In the clear

A couple of years ago while visiting my parents, my brother noted that our youngest was no longer in diapers.

To this he made a comment that only someone without three children could possibly make. He said, " Oh fantastic...looks like you're in the clear."

Let's fast forward to Tuesday night. I'm tired, I'm fighting off a cold, and I'm getting ready for bed and Mrs. Flick says, " oh shoot, we need to blow out five eggs for the kindegarten class Easter project."

Five minutes later, instead of restfully laying in bed, I found myself sitting at the table with a sewing needs and a carton of raw eggs.

What followed was an array of swearing, jabbing, and egg breaking that would give any mischief night a run for its money.

Ever try to blow up a really cheap, really small ballon and you blow so hard that your eyes bug-out, you get dizzy, and eventually give up and have a headache ? Yeah that's what I did, with a half dozen eggs...without giving up....for 1 hour and 35 minutes.

I also stuck myself twice with a sewing needle covered in raw egg. My best shot is that instead of getting salmonella, that I get what spiderman got when he got bit by that spider. Then again, I'm not sure that if I'm lucky enough to get super powers that I get those of a egg layin chicken. You don't see a lot of Chickenman comics in circulation.

The night ended with some success in that I got all five eggs done. Hurrah ! When your night ends with your hands and face covered in raw egg whites and looking like you just got done making a really awful japanese porno vid, its the small victories that you need to hang onto.

Yeah Bro, I'm "in the clear".

Keepin it real

Last night was fun.

I got a little drunk but not too drunk.

I stayed out a little late, but not too late.

I babbled on like I do, but didn't make a dick of myself.

In short it was a far cry from LAST YEAR

And thankfully today I don't feel like THIS

That's not to say all was lost. We did still honor one of the lesser known
ST. Patrick's Day traditions of having a Buddist do a headstand on a Dodge Neon.



Is suppose to bring you good luck for 20 days. I'll let you know how it works out.

LUNCH

Family Owned

I'm not sure what this says, but only 3 fewer people asked if this was me than asked if I was the cyclist who assaulted the motorist with the bike chain last week.

Those of you not local probably haven't seen this.



The story:

http://articles.lancasteronline.com/local/4/218297

Its all in the inflection

There's a fine line between 'clever' and 'asshole'.

If anyone has seen that line please forward me the location. According to everyone's expression lately, I've lost sight of where it is.

So I see that yet another political figure got caught up in a sex scandal. And once again the dude showed up, all forlorn, to press conference with his wife.
Here's the photo from yesterday...




And here's Craig's press conference...




And i could go on and on. Point being, I'm not sure where these guys are finding women like this. There are few things that I'm SURE of.

I'm sure of death, of taxes, and that raisins make me fart.

And I'm sure that if I get caught on tape negotiating with a prostitute that my press conference will look like this...









Notice ? No wife.

Pete Schwetty

The president of the PTO couldn't make it so I was recruited to welcome the parents of the new kindegarten class to the school on Tuesday.

In a previous blog I explained the PTO difficulties that I've had, but I felt like this one was going to be different. I knew what I was talking about, I had plenty of notification, I had time to prepare...all was good. Until I got up there.

Typcially I have no problem speaking in public. When I was a teacher and when I was a coach I did it all day long. Anyone who knows me personally will attest to the fact that getting me to stop talking might be a problem, but rambling onto an audience is one of my strong suits. But for some reasons this PTO thing has me rattled.

The first couple of words out of my mouth were a bit broke...perhaps the older readers will understand when I say they were " Bobby Brady like". But I did a good job of shaking that off. I took a deep breath, continues, and as they words started coming out more easily, I was finally able to relax. WHEW. I little joke here a little change of inflection there, and I was back to my old tricks.

Thats when the sweating started.

I felt the first few drops and tried to ignore them. Then a few more came and the only thought in my head was " STOP SWEATING". Apparently the "stop sweating" thought triggers the same portion of your brain as "don't laugh" or " don't orgasm yet" and therefore I started sweating at double the previous rate.



By the time I got done I needed a snorkle.

Next time I'm bringing some 1970's NBA headgear like Ben Wallace.



I'll be the belle of the ball.