Fred Backlash

Every office has a rabid poltical junkie or two. Ours was of the lefty variety. He liked to send around email jokes about the opposition along with the occasional praise for his candidates. He's a pretty smart guy, just a little overly passionate. He pushed the line a couple of times for work behavior, but he was pretty good at getting me to think about the issues from all sides.

He's no longer with us (at the office) but he's still true to form. He's decided the Fred Fever around town is a little hypocritical. He's got a point. It seems a bit much to extoll the virtues of Fred as a native son when you consider how a few years back a lot of people declared that Al Gore isn't a true Tennessean since he spent so much time in Washington. I doubt Fred is much different.

But this is the backlash. Plenty of comedy, but I think he forgot one design aspect. On first glance it looks like a pro-Thompson sticker. You have to look pretty closely to read the punch-line. It's too subtle.

Watching TV Like It's 1999

Last week we had a very disturbing incident at the W household. The DVR went out. The DVR is my second most favorite technological innovation ever (pre-sliced breadis first) so this was extremely unfortunate. It was several days before Comcast could get to us, and we aren't doing a lot of going out these days because The Mrs. doesn't get around so well thanks to Luke and Leia. Fortunately the TV itself was fine, because we can't currently resort to the entertainment most couples use when the cable goes out.

We do occasionally watch live tv even with the DVR but it's so easy to ask The Mrs to just pause it if the show comes back on while I'm in the kitchen or if the dog needs to go outside. I think he had a tough time of it since he had to wait for commercials to go in or out for a few days. At one point I was in the other room doing something and The Mrs. yelled that the show was coming back on, so I had to hurry back. We both agreed that the whole situation was so 1990's.

On the plus side, without access to the huge reserve of shows on my DVR, I actually watched some DVDs that I've had sitting around for awhile. We watched The Godfather (my first time ever) and most of the way through season 1 of The Pretender that a friend had loaned me.

My biggest regret though, is the lost potential. The old DVR was chock full with lots of stuff for me to watch now that the writer's strike is killing original programming for awhile. All of Battlestar Galactica season 3 was in there, just waiting for the marathon I was planning just before season 4 starts. Hours of the most interesting Modern Marvels just gone. I was really looking forward to the one on Las Vegas. And my favorite South Park episodes wiped out by one little technology failure.


Naughty Bits

I've been reading up on the whole 'winky' controversy this week. It's not something The Mrs. and I have thought about, but it is a bit of a dilemma. Having boy/girl twins means they're going to be doing most everything together, and of course my kids will be geniuses and notice right away that some parts are different.

I admit, at first I was with Kat Coble and thought the real words were best. But Lindsay makes a good point. I'm not sure why, but the idea of my twins shrieking 'penis' in a crowded room makes me slightly more uncomfortable than them using any of the obvious euphemisms. Granted, everyone will still know what they meant, but it's still less uncomfortable. As proof I cite some fine cinematic work by the esteemed governor of California, Kindergarten Cop. Who remembers the funniest line in the movie? Spoken by a 5 year old:

Boys have a penis, girls have a vagina.

(Okay, it may be the second funniest line in the movie. The first being "It might be a tumor." Also spoken by a 5 year old.) There's probably some good psychoanalysis in there somewhere. I find it really amusing that even two year olds have a predilection for dick and fart jokes even before they learn the sexual context. But I was actually more interested in a comment Kat made toward the end of the discussion. (Or at least it was the end the last time I looked at the thread.)

Of course, my husband insists that Grandparents be called nothing more fancy than grandma and grandpa

This has been a bigger controversy around the W household. I'm with Mr. Coble, but The Mrs. thinks we should let the grandparents in question decide. Her parents already have grandchildren, so we have to stick with precedent there, but Luke and Lea will be the first for my parents. My mom is considering all sorts of exotic titles, but I prefer to stick with grandma and grandpa. Or maybe grandma and doc, because the idea of a two year old calling my dad 'doc' just cracks me up.

So am I being selfish trying to push my opinion on to my parents?


Based On A True Story

Yesterday after I braved the fog on the way into work I was sitting quietly in my little cubicle working diligently earning the money that the taxpayers lovingly pay me when a co-worker walks up.

Coworker: Hey, can you help me out? I need.... Never mind. I just remembered you're going to have twins soon and I don't want to owe you a favor. I might end up babysitting.

We'll see what happens the next time he needs a TPS cover sheet.


Trapped In The Closet

Nothing covers up past sins like a fresh coat of paint. So keeping that in mind we decided the first step of converting the spare bedroom into a nursery was some paint. After all, we really didn't want any visiting grand parents seeing signs of the time we had the pygmy goats and the mini-trampoline in there. Let alone the time with the vat of jello....

So first up on the painting list was the closet. It looked like it hadn't been painted since before I was born. Now keep in mind our house was built back in the 1920's when people thought smaller. Closets in a house that old are pretty rare, and the ones that do exist are tiny. We were lucky enough to have closets, but they're so small we'll only be able to lock one misbehaving kid in them at a time even when they're toddlers.

Large man + small closet = prescription for teh funny

I went in wearing a clean black t-shirt. I came out dressed in white. Every time I turned to paint one wall I brushed against another freshly painted wall. The best comedy of all was when I did the ceiling. I had to resort to a regular roller and a full body stretch in order to get paint up there. About halfway thru the paint covered pad came off the roller and fell straight down. Into my upturned face. I looked like an actor in one of the old 'black face' minstrel shows, except the paint was white.

I knew it was bad when The Mrs. pitied me instead of laughing. Pity for funny but embarassing is very rare from her. The pity didn't last though. Fortunately, pregnancy has slowed her enough that she couldn't get photographic proof before I got rid of most of the evidence.