There's probably no way this movie is any good...

...but that's absolutely no reason for me not go see it, perhaps even on opening weekend.



Never underestimate the strong desire to really want to like a movie coupled with a bucket of beer served up by the fine waitstaff at the Alamo Drafthouse. Hey, it worked for "Freddie Vs. Jason."

Of course, this just proves that I'm falling for the evil marketing machine's ploy to repackage my childhood memories and sell them back to me.

Mudbaby

The last two weekends have found the noble Holmes clan attending parties for children who are celebrating their first year on Earth outside of a womb, i.e., first birthday parties. I would like to offer this piece of evidence as testimony to the fact that my wife and I now live in a universe populated almost entirely by people who have kids. Oh, and their kids, they're in this universe as well. Obviously. It's a nice place, though there are a lot of minivans.

Speaking of the unrelated, I recently read about all the god-awfully incorrect usages of "i.e." and "e.g." that I've been employing. I apologize for any past cringing I may have caused to anybody, and I promise to do better in the future. So let's tie off that tangent about here and call that topic over and done with.

But yeah, it's definitely funny when you realize that you're the kind of person who has two weekends in a row of baby parties to go to. Thankfully, although the focus was on the wee'uns, the conversation and the beverages were of an adult nature for the most part. I say this because I think I'm finding now that I've been a parent for a while, I get kind of bored when a conversation between parents is only about kids. Sorta like coworkers who only talk about work. So as a reproducer myself, it's always good to be around other reproducers who can talk both about their reproductions as well as other big important topics. Like TV and movies.

Check out the bottom of Henry's shoes after yesterday's party. There were some muddy patches in the backyard of the house we were at, and little guy dove headfirst into the childhood joy that is playing in the mud. Not that he's particularly fastidious the rest of the time, but I think this might have been the first time he desperately needed a bath for reasons other than being covered in food.

Taking a break from the mud, little guy also managed to rattle a couple that was expecting their first child. As such couples can, should, and nearly always do in my experience, they were gushing about all aspects of pregnancy and the acquisition of various baby accouterments etc. etc. blah blah blah, but it was clear that the dad-to-be hadn't spent much time around babies. Hey, that was definitely me before Henry came along. At one point they were sitting on the floor next to us eating, and Biscuit wandered over their direction. Since he's all cute and junk, they greet him with enthusiastic baby-talkish greetings, to which he responds with a very loud and forceful "BITE!" Not a question, but a command. It was clear to all within earshot that he was demanding his fair share of the food on their plate, like a Roman tax-collector demanding Caesar's due. I think the nice people had been expecting cute baby talk, and instead they'd been barked at. Heh, that's my kid, the one making people uncomfortable.

The Shark Vendor

It was exceptionally difficult getting Henry down to sleep tonight. It's rarely what you'd call easy, but it hasn't been this hard in a long time. I think we're still kinda reeling. Anyway, here's a little something Henry and I put together. Enjoy.
Hint: Click for larger view.

When that evening sun's setting low

The cosmos must have fallen into some bizarre celestial alignment because Ash was in the mood for Mexican food when she and The GooGoo picked me up from work today. She's never in the mood for Mexican food, so I took advantage and we dropped into a place down the street that we haven't tried yet. We're still having fun learning about all the places that our new-to-us area of town has to offer.

When the waiter took our order, he asked us if we wanted an extra little plate for Henry. Ash said yeah, but then asked if they were breakable, to which the waiter says, "yeah, they're breakable, but so are our hearts, and we still give those out." Maybe some other time I wouldn't have been in the mood to hear such a romantic notion in such an unexpected setting, or had his tone of voice been different I might have rolled my eyes or scowled, but it's one of those cool spring evenings that we get so few of right before summer comes a'raging down o'er our heads, so it made me smile and I tipped him extra, even if I was peeved at the restaurant for making me have to dig through six high chairs before I found one that didn't have a broken buckle.

After dinner and ice cream, we went for a family walk. We even brought the dog along with us to make it an official family trip. We took The GooGoo to the nearby playground to let him burn off some energy. It's been fun to watch him grow gradually more confident with climbing up and down on the playground equipment, though he hasn't quite mastered the concept of the slide. On the way back, we waved hi to one of our neighbors who was standing out on her front porch enjoying the evening. "Now that is a happy family" she said. Yeah, I have to admit, I think we are.

Table manners

Years from now when my son is a bit older, if you ever find yourself sitting down to a meal with him, don't be surprised if you notice him looking over and scanning the contents of your plate. Furthermore, be ye not surprised when he uses his fork to motion to a particular item on your plate and asks through a mouthful of food and with just a hint of hope in his voice if you're gonna eat it. Feel free to say yes, yes I am going to eat it. I'm sure it'll be fine.

Henry's latest word is "bite." As in, gimme a bite. As in, hey I see you got food, howsabout sharing a little with your offspring, eh? As in, bite! bite! bite! bite! bite! bite! until a bite is handed over. Other than "no" it may well be his most used word as of late. Kid likes to eat.

Love is nothing like they say

It's been said about a trillion different ways by a bajillion different people that life is meaningless without love. For my part, I'm finding that even in my most cynical fuck-the-world-and-the-SUV-it-rode-in-on moments, this is a sentiment I still believe in with all the capacity I have to believe in anything. I suppose that in one way or another, I've always believed it, though I probably wouldn't have phrased it as such when I was younger. I think the world would be a better place if there was more love lost between people, not just between lovers and family and friends, but between neighbors and community members, between people passing on the sidewalk, between shoppers in the grocery store, between all the hungover folks waiting for the host to call their names to be seated for breakfast, between vastly disparate groups that history dictates should not get along, and even (or perhaps especially) between strangers. I believe there are means to express loving regard for others in all these relationships. Just as kind words and affectionate behavior are expressions of love between intimates, I believe justice and empathy are just two of the ways that love is expressed in the social sphere of life, even if it is for people you will never lay eyes on or with whom you do not share a common language. In that sense, I suppose you could say that working for justice is a labor of love, as is attempting to understand the circumstances of those who are very different from us in an attempt to get a glimpse of the way the world looks through their eyes. Like I said at the beginning of this post, I believe that it is being on the giving and receiving ends of these expressions that makes life worth living.

There is more to this, but that's all I've got for the moment. Love to you and yours.

And who am I speaking with?

As a rule, I typically don't write negative posts about people I know because you just never know who's reading, but fuckin' A people, sometimes ya gotta vent, and sometimes ya don't care who's reading. Hell, I might be doing somebody a favor.

Have you ever encountered someone with a really annoying habit that bears a damn close resemblance to a particularly annoying habit of your own, a habit that you're perfectly aware of, but never realized just how very irritating it was until you experienced the horror of being around this other person whilst they engaged in it? And in the midst of the agony of watching, listening, experiencing this person engage in their god-awful habit, you thought to yourself, "Surely I'm not this bad. I couldn't be as awful as this fucking clownfish, could I?" But somewhere deep down, you suspected that perhaps you were, and rather than claw your eyes out, you swore a sacred oath to take that habit of yours and break it over your knee like an insolent bat that refuses to send baseballs a-scurryin' for the bleachers, preferring instead to just swipe at the air, one, two, three, you're out.

Ever have that happen?

Me, I can't say that what I've experienced as of late is quite that bad, but it's close. See, I like movies. And plays. And TV. I like a good solid piece of well-written well-executed stagecraft, whatever medium the stage may actually be. And I have a particular fondness for strongly written dialogue. I don't really care if it sounds "the way people talk." I get enough of that every day. And while cleverness is great, too much cleverness, like too much spice, smacks of trying to cover up a lack of substance with something more easily accessible. No, what really grabs me is when bits of dialogue sound good coming out of an actor's mouth, ring with truth so profound it makes me tingle, and illuminate something deeper and bigger than perhaps they ever were intended to.

Which is a long way of saying that particular lines stick with me long after I've heard them uttered. And I have been known to toss out a line here or there in everyday conversation when it seemed appropriate. No big deal, right?

Except now I've sort of had this mirrored for me. I'm taking a deep breath as I prepare to dive into this. See there's this guy I work with who is an actor. I've never actually seen him in anything so I've no idea if he's any good, but he gets cast, so he can't be all that terrible. But the thing is, he has a penchant for slipping into actor mode at any given moment. One minute you're discussing a work-related question, the next, the guy's in fucking character right there in my cube. It's gotten to where I dread talking to him because I'm never quite sure who I'll be talking to. You know, like chatting with a possessed person. He'll say a line, maybe two, hell, he'll do an entire goddamn monologue. And sometimes, oh sweet Saturn's rings, sometimes he slips into an accent. An accent, people! And not a particularly good one. At least I didn't do accents!

*Catches breath*

Oh my god, I feel better. That was amazingly cathartic. So this was like confession and rant all in one, huh?

Dude, if you're reading this, no hard feelings. Hell, take it as a compliment that I'd rather talk to you than any of the characters you've got bouncing around in your head. And to anyone I've ever annoyed by engaging in this beating-worthy behavior, I apologize.