I love school...I love school...I love school....I love school........

So this was going to be my easy quarter. "Race is over", I says. "Just prance accross the finish line", I says. So much for that theory. The school administration folks played one of their favorite games. "The Ol' Professor Switcheroo!". The guy who was supposed to teach my 2 unit class was switched for some new guy. The old guy was mostly blind, mostly deaf. In fact, I suspect he may have been dead and stuffed with a metal rod wired to his spine. I think that's why he always leaned to the left a little. Probably because we've been using cheap non-union labor for our corpse posing jobs. They just don't put the love into propping up bodies on sticks. Anyway, I loved that guy so much. They replaced him with a guy that has more "real world experience". And by that they mean, he use to be the head supervisor at a Chinese Nike factory. I have never done so much for so little in my life. No...wait.... I recycled newspapers once. Don't do it kids, that's a sucker's game.
Also, I'm taking more classes than I thought I would because I found that if I really push it, I can walk this June because I'll only have 2 classes to finish up this summer. This week I've been doing mid quarter tests and projects. They continue on into next week. I am consumed. So, to make myself feel better, I've decided to write some mid quarter jokes, old school style.

Knock Knock
Who's there?
An ulcer

Guy walks into a bar and sits on a stool. The bartender looks at the guy and says, "what can I get for you?". The guy says, "I'm tired and dizzy all the time."

Q: What's the difference between passing soil chem. and failing soil chem.?
A: I don't know. I swear on my life I don't know.

Q: How many flies does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: I'm not really sure but I can tell you it isn't 4.0. That number doesn't exist.

Alright, back to work.

Hurray!!! Daisy is puking her guts out!

Wow, what a relief. Don't get me wrong, I feel bad for the kid. But man, that's some good news. DJ started barfing at Sea World last Sunday. We got him home and by the afternoon he seemed fine. Then he had a fever that night. Then he woke up and seemed fine. Then he started barfing that afternoon. On and on went his wellness/barfing cycle. Last time DJ barfed for three days in a row, some nice folks down at the hospital ended up cutting him pretty much in half and scooping out superfluous organs like someone picking the onions out of their meatloaf. Since nobody else in the house was sick, we were starting to think that something else was going haywire inside the poor little guy. Every time he coughed I would jump up and dial 9-1- and just let my finger hover over the key-pad while I rocked back and forth on the balls of my feet. But then last night at about 8:40 there was puke, glorious puke. Daisy caught whatever DJ has. Again, I feel for the vomiting baby, but as soon as we realized that it was just some bug and not another worn-out part in the boy, Diane and I were dang near jubilant. We were this close to giving eachother high-fives. I'm sure that eventually all of us in the house will end up yacking but 'tis of no import. It will be a puke of joy: "Oh no! I'm gonna throw u u u uooooOOOWWWWGROBBLEEYYOOOOOHHHHH-YEAH-BABY!"
I'm cool with it.

Don't smile when you say that.

I don't like talking on the phone. I'd never put a whole lot of thought into why I don't like the phone until Mark (who really did a super-fly job at my brother in law's wedding by the way.) and I got into a conversation about it. I had to think real quick and it hit me smack in the forehead. I have no idea what I am, or am not, allowed to say to people unless I can read their face.
Hypothetical example: (I'm only going to type my end of the conversation because if you really stop and think about it, the most important thing in the world is me. Hypothetical Steve will be heard as a Charlie-Brown's-teacher style "wah-wah")
PHONE: (ring ring ring)
ME: Hello?
STEVE: Wah wah-wah?
ME: Yeah, I remember your grandmother.
STEVE: Wah-wah.
ME: Of course. You know what I like about your grandma? (Here's where I turn on the charm) She doesn't fall for cheap advertising. Nope, never gonna catch her buying deoderant or whitening toothpaste!
STEVE: (Silence)
ME: Should I apologize?
STEVE: Wah-wah wah.
ME: Dead, you say?
That's exactly the sort of thing that happens. Steve decideds that a phone call would work just fine. Steve choses not to come over and let me see his sad face when he says the word "grandmother". Instead Steve wants to call me on the phone. Yet somehow I'm the "insensitive jackass" because I "rip into" Steve's "dead grandma". I will not do that if I see the sad face. I mean, come on, if she was still alive he would think it's totally funny if I implied that his grandma is dirty all over, right? Of course right. So you see, it's not my fault that the phone sucks. It's everybody else. Yep. Everyone but me.

They're here. Oh sweet mercy. They're actually here.

Look at these freaks. Just look at them.

They're called the "Doodlebops". It's a new kids' show from Canada and they've landed on the Disney Channel. In a cruel twist of fate, my kids absolutely love them.
This show is so bad that when they tried to broadcast in Eurpoe, the EU immediately imposed sanctions on Canada and demanded a written formal apology. Of course, Canada sheepishly agreed. Can't kick Europe around. So they just jettisoned the Doodlebops to us. Some friend Canada turned out to be.
They sing! They dance! They raise my gorge!
Not only do I have to deal with the freakin' Doodlebops in a direct way, they also raise questions in DJ's mind that I now have to deal with.
What's a doodle?
What's a bop?
What's a doodle bop?
"I'm not sure DJ. but from the looks of them I'd say that the Teletubbies spun cocoons and four months later, Doodlebops popped out."
As we know, there were 4 Teletubbies. Now we see only 3 Doodlebops. I think we can assume that one died in the process. I hope it was La-La. I hate La-La so much. I'll never forgive him for what he did at Sturgis '84. Sick bastard has no respect for anything. And somehow I'm the one who gets to repaint all the fire hydrants.
Don't get me wrong. The Doodle bops are nearly, but not quite, 100% bad. There is one thing about the show that kicks ass:

Stigmata!

Look at him. That's Moe. He even looks like he's yelling it in the camera's face, "STIGMATA!!!!!" That would make a great ending to the show every week. Nothing motivates kids to learn and get along with others like an hysterical bleeding of the palms. Too bad it's just a cartoony representation of the stigmata. Instead of bits of red felt glued to their gloves, you know what I would do? I'd sew some of those Hollywood blood packs into his costume. Somewhere near the middle of each episode I would have all the characters observe 30 seconds of silence while Moe gets down on his knees and rocks back and forth in a corner while staring reverently at his bleeding hands. Come on and do it Disney Channel! You don't have the guts, do ya? Always pandering to the lowest common denominator.
Oh well, at least it occupies the kids attention long enough that I can go watch my old teletubbies tapes and plan my revenge for Sturgis '84.

Today's episode: Jason Goes off the Deep End

I was sleeping last night, as is my custom, and I had a dream that I was watching a movie called ....I don't remember exactly. It was something about a garden. It starred Angela Lansbury and Adolf Hitler. That's right. Hitler was an actor and he was in this movie. Turns out once you get past the accent he's not half bad, kinda like Ed Begley Junior. The movie itself was a mix between Wizard of Oz and Gone with the Wind. You thought flying monkeys were scary? Try dressing up ten or fifteen of them as confederate soldiers and watch them dive-bombing Angela Lansbury in Hitler's garden for about five minutes, then get back to me. NOW we can talk "scary".
I haven't woken up so freaked out since the time I dreamt that a homeless Nick Nolte was chasing me and Joe around Newport pier because he thought we stole his hot dogs.

Fark is funny

Alright, if there is anyone out there doesn't read Fark yet, please do. I just had to share a little gem I just found in one of the discussion threads. I honestly laughed so hard that I forgot what the discussion was about. I could go back and look but it would cheapen the memory. Anyway, here's a quote from a guy calling himself (and I suspect this is not his real name)Donald_McRonald: "If you hit a midget on the head with a stick, he turns into 40 gold coins, did you know that? 40 glittering gold coins, you can take it to the market and buy a fine fat goose for your goodly wife."

Oh, and by the way, has it ever occured to you that our governor once played a pregnant man in a movie? He did ya know.

My son is a monkey

Yeah, that's about all I have on the subject.

I can't manage to take this seriously

I'm sitting here reading a book about managament and human resources for a class I'm taking. It's making a manager out of me. As one who has been indoctrinated into the world of high-powered business, I feel a certain responsability to demystify the whole thought process behind successful management techniques. Therefore, I've decided to write a comprehensive summary of the entire book. Here it is:
Stealing is bad.
People have feelings.
The end.

Congratulations, now you're a manager too.
This book is the stupidest collection of words ever to be vomited on a stack of paper. It actually contains the sentence, "Happy people are more often in a good mood."
That is true. It is an important idea that could aid a manager who wishes to improve the morale of his/her department. However, that statement begs the question, "What sort of retard needs to have this written down? Are the people reading this book your run of the mill dumbasses? Do they have bits of screws and glass lodged in their brains from industrial accidents?" I just want to get a grip on the sort of people I'm going to be dealing with. For me, I believe that a book of mad-libs, pre-completed by fifth grade boys, would be more valuable.
"In order to burp productivity, it is important to identify key boobies of action and explode an environment that will allow your motorcycle to meet its three-legged-race ."
There, now THAT'S a business model I can get behind.
Oh well, ya gotta do what ya gotta do. I just hope my future boss isn't in this class.
By the way, I've spoken to all the members in my band and we've decided to change our name to "The Key Boobies of Action". Please update your Christmas lists.

Guy is into his watering or something

It just struck me as odd is all. I was in the garden section check-out line at Home Depot Yesterday. Next to the register were the typical "impulse item" shelves. Watering cans with pretty little sunflowers sat on one shelf.

These two guys came up from behind me and one of them grabbed a watering can proclaiming loudly, "I'm gonna need, like, two of these mutha fuckas!" Then he picked up another one and his buddy goes, "Yeah!". I could not believe my ears. Two watering cans? If you're using your pimp hand as well as your auxillary hand to water your pansies, how are you gonna pound a 40? Who's gonna smack your bitch up? Bitch ain't gonna smack herself ya know. I had this image, a premonition if you will, of a 1987 Monte Carlo about three inches from the ground pulling up in front of a crack house and some dude flying out the door, doing a little weeding, and then jumping with a Pete Rose dive into the open rear passenger side window yelling "Go! Go! Go!". The driver will be all shook-up. "You went too far this time, killa! You got the dandelions but you pulled out three petunias too. Ah man, we goin' ta jail."
I didn't see anything on the news but yeah, that's probably how they spent the afternoon.

Daisy's Birthday Party

Well, we're at the end of birthday season. We have some pictures from Daisy's birthday party up at the photo pages. It was a pretty good group. The cussin', drinkin', and fightin' was at a minimum and everyone went home with a brand new home-made stepping stone.

Warning: do not read

Actually, if you're a parent it might be kind of okay. That's because parents understand that children sometimes exhibit the sort behavior one might expect from an escaped science experiment. If you are not a parent, I suggest you read no further.
So, yesterday was DJ's first April Fools day where he really got the joke. All morning he was saying things like, "Dad! There's a fly in your hair! April Fool!". At about 9:30 I was in the kitchen and DJ runs in yelling "Dad! Daisy just pooped on your book!" I tried to help him understand that jokes are okay but this one was a little too vulgar. "Okay, I get it. But that's a little gross, buddy...............Why aren't you saying April fool?"
"Because she did!"
I went into the living room and sure enough my "Diseases of Stone Fruits" book was right on the floor where I'd left it. It now enjoyed a certain ornamentation that I had not put there myself. Daisy had taken off her diaper and thrown a deuce right on the cover. It lay there with one end curled up at a jaunty angle and I can't tell you how unexpected that was. I was not aware that we had a new rule: Anything left on the floor is subject to dookage. Now I don't even want to lie on the floor to fish a toy out from under the couch without a spotter.
It's even more un-nerving when we go to other people's homes. Last night we had a barbeque with some friends. My buddy Dan put a plate of meat on the ground for just a second so he could scrape off the grill. I look over at daisy and she's gripping the velcro straps of her diaper like a gunfighter just waiting for us to turn our backs. I say to Dan, "Hey man, you might not wanna put that on the ground."
"Why?"
"Dude, just don't"
I guess it's time to potty train Daisy. Either that or start keeping a record of her activities for science.

Announcement

Hi, this is the government or a hospital.
We regret to inform you that Jason was hanging by one leg from a zip line and there was a big crowd watching him and he was zipping accross Dangerkill Gorge and the president was there and Triumph the insult comic dog was there and Jason was holding Roman candles and his shirt was off and everyone was surprised at how ripped he is and he was playing hillbilly music by rubbing one of the Roman candles up and down accross his abs and there were alligators right behind him on the zip line and he was laughing and yelling "Forget you, alligators! Forget you, Dangerkill Gorge!" and then as he was going through a ring of fire his hair caught on fire and then suddenly he died right before he was killed and Triumph the insult comic dog was like, "That was the most amazing thing in the world--for me to poo-poo-hoo-hoo-hoo...." and he was crying and all the women in the audience started crying and now Jason's dead.

Ha, Gotcha!
April Fools!
suckers