Roll Call

Okay, let's get after a blog in the moments this kid takes a nap.

So a package arrived recently that was covered in Chinese writing, and the only English on there was my address and my son's name. As I opened the package I noticed that it was expanding. A giant plush stuffed elephant was mashed in there! Erik seemed to really like it, but first I had to spray it down to remove any SARS or bird flu.

There was no note inside, and my attempts to post a picture of it on Facebook did not yield any results as to who sent the unusual gift. I believe there were close to 100 comments and "likes," so that's 100 suspects eliminated. I figure if I ask the countless readers of this blog for some resolution, that's another . . . seven suspects I can cross off the list. I'm faced with the sad realization that the mystery of the adorable stuffed elephant has been moved into the cold case files and may never be solved.

You know those parents that post a million pictures a day of their kid? Well, we post a lot of them, but we are not under the impression that he is the cutest kid of all time in every single picture. Take this one that Mrs. Noisewater took of him at the doctor's office a while back, for example.

This morning we had Baby Erik in bed with us, and Mrs. Noisewater was doing roll calls. Remember that?

Sha-Booya! Sha-Sha-Sha-Booya Roll call!
His name is Erk (Yeah!)
And he's super cute (Yeah!)
Sometimes he fart (Yeah!)
And sometimes he poot (Roll call!)



But then I tried to do one about Mrs. Noiswater bringing back pastries from the bakery when she got back from the gym.

Sha-Booya! Sha-Sha-Sha-Booya Roll call!
Her name is Mommy (Yeah!)
She brings daddy a danish (Yeah!)
She didn't like "The Phantom" (Yeah!)
Said it's too Billy Zane-ish (Roll Call!)

Mrs. Noisewater and I are going out for a "romantical" night at a fancy-pants restaurant and overnight at a hotel downtown. It will be the first night the two of us have been away from our boy overnight. My first drink (and let's be honest, my first time going number 2) without worrying about a baby waking up will be for you, my beloved Seven Readers.

Jimmy Butler of my beloved Chicago Bulls had the picture below leaked onto the internet.  The first thing you may think is that by wearing this shirt he is summing up all that he thinks matters in life (drugs, his favorite body part of a woman, and what he uses to buy those two), and that would just be awful if he were that shallow.  But let's think of some other explanations.

First off, he responded on Twitter to say that he was sorry if anyone was offended by the shirt, but it matched his shoes.  I'm not making that up.  

Jimmy just isn't good at making excuses, so let me take it from here, Jimmy.

Those are actually their nicknames from when they were growing up, Pussy, Money, and Weed (from left to right).  Weed is in reference to how tall Jimmy grew up as a kid.  Everyone back in Texas was always saying, "That boy is sprouting up like a weed!"  I hit a growth spurt as a kid, and people told me that all the time, so that makes perfect sense to me.

Ladies and gentlemen, from left to right, please meet Pussy, Money, and Weed

Actually, do you want the truth?  Here it is.  Jimmy had to meet his friends out at a bar to celebrate his friend, Pussy's, recent certification to become a certified yoga instructor.  His other good friend, Money, is holding up two fingers to signify that it took two long years of Pussy's time!  What hard work that young man put in!  Now, Jimmy knew that he had to remember to do a few things before he got home that night, and due to some of his recent concussions suffered during a grueling playoffs, he had to print up this shirt to remind him to swing by the store on the way home to pick up kitty litter, $60 in cash from the ATM, and some gardening gloves to pull weeds the next morning for Doris, his aging friendly neighbor.

It was Money's job to have someone take this picture and text it to Jimmy on the ride home, but he accidentally sent it to the wrong friend, Coke, and that guy just can't be trusted with anything (sniff, sniff).

There.

Now, if there are no further questions, please leave Jimmy alone.  And Pussy, Weed, and Coke, for that matter.

We Had Nothing Else of Better To Do at the Bar the Other Night . . .

. . . so SO@24, a guy I never met but knew from blogging and IM'ing, and myself recreated the image of the Hall and Oats classic album cover from 1982, "H2O."

It required getting very close to one another and staring extremly gayly into one another's eyes.

Here's the original:

After taking our own picture, seen below, my girlfriend, the lovely and talented Miss LSD, photoshopped it to look as red and stupid as the original. I got the blond hair, he's got the black. Sure, he's half Asian and has no mustache, but it's pretty damn impressive. And gay . . .

It's amazing how he and I and Chardsy, a gal who we had long IM conversations with like 3 years ago, hit it off so well in person and spontaneously did stupid crap like this. This sort of weird stuff keeps me laughing and happy.

So, I was taking a picture of some girls last night who were friends of friends . . .

. . . and one told me to hold the camera up high and point it downward, and because I was like 10 Corona's deep, I blurted out, "Oh, you mean to minimize the double chins. Gotcha." The first pic I took had 5 pissed off faces and one giving me the bird.

Then I had to split a cab with them downtown.

This uncomfortable foot-in-the-mouth moment has been brought to you by Summer's Eve.