happy indigenous intervention to prolong manifest destiny day!

its thanksgiving. a morning off from plastering and painting on the house (House, M.D.: Season Six [Blu-ray])
it is incredibly difficult to get things done with a nearly one year old dragging your soul out of your body and putting it in her mouth. even blog writing or as Special Agent Gibbs would say "he keeps a blob"

 The boogins, julie, is well. standing, learning, soul sucking. The duck, annabelle, sucks. no, i'm not being mean, she feeds constantly. suck, poop, sleep-- repeat hourly until she begs to take my truck to the outer banks to go surfing.

But hey- its thanksgiving. its a day when americans celebrate the early settlers inability to survive unassisted in The New World. we do what we have always done. we over-purchase over-cook over-consume over-use. perhaps i over simplify. lets pretend we are honoring the early inhabitants of this county.Trail of Tears - A Native American Documentary Collection how can we honor those who thrived without negatively impacting their environment? Ah! Got it! we'll turn on EVERY GODDAMNED OVEN IN THE COUNTRY FOR EIGHT HOURS!!!!

11:01 Make a Wish!

Annabelle Brisbane was born after much needed incubation of nine months. We were scheduled for a C-Section (worst seats in the opera house) at 7:30, so we had to be at the hospital by 5:30. Apparently with the new regulations our luggage had t be... wait- hospital- I suppose we had to get there early because hospitals are such great places to be! We had a brief and much needed reprieve of an hour when the scheduled unenhoohooing got changed to 8:30. Immediately prior to the sticking of the spinal, an emergency emergency (yes I repeated it. its funny) took precedence so we waited. Not to belabor the point (that's funny too) but hospitals are no fun for waiting. I'd rather spend a few hours at the Division of Motor Vehicles, quite frankly. No fear of MRSA. At 11:01 on November 18th, little Annabelle, weighing 8lbs., 12oz., measuring 20 inches long, was "timely ripped" from her mother's crock-pot and begrudgingly became a tax deduction.

Well, wouldn't a proud papa and newly self-appointed professional blogger and worm aficionado post immediately? Not if papa is also rebuilding a house. Our nearly completed mansion got plastered and primed in the two days momma was in the hospital, and Julie is having fun camping at granny and grandad's place.

In related news, Miley Cyrus is 18. Can she go away now? I'll change my header to some other bim.

The Parenting Books and the Sophisticated Douchebag

Soon before Julie was born Jeanette and I did the obligatory search through the child instruction book, What to Expect When You're Expecting. I was handed the book, thumbed through and happened upon a passage that said, "oral sex is always healthy" and the book was quickly removed from my possession.

Now before you start quoting Knocked Up (Unrated Widescreen Edition) I did read the books. Not quite with the same vigor with which I read "Our Bodies, Ourselves" as a teenager.

You know, as an experienced adult, I still enjoy a good pencil drawing of a breast self-examination.

Irish Twins and Eve of Birth

My first daughter, Julie, was born December 9th of last year. So needless to say, we are now having another girl tomorrow morning. That's right, Annabelle is scheduled for dewombing at 7 am. That's not the shocking part. I've been unemployed since February of last year, when my father and I bought a house for My wife and I to live in after I rehab it. I hearken back to the time when my father bought my first car, put it up on jacks and had me rebuild the damn thing before driving it. The house needed a lot of work, but I thought I could go room by room. My father then proceeded to go to confessional at the city permit office explaining every stitch of work to be done, guaranteeing that I would have to GUT the entire thing. I've been working by myself. And after Julie was born and my wife, Jeanette, went back to work I've been taking care of my daughter most days and unable to enter the house where carcinogens glisten in the sunbeams. "Get a sitter," you say. Unemployed since February. I'm lucky to get a sandwich.