Throughout the history of the blog I have spent a lot time making fun of LB. It’s always in good fun and never malicious. Sometimes I wish I didn't do it, but it just comes out naturally. I make fun of the stuff I love. This is also why I have many jokes about casseroles and 80’s music.
Well, LB hasn’t been feeling too well recently. It’s like Deuce has grown a large hand and is holding her captive on the couch. When she is able to break free, she has to walk around with a grocery bag tied around her neck like Flava Flav and his alarm clocks, which has never made sense to me. I'm referring to Flava Flav here, not LB, her bag is warranted. Flava, if you are reading this, it seems that if you just really want to wear something large and bulky around your neck the benefits should outweigh the costs so it should be something with multiple purposes and not something that is considered socially acceptable to wear comfortably around your wrist. Maybe a cutlery set? LB’s bag is lightweight and though it has yet to be used, it’s benefits are like an insurance policy, peace of mind.
Since, LB hasn’t been feeling well I thought I would spare her and make fun of myself for a change, not that I love myself or anything. I mean I do love myself, but the normal way you are supposed to love yourself, nothing weird, not too much in a vane way, but not too little where I like to cut myself. Just the healthy amount that you are supposed to love yourself. Well, my flesh has been tainted by the fall so I probably do love myself too much. Anyway, on to my embarrassing admission, with all the attention on Michael Jackson due to his passing last week I learned something new from the constant media coverage. I always thought the American Idol judge, Randy Jackson, was the King of Pop’s brother. I never really researched it, just always kind of assumed it.
A quick wikipedia search confirmed that there were in fact two different Randy Jackson’s. While I was there and because I have an unquenchable thirst for all things educational, I decided to do some reading up on AI’s RJ to see if I could learn anything new about my culture/heritage. He was the bassist for, Journey, one of my favorite 80’s bands for a short time, but I already knew that. What wikipedia did teach me was that Randy Jackson is 53yrs old. I was surprised by that, I thought he was younger. He has to have the highest dog per syllable ratio of anyone over 50. If anyone out there is over 50 and wants to break Randy’s record (Here’s looking at you Mary Ann), just remember Journey’s inspirational words: Don’t Stop Believing. (I apologize for both getting that song stuck in your head for the rest of the night and for such a lame joke: see paragraph 1 for an explanation.)
The embarrassing part may be that the majority of this post is about Randy Jackson from American Idol. I think I am going to stop now while I am ahead. If you are thinking that it is too late for that, at least I haven’t babbled on about how the beauty of your honest unpretentious innocence is your talent star and what wonderful people you all are on the inside.
But seriously, you are all wonderful on the inside.
Embarrassing Admission
I still haven't written about Deuce
It’s been a crazy last few weeks. LB went to the beach with the famous White House girls, my parents came to town for almost a week, LB got back from the beach then left with Ada heading to Scottsboro for a few days for a dentist appointment, and this week LB’s mom, sister Ann, and her three kids are staying with us. Plus, I found out I’m not the only one the birds are after, I am less than ¼ white, and we are having baby #2.
I always envisioned getting the news that I was going to be a father as huddled up with my wife, in this case LB, anxiously awaiting the results of the test. Then hugging and celebrating when we find out we were going to be parents. That is not how my babies’ momma rolls. This was the second time I have gotten a call at work letting me know that I was going to be a dad. However, this second time went a bit better than the first. With Ada, LB called me at work weeping uncontrollably. I thought she had been in a car wreck. In between sobs, she told me I needed to come home but didn’t tell me why. I told my boss and he let me leave. My mind was racing on the drive home and by the time I pulled into the driveway, I had a feeling about what was going on. As I walked through front door, I knew that I was about to either find out that I was going to be a dad or that LB had been involved in some sort of industrial machinery accident. It was the first one.
That was years ago though. Now, we are waiting on baby number two. I’ve never liked calling babies Baby + Last Name, as LB has been doing. That seems too boring, so I came up with something else until we have an official birth certificate name: Deuce Utero, Baby Embryo. Deuce for short. LB doesn’t like it, she says it makes her think of certain bathroom activities and quoted a Michael Scott line: “Tonight, I will be dropping a deuce on everyone.” I was so proud of her and after I gave her a high five for the Office reference, I told her I would be sure to tell the baby about the time Mom compared them to human excrement.
I’m sure this Deuce info isn’t news to most of you because you’ve probably already seen my much more frequent blogging wife’s post from about two weeks ago and you already knew Ada’s reign is over. She will always be our first, but the clock is ticking on her being our only.
Ada had a good run, but I don’t think she will mind when it is over. I think she will embrace her new sibling. Any time we are in public and she sees another child (infant, toddler, or pre-teen) she screams “Baby!” and wants to touch them. So I think she’ll savor taking Deuce under her wing and teaching them who Melmo is and how his appearance on any product turns it into a must have. He makes cookies taste better, toothbrushes clean more effectively, and pneumatic drills more powerful. While she’s at it she’ll make fun of all us grown ups that always get the Sesame Street characters names wrong (i.e. we say Big Bird, Elmo, Ernie, but it’s really Big Bert, Melmo, and Bernie). And if she really loves Deuce she’ll unveil the secret that Publix totally kicks Kroger’s behind because their racecar buggies are much cleaner and you get free cookies.
Fun with Ada Pics: Blue Steel
There are about 47 things I have posted in my head, I just haven't had a chance to get them out and into the internets in a while. But since it is going on about 8yrs since I have posted anything here, I thought I should get something out.
In LB's last post there is a picture of me holding Ada. When I first saw it, I thought that I looked a bit odd in it, like I reminded myself of someone else but couldn't quite place it. Well, Bull jolted my memory this morning when I read an email from him that contained the line: 100% blue steel. Nicely done sir.
So thanks Bull, for the memory jogger and the compliment. Also, good luck remaining conscience today during the birthing of your child. I hope that when you lay your head on the pillow tonight you can still say that you have never seen a mucus plug in person. But more importantly I hope Kate never has to attend the Derek Zoolander Center For Kids Who Can't Read Good And Wanna Learn To Do Other Stuff Good Too.
