset the calorie onslaught.)

I picked up Jimmy and we went to see Cop Out.

It was actually pretty funny.

It’s the ole’ Black Cop / White Cop buddy flick, a la Lethal Weapon, Beverly Hills Cop, or Rush Hour (if Jackie Chan had been white instead of Asian).

The best part is when Traci whatshisnamefromSNL punches a smartass little kid in the nuts.

I love it when kids get punched in the nuts for being smart.

Not in real life, cause that’s eff’ed up, but in movies.

Like in Bad Santa, when Billy Bob gets punched in the nuts, then he punches the black midget in the nuts, and then the midget punches the little kid in the nuts for laughing. Then they are all lying on the ground holding their nuts.

HILARIOUS!

Of course, if I saw someone do that to a kid in real life, I would punch that person in the nuts.

But movies are different.

Anything can happen in movies.

Movies can make you laugh, cry, whatever.

I love movies.

Sometimes they just make you feel or do stuff that you normally wouldn’t in real life.

Like when the wife and I saw Traffic in the theater and it was over and she wanted to get up and hug the black people sitting behind us.

At first I was like, “Yeah, let’s do that.”

Then I was like, “What the forshizzle is wrong with you?! You wanna get us killed?! You can’t be all hugging on random black people!!”

Movies are great.


Afterwards, Me & Jimmy went to Buffalo Wild Wings to watch the Gold Medal Hockey Game between Canada and the USA.

We had a couple Coronas.

The US lost.

The End.

Earthquakes ruin everything, including education.

I have to thank my wife for finding these for me. It says so in our prenup.


Scientists say that the recent Chilean 8.8 earthquake shifted the earth’s axis, thereby shortening the day by like 1.8 milliseconds.

MILLISECONDS!!!!!!

Excuse me while I reset the millisecond hand on my watch.

How can they even measure that?

1 millisecond is the time that it takes to… just forget about it because you can’t even comprehend how little time that is.

They stress that the change is permanent.

Dang.

There goes a millisecond of my life I’ll never get back.

In fact, there went a billion milliseconds in the time it took me to just think that.

They also said that the 9.1 quake that caused that big Tsunami in 2004 shortened the day by 6.4 milliseconds.

Thanks for telling us NOW, assholes!

Geez, don’t there realize how many milliseconds we’ve lost since 2004?

Like a hundredth of a second worth.

I totally could have started to blink an eye in that time.

You owe me a start-to-blink-an-eye, Mr. Scientists!!

I hope these day shortening earthquakes don’t continue. Or in a Million Billion Gadzillion years, 7-11 might have to change its name.

I wonder if I can use the quakes as an excuse.

“It would have lasted longer, Honey, but these DAMN earthquakes ruined everything when they shortened time, including sex.”

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The State of Indiana has cut Education again.

Because we obviously have too much of it.

I guess they are going to focus our resources where they are needed more.

Like maybe building more jails. And issuing more welfare.

“I’m sorry that we can’t afford to teach you to read, little Johnny. But I do have some good news! Here’s some free money to buy crack. AND, when you get busted for using, we have a nice place all set up for you. You’ll get 3 meals and a bed, plus cable.”




P.S. This post only took 1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 x 10 milliseconds to write. Give or take.

I was Dad/Husband of the year!...How was your weekend?

I haven’t forgotten/given up on Stickman. He will return.

Saturday, I had the pleasure of having all 3 of my lovely children all day by myself.

Now, I know this is nothing new for you SAHMs, like my beautiful wife, who do this day in and day out.

However, I’m a working dad who normally spends about 4 hours with his kids in the evening.

Which, after you subtract for my pooping and eating, it really only amounts to about an hour or so before their bedtime.

And all of that is with my wife present, which helps with things like interpreting for the baby, reminding me who is grounded from video games, who has early bedtime, who ate what for lunch so they don’t have the same thing for dinner, blah, blah, blah…

So, an event like Saturday was basically like me becoming a parent for the first time all over again.

Not to mention, the difference between 3 kids and 2 kids, is like the difference between 1 kid and NO kids.

My wife?

Oh, she was off enjoying some much needed time away with a friend.

She went to Indy to pick out and try on her dress for her friend’s Renaissance wedding.

It’s like Medieval Times meets a Las Vegas Wedding Chapel.

Or maybe Robin Hood + Rocky Horror Picture Show - Father of the Bride?

Regardless, she was excited about her dress/costume.


Meanwhile, I was dealing with stuff like this:

Max (10 yr/old): “Dad! Lily just took a piece of poop out of her diaper!!!”
Me: “What the….”
Lily: *looked of BUSTED written on her face*
Max: “Nevermind. She put it back in.”
Me: “Oh GOOD LORD!”

Me: “Where are the wipes?!?!”
Max: “I think we’re out.”
Me: *uncontrollable sobbing*
Sammy (5 yr/old): “Is mommy home yet?”

Sammy: “Dad.”
Me: “Yeah bud?”
Sammy: “Can I have some lunch? I’m STARVING!”
Me: “It’s only 10 am! You just had breakfast like an hour ago.”
Sammy: “Is mommy home yet?”
Me: “…….”

Sammy: “What time is mommy getting back?”
Me: “She said 2 or 3, but I’m guessing with drive time and girl stuff, it will probably be closer to 4 or 5.”
Sammy: “What time is it now?”
Me: “12:30.”
*5 minutes later*
Sammy: “Is mommy home yet?”
Me: “……..*Blink, Blink*……”


My lovely wife returns to rescue me around 4:30pm.

She does not seem sympathetic to my plight in the least.

Doesn’t she understand what HELL I’ve been in?!?!?!

Oh wait. That’s right.

I’ve been having a taste of her world.

Actually, it was more of just a nibble.


This is all hindsight of course.

No

Now, and by now I mean back then on Saturday, I was all pissy.

Then she tells me (of course she later swears she didn’t tell me this) I have to be at the School for the BINGO thing I am calling/MCing at 5pm.

I jump up, get in the shower, and throw on some clothes.

We get there at like 5:02pm.

My Mother-In-Makesmylifehell-Law asks my wife what time it starts, and my wife says something like, “Well, it starts at 6pm, but the doors open a 5:30.”

I flip my poop.

See……I HATE to wait……… Also, I am often late.

I think the two go nicely together, because when you show up late (or as I like to call it, “On time”), then you never have to wait.

It’s simple Math really.

My wife HATES that I’m always “late”, as she calls it.

This is just because she sucks at Math, I think.

Back to our story…

I instantly concoct in my supremely huge brain that my wife has done the ole’ switcheroo.

I think, she has told me that I had to be there at 5, only to make sure I was there on time and not late, thereby treating me like the child I am.

I instantly look over at my wife, and giving her my biggest stink eye, I say, “I soooo want to punch you in the face right now! You said I had to be here at 5 and the doors don’t even open until 530!”

Then I get out of the minivan, slam the door, and stomp off to pout inside.

This is a wonderful start to my evening…

See, this BINGO thing was something I got roped into like 4 years ago, when my wife was on the PTO board.

They needed someone to call the numbers, and since I have no life outside of family, I volunteered.

By volunteered, I mean my wife probably said something like, “They need someone to call the numbers at the PTO Bingo. Will you do it?”, and I said “Sure.”

See how they do that?

It’s marriage mind control.

It’s basically saying, “Since this needs done, and you’re my husband, and I control you, you will do this. BUT, I will phrase it like a question so you think you have an option, and that maybe, really it was your idea in the first place.”

So I did it that first year. And I actually had fun.

Then they asked me to do it again the next year.

And I said yes, ON MY OWN.

And the next year.

And then this year.

Why did they keep asking me? I don’t know.

I guess because everybody else was chicken.

Or because they thought I was funny.

Regardless, after the Saturday that I had, I am pretty sure they won’t be asking me back next time.

I think I left my funny in Lily’s wipes case.


However, I did have the pleasure of taking a leak during intermission only to turn around mid junk-in-hand/pre-zip up, and see my Mother-In-Law standing behind me.

Me: “Helen!”
MIL: “Oh Ed, I thought this was the girl’s room. They all look alike.”
Me: “Yeah, except for the penises and urinals!”