Missed It By That Much

So my wife says to me the other night:

"I'm going to wear (yes?) as little as possible (Yes?!), just in case we (YES?!!!) lose power tonight."

Damn.

Discovered by the Germans in 1904

Father's Day does not come any more perfect than it did today. It was so perfect that I have come out of semi-retirment to wax poetic about it. There was not a very special event that highlighted the day, but a series of moments that came together to make it very magical.

It began the night before when my wife and I went out on a date. Our son was absolutely giddy when the babysitter arrived, jumping up and down and giggling that there was someone new to show off for. He was pushing us out the door so he could begin his performance. We scooted out and went out for a very nice dinner.

The performance must have tired out v2.0 because he slept three hour passed his usualy waking time. This allowed me to make some coffee and peruse the morning paper before getting ready for my baseball game. The bad part was that I was not able to see him before leaving for my game.

Winning the single-elimination playoff game meant we could play again next weekend and that is exactly what we did, barely 8-7. I had a great game both on the mound and at the plate, so winning was extra satisfying and it continued the good Father's Day vibes.

Over-sleeping did not prevent v2.0 from taking his usual afternoon nap, which he was in the midst of when I returned home from the game. He played in the water with mun-mum while I was gone and whipped himself into a good frenzy, tiring himself out in the process. So it was not until middle of the afternoon did I actually get to see the reason I am able to celebrate Father's Day. "Hi da da." Such a sweet boy.

My Father's Day gift was overwhelming and so generous that I was completely flabbergasted. I certainly did not deserve it. I was so thrilled because I had spoken conceptually of getting a digitial camera at some point, but figured it would be a while since I just started a new job that pays less than my previous one. I felt like a kid getting the bike on Christmas day.

I am definitely encouraged when v2.0 expresses an interest in watching baseball, so I gladly allowed him to turn on the TV when he asked "Basheball?" Nats were down 2-1 in the bottom of the 9th. We tuned in just in time to see Marlon Byrd hit a single. Next batter was Ryan Zimmerman and the wife and i remarked how cool it would be if he hit a home-run to win the game. Sure enough - There's a drive, deep to left, gone! That's when I knew the day was magical.

We capped the day with a pizza dinner at a local Italian chain restaurant, Mamma Lucia, which v2.0 loves to say as "Ma Luuus." One of the trademarks of this fine establishment is the employment of hot young women. Not all of them, but enough to keep things interesting. However, there is hostess that is off-limits because she's a little too young. I call her Ms. Prison Term. Don't worry, the Mrs. has a little eye-candy of her own at a local barbecue joint, so everything is fair and square. In fact, we're probably going there next weekend.

Add a little canoli, some bourbon and Entourage nd that, my friends, is a magical Father's Day.

Wone, Twoooo, Theeee, Weeeeeeeee

Good god, where have I been?

Spring arrived in earnest this week in the Washington area, which means that the days are longer, the skirts are shorter, and, more importantly, the gas bill is smaller.

One of the most visually stimulating things to experience during this time of year is to drive along the Potomac River on the GW Parkway at dusk with the Monuments in the background. It’s almost a mystical feeling that is not unlike being in a painting, and I would imagine that it’s a source of inspiration for great works of art for area writers, poet, and painters.

Of course, what passes for great works of art here is open to interpretation. Some in Washington would consider great prose to be something like: Strike all after the enacting clause and insert the following …

Can't The Vegetables Just Get Along?

I suddenly became a big fan of Jessica Simpson this week for her snub of the Shrub. She didn't want to politicize the charity that she is promoting by appearing at a Nazi fundraiser, even though she's probably a fucking Republican.

The Shrub expressed deep disappointment in not being able to meet with her because he said it would have been one of the very few times where he could have been smarter than the other person in the room.

Simpson's favorite charity is the National Association for the Advancement of Dumbshits (NAADs). She was scheduled to appear at the fundraiser to hand out t-shirts that said 'Go NAADS.'

The Matrix is Everywhere

It’s annoying when retail stores ask for my phone number or zip code at the register when I’m making a purchase. I know they are trying to gather information about where their shoppers live to determine what products they should carry and where they could locate new stores, but I just want to buy my stuff; leave me alone.

When this information is presented to the retailer, the analysis often contains a margin of error figure for the data. That’s for people like me because I give out the phone number or zip code for the White House when someone bothers me for this information just to fuck with the research. It’s my way of sticking it to the man. (But you are the man.)

I do play favorites though. If it’s a store I like and would like to see one open closer to my house, I might be compelled to provide an accurate zip code, although I still wouldn’t provide a phone number. A store like Wal-Mart would get a zip code in Frostburg, MD, far away from me. A store like Borders actually would get a correct zip code. If the Cheesecake Factory ever asked me for this kind of information, I would give them my social security number, my mom’s maiden name, and the GPS coordinates to my house.

Stronger Faster Version

We interrupt your regularly scheduled post to bring you comments from v2.0.

Boy did I have a busy weekend. On Saturday morning Mum-mum and Da-da took me to the zoo. I really liked the apes and the sea lion. After we were done at the zoo, we went to Woodley Park for lunch. I had lots of fun reading my books and laughing with Mum-mum. We got into the car at 12:51 and at 12:55 I was asleep. When we got home Mum-mum took me up to my crib and I slept until 4:30! When I got up Mum-mum and I took a bike ride. Then Da-da took me for a ride on my 4-wheeler. I'm getting pretty good at driving it now.

Sunday was pretty laid back during the day. When I got up from my nap, Mum-mum and Da-da took me to a hockey game. I was pretty scared at first and even cried a little, but by the end of the second period I was yelling with the crowd and clapping and chanting, "O-lie! O-lie!" I had lots of fun.

It was nice to get back to day care today. I had a busy day making shamrocks and playing at the playground. I can say all my teacher's names now -- Ora, Arie (Marie), Anine (Denine), and Ba Ba (Barbara). Mum-mum keeps trying to give me quizzes. She'll point to Da-da and say, "Who's this?" I usually don't answer. (I don't like to do tricks!) But sometimes she'll point to herself and say, "Who am I?" I'll point to myself and say "Who am I?" I think that's the wrong answer, but it makes Mum-mum laugh.

My new favorite game is ring-around-the-rosy. I like to sing it. "Addy, addy, ba ball ball down!" (Ashes, ashes we all fall down.) That makes Mum-mum and Da-da laugh too. It's weird, they laugh at me a lot. I think I'm getting a complex.

Well, I'm pretty tired, so I should go to bed. Besides, if Mum-mum finds out I'm using her computer she'll kill me! (With big kisses of course!)

Coming Soon: Hunting Accident Unit

This week, George Washington Unversity Hospital announced that Dick and Lynne Cheney were donating $2.7 million to fund a new cardiovascular unit.

That wasn't a donation; that was his account balance for the heart-related treatments he received over the past 10 years. They decided to announce it as a donation, so that Dick could save face.

He still owes for the medical bills of his hunting friends.

That Won't Do Anything But Help

I heard a news blurb on the radio this morning about the release of another study that shows that caffeine may be addictive. As proof, the study noted that when regular coffee drinkers aren't able to get their fix, they get a headache and become tired.

Um, isn't that the main reason why one starts drinking coffee in the first place?

That's precisely why I started to take heroin. Oh shit, did I type that out loud?

We'll Work Up a Number 6 on 'Em

You may have seen the headline on CNN.com: ‘Lesbian Beats 3 Guys for Homecoming King Crown’

This happened at a small liberal arts school (like there is another kind) in western Maryland. No one should be surprised that this happened and it should put to rest any doubts that people might have that lesbians are tough to beat. This story also will help perpetuate the stereotype that guys who go to liberal arts schools are wuses.

Oh wait, she won by majority vote? Never mind then.

Thank God It Wasn't a Handbag

Great news! This past weekend, v2.0 had a minor melt down at a store. It’s great news because it happened at a sporting goods store and he was upset that we wouldn’t buy a baseball bat for him.

He saw me checking out baseball bats and wanted to swing one too, so we gave him a tee-ball bat to carry around while I was picking one to buy. As I was making my way to the register, I heard a boy start to have a meltdown, and my first thought was ‘poor guy and those poor parents.’ Then I thought, ‘hmmm, that voice sounds familiar.’ Yes, it was mine. Mrs. Giant was attempting to take the bat from him and put it back so we could leave. He didn’t take too kindly to that and reacted accordingly.

Of course, being the great parents we are, our reaction wasn’t exactly sympathetic. Mrs. Giant laughed because she said v2.0 looked so cute scampering toward the back of the store with the bat, and also looked very cute when he was crying on the floor after she took the bat from him. I was of no use either because I was so elated that he was expressing an interest in baseball, and not some expensive sport, like hah-kee.

Several Hundred Big Pieces

Here is another example of how screwed up race relations are in this country. James Frey writes a so-called memoir that details a number of criminal activities and his path toward redemption. It turns out that his stories are mostly false. So, although he wanted desperately to be incarcerated, Frey couldn’t get arrested to save his life.

Meanwhile, Colton Simpson, an original member of the Crips gang based in L.A., wrote a critically-acclaimed book that chronicles his life inside the gang and his path toward redemption. Now the book is being used as evidence in his trial on charges that he participated in a robbery of an $800 diamond earring from a jewelry store. As you might infer, Simpson is African-America.

Why wasn’t there this much fortitude in pursuing Frey’s claims? Smoking Gun accidentally happened upon it, but no one else. I bet if law enforcement officials had investigated Frey, he would have come clean about his exaggerations long before Smoking Gum came knocking on his door. Even then, he should have been arrested just for being a buffoon.

If I’m Simpson, I would use the James Frey defense. He should say he exaggerated details in his book for dramatic effect. Heck, he should say that he’s really white.

I Will Collect You and Capture You

Hillary Clinton last week quipped that Karl Rove is obsessed about her because all he does is talk about how she is going to be the 2008 Democratic presidential nominee. I’m sure lots of people snickered at the remark, thinking it was along the lines of her statement about there being a ‘vast right-wing conspiracy theory.’

While it may seem non-sensical initially, it makes sense strategically for Rove to be obsessed with Hillary. The Republicans are floundering right now with all of the corruption scandals and are experiencing some very low poll numbers. Hillary is a very polarizing figure, particularly among men, who hate her, and what better way to distract from the scandals by continually invoking Hillary? It allows Rove to offer up red meat to the party loyalists and scare the male swing voters into the Republican camp.

I have to laugh at men who are scared of Hillary. What a bunch of fucking pussies. Get some balls, fer crissakes. They'll at least match the ones Hillary has.

There also in an underlying motive for Rove in doing this. I think he desperately wants Hillary to be his fag hag.

What Light Through Yonder Window Breaks

I recently got a moleskine notebook, the legendary journal that was used by the likes of Hemingway, Van Gogh, and Matisse to jot down ideas or drawings before they were transformed into renowned works of art. Because of its historic status, I felt compelled to begin it with something poetic and timeless. Somehow, a ‘to-do’ list just didn’t resonate.

Research for provision in the pension reform bills that would provide a waiver for defined contribution plans.

Darn, I guess my notebook is for the likes of Julio Hemingway, Frank Van Gogh, and Jean Matisse.

Here's to You, Mr. Stick Up Your Ass

To: Washington Tickets distribution list
Re: Chocolate bars for sale. This is a fundraiser for my son's day care facility. Proceeds go toward purchasing supplies typical for a day care center -- abacuses, microscopes, DNA analysis kits, poker chips, roulette table. Anything a precocious two-year old would need. Please respond to sender only.

To: DC-Giant
Re: We have a bulletin board for fundraising, Washington tickets is for tickets only. Thanks.

To: Washington Tickets
Re: Chocolate bar golden tickets for sale. Each ticket entitles the holder to a chocolate experience that promises to be euphoric, almost orgasmic.

The Elusive Third Golf Ball

DC-Giant v2.0 turned two last week. It is overstated that time moves way too fast when it comes to kids growing up, but indeed, there is a reason why it's overstated.

Early indications seem to suggest that he is destined to become a dancing, hockey playing make-up artist. He also will do some painting on the side, but instead of canvas, he will paint on family room couches and chairs. It's going to make displaying his work in art galleries a little more challenging.

A note to his Godfather: Thanks for the call wishing him a happy birthday, dumbass. He was crushed when he realized you forgot. You might have to give him control of a casino to pay him back.