Sometimes, The Wheel is on Fire

Sometimes, The Wheel is on Fire

Tuesday, July 31, 2012

The Quotes That Never Were

I've messed with the English language many times before on this blog. Well, today I'm messing with it in the form of famous movie quotes. Why, you ask? Why do I do anything I do? (That's not a rhetorical question; I really want to know.)

I suspect others have come up with similar variations on some of the following, but as they say: Imitation is the sincerest form of laziness.
  • "What we have here is a failure to—What I'm trying to say is we're having trouble—Are you even listening to me?"
     
  • "Mama always said life was like a box of chocolates: pretty sweet, although nutty at times, and if you don't keep trying new things, it gets stale."
     
  • "With great power comes ginormous electric bills."
     
  • "The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was to convince the world its card was the eight of clubs."
     
  • "All work and no play make Jack repeat himself."
     
  • "I love the smell of napalm in the morning. In the afternoon, I prefer a really strong vinegar. At night, a burning sulfur is simply divine."
     
  • "The first rule of Fight Club is: you do not talk about Fight Club. I'm already breaking that rule. I am Jack's raging hypocrisy."
     
  • "You know how to whistle, don't you? You just put your lips together and blow. But not all the way together, and you also have to do this thing with your tongue."
I hope you found these funny. But funny how, I mean funny like a clown? I make you laugh, I'm here to amuse you?

Yes. Yes I am.

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

A Penny For Your Thoughts

When our cat Calypso died in March, it left a kitty-shaped void in our home. We waited the requisite three months (as stipulated by our vet, to ensure the virus had left Schrödinger's system). Then, last month, we filled that void. You know, with a cat. Specifically, this one:


Her name was DarkWing. Which is a pretty stupid thing to call anything other than a duck, so we promptly changed it. And thus, she became Unnamed Kitty. (Just for a couple days. Now she goes by Penny.)

She's Penny because of Sheldon on Big Bang Theory. You see, when The Professor was even littler than he is now, the lullaby we sang to lull baby to sleep was "Soft Kitty," albeit with one slight adjustment:
Soft kitty, warm kitty,
Little ball of fur.
Happy kitty, sleepy kitty,
Schrö-ding-er.
Therefore, it only made sense for our new cat also to have a connection with Sheldon. And what better way than to call to her with a simple <knock knock knock> "Penny"?

She was fantastic with our son from the get-go, and she and our dog Sonya peacefully coexist (with the peace occasionally broken by a bark). She and Schrödinger, however, are like two peas in a pod—very spastic peas who wrestle and play in water and chase each other all over the pod that is our house. He shreds cardboard; she gnaws on actual boards. And wicker. (And plastic.)

Penny may not be the lap cat her predecessor was, but she's a perfect fit for us.


Family complete.

Monday, July 16, 2012

Professor Cupcakeface

The last two weeks, you may have noticed I've been ignoring my blog sweating profusely busy living. The highlight of the past fortnight: My son turned one.

Here are my answers to the most common questions concerning The Professor:
  • No, he's not walking on his own yet. He is, however, an Olympic speed-crawler, a master xylophonist, an expert stair-climber, and the world's foremost daddy-climber. He also currently holds the record for fastest floor-to-mouth time, public toy division.
  • Two and a half teeth.
  • He is eating us out of house and home, and then house again for good measure. He eats anything and everything we give him, sometimes in greater quantities than us.
  • Favorite food: Cherries. He'll eat them until he's purple in the face. And the hands. And the hair. And the ears. And the...
  • Favorite phrase: "Uh oh."
  • Favorite game: Going pell-mell for the dog bowls and trying to flip one over before we reach him.
  • Favorite birthday gift: The card with the vibrating baby in it.*

* It's not a live baby. It's a picture of a baby holding maracas, shaking "what his mama gave him." I'm not sure if that's any less disturbing.

What's that? You're tired of reading my drivel and want to see the pictures? Well, here you go, you ingrate:


Bubbles!


He started off slow, taking one delicate pinch of frosting at a time...


...and then someone gave him a fork.


An aerial view of the carnage.


Fully sated, he cast the half-eaten cupcake carcass to the floor.


But then... remorse. Not over the devastation he had wrought on the unsuspecting cupcake,
but because the rest of it was whisked away before the dog could share in his fun.


My son: The life of the party.