Bring in the Brass Monkey

Alright, the weather man has been wetting on himself for the last week over the "CANADIAN CRUSHER". Our favorite meteorologist (Evan Andrews) has been living at the station and just can't wait for the day he's really, REALLY needed at the station. I blame it on those damn dopler radar waves, or maybe its the paint he's huffing off camera, but anytime the weather has a hicup he starts drooling and gets kinda bug eyed, could be why he's our favorite.



Thats right, a big arctic cold front has come to North Texas. I always get a kick out of these fronts. If you've lived or spent any time in a state that gets snow on a semi-regular basis, you'll realize that in Texas we have a tendency to over react to foul weather.


BEEP BEEP BEEP...


BEEP BEEP BEEP...


Oh God, it's a weather alert. Is it a tornado? Severe thunderstorms? Frogs and Locusts?


"We interupt this regularly scheduled program for this important breaking news. A cold front is on it's way to your neighborhood. It is predicted to make up to 1 inch of snow. That's right, enough snow to leave a footprint! Horde food, water, batteries, pop tarts, beer, and gasoline. If you are an elderly Texan, you may not live through this".

Meanwhile in Ohio...


"Yeah, only 3 inches of snow, I can still find my golf ball."


We get so dang silly about the weather, or so it would seem. Most of these other states get snow. Do we get snow to make snow men, snow angels, snowball fights? No, we get screwed over and get ice.


You can drive on snow, you can't on ice, and this guy REALLY can't drive on ice.

Here's why I stayed in the house most of the day. To give you an idea of how close to home this was, thats my fence and my KIA in the foreground. The wind was dry and blew so hard that it actually evaporated some of the ice off the road so I went to town for some medicine, groceries, and movies around 5pm.

Most of the idiots were already in the ditch or back at the house. This made for short lines, although the hot chocolate section had a decidedly picked over look to it, and the Brookshires ran out of chip beef. Sad, so sad that I can't have chip beef with gravy on toast. I got some Little Debbie snacks, chocolate cake mix, and other unhealthy pickins instead.

Oh yeah, my son made a Stinky. I capitalize it because it's so foul it should be a proper noun.

Look to the photo page soon for more pics of my son being tortured.

We had comfort food. Lastnight it was nachos with painfully hot jalapenos. Blueberry muffins for breakfast (with a huge pot of coffee), tuna melts for lunch, and homemade pizza for dinner followed by chocolate cake and a glass of milk. Now we (Mary, William, Justice, Liberty, Casey, Alley, and myself) are all in the living room lounging around and thinking how good it is to have heat.





All hail heat.

My Dog

!-- BEGIN bunnyhero labs pet code -->




I stole this from my wife's myspace page, and I'm sure she stole it from someone else. See, the internet has facilitated the theft of intellectual property. Isn't progress swell!

Turkey Day, Come and Gone

So we survived another Thanksgiving, and I have no pictures from my wife's family get together. I'm headed to Cisco to see my family in a couple of hours, so I'll bring back some pics then. Just letting you know, we haven't sold William for beer money yet.

4 Weeks and I want to return him

During the day, my son is pretty damn easy to get along with.

Feed him, change him, play with him, put him to bed. Lather, rinse, repeat as needed.

Now when Mary and I try to go to sleep, he starts screwing with us. I mean it, the little turd is using psychological warfare on us. I feed him, he falls asleep with the bottle in his mouth. I lay him down to sleep. He wakes 5 minutes later, screaming as though someone has stabbed him in his little head! I mean Jesus H (H is for Hosanah) Christ! So he's hungry again. I feed him the rest of his bottle and put him to bed. He wakes 5 minutes later screaming again. Acts like he's hungry, so I feed him part of a new bottle.

Was he hungry? Hell NO!

He was gearing up to spray baby puke all over his mother and myself. Let me tell ya, if you've never witnessed baby vomit, it is a sight to behold. So he lays there grunting and fidgeting as though he's uncomfortable, so you check and change his diaper, like you did 15 minutes ago when he woke up screaming the first time.

Then you stick a pacifier in his mouth to shut him up so you don't eat a gun barrel. HE PULLS THE DAMNED THING OUT HIMSELF, AND WAkES UP SCREAMING ABOUT IT!

I'm not cut out to be a parent. Tomorrow I'm gonna perform a do it yourself vacectomy while this pain is still fresh. HOW THE HELL DO PEOPLE HAVE MORE THAN ONE OF THESE?!?

I have an older sibling, what were my parents thinking when they tried, INTENTIONALLY, to get pregnant with me?

I know this doesn't make alot of sense right now, but I'm ready to to to to st ae as
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a3
SNAP!

Goodnight.

Home again, home again, jiggity jig!

Friday evening I drove to the deer lease to hunt me some... deer. Hence the name, deer lease. Oh heck, I'm tired so I'll cut to the chase.

Saturday morning, got to my blind about 6:15am. At 7:20am I farted, this scared an 8pt buck that had snuck within 30 feet of my blind. He wasn't sure of me, so he snuck around the otherside of the blind and got within 20 feet of me. I didn't know he was there and opened a can of Diet Dr. Pepper, and scared him for a second time. So I learned a bit about deer, and how you should pretend they are always around you, even when you can't see them.

At 8am I spotted a nice buck in the distance. He was heading into some dense brush and I would be unable to take a shot at him if he made it into the tree line. I figured he was 250 yards away, settled my crosshairs onto his upper rib cage, and squeezed the trigger. He took off, fell on his face, ran some more, fell down. I was feeling pretty good about this, and expected him to expire momentarily. He then ran back to where I shot him, and laid down. I figured he was going to expire right there, when he got up and staggered into the treeline. I didn't like the way he was moving, and went for help. My father-inlaw and my brother-inlaw helped me track him down. He'd only gone about 50 yards into the treeline. My brother-inlaw spotted him trying to slip off into the brush and called me over. I got within 25 yards and shot him in the lungs, he expired in less than 30 seconds. When we went to collect him and haul him back to camp we saw why he wasn't dead from the first shot. I BLEW HIS FRONT LEGS APART! It turns out that he was actually 350 yards away, not 250.

For those who don't know, bullets are subject to gravity. As they travel downrange they drop back to the ground. If you know the distance you are shooting at, you can allow for this drop by aiming above the desired point of impact. Ballistic lesson over.

Yes, I'd aimed too low for the distance and the bullet trajectory snapped the bones in both legs, crippling the buck. We got him back to camp and cleaned him. He dressed out at 110lbs, had 9pts, and was fat and healthy. Well, with the exception of 2 broken legs and being dead.

I know this post isn't up to my normal standard, but damn William is killing us. We just aren't getting any sleep. I'll update the deer season stuff later. Now here are some pics for you.

My first buck.



My second buck.



THIS YEAR'S BUCK!!!



Leg entrance wound.



Leg exit wound.

To the lease

Bambi beware, I'm coming for you. Thumper and Flower better stay in the bushes, and God help the squirrel that steals corn from the feeder I'm hunting.

Toodles!

Somewhere, over the pasture... or across the street

So this morning my trashcans are gone, and the neighbor must have saved his from the windstorm. So its looking like winter has decided to come play. I had to break out my leather coat and bring in the brass monkey. Should be good weather for the lease this weekend. Should the squirrels make a repeat appearance, I don't like their odds of survival.

Will is still kicking my ass. I'm tired, Marys tired, I think even the dogs are tired. The cats aren't, they sleep 16hrs a day. For those of you who haven't found it, I've put links on the sidebar to my son's blog, and my photo page.

So sleepy.

Update, and yes, I am still so sleepy. My huge 96 gallon dumpster on wheels was located in the field across the street lastnight, and brought home. We threw a party and told it we missed it, and to never wander away from home again. It's sibling, the brown Rubbermaid 45 gallon trashcan on wheels is still missing, and feared to be held against it's will. We've issued and Amber alert for this lightweight brown, cylindrical trash receptacle. If you have any information, Police urge you to contact local authorities at once. We've been a bit upset. I leave the porchlight on incase it needs help finding it's way home. With your support, we can get through this together. God Bless.

I think the wind might blow

I just heard my huge heavy industrial trashcans leave the country on the northwest wind. I should be worried but I bet if I wait a little while my neighbor's cans will end up in my driveway.

Yes, Will is still killing slowly. I woke up at 1:30am with my wife crying along with my son. For those of you who don't know, this is bad. I sent her to bed and took Will to the living room. We played roll your eyes (I won, but he's getting good), a little formula, some head rubbing, and I had him calmed down. At this point he decided to load his diaper. Must have been a good one because it woke him up. I changed him and layed him back down. We had a discussion as he lay there staring at the ceiling.

Me: Stop driving your mother nuts.

Will: We're bonding.

Me: No, you are not being the good baby.

Will: How do I do that?

Me: You stop driving your mother nuts!

With that, he turned his head to the side and closed those little eyes. I'm such a great father.

Baby Finger Nails

So William's nails have grown out enough that he's started to scratch his face. I just finished trimming those talons, and let me tell you something. I'd rather work with Michael J. Fox diffusing homemade bombs that do that again. Nails and cuticles that small, paired with clippers that are adult sized, make you scared you're going to cut off the tips of his fingers. Next time I'm just dipping his fingers in liquid rubber to protect that cute face.

Bombsquad out.

Happy Birthday to ME!

So today I turned 30, and I don't feel a day over 15. I'm still the immature smart ass I've always been, I just have more credit, bills, and responsibility than ever before. That being said, I still enjoyed having Happy Birthday sung to me, as well as opening presents. Yeah, I still get a kick out of opening pretty wrapped packages.

At noon today my folks made the trek from Kingsland to wish me a Happy Birthday (and yes I'm capitalizing it because it's MY birthday, and as such it's a proper noun). Like Frank and Marie, they brought a cake to little Raymond. The role of Robert was played by their Pomeranian named Rosie. She's having a tough time of it and showing her age. She's blind, losing weight, and very confused. This made me sad because I helped raise her from a pup. I remember when she first came home as property of my sister. I fed Rosie her first slice of pizza, and had to clean up her first case of exploding ass. Poor thing whimpered alot, mainly due to the very spicy pizza.

My folks bought us lunch from Chili's, which if you've read much you'll know we eat entirely too much of. They also brought us my favorite cake from my childhood, a Stripped Rich Cake. In a nutshell, it is a yellow sheet cake that you make tons of holes in with a straw. You use a straw because you are creating voids in the cake for the topping to seep into. The topping is chocolate pudding mixed with powdered sugar. this permeates the cake and keeps it very moist. Stick that badboy in the fridge for a few hours and you've created a treat that can't be beat.

They oohed and aahed over young William (aka Prince William, Wilhelm, Pumpkin, My Little Piggie, but never Willy) as grandparents are supposed to. They fed him, burped him, tickled him, but never changed him. I guess it is the reward for them raising me and my sister that they get to have the FUN part of raising a baby and skip the unpleasant stuff. For unpleasant stuff, see my post on urine guns and projectile poo. I really enjoyed their visit, and the day was far from over.

At 5pm we were at my sister inlaw's house for my Birthday Party. We brought pizza, cake, soda, and icecream. My diet died a gruesome death today. Pretty much the whole family was there with the exception of my mother inlaw (who was feeling poorly, and I missed getting a Birthday hug from her) and my neice who was feeling under the weather as well. Hell folks, should have come, I showered and everything. Seriously though, it really meant alot to me that as many people showed as they did. I feel really loved by my new family. They seem to have accepted me into the tribe, and haven't tried to kick me off the island yet.

We played horseshoes, and I lost 4 games in a row. Now before you think I can't play the horseshoes, I want it noted that I had 4 ringers, a leaner, and a whole bunch of single points. The team we were playing against were just better. Then we had the cake and icecream, as well as me opening my presents. I got a new game for my 360, a blood tracking light (don't ask me how it works, technology confuses me, I'm pretty sure if you break open a TV set the characters will all spill out on the floor, that stuff is magic), some gift cards, and lots of Birthday hugs.

It was an awesome day for me. For William, you'll have to read his thoughts on his blog.

Laters, and HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!

Joys of parenting.

Lastnight we were finally able to give Wilhelm a real bath. We'd been waiting for his umbilical cord to fall off, as well as his, uh... Alright, we'd been waiting for a plastic ring to fall off of his penis from his circumcision. If you want details, and have a strong stomach, google "plastibell" for more details.

Anyway, we strip him down, fill the sink and get him ready for a nice warm bath. I am smart enough to know that with my long arms I'm going to be the one bathing and holding him, so I strip down to an old pair of shorts to avoid any unwanted soiling of my good clothes. This was smart on my part.



I swear he shot a stream of yellow poo and hit me from 2 feet away. I was sufficiently grossed out, and ran about the kitchen screaming like a little girl with my arms flailing about my head and shoulders.

Mary laughed.

After that bit of excitement we bathed him in the new sink. He did not enjoy the bath AT ALL. You'd think we were pinching his monkey toes with pliers for all the screaming he did.





So he was cold when he was pulled out of the water, and unhappy about it. Come to think of it, if this kid isn't eatting or sleeping he isn't happy. I tried to comfort him, but first I slapped a diaper on his tiny heiny to protect me from his magnum corn gun.



And we are starting a weekly photo for our son. We'll try to post these on Mondays from now on. I'll stick 'em on this blog since I'm in need of content and I'll post on Wilhelm's blog as well, plus other pics so his grandparents can see him in all kinds of funny pics.



Yeah, he's a little Milk Drunk.

Opening Weekend

Well, Mary let me out of the house for some deer hunting this last weekend. I drove out to the lease on Friday evening and we were up at 5am hunting the deer. 5am was actually a bit of sleeping in since it was all pretty much uninterupted. I saw 5 deer on Saturday morning; 2 mature does, 2 fawns, and 1 button buck. For those not in the know, a button buck has little nubs, usually less than 1" in lenght for antlers. I passed on all these deer since it was early on opening morning and you don't know what might walk out of the woods next. What walked out next was a squirrel. Actually 2 squirrels. I watched these little thieves take corn out of the feeder for about half an hour before I decided to try and put a stop to this action. Now before you judge me harshly for shooting at a couple of cute little squirrels, I took pictures of them and think the office of homeland defense would endorse my termination of these suspicious individuals.





So I lined up a shot on one of them, put the crosshairs on his little head, and sent a 150 grain balistic tipped .30 caliber projectile hurtling across the 135 yards seperating us at a screaming speed of 3000 feet per second... and the little bastard ducked. The groud directly behind the squirrel blew apart and the little corn stealing tree rats took of so fast I'm pretty sure I saw one with a little red cape.



Anywho, Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning were a bust. I only saw one doe that was immature, so I passed on her. The season is just beginning and Mary says I'll get to go again at some point.

So there is my hunting update, enjoy.

Just so you know

My connection to the net is a bit spotty at the moment. Due to this it could be a little while before I update you on the weekend. We're alive here, and my son has nasty swamp ass. I love him.

Argument for hunting

CLICK ME TO FIND OUT HOW MUCH WE SACRIFICE TO PROVIDE FOR OUR FAMILIES.

Let ya'll know on Sunday how things go.

I am TLC's bitch

As much as I hate to admit it, I found myself watching TLC all freaking day yesterday, and again today. I'm not REALLY watching, its background noise. I mean, I don't watch shows about dwarves, dysfunctional families and monastaries, people without fashion sense, and most definitely don't watch shows about new born babies and the parents dealing with them.




THAT'S A LIE, A FILTHY LIE! MY SON AND I AREN'T WATCHING "WHAT NOT TO WEAR".

Alright, maybe just a little.

Gotta say though, they have one of the most awesome ad campaigns ever.

LIFE LESSONS

Check out that link and watch the videos. Remember, the holidays are coming soon.