Blog Hard 2: Blog Harder

Wow, another month-and-a-half has breezed by without a single blog entry. My laziness knows no bounds. I guess this’ll be another big catch-up entry with several random topics….

First off: We’re growing tomatoes. Yeah, we’re regular farmers now. Teresa asked for Topsy Turvys (you’ve seen the commercials, right?) for Mother’s Day, and by golly, she got ‘em.

It’s been about a month since we “planted” them. No tomatoes yet, but the vines are definitely growing. Funny, now that we have these Topsy Turvey things, I see them all over the place. Even my ex-wife and father-in-law have them. And my own Dad was eyeballing them just the other day, so maybe he’ll get some as well….

***

Several months back, Kendyl and I stopped by Quizno’s. I ordered the Chicken Carbonara, which I believe to be the finest sandwich they offer. As we stood at the checkout counter, Kendyl read the little screen on the cash register and looked at me questioningly.

“Chicken crab turtle?” she asked innocently.

I burst into laughter. She glared at me (as usual). A moment later, the girl behind the counter handed me my food and smiled.

“Here’s your chicken crab turtle,” she said.

Ah, the birth of a new catchphrase. To this day, whenever Kendyl is cranky (which is often), I tease her about it. As you can imagine, it only enhances her crankiness. Ah, the joy of parenting.

***

Bijou, our resident mongrel and family mascot, is hilarious. She howls when the phone rings, she wiggles her butt and walks sideways when she’s excited, and incessantly licks herself (yeah, down there) with no hesitation or shame. Sometimes, the hilarity is much less obvious, but no less funny:

After this picture was taken, she acquired a new nickname: Platypooch.

***

Sierra (aka Mouzse) turned 17 on May 24. That’s right, my oldest child will be an adult in ONE YEAR. She kept it pretty low key this year (so there’s no big party story to report), but she did have an odd request: she wanted a stuffed giraffe. Not just any stuffed giraffe, either… she had very specific requirements: It couldn’t look too real, nor could it look too cartoonish. It needed to be big, but not too big (“about the size of a fat cat”). My initial searches were unsuccessful, but a suitable giraffe was finally found at Toys R Us (which makes sense, since their spokesmascot or whatever the hell it is happens to be a giraffe).

In any case, she was happy with it. She also wanted a giraffe cake. Teresa obliged, with great success:

So my baby girl is one year closer to adulthood. By association, her old man is one year closer to a heart attack or a stroke, quite possibly both. Pretty soon she’ll be married, having babies, and I’ll be completely gray and downing Prozacs like Tic-Tacs.

***

Saw the new Star Trek movie. Loved it. Well, maybe “love” is too strong a word. I liked it a lot. My complaints are few and relatively minor. The good far outweighed the bad. I’m eagerly looking forward to the next one. If anything, the new film rekindled my love of Star Trek in general. “Rekindled” is putting it mildly. Maybe it’s time I came out of the closet once and for all: Ladies and gentlemen, I’m a Trekkie. I’m a fanboy. I’m a geek. You want proof? I’ve been hitting eBay and buying Star Trek action figures. Classic series figures only, ‘cuz this geek likes to kick it old school. My favorite (by far) is this item:

All seven of the original crew in one box! You probably can’t tell from the picture, but the facial likenesses are amazing. Here’s a closeup of Kirk:

God damn it, that IS William Shatner, shrunk down to 5” tall. Playmates really knows how to make action figures (or at least they used to; the ones I’m collecting were made in the mid-90’s; their figures for the new movie kinda suck, unfortunately). Sweet Boneless Christ, I’m 39 years old and I’m collecting toys. What will I do with them, you ask? I don’t even know yet. I used to have a few dozen Star Wars figures on display in my home office, but the space was conquered long ago by McMenamins beer bottles and DVDs/Blu-rays. So far I’m not even opening the Trek figures yet…. But I’m sure I will soon. They’ll make me. They call to me, you know, in the wee hours of the morning, in those surreal moments between sleep and half-sleep. I hear their pleading little whispers, muffled by their cardboard and plastic prisons. Open us… Set us free….

***

So I got this weird envelope in the mail. Inside was a document indicating that I was being ticketed for running a red light. Apparently I’d been tagged by one of those godforsaken photo radar things. A closer examination of the documentation revealed the truth:

That’s right, it wasn’t even me! It was Logan, that rapscallion (note how Teresa's been conveniently blanked out of the picture). I filled out the required paperwork, indicating that I was most certainly NOT the driver who committed the heinous crime, and sent it back. It’s been about a month now, and I haven’t heard anything further, so I guess I’m in the clear.

Or at least I was. A few days ago, I was taking Bijou to the vet (she had some kinda eye infection), and I was running late, and (according to the cop) I was speeding. In a school zone. During school hours. So yeah, I got a ticket. Two hundred bucks! Thank you very fucking much, officer.

Oh well. Could've been worse. The photo ticket would've cost me $336.00!