Cerebrate Good Times

You're in Costco, and you buy a frozen yogurt. But you drop it on the way out. What do you do? a. Forget about it and leave b. Go buy another one c. Go to the counter and ask for a replacement In my case, I went to buy another one (because it was for Katie; otherwise I wouldn't have gone back). I was about to hand the cashier the money when some other customer walked up and told her I shouldn't have to pay for it because I just dropped the other one. I tried to pay anyway, because it wasn't their fault I dropped it. I viewed it as a matter of principle. But the cashier waved off payment, and I decided that it would just cause a scene if I argued too much. And yes, I cleaned up the one that dropped.

Once upon a time, all was quiet in Farmer Brown's barnyard... Little did they know, they were being watched. When all was still, the attack began. The pig was the first to go. Then, consumed by bloodlust, the velociraptor continued its attack, slaughtering every living thing in its path. Its work finished, the dinosaur paused to stand triumphantly among the carnage. Its thirst for destruction was satisfied... for now.

I think smoke detector manufacturers secretly design their products so the “low battery” warning beeps will only sound in the middle of the night, just as you’re drifting off to sleep after you’ve been up for half an hour with your kid. I don’t know how they do it, but I wish they’d use their powers for good.

There's no standardized unit to express how much pain we're feeling. Sure, there's the 1 to 10 scale an emergency room doctor might use, but I think we need something more comprehensive. I think the fundamental unit of pain should be named the Moe, after the stooge.   "Oh, man. My stomach is killing me! I'm feeling 2,000 Moes over here!" Doesn't that sound better than saying, "I really, really hurt"? And if we wanted to get really creative with it, we could call pain medication Moe-phine.

On a baby name website I was checking out, the banner ad was for birth control. A little late for that, isn't it?

Sam is going to have a baby sister at the end of April. I tried to scan the pics, but they just looked like a big blob. Then I realized that is pretty normal for an ultrasound. At any rate, you all know what they look like. The name is still up in the air, so hit me with your best shot.

Today I am going to review a film. This is unusual for three reasons: 1. I don’t do movie reviews, because everyone else seems to do them. 2. It’s a 47-year-old film. 3. I haven’t watched the whole thing yet. The movie is How the West Was Won , a 2.5-hour series of bad decisions made by three generations of the same family. Here are some of the bad decisions made during the first two hours of the film: 1. A couple decides to head west into the wilderness with their two adult daughters and young son. Upon reaching the edge of civilization, they build a raft on which they load the family and all their worldly possessions. 2. They allow a mountain man stranger to have dinner with them and sleep in their camp one night, without watching him. One of the daughters throws herself at him, but he refuses. 3. They stop at a trading post. The traders are thieves and attempt to rob them. A fight ensues and the son is seriously wounded. The mountain man appears and saves them. 4. They take a wrong ...

"Mom, I killed Dad!"

Warmest room in the house: 73 degrees Coldest room: 62 degrees

I am not a big fan of reality shows. Okay, that's an understatement. I loathe them. I have never watched any of them, be it Survivor, The Apprentice, or Dancing with the Bachelor. I think they are the televised equivalent of a get-rich quick scheme: they don't have to pay for writers or production values. They just steal a premise from another country and add a B-list "celebrity" host. Anyway, this post wasn't supposed to be a rant decrying reality television. I mean, why stress something that's self-evident? No, I was wondering why it's sort of the opposite with literature. In terms of current books, I think non-fiction books are seen as more respectable than fiction. "I'm reading a biography of Gandhi" seems to be classier than saying, "I'm reading that story of the baby elephant who tags along on Hannibal's march and saves his father's life." That being said, I still prefer fiction, as I've mentioned before .

New razors have that "lubricating strip" that gives you a nice, close shave for two days before it rubs off, leaving the white strip that means "better get a new razor!" Funny how the company that makes the product also tries to artificially determine how often you need to replace it. Anyway, what I wonder is this: If this lubrication is so great, why don't they put that in a can and sell it separately?

There's something strange about children's board games. Even when they are based on chance, somehow the children always end up winning. And I'm not talking about letting them win. For example, we have the game Cootie, in which you roll a die to add parts to a plastic bug ( what, didn't you play "mad entomologist" as a child? ), and Sam always somehow rolls just the right numbers. Tonight we played Candy Land, and things appeared to be progressing as normal. Sam immediately got one of the cards that gave him an insurmountable lead, and Katie and I languished behind, doomed to battle for second place. Then, to our surprise, he ended up getting two more of those cards that sent him back almost to the beginning. Eventually I won, and then we found out why parents usually let their children win. My ears are still ringing from the screaming.