Fleecing the tweens

This morning we were at the mall when I came across a Hannah Montana wig. It was one of the ugliest things I’ve ever seen. It kind of resembled Jennifer Aniston. Well that is if Jennifer Aniston was stuck in the eye of a hurricane and a riding lawnmower landed on her head. It was actually on sale….but then again it wasn’t. I know our education system is flawed in places but surely the tween population isn’t dumb enough to fall for this deal right?

Change

A couple weeks ago my brother Colin signed up for the Obama VP text message to be notified the second he announced his running mate. This is Col's first presidential election to vote in and he's taking it really seriously. He's actually taking time to learn about both candidates rather than listening to the masses drone that McCain with his numerous houses (Is it 7? Is it 10? I'm so old I can't remember.) is out of touch with the common man and that Obama loves killing babies. So over the last few days he had anxiously been awaiting the text. This morning he called to tell me that his phone started beeping maniacally at 2:09 a.m. He awoke long enough to see Joe Biden's name before rolling over and going back to sleep. If the change that Obama hails in every stump speech involves awakening me from my dream as a hang-gliding prince who fights crime with Helen Mirren while eating cotton candy and Sour Patch Kids, well then count me out.

Still waiting for the stars

It’s no secret that I’m not a fan of Dancing with the Stars (http://mritchason.blogspot.com/2007/02/dancing-with-people-who-look-vaguely.html). I find that they throw around the term “stars” much too liberally. I have yet to see Will Smith doing the foxtrot or Meryl Streep waltzing across the dance floor. Yet in all truthfulness I’ve never endured an entire episode, so I might have missed that when I flipped the channel to order the pancake puffs pan from that infomercial. Mmmmm, crab cake puffs. Today online I came across the lineup for the next season which starts September 22. I’ve already marked my calendar. Here’s a look at some of this year’s competitors:

Warren Sapp (retired NFL player) – Um, it’s football so…..well…..I’ve got nothin’.

Ted McGinley (Actor) – With this guy’s not-so-illustrious track record on TV, Dancing with the Stars will be cancelled by October.

Misty-May Treanor (Olympic gold medal-winning beach volleyball player) – A teacher at school today was shocked that I didn’t know who this was. “Haven’t you been watching the Olympics?” she lashed out. Unless your name is Michael Phelps, Kobe Bryant, or those American gymnasts I’m not really interested.

Mark McGrath (Lead singer of Sugar Ray) – I’m docking him a vote for each time I’ve heard that annoying “Every Morning” song. That should leave him at - 2,873,024 votes in the hole. Good luck!

Cody Linley (Hannah Montana actor) – If a pop culture junkie has to Google someone’s name to figure out who he is, then he’s probably not a star.

Brooke Burke (Model/TV host) – I remember her from that Wild On show on E! and she’s married to that guy from Baywatch. “That guy from Baywatch”? Hey, with a description like that he’s just what the producers are looking for next season.

Lance Bass (former member of N’Sync) – As long as I don’t have to listen to him sing anymore, it’s all good.

Kim Kardashian (star of Keeping Up With The Kardashians) – If all it takes to get on this show is to star in your own sex tape, then I look forward to seeing Screech, Mini Me, and my grandma in the mix next year.

Cloris Leachman (82-year old actress) – This will probably be the death of her. Literally. I hope she’s updated her will and someone at ABC is on set with those defibrillator paddles.

Toni Braxton (Grammy-winning singer) – She’s my pick to win it this year. If the poor man’s Whitney Houston can’t do it, well then nobody can.

Snacks and such

My dad and stepmom have been babysitting for us this summer on Tuesday mornings while I’ve been at summer school and Rach is at work. It’s always a mixed bag with my stepmom because you never know what she’s going to say or do. It’s like watching an M. Night Shyamalan movie. You know something out of the ordinary is going to happen, you just don’t know what it’s going to be. Today when Rach was leaving for work she told Ella that she was going to put on “Toy Story” for her and Liam to watch. Well my stepmom nixed the idea because quite simply she doesn’t like that movie as she told Rachel. Okay, well when the third hour of Barney is causing you to wrap your mouth around the barrel of a gun don’t say we weren’t trying to help you out.

When I returned home just before noon I found Liam crying as he was getting his diaper changed. Immediately my stepmom told me that he hit his head hard on the back of our couch. I don’t get too worked up about things like this because both Liam and Ella have had their share of bumps and bruises. It’s part of growing up and neither of them stand much of a chance with their ungraceful parents. (Yes, I did slip and fall all the way down the stairs the other morning. And yes, Rachel laughed hysterically.) She added that he could barely walk as though he was drifting in and out of consciousness like a wounded Tom Cruise in “Born on the Fourth of July.” I told him it was lunch time and he came sprinting like a Nigerian track star on steroids. Needless to say, Liam doesn’t have to give up his dream of being a successful leg model one day.

Whenever they babysit my dad and stepmom bring snacks for the kids. However, it’s never the typical fruit snacks or animal crackers. Instead it’s always one of two things: Chex mix or nacho cheese Gripz. Now mind you it can’t be the original Chex mix that your grandma makes every holiday. Rather it’s the bold-flavored Chex mix that you buy in the bag at the store. When I get home and kiss the kids it literally almost makes me faint. Their breath smells like they’ve eaten a charbroiled raccoon that’s been simultaneously dipped in clam chowder, hot sauce, and raw sewage. I’ve ridden on commuter-packed trains in New Delhi that smell better.

Now if you’ve never had a package of Gripz they’re these small cheese crackers that are about the size of a pea. I’m pretty sure that you’re supposed to eat them but all our kids like to do is play a game with them. Basically the object is to try to scatter them as many places throughout the house as possible and see how many mommy and daddy will step on. Hey International Olympic Committee, I’ve got a new event for you. We end up finding them everywhere, in the cushions of the couch, in the toe of our shoes, in the crisper of the refrigerator, in Liam’s ears. It’s a nightmare because when you step on them it leaves streaks of orange all over the carpet. It looks as though Chester Cheetah has farted cheese dust all over our living room and dining room. I’ve started to refer to them as the turds of Satan.

Donating

Today I went to a blood drive at the hospital here in town. Now I’m not one of those devoted donors that does it every eight weeks. In fact, I usually only get around to doing it in the summer while I’m off school. So I got there today and a lady led me back to a small cubicle to check my vitals and ask me a few questions about my health. (No, I haven’t traded sex for drugs, although I have bounced the idea around a few times.) It was very awkward sitting in there because there wasn’t any room to move around and our knees were touching while we sat across from one another. It felt like we were Ariel and Prince Eric in “The Little Mermaid” where they sit across from each other in the boat holding hands while the fish circle the vessel squirting water into the air. All we were missing was Sebastian the crab singing “Kiss the Girl.” The worst part about it was that it smelled like the woman had eaten 37 of those peanut butter crackers. When she smiled you could see little bits of the orange crackers in her teeth. Very sexy.

One of the questions she asked me was “What are you donating under today?” I didn’t really understand the question. I rapidly started going through appropriate answers in my head.

• Under the Tuscan Sun (dreadful Diane Lane chick flick)

• Under the influence of Jager bombs (a la Shia LaBeouf)

• Under the Table and Dreaming (still the definitive DMB album)

• Under the Sea (What is it with The Little Mermaid references today?)

I gave up and just asked what she meant. She clarified, “It just means are you donating as a man or a woman?” Really? That’s a question you have to get clarification on from people? I was tempted to tell her some elaborate story of how I was six months into the painful process of gender reassignment. But considering that I still had my balls I had to check the male box.

The actual process of giving blood doesn’t really bother me. I listen to my iPod, make tight squeezes ever few seconds, and in no time it’s over. A college aged girl sitting directly in front of me was struggling. She told one of the Red Cross workers that she thought she was going to faint so they lowered the cot she was sitting on all the way back. Another worker came over to bring her a bag of ice for her head. After only 45 seconds she complained that it was too cold. Yes honey, it’s supposed to be like that. It’s ice, not Grandma Giuseppa’s famous meatballs. She proceeded to open the bag and begin eating the ice like a malnourished squirrel. The girl only slowed down long enough to turn towards me and puke all over the carpet between us. A little extra donation for the day. Ironically her vomit resembled Grandma Giuseppa’s famous meatballs.

Viva la vida

Throughout my years of going to concerts I’ve sat through some less than stellar opening acts (Vanilla Ice; Mandy Moore; Julio Iglesias, Jr.; a life-size Pop Tart that DJ’d). Last night at the Coldplay show in Chicago I endured two of the worst acts I’ve seen in a long time. The first was a guy named Jon Hopkins who I guess is some sort of musical prodigy from London. It basically consisted of him standing up there pushing a few buttons on his MacBook and making this crappy techno music. As an added bonus there was also a screen that showcased some anime that went along with the music. I mean at one point in the cartoon (c’mon, that’s all it is) a girl was crying and then her tears were sweeping people away into a forest of bunnies. In full disclosure, I’ll admit that techno and anime are on my list of things that I just don’t get, along with Raisin Bran, Dancing with the Stars, and nipple rings.

The second act was a woman named Santogold, which I think translates into “hooker with a cheap gold cape.” She brought with her what initially looked to be two female background vocalists. They stood behind microphones but never actually sang. They were more like spastic dancers that at times I thought were having seizures simultaneously. For some songs they would box with what must have been an imaginary friend. On other tracks they were adept at rapidly pushing their boobs in and out towards the crowd. Yes Hasselhoff, America’s definitely got talent.

Finally Coldplay took the stage and even exceeded my expectations. It was an amazing show from beginning to end. Normally when a band plays their new stuff that’s my excuse for a break to buy my t-shirt without a line. But I’ve gotta say that I’ve grown to love the songs from the new CD and in fact I think it’s actually their best overall album. I mean this comes from the guy who’s now on his third copy of A Rush of Blood after wearing out the first two from overplaying. My only slight gripe was the length of the show being only 90 minutes. When I pay almost $100 to be there I expect a concert that lasts longer than the season finale of “The Bachelorette.” That being said Chris Martin and company are the biggest band in the world right now and last night they proved why they deserve the title.

Set List
Life In Technicolor
Violet Hill
Clocks
In My Place
Viva La Vida
Yes
42
Fix You
Strawberry Swing
Chinese Sleep Chant
God Put A Smile Upon Your Face
Speed Of Sound
Yellow
Lost!
The Scientist
Death Will Never Conquer

Encore
Politik
Lovers In Japan
Death And All His Friends
The Escapist
Green Eyes

An R-rated grocery run

Tonight we made a quick run to Wal-Mart to pick up a few items, two of which were a couple gallons of milk. However, when we made our way to the dairy section in the back of the store they had plastic tarps covering up every inch of it. For added measure they had yellow caution tape streaming across the front of the milk cooler. I'm not sure what this was all about but I'm guessing they were either trying to isolate an Ebola-like virus like in that movie Outbreak or a sour cream container murdered a cup of that Activia yogurt that Jamie Lee Curtis likes so much.

One of the things we got were these wipes for Ella. She's quite independent and likes to go the bathroom by herself now. The only problem is she, um, doesn't always clean herself up completely. As the cashier was scanning them in the check-out, Ella told her "These are for wiping the poopy off my bum so it doesn't itch." I just looked down and shook my head but the man behind me in line felt compelled to add to the discussion. He looked at me and said "Oh buddy, my kids have said much worse things than that." I took him at his word when I looked at his t-shirt which read "Go f*** yourself you f***in' f***." My first thought was that Ella's poop disclosure wasn't such a big deal, while my second thought was when did that guy steal the t-shirt from my closet?

Observations from a visitation

Last night Rach and I went to a visitation for my stepmom's mother who passed away at the age of 93. She was a lovely lady so it's hard for me to understand how her children turned out to be such a bunch of spooks. My dad came over at one point and said that some of the siblings were arguing about who got to keep their mom's cat. Um, if no one objects I'd like to ask for custody of the litter box and the enclosed cat turds. I saw a couple of family members walking around the funeral home with 20 ounce bottles of Mountain Dew in their hands. I'm sure they thought that carrying around a bottle of Bud Light would be inappropriate. Only in Pekin.

It's always a strange thing to walk up to the casket, mostly because I don't usually recognize the person lying there. The lady had always had curly dark brown hair for as long as I can remember. Yet when we made our way to the open casket it looked like Strawberry Shortcake lying there. I last saw her in May but I don't recall her resembling Ronald McDonald's illegitimate daughter.

For most of the two hour visitation Rach and I sat near the back of the room with my aunt and uncle. Little did I know that we'd be spending our evening sitting behind the one of the most annoying seven year olds in the world. He kept telling the worst jokes in the world over and over again. It was like a prepubescent Joker without the scrawled on red makeup. Here's some of his favorite zingers:

What do you call a cookie? A chocolate chip!

What do clouds wear under their clothes? Thunderware!

After my dad had heard a few of them he went around the corner where the boy couldn't see him, lifted his tie into the air, and acted like he was hanging himself. Really appropriate, father.

A new look

If were to compile a list of things that I absolutely hate to do shaving would be close to the top. It would probably land somewhere between sitting on a wet toilet seat and watching a video on how they make hot dogs. When I'm on vacation it's one of the last things I'm interested in. If it were up to me I wouldn't shave my entire three month summer vacation. I'd be out there loud and proud at the ol' Wal-Mart sporting a long, luxurious beard like Tom Hanks in Cast Away. Rachel, on the other hand, wouldn't come near me for three months. (That would create some severe problems....if you know what I mean. Sorry. Couldn't resist.) She says it's like kissing a rotting Christmas tree. As of today I haven't shaved since last Monday. The amount of attention it's received you would think that I've streaked naked through holy communion at Westminster Abbey shouting obscene phrases about the Queen. Everyone seems to have to weigh in on it. Obama didn't even get grilled this much about his pastor. Well tomorrow we are getting family pictures taken so it's a no brainer that I have to shave begrudgingly. While the kids were in the bath tonight I started before getting interrupted by Liam's screaming. He thought that he needed an electric razor in the bath with him. Needless to say I only got halfway done before washing them both and getting them ready for bed. I kind of like this new look. I'm gonna spring it on Rach when she gets home from work and see if she'll let me keep it. Fingers crossed.

Late night snack

Tonight Rach and I were watching Jon And Kate Plus 8 (that's how we roll on a Monday night) when I started to get a little hungry. I had eaten a good dinner, yet I always get to that one point in the evening when my stomach starts to growl. Since going grocery shopping last Wednesday, I had eaten all of my snacks (salt and vinegar potato chips, Cheetohs, M & M's, gummy bears, rice pudding). I couldn't do another night of eating a bowl of Golden Crisp, which has been my standby for the last three evenings. My apologies my dear Sugar Bear. Knowing that I had a crisp $20 bill burning a hole in my wallet, I asked Rach if she wanted anything if I ran to pick something up. I gave her my four options: Taco Bell, McDonald's, Arby's, and Hardee's. She told me to pick her up a cheeseburger from McDonald's. While on the way there I couldn't shake my hankering for a roast beef sandwich from Arby's so I turned into their drive-thru before picking up Rachel's burger. I wish I could say that it was a quick trip but my indecisiveness caused me to make a stop at all four restaurants. Forty minutes later when I finally made it home I walked through the door with nachos from Taco Bell, a hamburger from McDonald's, a roast beef sandwich from Arby's, and bacon cheddar fries from Hardee's. Rach just shook her head in disbelief. For what it's worth I now have the world's worst heartburn as it feels like a dragon is breathing fire from the depths of my stomach. Maybe the nachos were just a bit too much.