Sometimes, The Wheel is on Fire

Sometimes, The Wheel is on Fire

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Two Turns of The Wheel

Today, this blog enters its terrible twos. Thus, not only should you expect a bit more yelling in the coming months — and perhaps an infatuation with dinosaurs or trains — but I’ll also have to be careful what I say around the blog, since it’ll be sure to repeat it in public at the most inappropriate times. (Not that it matters, since my blog’s readers are so stupid they won’t even realize they’ve been insulted.)1

Last year I celebrated The Wheel’s one-year anniversary with a contest, but sadly, I won’t be doing the same this year, because funds are scarce. Half my money has gone toward our new windows, half is set aside for our new kitchen, and I blew the other half on diapers. (What? You can too have three halves. You can’t? Are you sure? Well, in my defense, I was never good at math.)3

Here’s a snapshot of my past year:

Lost: 1 cat (aged 9), 1 great aunt (aged 102)
Gained: 1 wife, 1 son, 1 cat, 1 monster, 143 followers
Wrote: 94 blog posts, 2 chapters, 1 award-winning speech
Took: 1500+ photos, 1 chump for all he was worth4

Thus concludes year two in the life of the (sometimes) fiery wheel. As great as it was, I can’t wait to find out what wonders year number three will bring.

1 Goddamnit! That’s entirely out of context. When I said that to the blog, I was joking.2
2 Shit. I shouldn’t have said ‘goddamnit,’ either. Now the blog’s gonna fucking say it all the time.
3 That’s a goddamn lie. (Shit, I did it again.) Math used to be my best subject. In fact, I was even in our high school’s Math League, which was kind of like the Justice League (i.e. both groups solved problems), except in our league only one person wore brightly colored tights.
4 Bazinga.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

And That's When I Wet Myself

Two years ago yesterday, I survived The Great Plummet.

Which is to say, on August 20, 2009, I fell 30 ft to my death but didn't die.

Which is to say, I was hiking with my ex-fiancée Denise1 when I plunged 26 ft 8 in into a narrow chasm, but came out nearly unscathed.

Which is to say, I slipped off a mossy precipice about 100 ft upstream from Bingham Falls (pictured above) and into a gorge barely 5 ft wide, yet only suffered two minor scrapes and bruises. Nevertheless, my death (rather than my life) flashed before my eyes during my precipitous drop.

Which is to say, amidst my one and a half seconds of freefall I pictured myself dying in two and a half ways — cracking my head against the cavern wall opposite, breaking my neck as I landed, and shattering my legs and back to end up paralyzed.2

And that's when I wet myself.

Which is to say, I splashed down (much unlike a space shuttle) into water far deeper than I'd expected. I returned to the surface, but my poor, poor D took in too much water, and she drowned.

Which is to say, my Nikon D60 succumbed to the elements.3 I then swam 60 ft one-handed (my other hand heroically — and fruitlessly — trying to prolong the life of my camera) and climbed out of the gorge the only way possible: by hauling myself out, hand over hand, along the husk of a dead tree.

Which is to say, I climbed out of the gorge the only way possible: by hauling myself out, hand over hand, along the husk of a dead tree. After we celebrated my continued living at the nearby Ben & Jerry's factory, I knew I had to share the story of my amazing survival with the world.

Which is to say, one week later I started this blog.

And the rest is history.

1 She prefers I call her "my wife," but where's the fun in that?
2 No, I'm not trying to imply that losing the use of my legs is akin to dying. Yet, I would die a little inside, knowing I'd never again have the chance to run a marathon (never mind that I've never run more than 8 miles in one clip) or reign over the volleyball court as the "Lord O' Leaping" (never mind that I haven't played in over a year) or accidentally slip off a mossy precipice to my almost certain doom (never mind).
3 Or rather, it succumbed to one element. Then again, that one element is made up of two elements, so perhaps I was right right from the start.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

My Son Is Already Smarter Than Me

I've been studying with The Professor (age: 36 days) for a while now, and I must say, the experience has been extremely enlightening. He has so much knowledge to share, and under his stern yet forgiving tutelage I have already learned a great deal. Today, I'd like to pass along some of the wisdom he has imparted so far...
  • If someone is being too loud and you're unable to pacify them using traditional means, give them the finger. That will shut them up.
  • When you're in charge, you don't need to ask nicely to get what you want. Just keep screaming, and eventually other people will do it for you.
  • There's no need to cry over spilt milk, or let a little blood faze you. But if anyone ever puts you down, wail at them with all your might. They'll think twice about doing it again.
  • People don't learn from their mistakes unless there are consequences that affect them personally. Don't tell them what they did wrong right at the start; let things leak out over time. Only then will they learn.

    And, of course,
  • If you're beautiful, you can get away with pretty much anything.
I already knew that last one, but ain't it the truth.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

More Fun With Homos (and a Baby!)

When I messed with homophones a few weeks ago, people loved it. Or perhaps they just loved the photos of my newborn son. Either way, I have more of the same for you today.

Behold: 24 new pictures of The Professor! Also, 12 new snippets in my latest assault on the English language:
  1. If you can tame her, the kingdom is yours. Whoever holds Rain's reins reigns.
  2. "These aren't the cookies you said you were making. This looks more like a fawn than a dodo." "It's a deer, dear. A dough doe." "D'oh!"
  3. The ad for "Do the Dew" (part deux) was due, causing much ado and meaning I could bid this job adieu.1
  4. Does a cuckoo coo, or a nene neigh? Nay. But that's coo'.
  5. That Boer named Bohr is a boor; he bore into a Bora Bora boar.
  6. Hey, when you're in this strait, man, don't purchase a Straight Man or Gay Man from Gaiman. When he comes by, buy Bi. Bye bye!
  7. He lays leis on ladies as they laze on the leas.
  8. Oh, Kay, it's okay if you choose Oak A. But I would not get a wood knot.
  9. "Are we ready to cast the James Bond side characters?"
    "Yes, cue the Q queue."
  10. What got the thin king thinking was when the prince's prints implied the imp lied about a bout between the banned band and the barred bard.
  11. Ignoring his praise, she prays that when he preys on her, no matter how hard he pries, he'll never prise away her prize.
  12. Sorry, I realize (with real eyes) none of these quite match a pro's prose. I know I'm no pro, but I like to think I'm at least a mature amateur.
And there's five minutes of your life wasted.

1 Yeah, that was a bunch of doodoo.