Sunday, January 28, 2007

Texas fraternities: promoting white male privelege with a smile and a belch since time immemorial

So this is how the kids at Tarleton State decided to honor the legacy of one of the greatest heroes of the 20th century this year. If you wanna see the pictures they're describing, check 'em out here, but have something nearby you can puke into.

Friday, January 26, 2007

Will that be paper or plastic?





I'm looking back at last night's post, and I gotta say, I'm not all that excited about how pissed off I was. It can't be that healthy to get that angry about something that I only heard about secondhand, and that ultimately isn't that big a deal. The guy probably made himself look like more of an ass to the rest of the restaurant patrons...but even if not...ah well.

I guess the larger point is the example I'll set for my son. As young as he is, I'm still conscious of the fact that he's watching me, spying everything I do, and he don't need a warrant to do it. I don't want "angry dad" to be the example he sees.

We must be doing something right on this front though, because Henry's been doing something really cool lately. See, I'd been harboring a theory that our dog Elliott must have been a truly evil bastard in a past life. This was based on the beatings he'd been taking at the hands of our son. Poor dog was being real patient about it, but damn, he was getting beat like Chuck Norris in the ring with Bruce Lee. It's not that Henry doesn't like the dog, he loves him, but he's a baby, whaddaya expect? We tried to show him how to pet the dog nicely anytime he smacked the dog's hide. We'd show him "nice touch, nice touch", and he'd watch and smile and then POW! Poor dog.

But the other day, I look down at Henry who's sitting near the dog as per usual, and he's petting him! Nicely! Holy--! I about jumped through the ceiling. Maybe it's one of those had-to-be-there things, but it was really cool. I felt like little dude had taken his first step down the road of being a compassionate human being.

Hangin in Elliott's crib

Thursday, January 25, 2007

Fuck this shitty-ass restaurant experience we just had

I don't promise this will be coherent or readable.

So the Ash and the Baby Henry and I all went down to this semi-hoity-toity-ish kinda restaurant for the Ash's niece's birthday dinner with the family. You know the type of place I mean -- the decor is trendy, the lighting is track, the portions are tiny, the prices are high, even the busboys are snobby, etc. I always feel like I've been suckered when I go to a place like that, particularly at the moment when they bring the food out and there's more plate visible than food, and you think to yourself, I'm paying how much for that?!?! The waiter might as well cackle in your ear.

The shit part of the evening wasn't really the fault of the restaurant though. See, by the time the meal was all said and done, it was past Henry's bedtime. This isn't a huge deal most of the time, but it does mean that he's going to be more prone to crying, which he did a bit. And at one point, he let loose a blast that, I'll grant you, could be harnessed for military usage. And some old sad pathetic wrinkled fuck at another table had the motherfucking nerve to mock my kid. I'm getting pissed just thinking about this again. He like, made fun of Henry's crying in a mean way, as if to communicate something to the effect of "Hey you people with the kid, you're interrupting my sad old bastard dinner that I'd like to finish eating before I die alone and hated by everyone who's ever had the misfortune to know me." Fucking asshole.

I, of course, said nothing to the man. I didn't actually hear his baby-mocking because Henry was screaming in my ear at the moment. I only heard about it from Ash's family after dinner was over, so I basically sat there fuming while we waited for the check and Ash's sisters talked about guys and fake tits and all the same shit they always talk about. I managed to walk out of the place without saying anything to the motherfucker. Perhaps I'm a wuss, I'll be the first to admit that I don't like confrontation. Or maybe I just was able to convince myself that it wouldn't have solved anything. If you want to eat at a restaurant without being in danger of maybe hearing a baby cry, then I suggest that you call the fucking restaurant ahead of time and ask if they have high chairs. This particular place, as trendy as it is, seemed to have enough high chairs to seat a baby at every table in the place. If you don't want to be reminded that all people were once little, then don't go to places like that. Go somewhere the fuck else. Or eat at home where nobody has to look at you.

Okay, maybe I'm better now. Hey, at least we didn't get kicked out of the restaurant. Or off a plane.

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

Interesting supermodel placement

I know these ads are just spit out at random, but seriously, couldn't they make some kind of lingerie/mummy baby filter?

Monday, January 22, 2007

Odd man out

So this last Saturday was the orientation for the Master of Arts in Counseling program that I start in just two short weeks. Two weeks! Ask if I'm terrified. No nevermind, don't. Must maintain.

It was cool though, we got to meet the new dean and the new director of our program, both of whom seem pretty kickass. The director used to run the Plan II (aka SmartKid) program at UT, so she probably knows a few things about things and stuff.

I also met the rest of the students in the program with me. It's funny, I knew going in a little bit about the demographics of the program, but the reality of those facts didn't really sink in until I got there Saturday morning and took a look around. For one thing, I'm clearly the youngest one there. There were a couple of others who might have been in their thirties, but unless there's some badly aged folks in there, it looks like I'm the baby of the bunch. I'm sitting there telling them about my 15 month old and most of them are talking about their teenagers, or even grandchildren. I don't have a problem with that though, it just means that I'll most likely be more inclined to listen than talk, and choose my words carefully so as not to look like the idiotic young whippersnapper.

Then there's the fact that I'm one of only a handful of men. The vast majority of the other students are women. I guess you'd say it's sorta like I'm going into nursing, sans bedpans and syringes. In fact, the former program director came up to me first thing, introduced herself, and said they were glad to get some more testosterone in the program. Hey, me and my hormones are always glad to help. Being surround by a bunch of old(er) ladies doesn't bother me so much, both sides of my family are nearly all women, same goes for the Ash's family. But I have to admit, it puts me a bit out of my comfort zone, which is by definition a bit uncomfortable. But hey, it's not as if being in seminary is exactly where I would have placed myself a few years ago. A wise (wo)man might tell me to welcome the differences and see if I can't learn something from people with such different points of view. Might just make you a better person, and eventually a better counsellor.

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

By the time I get to Austin Texas

Perhaps the Public Enemy reference is too vague. Point is folks, forces outside the realm of human control decided that (most of) Austin was in fact going to take MLK day off this year, like it or not. Day after it too, and for some of us, maybe even part of the next day. This ice, sleet and snow shit may be standard fare in other parts of the country, but around here, we know when we're out of our element and when it's best to just stay home. Anyhow, kudos to the cosmic forces of good and right! Which is to say, thanks for the extra long weekend!

I might be alone in this, but I've always thought it odd that we have these national holidays that are set aside presumably for the purpose of reflection upon the figure or event for which the holiday was originally created, and yet most of the workforce would have to take a day off of work should they wish to observe it. I know I sound like a lazy jackass who just wants another day off of work, but to that I respond 1) so the fuck what? and 2) doesn't it seem a bit sad that we don't use days like this for a bit of deeper reflection into these pieces of our history? Not that you should only think about MLK once a year or anything, but hey, when's the last time most of us sat back and grokked on, say, Columbus, and what that shit means in the grand story of humanity? Just a thought.

Having said all that, I now must confess that I didn't really think about MLK very much the last few days. Yeah, I know, big hypocrite. We basically stayed in our pajamas as much as possible. My hair has been in a state of bedhead-ness for well over 50% of the time since Saturday. Hot chocolate, beer, various snacks, all these things were consumed. Movies were watched. But lest you think we were entirely unproductive, we unpacked some previously neglected boxes, did some painting, and I ripped a bunch of CD's to the 'puter for my new toy. Baby Henry practiced his assisted walking. Cabin fever set in today, so we bundled up and went for a family stroll. It was weird to see the normally busy area near our condo so empty, and so many places closed. Like I said, most of us here know when we're licked. About the only things open from what we saw were Whataburger and the Alamo Drafthouse, both of which seemed unnecessary.

Sunday, January 14, 2007

Cris-cros'll make ya....

I've been noticing a hole developing in the side of my most often worn pair of shoes. Holes plural would be more accurate. So yesterday, while me and the Ash were out, we stopped into a shoe store to see if they had anything of interest. I tried on a few pairs, settled on one, made the transaction, and thought that was the end of it. Today, I go to get them out of the box to wear them around and start getting them broken in, and look what I find:

Man, now I have to go back to the shoe store. Some people have real problems.

Friday, January 12, 2007

The Big Three-One

Today is my birthday. You are free to send all sorts of greetings and well-wishes. I also give you permission to drink, whether in excess or not, to my name.

Thursday, January 11, 2007

Game on, dog

Have I mentioned The Boy's obsession with playing ball? Oh yeah, right. Seriously though, last night I got home from rehearsal, and as soon as I walk in, little dude's sitting there ball in hand. "Baw!" he says, and bounces it right over to me. Game on old man.

He tries playing ball with the dog sometimes, but as you can see, Elliott ain't so hot with the actual fetching part of fetch.

It's cool though, 'cause I sure don't mind playing. I like this game much better than the one where he takes things out of containers and then puts them in other containers and then puts other things in other containers, rinse, repeat. I mean, it's fun to watch, but since I'm a reluctoneat*, I can't quite bring myself to join in on that one too much other than to pick up the mess left in his wake.

And yes, I mentioned rehearsal above. Not one month after retiring from the ranks of Loaded Gun Theory, I seem to have gotten myself cast in a Frontera Fest piece. Which is cool, it's only a 15 minute play, so a nice chill rehearsal schedule, and I get to take one more turn on the stage before getting busy with school.

*One who is a neat freak, but wishes like hell that they were not. Oh why God, why?

Saturday, January 06, 2007

Words, games, pictures, stuff...oh, and a Christmas wrapup that I hadn't intended to include when I started writing this post

Little dude's added a few new favorite words to his vocabulary as of late:

Baw - As in "ball." As in "look at this round object I'm holding!" As in "Dad's home! Let's play baw!" Since he figured out how to throw, every day lately when I get home from work, Henry wants to play ball, whether it's tossing it back and forth or letting me hold him while he throws it on the floor to watch it bounce and then let me catch it. One of his favorite Christmas presents was a new bouncy ball. Those are some of those "this whole dad thing is easy" times.

Bah - As in "bye." As in "looks like somebody's walking out the door." Only subtly different in pronunciation from "baw" but definitely different. Like "bye" with a southern twang.

Doonn - As in "down." As in "I want on the floor NOW." This is typically accompanied by an unexpected flinging of all limbs towards the floor, as if to force you to drop him. Unfortunately, many of his doonn requests come when standing over some seriously gross floors.

Baby - As in "baby." As in "I'm a baby and it's cute when I say 'baby' so gimme a dollar."

Not much profanity yet. He said "beeyah" but thankfully only once, and there were a few days where he was going around mumbling "damdamdamdam" all over the place, but that blessedly came to an end.

Also got some new favorite games, in addition of course to baw. There's a fun one called "Dehydrate The Dog", which involves trying to splash all the water out of the dog's waterbowl as quickly as possible. Fun for babies, but can only be played when lame parents aren't paying attention. There's also "Everything is Mount Everest" which involves attempting to climb everything. And the less destructive but no less enjoyable "ABC Dance" which is just baby-dancing (rocking back and forth on his knees while smiling) while his new toy frog that he got for Christmas from Grandmother sings the ABC's at him.

Speaking of Christmas, here's a few pics of the day for posterity:

Reminds of Stewie from "Family Guy" in this one.

Discovery of the ABC Dance Frog.

Learning proper disrespect for the camera. Soon he'll be flipping the bird at every lens he sees.

A moment of peace in mom's new sling. I love this picture.

And finally, here's what happens when a baby gets tired of being the center of attention:


Found this over at The Unapologetic Mexican. Moms, I gots all sorts of mad sympathies for ya'll's and all that pregnancy and childbirth pain and suffering and all that bullshit what ya'll's gotsta put up wif and shit. For reals. Ya'll win the pain and suffering award between the sexes, that's for damn sure. But all the same, ain't NO DAMN WAY I'd be down for this Huichol shit. The Holmes gotsta wonder, is this some kind of birth control?

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

"They say 30 is the new 18...

...and 50 is the new 30."

I heard somebody say this very recently, and I could relate, seeing as how I'm 30 (31 in 9 days, yo) and on my way back to school. I write about it for this month's DadBloggers post. Enjoy!