It’s always been a dream to have a secret lair under my home (ala BatCave, or better yet Blast From The Past). The idea of having a subterranean getaway is just cool. So im home sick looking sad and pitiful when the wife brings me a “feel better” gift: my latest Stuff magazine. Page 23 has me wanting to call my lender: www.missilebases.com. From the website:

We have now sold 27 of these properties to excited owners that plan to refurbish and use them for various personal and commercial purposes. Because the availability of these properties is limited, we see them as an investment sure to grow in value.

So all I have to do is sell that kidney (shut it, those of you thinking they aren’t worth anything any longer) to get me a fun “This Old Missile Silo” project. I wonder if Bob Villa would help me out?

So the wife took the girl to a birthday party on Saturday, and suggested I take the boy to get his back-to-school supplies because it was the “no tax” weekend. Not seeing the display at Target I figure we’d just get him a lunch-box or something. As we came closer to the “supplies” area I could feel the air become tighter. The smell in the air was that of chaos with hints of scented hand lotion. I could also feel the floor tremble with that of designer BOGO shoes… I had inadvertently stumbled into the center mix of the Back To School Mom-O-Roma. The boy and I were lucky enough to get out alive; camouflage lunch-box in hand. I text’ed the wife:

“…the moms scare me… I’m pulling out… I’ll see if I can grab a couple polo’s along the way… if i don’t make it I’ve always really liked you…”

I felt it only appropriate we wash that experience down with some Wendy’s, which wasn’t as awe-inspiring as it usually is… so I figured I should attempt to salvage the day with something cool: The Simpson’s Movie.

In true dad form, we show up to see if we can fall in a range of times to catch the film – no knowledge of schedules. 50 minutes early. No worries, we’ll play some games. He’s made a b-line for the crap dispensers which I shut down “…dude, you have a room full of crap. Just play something, will you?” Being the good parent I am, I head to the pinball machine and leave him to find an alternative. So what does he end up playing? Some first person shooter with a kid who just got out of the earlier Simpsons show; I realize after all my tokens are gone. He really needs work on his aim (XMAS is right around the corner… hummmmmm).

So the movie was cool. We had to have a conversation on the ride home about language and what he’s not allowed to repeat, situations he’s not allowed to ask questions about, and why he’s not allowed to take any dare I may suggest to him that involves public nudity. Frankly, if I hadn’t already shown my questionable parenting judgment by letting him see The Monster Squad movie just a couple of weeks ago I might feel bad; but I don’t. Now, to make all of you happy if/when Futurama comes out with a film I won’t take him to see that until he’s actually 13; unless it’s R, then yes, I will take him to see that – Futurama rocks!

So jacking around last night I stumbled across the G4 channel. I’m going to say that my favorite quote of the night:

“…give me that cell phone, I’m on my period, I’ll shove it down my pant…”

So, after we’ve established that this channel is “edgy” lets move onto my latest discovery – Ninja Warrior. Holy crap, this show is awesome. 100 contestants challenge for the opportunity to become labeled a ninja by completing a series of physical tests. These guys are freaking awesome. Talk about upper body strength.

The closest I’ve ever come to being labeled a Ninja was when I bought some throwing stars from a kid in elementary school. Wait, I was labeled a looser-dork, not Ninja… my bad.

Now, I hear this a lot as a father of small children. I also hear “Daddy, daddy… it’s a moth, KILL IT!” My kids are “normal” little buggers interested in insects, reptiles, etc. We have pet frogs (which stink up my sons room like ass, but I digress). I read Reddit every once and a while, and this morning a story just freaked me out:

“Pet spider kills its owner“

Now, ok, I can live with that title for a story. I can also usually live with that much information and move on. Did I in this case? No I did not, and I really wish I had. Read on my fellow rubber-necker’s:

“Police broke in to Mark Voegel’s apartment to find spider Bettina along with 200 others, several snakes, a gecko lizard called Helmut and several thousand termites had gorged on his body.”

Now, I’m not going to ruin the ending for you (yup, there is more) so head over to the Sun for the complete article. What got me was someone out there was stupid enough to live with all these creatures in an apartment with them running LOOSE!? Now, my rifle coach lived with so many guns that when you sat down on the sofa odds were that thing poking you in the back was a pistol, but snakes & dart frogs & spiders all crawling around your place? I’m going to guess he didn’t date much.

It is sad that a human was eaten by his pets, but my god I’m going to suggest it was only a matter of time. I like to live a little dangerously, but hell, I’m not going to sit around naked covered in honey and let my pet South American Killer Bees just roam around the house… I keep them locked in my kids room. Hey, they wanted them!

My friends son is in the hospital for a surgery to help with a pretty serious issue. She and I trade stories about our children because, well, they do stupid shit and it’s funny to hear what all they are doing. Knowing that she’s freaking out about her boy in the hospital (he’s older then my son by about 10 years), I shoot her an email about something that happened in my house last week. The next segment is taken from the original email I shot over to her:

“How you doing mom? Little boy sick got you a bit nutz? Well if it makes you feel better (or not) *WIFE* had a moment with *BOY* yesterday: the mom/son dynamic explodes…

We are headed to see a movie. I am not home – on my way to pick her up. Babysitter is already there. *BOY* declares that he is walking across the back lot to his friend’s to trade PokeMon cards. Apparently, PokeMon cards he JUST got that day from another friend. Babysitter says no, not now. He ignores her. *WIFE* walks downstairs and he’s at the back gate, ignoring the babysitters repeated requests to stay in the back yard (sweet girl, needs more guts). *WIFE* gets him inside. She’s pissed. She’s going on about how disrespectful he’s being…then she notices him staring at the PokeMon cards she’s taken from him… Ignoring her, watching the cards…

*WIFE* – “These!? Are THESE what this is all about??!! Well lets just take care of that to get your focus back on the situation at hand!!”
**RIPPPPPPPPPP TEARRRRRRRR TORNNNNNNNNNNNN**

2 cards ripped to pieces. He’s floored, stunned, shocked… Then I call and light into him after *WIFE* tells me what he did (not mentioning the card ripping, of course).

By the time I get home, he is hyperventilating and literally sobbing unable to control himself. We leave. She calls to check in after the movie and at one point he came downstairs with a bag of toys and said he was running away.

So I spend the whole night with her ALL upset at how she handled herself, feeling guilty, just in a shitty mood.

Mothers and Sons. Thought you’d get a kick out of that.

Later”

So my friend responds with:

“Tell *WIFE*, the day will come when she and *BOY* will reminisce and laugh over the drama. And, he will love her as mom even more.”

Apparently she and her son were laughing so hard he asked her to stop heading because he was laughing so hard it was hurting his stitches. I went on to tell her about the times I made my mothers life hell because I was a prick for a couple of years (shut it people, I’m a different KIND of prick now).

She’s absolutely right. The bond of mother and son is deep. I know as much hell as I’ve given my mom over the years, my mommy takes up a lot of room in my heart.

I don’t know, maybe everyone who uses AdSense is totally on top of their account, unlike me. I login every once and a while when I remember. So recently I logged in and noticed a message:

“We need to verify your address, so look for a letter from us in the mail…”

I thought to myself “cool” I love getting mail from Google, and it’s been a while. So when the letter came, and I followed directions to verify my address how stoked was I to see a new notice:

“We now need to verify you home phone number…”

For those that haven’t gone though this process yet, you have to click that you are in fact at home after you’ve logged into your account by clicking a button (or at the location of the number you provided originally), and Google calls you to ask for a code which they have provided to you. It was instantaneous. Google came up on the caller ID, I followed the brief prompts, and that was that.

So on the way home I stopped at a gas station to get some small bags of Salsa Verde Doritos (because the stores around here don’t carry the big bags… kills me), but this particular one doesn’t carry them. Irritated, I walk out and get in my car. On the way to my car I noticed a couple grubby dudes standing by the ice bag thing. I shut the door and look up to one of them putting on what looked to be womans deodorant. Now, it is hot outside, and I guess if you stink you stink, but I just got done with a seminar where a section was all about perspiration, and things you can use with deordorant… random.

So my company setup etiquette training for the entire staff. Mostly perceived as “silly” or “I’ve got better things to do” by those I spoke to about it prior, but I was optimistic (a first; I know). It was really rather informative. Our instructor was perfect for the group I was in. Now I have a manual for all the inappropriate things I’ve been doing all these years in the professional game. Basic things like hand-shake method, zones of appropriate eye contact, where a name tag should be placed (right side, closer to your shoulder), and conversation tools to help with an unknown group. It was good stuff.

My favorite quote:

“…you can get Botox injections under your arms to help with heavy perspration issues…”

Want another one? Here you go:

“…if you do have sweaty hands, you can use deoderant (one with no smell) on your hands prior to an engagement to help…”

Last one:

“…Rabbi’s wives don’t shake hands…”

Again, who knew?

I’ve seen some wild photo’s before, but this is just sick. Check out all those onlookers faces. Composition wise, this is a once is a lifetime capture. I love camera burst. Reminds me of Ben’s style. If I didn’t know any better I would have pegged it for one of his.

You can also check out the video for it – it’s the last vignette, so fast forward or check out all the other really cool stunts prior.