We got home from the store this afternoon, and Andi turned on the TV. The channel that it was on was showing Dirty Dancing. Andi said "Look mom, Dirty Dancing!" Ok, so maybe she's a little bit of a couch potato. My bad.
After the show was over and she was sitting in the couch, she said "I need to go pee. Dirty Dancing makes me pee." I'm not exactly sure how Dirty Dancing makes her pee, but I wasn't going to argue with her.
This is the kind of thing that happens after you let your parents watch your kids . . .
While Sam and I were on our trip, my Aunt bought our two obnoxious children these obnoxious rubber chickens. When you squeeze the chicken, it makes this irritating squeaking noise. I didn't think much of it until this morning. Andi came in around 6:45 and tried to wake me up. After a while of me telling her to leave me alone and let me sleep, she and Dylan went downstairs. I thought "Hey, cool deal. They're actually letting me sleep." I should have known then that something bad was going to happen.
Probably five minutes after the kids left our room, I started hearing the rubber chickens squeaking. And it kept getting louder, and more frequent. It's like Dylan and Andi were having a competition to see who could make the most noise with their rubber chicken from Hades. They made it all the way up the stairs and into Peyton's room, squeezing the chickens in a hideous chorus of evil squawking all the way. I had to hurry to get up and out of bed to save the baby because he wasn't very happy about being woken up by the shrieking of the devil bird.
Thanks a lot, Myrna, for the rubber chickens. I think they may mysteriously disappear in the move.
Well, our house hunting trip went a little different than we originally planned. We had planned on meeting with a developer to get a house built and rent an apartment for 6 months while it was being built. But, there were a lot of spec homes available that cost less than building your own, so we went that route. We found a house that is pretty much exactly what we were looking for. It's really cool. We're going to like it a lot better than a smelly old apartment. Here are a few pictures we took of the house.
 |
| If you blinked, you might have missed Curtis |
There will be plenty of things that I will miss about my job with CSC. The people I work with, the program that we've made. But there are a few things that I may not miss so much.
The Halon Tank
The desk I have is two feet away from a big red tank. The big red tank is full of Halon. I was told that the tank was used as a fire extinguishing system because of all the equipment in the building. It's a gas that sucks the oxygen out of the area. So, here I am sitting next to this big red tank full of a deadly gas. The other people in my office refer to me as the parakeet. Ha ha, very funny.
My computer
The computer I work on is ok. But, it does have a few problems. The CD ROM drive is kind of hokey. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn't. I have to tape down the thing that pops up when the monitor is open. If I don't, then if I bump the computer, the monitor that I have plugged into it goes out for a few seconds and flickers back on. And then if I do anything that is very processor intensive, it eventually just says "No mas" and turns off. Adios Compaq.
Jets
Hey, good luck with Kevan Barlow as your running back. Out wait, wrong jets. The jets that fly over my building. Yeah, on approach they turn over my building, and you can hear the sound they make when they turn. So, there are these jets flying over my building carrying a bunch of jet fuel and sometimes explosive ordnance. I have heard military planes refered to as flying spare parts. Hmmm. See ya later Jets.
It's Dylan's birthday today. He's 2 years old now. I've got some goals planned out for him for the next year:
Get a job already, ya bum.
Grow up and be a great running back for the 49ers, or a good team.
 |
| This would be great |
Last week I had a flight to Dallas from Reno. The company that flew me out for some reason put me in first class. When I saw that on the ticket, I told Sam to hurry and iron my best t shirt and cut off jeans, cause I needed to look swanky. So the day of the flight I all get to the gate, and they announce that they're boarding the first class passengers. So, a bunch of yuppies who you could tell thought way too much of themselves got in line to board the plane. So I think to myself, great, I'm going to be in the section with all the hippies.
I get on the plane and sit down in my first class seat. I really liked it because it's a big seat and well, I have a big butt. We take off and they're all going through the announcements and stuff and they say that they're serving a beverage and a snack. So I'm like, "Cool, a pack of peanuts and half a can of Coke. Woo hoo!" They start handing out the snacks for first class, and it turned out to be a warm cup of nuts and I got to keep the can. (I could have even gotten liquored up, but I chose not to because I was going to drive. That, and I don't drink.) They handed out those hot towel things too. What the heck are those for, anyway?
Then later on, they start giving you food and I'm thinking "Holy crap, you get food if you're in first class. In coach, you have to eat the stray children." I eat my food, and they give me more Coke. Then later on they handed out another snack. And more Coke. (Mountain Dew was not available on the plane, darn it.) I'm all shifting around in my big seat, drinking as much Coke as I want, and having a good old time.
By the time the plane landed and I was standing at luggage claim, I was thinking, "They should really have a seperate luggage claim for the first class people so we don't have to stand next to the common folk." I haven't punched myself in the face for being such a hippie yet, but I'm sure I will some time.
Oh yeah, I was flown out there for a job interview. I got the job and we'll be moving to Texas next month. For real.
When I got home from work yesterday, Andi was talking to people on her play phone. Apparently she thought her show needed some audience participation. She handed the phone to me, and said “Here, call Aunt Meg and say Happy Birthday.” I said “Aunt Meg’s birthday was yesterday, it’s not her birthday anymore.” Then she asked whose birthday it was. I said “Nobody’s birthday is today.” After a couple seconds of thinking, Sam said “Hey, I think it’s Ben Affleck’s birthday today.” (On a side note, how did Sam know it was his birthday so well? Ben Affleck is going to get a beat down.) So, Andi handed me the phone and said “Ok, you call Ben Affleck and say Happy Birthday.”
So, I humored her and took the phone. I hit a couple of numbers and said “Hey Ben Affleck, Happy Birthday. Can I please have two hours of my life back I lost from watching Bounce? No? Ok, goodbye.”
Apparently that wasn’t good enough. Andi said “You sing Happy Birthday song to Ben Affleck for his birthday.”
Then I said something I thought I’d never say. “I am not going to call Ben Affleck to sing Happy Birthday!”
“Yes!”
“No!”
“Please, daddy!”
“No, no, no!”
“Daddy, you’re ruining Ben Affleck’s birthday!”
So, if Ben Affleck had a bad birthday yesterday, it’s my fault. I didn’t sing Happy Birthday to him.
 |
| Hey, sorry about your birthday. |
Yesterday we took Andi to the dentist to get her teeth taken care of. She had soem cavities on her top front teeth from baby bottle tooth decay. It's from kids having bottles or juice when they go to bed. The liquid stays on their teeth and eats away at the enamel. If we had known this beforehand, we wouldn't have given her a juice cup every night. Oops.
We had to go to the hospital in Reno to have the work done. The dentist office couldn't put her to sleep because she weighs under 35 pounds. So we get there and get the work done and everything. When she came out her lips were really swollen from them being pulled back and all that. She's also been throwing up since she had it done.
 |
| Don't call my baby girls Jaws or you may get a beating. |
For some reason I had a flashback to junior high school yesterday. The Junior High in Star Valley is the seventh and eighth grades. In seventh grade, everyone had to take a gym class. Why? I think it’s so they can widen that social gap between the popular kids and the dorky kids. Seriously, is there anything worse than being picked last for a team when you’re twelve? Oh yeah, it’s being the fat kid and having to be on the skins team all the time. Oh the good memories.
Toward the end of the school year, one of the geniuses who worked at SVJHS thought it would be a good idea to have a track meet for all the kids in gym. That’s great if you’re one of the aforementioned popular kids. If you were, you got to show off how speedy and quick you were, and how cool you were. But if you were the type of guy who was picked in the bottom four for every team, it didn’t seem like such a good idea. Being one of the fat slow kids, I didn’t like the idea of confirming my dorkiness to the entire student body by participating in a race that I could barely finish. But since it’s every gym teacher’s goal in life to remind you of how uncool you are, participation was mandatory.
A week or two before the meet, we held tryouts in our gym class to see which event we would compete in. I didn’t even try the high jump, because I really wasn’t coordinated enough to try a Fosbury Flop. Let’s see, the shot putt, discus, and javelin were out because of coordination again. (Childhood is so cruel). Oh wait, I forgot the long jump. On yeah, I couldn’t even make it to the sand box. So that left me with a running event.
The races that you could try out for were the 100 meter, 200m, and 400m if I remember right. If you didn’t qualify for any of those, you were stuck in the 800 m, which is half a mile. Of course the athletic kids took up the first two races. My only chance of not having to run around the freakin’ track twice was the 400m. I gave the 400 m my best shot, but let’s just say I didn’t quite make the cut.
So on the day of the track meet, I was stuck running the 800 meter race. When you’re a twelve year old fat kid, 800 meters might as well be a marathon. On a side note, I blame Nintendo for making me so fat as a kid. Before Nintendo, I played outside, ran around, rode on bikes. Then after Nintendo, I was more interested in getting Mario to save a Princess than going outside. Stupid Nintendo. I would blame it for making me fat as an adult, but that blame falls on Taco Bell and McDonalds. Anyway, The race started, and about half way through my first lap I’m dying and wanting to quit. But you can’t quit. Everyone already knows you’re a dork because you’re in the 800 meter race. If you quit now, you’re just that much more of a dork. So, I “ran” the whole race, and I didn’t come in last. Which was good, because everyone was looking at me, I just know it.
Looking back, I was a geek. But who cares? I get paid to be a geek now. And at least I’m not in prison like the really popular kid from junior high. Some things from childhood may be scarring and embarrassing, but at least now I can look back and laugh at myself. I just hope my kids don’t inherit my social skills and athletic ability.
