NaBloPoMo: The Month In Review

Update at bottom

Things I learned this month:

• When I force myself to write every day, no topic is off limits. In the past month, I've written about my wife's cycle, thrift stores, weird search engine strings, a Guns N' Roses concert review, and my crowning achievement, a haiku about blogging. I rock!
• I shouldn't write every day.
  

But it's finished. Over. NaBloPoMo Is No Mo. And I made it through with my sanity intact. Or at least most of it.

I would like to congratulate the following bloggers who made it through NaBloPoMo:

• Childs Play x2
• Clare's Dad
• Daddy Diary Tales
• Grumppopotamus
• Home On The Fringe
• Issa's World
• Motherbumper
• Mothergoosemouse
• Mrs. Fortune And Her Cookie
  

Finally, thanks to everyone who dropped by during the past month, especially you masochists who visited every day.

See you in January!

Just kidding.

I think.

Update: Apparently, not everything I wrote this month was utter crap, at least to one of you. Matthew of Childs Play x2 thought one of my many tales of parental ineptness was worthy of a Perfect Post Award.

Thanks, Matthew.

Update #2: When I originally posted this, I had smart quotes throughout the post. Smart quotes! I hate smart quotes! Why didn't anyone tell me? I thought we were friends, people!

Holding Back The Years

My daughter will turn five in late August. A few days before that, she will enter kindergarten. Around these parts, that makes her the exception and not the rule.

In my state, children must be five or turn five by mid-October of that school year to enter kindergarten. Despite these guidelines, many parents are holding their children, especially boys, back an additional year if there birthday occurs in June or later.

The other day, I spoke to a mother who has already decided to hold back her child another year. He will be five in May. And she has already decided that nine months from now, he will not be emotionally prepared to enter kindergarten. I wish I had a crystal ball like some of these moms have.

This makes no sense. "But what if he fails? Then he won't move up with all his friends," is the response I often hear. But aren't you already failing to let your child move up with his friends by making him take an additional year of preschool? And wouldn't it be in the best interest of the child to complete two years of kindergarten (or first or second grade), where he's bound to learn more, instead of another year of pre-K?

I just don't understand this line of thinking. I know there are some children that can benefit from an additional year of preschool; they don't listen to authority or are emotionally ill-equipped for the rigors of kindergarten. But I see no reason why many of the children need to be held back an additional year. Hell, why not hold them back until they're eight just to be on the safe side?

What are your thoughts on this?

Odd Job

To supplement my income while I was in college, I went to yard sales, estate sales, and tag sales every Saturday morning. I spent most of my high school years haunting thrift stores and music stores, so I knew what they were looking for and how much they were willing to pay for certain items.

Luckily, I had two major college towns within thirty miles from my home, so there was always some store willing to buy my finds. Here are some of my favorite finds:

• The Honky-Tonk
  I found a little bar that was going out of business after forty-five years. The bar had an old jukebox and was selling all the records. They still had the old picture sleeves for most of the 45s (the picture sleeves are actually worth more than the records)! I ending up buying fifty 45s for $10.00. Sold them at various record stores and conventions for well over $300.
• The Out-Of-Touch Record Store
  One day, I went to an out-of-the-way record store and stumbled upon two sealed Appetite For Destruction LPs for $10 each. They were the original covers (the rape scene, which was banned soon after the album was released (the banned cover was put inside the CDs, LPs, and tapes and was replaced with the cross tattoo)). I ended up keeping one for myself and sold the other for $120.
• Dead Men Wear No Clothes
  I went to a tag sale of an old man who had recently died. The man had impeccable taste in clothing. I found a H-U-G-E stash of clothes from the 40s, 50s, and 60s. I spent a pretty penny on them (it was an estate sale (which is code for someone died and their heirs are trying to get every little penny for the crap they've had lying around their house collecting dust over the years)). I don't know how much money, if any, I made on this find as I sold the items to thrift stores only as I tired of wearing them. But damn, those clothes were cool.
  

Sorry. There's still two more days left of this NaBloPoMo thing and I'm spent. I think I'm taking December off.

Portrait Of An American Family

You know how you'll see those Worst Jobs In The World lists and they'll include occupations like roughnecks, fishermen, and farmers? For the life of me, I don't see why portrait studio photographer isn't near or at the top of these lists, especially during the holiday greeting card rush.

Guess what we did tonight?

Ella, ever the optimist, signed us up for sixty (60!) poses with costume changes. I, ever the pessimist, figured we'd be lucky to reach half that number of poses without the photographer killing the four of us. We had a coupon that was good for something like 18,432 photos for $19.99. But it was only good for one pose.

I told Ella as we pulled up to the place, "We're not buying any other packages. They'll tell us all the photos are cute, adorable, and must-haves. They'll accuse of us of not loving our children if we don't buy more photos. I don't care. We're not buying any other packages!"

We walked into the place and I was immediately hit with the despair in the room. All the parents looked lifeless. All the children were crying or yelling or throwing things. The photographers were exhausted. The perfect atmosphere for our family's first portrait!

We were immediately ushered into the Christmas room. Ella told the photographer to get rid of the backdrop (she hates the phony fireplace look) and asked for a solid color. The photographer posed Ella and I, put Zed on her lap, and stood Zoey on a box in front of me. She tried in vain to get Zed to look anywhere near the camera. He wasn't having it.

So she called in a clerk to help her. The clerk brought out a large stuffed flower and waved it in Zed's face while making silly noises. Zed would laugh and smile and follow the flower back to the camera. Unfortunately, Zoey would start looking at Zed instead of the camera. After spending three minutes telling Zoey how to pose ("You're a big girl. Look at the camera and smile. Don't pay attention to Zed. Don't pay attention to the girl with the flower. Look at the camera and smile so you'll be ready when Zed finally smiles.), the photographer took about ten shots of Ella and I trying to keep two squirmy kids under control.

Then it was time for the kids' solo shots. Zoey was no problem; she's a ham when you bring out a camera (despite the fact she's never taken a decent school picture). Zed, on the other hand, would not sit on the floor, the stool, the chair, or any other object the photographer placed in the room. So Ella had to hold him with one hand and awkwardly lean out of the frame while I made goofy faces to get him to laugh.

We changed the kids' clothes (Why? Why? Why?) and went into the other room to have photos taken of the children together. This was a total nightmare. Once again, Zed wouldn't sit still. And when he finally did stay still for 2.4 seconds, Zoey was looking somewhere else, frowning, picking her nose, or something else not worth photographing.

About twenty minutes later, we went back to the lobby, looked at all sixty poses, and picked out which ones we liked best. And in case anyone is wondering, we bought packages for eight different poses. Sometimes, I hate my wife.

GHS: 8

Further Proof My Children Would Be Better Off If They Were Raised By Wolves

Winter came to our neck of the woods last week. And while it only hung around for thirty-six hours, it was long enough to cause major drama in our household.

I loaded the kids into the car to take Zoey to preschool. As usual, we were running late. As I was filling the car with gas, I thought to myself, Damn! It's cold today! I looked at Zoey. She should probably be wearing a hat.

And gloves.

And a heavier jacket.

I suck (Admission: The Weather Channel, weather forecasts, and the like do not exist in my world. I hardly ever check the weather forecast. As a result, I am often dressed improperly for the weather. And so are my kids.).

Since we were about seven miles from home and school started in five minutes, I began rummaging through the car looking for warm clothing for my daughter. I found one pink mitten, but unless she was going to pull a Michael Jackson, it wouldn't have been much use. I found a pair of Ella's gloves and tried to talk Zoey into wearing them, but they were way too big. Damn!

I got back into the car, arguing with myself the whole way to preschool.

She'll be ok. It's not that cold.

Are you insane? It's thirty degrees outside!

She'll never wear a hat anyway. It'll mess up her hair.

But she needs a hat!

And so on and so forth. You don't need friends when you've got several voices inside your head to keep you company.

Anyway...

I pulled into the parking lot at Zoey's preschool. I started looking through the trunk once again (Admission: My automobile looks like someone lives in it, so it wasn't outside the realm of possibility to find a hat in there. Or a pair of gloves. Or human remains.). Finally, I found a hat!

Unfortunately, it was Zed's hat. It was blue (a big turnoff to Ms. Pink) with blue spikes coming out of the top (another turnoff). And of course, it was too small. Did this stop me from trying to force it on her head? HELL NO!

Amidst the tears, the screaming, and the struggling, I tried to make it fit her head. Despite the fact that it didn't even come down to her ears, a very small part of me thought that it would suffice, if just for that day. But I knew deep down she needed a hat that fit. So we went shopping!

I stopped at a drugstore (Yeah, I know. Shut up! Desperate times, people!). "Do you have hats for big people?" Because in a crisis, I lose the ability to communicate with others.

"Um, no." the clerk replied.

"How about hats for little people?"

"Kids?"

"Yes!"

"No."

"Do you know anywhere that might?"

"Family Dollar."

"Cool!"

I loaded the kids back in the car. Zed was screaming at this point because he's not too fond of the whole in-out-in-out car shuffle without having a chance to walk around somewhere. Tires screeching, we pulled into Family Dollar.

When Zoey came out of the car, she hit her head on the door and began crying. Zed started crying again because I wouldn't let him walk into the store. We went up to the register. "Do you have hats for kids?" See, I can learn from my mistakes!

"Sure."

"Um, where are they?"

"All over the store. You just have to look."

"Thanks. Is there one location that I might find more hats than in other locations?" Twenty seconds into the conversation and I was already tired of dealing with this bitch.

"No. You just have to look."

So I aimlessly wandered the store until I found the clothing section (where we found many, many, MANY hats!). I found a perfect little pink toboggan (for my Canadian readers: a toboggan is a knit cap) for Zoey. Since she needed to try it on, I put Zed on the floor. Of course, he took off like a bat out of hell. I chased him down, brought him back, and tried putting the toboggan on Zoey's head with one hand.

Guess what? Can't be done. Try it yourself.

So I had to put Zed back on the floor and he proceeded to run away once again. My children had stopped crying but I was ready to do enough crying for the three of us.

I brought Zed back to the hat display. I held him with my legs and put the toboggan on Zoey's head. Perfect fit! We walked back to the register.

"Will this be all?"

"Yes."

"You know, your boy really needs a hat too."

"Sorry, we can only afford one hat this week. Hopefully next time." If people are going to say bitchy, finger-wagging things to you, the least you can do is make up a lie and make them feel like crap.

I paid for the hat, put the kids in the car, and pulled into the school just as they were closing the gate (you're allowed to drop your kid off fifteen minutes after school begins). Success! Zed and I went home and had a beer, both of us severely stressed out from that morning's events.

When I picked Zoey up from school that afternoon, I learned that Zoey's teachers didn't even make her wear the damn hat when she went outside for recess. Figures.

GHS: 6

Stuff Only I Care About XXVII

Weekly Random Thoughts On The Carolina Panthers

During their bye week, the entire defense decided to start meeting every Thursday night at a steakhouse in Charlotte to try to reconnect as a team. Since then, the Panthers have given up only ten points in eight quarters. Perhaps their offense needs to follow suit.

This week, they get the Washington Redskins. Prediction: Panthers 31, Redskins 10.

Weekly Random Thoughts On The Carolina Tar Heels (Football)

The John Bunting Era is over! All hail Butch Davis!

They barely beat Duke on Saturday. DUKE! If that's not a sign your football program is in serious disarray, nothing is.

Weekly Random Thoughts On The Carolina Tar Heels (Basketball)

The Heels went 2-1 this week. They played one great game (a 103-50 thrashing of Gardner-Webb), one so-so game (a 101-87 victory over #22 Tennessee), and one far-from-great game (a 82-74 loss to #26 Gonzaga). This week, they play #4 Ohio State on Wednesday and #20 Kentucky on Saturday, both at the Dean Dome. We'll have a better feel on how good this team really is come Saturday evening.

An Unsolicited Review

On our way to our Thanksgiving festivities, I stopped by a quickie mart to refill my gas tank and my stomach. I noticed a large display in the corner of the store. What were they selling? Hershey's Brownies -N- Chocolate candy bars! And they taste every bit as delicious as they sound. It's basically a regular Hershey's bar with brownie bits.

The only bad thing is the bars have a "Limited Edition" banner across the top. They need to totally rethink that.

Regarding Solicited Reviews

I appreciate everyone's comments on the matter. Truth be told, it's not like people are knocking down my door or anything. And none of them are offering any type of payment. Most are just musicians or writers (and since this week's article, children's musicians) with a CD or book they'd like me to listen to or read. What's the difference between this and if I heard a song on the radio and bought the CD? They're putting the music in front of me and it's my decision to like it or not.

I'm still undecided on the matter. And if you have any questions about my honesty, this review really should put all the doubts out of your head.

Only Five More Days . . .

Until NaBloPoMo No Mo! Yeah, my writing's been pretty crappy this month. I apologize. But come December, things will revert back to three-to-four posts a week. Yeah, the posts will still be crappy, but they'll be less frequent, so that's reason for celebration, no?

Sunday Morning Hangover

Here are some of the more interesting/entertaining posts I've come across this week:

• Jonathon's daughter learns a new word.
• Kristin crank calls her local pet store (this is hilarious).
• Lindsay learns her daughter's not quite ready for preschool.
• MamaTulip is back at the blogging mic!
• Mrs. Davis discusses Generation X's impact on children's music.
• Rebecca yearns for snow.
  

Two More Things To Be Thankful For

At Least Black Friday Only Comes Once A Year

Ella wanted to go shopping in the wee hours this morning. Since we were at her folks' home, she asked me to go with her. Ordinarily, I (and any other sane man) would say, "NO WAY!" But since someone was shot and killed outside the mall three days ago, I decided to go shopping with her. Why? I've seen my wife's survival instincts, or lack thereof, in action.

A few years ago, we were shopping at a thrift store. We had just loaded our haul into the backseat and were in the process of getting into the car when two cars came racing down the road. The passenger of one car was holding a gun outside his window, firing shots at the other car. I ducked behind my car door. I looked over and saw Ella standing tall, mouth agape, watching the whole thing. "GET THE HELL DOWN!" I screamed. She did. We lived (but I'm sure you guessed that already).

But back to our Black Friday shopping: it was fairly uneventful. There were some long lines at a few stores but for the most part we were able to go in, get what we needed, and get out without too much difficulty. Of course, it helped that my cell phone's alarm didn't go off so we didn't actually get started until 9:00 AM, hours after the crazies had already rummaged through the stores.

Still A Family Of Four

Warning: I'm sharing entirely too much in this section!

My wife's periods are very regular. Two months ago, she went off The Pill and began using The Ring. I had some issues with it, fearing that operator error could lead to a surprise bundle of joy. And if you're a regular reader, you already know my feelings about having more children.

Well guess what? She was two days late this month. Two L-O-N-G days of panic, desperation, fretting, pacing, sweating, cursing, and worrying. Thankfully, for no good reason.

Better late than never, you know?

Grandpa, Tell Me A Story

I've always loved music. When I was a preteen, I could be found holed up in my bedroom, listening to the nightly listener-requested Top 10 with my cassette player next to my radio's tiny speaker, ready to record the songs I loved (See kids, back then, I had a radio and a cassette player; they were two separate entities. Ipod? I wish). Some days, I even skipped school to record songs off the radio.

Yeah, some kids skipped school to drink, smoke, chase girls, and raise hell. I skipped school to listen to the radio. Loser.

I was also anal as hell about it. If the DJ would speak over the beginning or ending of the song, I would erase it and try again the next evening. And since most disc jockeys are in love with their own voice, I had to do this quite often. I returned the favor later on in life when I was a college DJ. I never spoke over a song in case someone was recording my show (oh, the vanity!).

In high school, I learned of bootlegs. This love affair lasted for ten years. I would travel one hundred miles to visit a tiny little record store with enough guts to sell vinyl boots. I would regularly attend record conventions with the hope of finding LPs of unreleased demos or live recordings. I was a junkie. Hell, I had demos of most of Use Your Illusion I & II before it was released to the public. I also had tons of live recordings of my favorite bands. Although quite a few were of inferior quality, every once in awhile I'd stumble across a live show that was recorded straight from the sound board. Pure bliss!

But you kids have it easy. If you hear a song you like, just take a quick trip to iTunes and it's yours (and you don't even have to worry about some idiot DJ doing a station ID at the beginning of it). Hundreds of live sets from your favorite bands can easily be found online. Demos and remixes are floating out in cyberspace, yours for the taking.

So there! That's something you kids can be thankful for this Thanksgiving. Now go play with your cousin so I can get back to watching the football game.

Giving Thanks

I'd like to take this time to thank everyone who has taken the time to read my site during the past year. I truly appreciate it.

Hope everyone has a great Thanksgiving. Don't get shot at the malls on Friday.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some packing to do. We're headed to the in-laws' house on Thursday morning.

-- Chag

P.S. I want your honest opinion here. From time to time, I receive requests from authors/bands/companies to review their products. What are your feelings on this? Do you like to read reviews on blogs that don't normally do reviews? Let me know what you think. Thanks.

Guess What? Not All Children's Music Sucks!

As regular readers of her site know, The Lovely Mrs. Davis attended a ComiCon back in October. She saw a comic called The Amazing Cynical Man, thought of me, and picked up two issues and sent them to me. How cool is that? She also sent a mix CD of children's music and while I like to turn up my nose to most children's music, most of the songs on the CD were actually quite good.

Songs My Kids And I Loved

Erin Flynn Twinkle and Mary Mack
For Twinkle, Flynn blends the lyrics of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star with lyrics of her own for a trippy little song. Mary Mack is a great nonsensical kids' song that starts out slow and gains speed before turning into full-fledged punk (I really enjoyed this one).

Lunch Money Tricycle
This song is funky and I probably shouldn't be saying this, but I find Molly's voice very sexy. And the lyric "You're lucky 'cause your street is bumpy" is one of the best examples of childspeak I've ever heard in song. This is my favorite song on the disc.

Elizabeth Mitchell Three Little Birds
Normally, I hate reggae music. I also hate songs where kids sing on them. Despite the fact that Three Little Birds is a cover of the Bob Marley classic where Mitchell's son shares the vocal duties, it works. I really like the feel to this song. The twenty-five-year-old version of me would've hated this song (hell, he probably would've hated all of these songs). But he's long gone. This is my daughter's favorite song on the disc.

The Zambonis Hockey Monkey
A punky song about a hockey-playing monkey? Pure genius. This is my son's favorite song on the disc.

Songs My Kids Loved But I Didn't

Frances England Sometimes
I don't care much for the yodeling (or whatever you want to call it), but my kids eat it up.

The Quiet Ones How Fast Can You Run?
An upbeat little song with some nice horns. I truly believe the only reason my daughter likes this song is due to her competitive nature.

A song I liked that my kids had no interest in whatsoever

Mr. David Pearl
I think this song was a bit slow and folksy for my kids' tastes, but I love it, especially the harmonies.

Coda

There's much more to children's music than just Laurie Berkner, Dan Zanes, and (ugh) The Wiggles. You can hear samples and, in some cases, download mp3s of most of these songs if you click on the links (all the links take you to the artists' websites except Erin Flynn, which takes you to CD Baby).

Zed, Aspiring Rockstar

Zed has taken quite a liking to musical instruments lately. He can often be found sitting with a twice-his-size guitar across his legs, strumming the strings. When he's not channeling his inner Eddie Van Halen, he's plunking out tunes on his Schroeder-style piano. He's even been known to rock the mic when the mood hits. Here's one of his current compositions:

Ooh-ee-ba-uh-bah
Da-da-da-da
bye-bye-doo-guh

Yeah, he's still not talking, but you don't need to know how to talk when you can play guitar. The boy's bringing back grunge!

P.S. He asked me to pass along that he's currently looking for a groupie.

Parenting Tips For The Overly Neurotic: Birthday Parties

I've been a stay-at-home dad now for a little over four years. Along the way, I've picked up some knowledge that may be useful to others. Think of it as Parent Hacks for the neurotic and cynical. Today, I'm sharing three tips that can help provide a stress-free birthday party for your child.

A. Unless you happen to enjoy migraines, never have a birthday party for your child in a public place.

By this I mean places like Chuck E. Cheese's, McDonald's, or any of the build-a-stuffed-companion stores that do not close their doors to the general public just because you're having a birthday party (unless you've got Oprah money (of course, then you probably don't have your child's birthday party at places like Chuck E. Cheese's, McDonald's, or any of the build-a-stuffed-companion stores (and you're not reading this site, either))).

Today, we went to a birthday party where children can create a stuffed animal (hint: rhymes with Killed-A-Pair). The line to create a stuffed animal spilled out into the mall. It was insane. Luckily, we had our own stuffer (not nearly as fun as it sounds) so we didn't have to wait in line with the customers. Still, the party-goers were confined in a hallway that led to the stockroom for most of the party.

They really should've provided alcohol for the adults.

B. Always make sure the place where you're having a birthday party actually has a place where you can have a birthday party.

This sounds like common knowledge, right? You'd be surprised.

After the kids created their animals, it was time for cake and presents. Guess what? Despite the fact the store advertises parties, Killed-A-Pair didn't have a separate party room. So we all headed up to the mall's food court to have the birthday party. There's nothing like having your child blow out the candles in front of crabby shoppers, other people's whiny children, and wannabe-thug teenagers. Fun stuff!

C. Never have a birthday party in a mall during the holiday shopping season.

Unless you like circling the parking lot for hours looking for a spot within a mile from the mall and dealing with throngs of cranky people. Then by all means, knock yourself out!

Disclaimer: The last time I wrote a parenting tip, I was reamed for single-handedly killing all the animals in the world so you should probably be advised to ignore everything I wrote in this post.

Related:
Parenting Tips For The Overly Neurotic: Balloons

Stuff Only I Care About XXVI

Weekly Random Thoughts On The Yankees

Actually, this is about the Red Sox spending 55.1 million dollars just to talk to Japanese prospect Daisuke Matsuzaka. Fifty-five point one million dollars just to try to negotiate a deal with him. I never want to hear another word about Boston not being in the same league financially as the Yankees. End of discussion.

And in case anyone's interested, you can talk to me about anything for the low, low price of $4.37. I'm cheap like that.

Weekly Random Thoughts On The Carolina Panthers

After sleep-walking through the first half of Monday night's game, the Panthers beat the Bucs 24-10, bringing their record to 5-4, one game behind division-leader New Orleans. Even though everyone that knows anything about football knows that Delhomme looks his way first, Steve Smith still ended up with eight catches for 149 yards and a touchdown.

The Panthers get the Rams this weekend. Prediction? 27-21, Panthers.

Sunday Morning Hangover

Here are some of the more interesting/entertaining posts I've come across this week:

• Chris deals with a rude Mom at his door.
• Danny performs a little home improvement.
• Jonathon still doesn't fit in.
• Mr. Big Dubya welcomes his newborn daughter.
• Rebecca has a crush on Zoboomafoo's Kratt Brothers.
  

An Ode To NaBloPoMo (Another Exercise In Haiku)

Thirty days blogging
What the hell was I thinking?
I am a moron.

Search terms yesterday
Haiku today; what, pray tell,
Will tomorrow bring?

Pictures of my toes?
The contents of my dresser?
Funny YouTube crap?

Only thirteen days
'Til the end (if I make it)
Thirteen fucking days.

Related:
Get Thee Behind Me, Spawn Of Satan (An Exercise In Haiku)
How To Reconnect With Your Neighborhood (Another Exercise in Haiku)

Even More Stupid Searches

There are a lot of messed up people in this world and 90% of them end up at my site at one time or another. Need proof? Here are some recent interesting/amusing/demented search phrases people have used to get to my site:

pitchers of dwarf hamsters
You crazy college kids will drink anything.

ballerina gorilla at walmart
This is one of the many reasons I shop at Target.

satan in my fridge mad
And the people in the Amityville house thought they had it bad!

is music a sin or not a sin
Depends. Pixies? Definitely not a sin. Limp Bizkit? Sin.

heimlich maneuver fetish group
Wow. People can get off on anything.

thanksgiving fellatio on the turkey
Everyone has their own holiday traditions. Some are stranger than others.

cats that Dads hate
All of them.

I want to hear the ghostbusters theme
I don't.

fellatio coach
Umm... You know the lunchroom scene in Fast Times At Ridgemont High with Phoebe Cates and the carrot? Start there.

what that stuff was on Kenny Rogers' pitching hand.
The reason he pitched twenty-three innings of shutout ball in the 2006 postseason?

I'm going to show you a world without sin
Sounds like a very boring world.

Cynical Man doll
Yes! I think it's time I had my own action figure!

Previous Search Engine Fun:
More Stupid Searches
More Stupid People Doing Stupid Searches
In Lieu Of An Actual Entry, Let's Make Fun Of Stupid People!
Stuff Only I Care About VIII
Stuff Only I Care About VI
Stuff Only I Care About IV
Stuff Only I Care About

Because You Can Never Have Enough Songs About Killing Turkeys

Zoey came home from preschool today singing another delightful little ditty from next Wednesday's Thanksgiving extravaganza. Enjoy!

I'm a little Indian on the go.
Here is my arrow, here is my bow.
When I go a-hunting, hear me shout,
"Bears and turkeys, you better watch out!"

Between this and the I'm not here for living turkey song, I'm starting to think this whole Thanksgiving show is actually pro-NRA or anti-PETA propaganda. Time will tell.

I'm really hoping Max Fischer is directing this show.

Hell's Internet Cafe

A few months ago, we went on vacation. At the time I didn't have a laptop, so I needed to find an Internet Cafe. The condo's concierge told me of several kiosks, but since I didn't feel like standing and accessing the web in the middle of a dirt mall, I went to check out the area's sole cafe.

Before that fateful day, I had never been to an Internet Cafe. In my mind, an Internet Cafe was hip and clean with soft indie music pumping through the speakers. They also served coffee and plenty of pastries.

I couldn't have been further from the truth.

When I reached the location, I said to myself, "This can't possibly be it." I looked at the slip of paper where the concierge had scribbled the address, then at the building, then at the paper. I was at the right place.

I was parked in front of an old Surf Shop, the kind where you can get twenty-eight beach t-shirts for $1.99. On the awning, the words "POKER POKER POKER" were spray painted over the Surf Shop's logo. The windows of the place were covered with black vinyl.

When you roll with me, life's nothing but five-star joints.

When I walked into the place, it was like walking into those tiny unventilated rooms they have at the airport where the poor smokers are packed like carcinogenic sardines. Or don't those rooms exist anymore? It's been a long time since I've flown anywhere.

I looked around and noticed I was the only person in the place under sixty. At 11:00 PM in a vacation town! Didn't these grandmas and grandpas have to get up early in the morning to splash in the surf with their grandkids? It was as if I had hopped on the midnight bus to Atlantic City.

They were all playing video poker on computers. I started to turn around and leave when the crusty old manager came up to me and huffed, "Can I help you?"

"I thought this was an Internet Cafe."

"It is."

"It is?"

"It is."

"Ok. I'd like to use the Internet, please," I told the man. He took me over to one of the computers, clicked a few keys, and pulled up IE. "You want a Pepsi or something?" he asked. I knew that he wanted me to say, "No," so I obliged.

I checked my email and took care of some other business. After thirty minutes, I was done so I checked out the history in the browser (You know you do it too. It's like checking out someone's medicine cabinet.). What did I find?

Sites like Satan Is My Hero and Devil's Playground. About ten of them in total. Hell yeah!

The next day, I received a phone call from one of my clients, so I had to return to the "cafe" that evening. This time, a young, skinny, stringy-haired guy was running the place. He chatted with me for awhile (he was probably just grateful to see someone that wasn't old enough to be his grandfather) before he returned to his computer. A few minutes later I turned around to ask if they had a printer (ha!) when I noticed he was looking at a site plastered with pentagrams.

So if you're planning on taking a vacation and need an Internet Cafe filled with old folks and run by a Satanist, drop me a line. I'll give you directions.

I have been meaning to write about this for some time, but I've been slightly afraid. I've learned over the years it's not a good idea to piss off Satanists, no matter how young and warm and fuzzy they may seem to be. I mean, most of them are just misguided Goths, right? But you never know when one of the young Satanists might decide to take off the training wheels and go for a real spin.

Chump

I like to think of myself as fairly intelligent (thought it might not always come off that way on this site) and somewhat street-smart. But despite this, sometimes people can take advantage of me.

Case in point:

This afternoon, I took Zoey and Zed over to the home of one of Zoey's preschool chums for a playdate. Zoey and Becky are inseparable through the week at school. Plus, Becky has a little sister a few months older than Zed.

When we arrived, Alice, Becky's mother, stayed with us in the playroom for a few minutes. She then asked if it was ok if she made a phone call for work (she runs some Avon-ish business out of her home). I told her, "No problem."

Thirty minutes later, she came back into the room. "Sorry about that," she said. She played with the children for about ten minutes before excusing herself to answer the telephone.

Twenty minutes later, she came back into the room. "Sorry about that," she said. She played with the children for about fifteen minutes before asking if it was ok if she put a pot roast in the oven. I told her, "No problem."

Forty minutes later, I decided that it was time to head home. I looked through the house and finally found her outside, sweeping her front porch. The hell? I thanked her for letting us come over (had to be polite (despite wanting to scream at her with every ounce of my being); I'll be seeing these people at the pickup/dropoff lines four days a week for the next six months). "We should do this again sometime," she exclaimed as I was putting the kids in the car. "Sure," I replied. But next time, you're paying me $25 an hour. I may be stupid and can be easily taken advantage of, but I don't come cheap.

So in conclusion:

• Alice got some time to herself to catch up on her work, do a little housekeeping, and prepare dinner. With free babysitting.
• Alice's husband came home to a nice meal.
• And I got ganked. Although I did find out I'm perfectly capable of single-handedly taking care of four children.
  

Sex Education

If you snuck into our home earlier this evening, you would have heard the following *ahem* sounds *ahem* emanating from the master bedroom:

"Oooooooooooooh. Oooooooooooooh. Oooooooooooooh."

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaah. Aaaaaaaaaaaaah. Aaaaaaaaaaaaah."

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm."

"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuh. Uuuuuuuuuuuuuh. Uuuuuuuuuuuuuh."

"Hhhhhhhhhhhhuh. Hhhhhhhhhhhhuh. Hhhhhhhhhhhhuh."

"Grrrrrrrrrrrrr. Grrrrrrrrrrrrr. Grrrrrrrrrrrrr."

Unfortunately for me, it was only Ella teaching Zoey how to sound out her words.

Science H. Logic

My computers, my cellular phone, and the calendar on the wall tell me it's November 11th. What date do you have? Because I'm seriously thinking they should all read December 11th.

It's bad enough one of the local radio stations switched to the All Xmas Music, All The Time format on November 1st. It's also somewhat alarming spotting Christmas wreaths hanging from the street posts downtown. But do you want to know what caused me to almost spit out my eggnog?

Santa Claus has come to town.

The chubby bastard has already taken up residence at the mall. On a day where the temperature outside reached eighty degrees, a small child could be plopped onto Santa's lap to tug on his beard before breaking into hysterics. A full twelve days before Thanksgiving.

I am not ready to celebrate Christmas yet. Hell, I'm barely ready for tomorrow.

Give us a break. Remember when we used to celebrate Thanksgiving? Now it's just a day to stuff yourselves full of turkey in order to have enough energy for the daylong shopping spree known as Black Friday (or as I like to call it, HELL).

And speaking of Black Friday, the same mall that is already pimping Santa has decided to open their doors at . . .

Not 6:00 AM.

Not 4:00 AM.

Wait for it...

They're opening their doors at 12:01 AM on Black Friday.

You guys have fun. Wake me up at noon when you get back.

This Coming From The Guy Whose Picture Looked Like A Mugshot

We've had problems with our daughter taking a decent school picture in the past. I guess we weren't the only ones and some parents complained so this year they tried something different. They took two separate poses of our little ones. That would surely increase your chance of getting a decent picture, right?

No. It just doubles the suck.

She brought home the proofs yesterday. In the first picture, Zoey has a fake smile plastered across her face. It almost looks like it's hurting her to smile (she must get that from me). But her tongue is in her mouth and her body's not freakishly contorted, so we're making some progress.

In the second picture, she looks great even though she's not smiling at all. I love this picture. There's just one slight problem.

I don't know if the photographer hiccupped at the last moment or if Zoey was merely trying to escape or if some kid kicked the tripod, but her entire right arm is chopped off in the picture. It's not even close to centered. Where's a good photographer when you need him?

Oh well. We'll still buy plenty of pictures.

But next year, I'm just keeping her home from school that day.

Related:
Every Picture Tells A Story (But Some Tales Are Better Left Untold)

Of Turkeys And Restraints

Zoey's preschool is putting on a Thanksgiving show in two weeks. Today, she came home singing one of the songs they'll be performing. Here are the lyrics:

Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble
Fat turkey, fat turkey
Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble
Fat turkey am I.

I'm not here for living
I'm here for Thanksgiving
Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble
Fat turkey am I.

I'm just hoping she's not the one that has to pull an Ozzy and bite the head off a live turkey when the song's over.

A Question For You

It happens every time I go grocery shopping. Every time I go to one of the big box stores. Every time we go out to eat.

I usually have to go through four or five shopping carts or highchairs before I can find one where the restraints haven't been totally destroyed.

Who are these children that break the buckles or totally rip them off? And how exactly do they accomplish this?

And if you're the parent of a child who has done such a thing, please let me know how it happens. Do you give them pocketknives to play with while you're shopping? Screwdrivers? I'm curious.

Let the truth shine. You're among friends here.

Adventures In Target

On Monday, the kids and I went to Target. Usually, we follow a strict gameplan: Dash In, Get What We Need And ONLY What We Need, and Dash Out. But Zoey and Zed were unusually docile, so we had time to actually walk around the joint and look at stuff.

Yes, I'm about to tell you about things we saw in Target. That's what happens when I write a post every day. Deal.

Halloween Is Officially Over . . .

I decided to look for some clearance Halloween candy. No such luck. What happens to this stuff? Does it go back to the chocolate factory to be repackaged in Christmas wrappers? Or do the chocoholics descend upon the stores on November 1st, gobbling up everything in sight?

There was plenty of leftover candy corn, however. Gross.

. . . Because Christmas Has Already Begun!

I took the kids to see the Christmas tree display, mainly to see Zed's reaction. Last year, he was only ten months old at Xmas time, so he didn't really get that much out of it.

He's ready this year. When he saw the trees, he immediately broke into his Happy Monkey Dance, which means he twirls his arms and legs in circles, makes the "O Face," and makes monkey noises. The kid ain't right.

After thirty seconds of the Happy Monkey Dance, he tried to rip the ornaments off the tree. It's going to be a long Christmas.

But Don't Forget About Thanksgiving

Do you know they make Thanksgiving cards now? Really, what's the point? Who are you going to thank that doesn't already have a day (anniversary, birthday, Mother's, Father's, or Grandparents' Day, etc.)? You're getting greedy, Hallmark.

I'll Never Be This Desperate

Do you know there's a video game based on Desperate Housewives? The hell?

I Wouldn't Play This For My Worst Enemy, Let Alone My Children

We were checking out the children's music section when I came across Rockabye Baby! Lullaby Renditions Of Coldplay. Isn't that redundant? Regular Coldplay puts me to sleep.

Apparently the company has released albums of lullabies by Radiohead, Metallica, Pink Floyd, Tool, The Cure, The Beach Boys, Nirvana, and Led Zeppelin. Coming in 2007 are albums dedicated to Queens of the Stone Age, The Eagles, Smashing Pumpkins, Bjork, No Doubt, The Beatles, and The Pixies.

I feel so unclean.

How To Choose A Candidate By Zoey, Age Four

I took the kids with me to the voting booth today. Luckily, I planned it j-u-s-t right and Zed fell asleep on the way over, so I only had Zoey to deal with. But she was good as gold. There were no lines due to the lack of a Presidential election and the rainy weather, so we were able to go directly to the booth. She was in awe of the touch-screen voting apparatus, so she stayed by my side during the entire process. When I finished, it was time for Zoey to vote.

In my area, they let kids vote as well. They even broadcast the results on the local news (and just for the record, the kids of our county voted for Kerry in the last election, while the adults voted for Bush). The ballot is a piece of paper with pictures of the candidates running for office. And how did Zoey vote?

If there was a woman running against a man, she always voted for the woman. So she's obviously a feminist. Either that or spending all her days with her Daddy has totally turned her against men.

If there were two women running against each other or two men running against each other, she always picked the younger or more attractive candidate. So she's obviously superficial as well.

Zoey, The Superficial Feminist. Party lines be damned!

So if you are an attractive female and ever decide to run for public office, you've got at least one vote.

Pick Flick

Please people, if you are a registered voter in the United States, go out and vote on Tuesday. If you like the way things are going nationwide and in your neck of the woods, vote accordingly. If you think we need a change, vote accordingly.

Just vote. Tell them what you think.

I know it's not a presidential election so it's not as sexy, but there are many important Senate and House of Representatives races going on as well. Plus, your local elections are probably more important to you than the national ones anyway. In my county, there are eleven bonds that we will vote for or against on Tuesday. Some of them are unnecessary. And I'm going to let my voice be heard on Tuesday.

Will you?

Hell, like Mrs. Fortune and Sarah, I'm even taking the kids with me.

Rock The Vote.

Vote Or Die.

Whatever.

Just Go Fucking Vote, Dude.

Proof I'll Never Have A Career As A Rock Journalist

Once there was this rock n' roll band rollin' on the streets
Time went by and it became a joke
We just needed more and more fulfilling
Time went by and it all went up in smoke
-- Guns N' Roses, Pretty Tied Up

Time has passed the genre by. Most of the faces have changed. But I'm here to tell you that Axl Rose still rocks.

Recently, I went to a Guns N' Roses concert. Since we got to the coliseum about thirty minutes early, I spent a good twenty minutes people-watching on the concourse. There was a huge variety of people there. People in their 50s (and possibly 60s). Rednecks that were there the first time around. Teenagers who probably weren't even born the first time around. Parents my age or slightly older with their children in tow (loved this part; even saw one five-year-old at the show).

Sebastian Bach, the former lead singer of Skid Row, was the first opening act. Sebastian Bach can still sing, people. He's got major pipes. He performed all his major and minor hits during his sixty-minute set. The only problem during his set was his mic kept fading out. You could see him bitching to the tech during the entire show. At one point, Bach became so frustrated he slammed the mic to the ground, breaking it. Then he went over to his guitarist's mic, didn't get the volume he wanted, and slammed it to the ground as well.

Of course, it might've all had something to do with the fact that he swings his mic over his head during every single song when he's not singing. But what do I know? Later in his set he made some half-assed analogy that the troops were in Iraq so we can rawk out in the States. Or something like that.

I think maybe he's hit himself in the head one too many times with that damn swinging microphone.

After a brief intermission, Papa Roach hit the stage. I knew the band by name but couldn't name a single one of their songs. However, by the time their set was over, I counted at least five songs I was aware of. They really put on a great show. The lead singer was very energetic and really fed off of the crowd's energy.

Papa Roach left the stage at about 10:20 PM. I figured Axl would hit the stage around 11 or so. We waited.

A fight broke out. About ten minutes later, another fight broke out on the floor right in front of us. A guy was thoroughly getting his assed kicked when his girlfriend jumped in. Then the other guy's girlfriend jumped in and started pulling out the first girl's hair. There were clumps of hair lying on the floor.

Rock N' Roll + Rednecks + Alcohol = Fun For The Whole Family

Around 11:00 PM, people were starting to become restless. Around 11:20 PM, people were starting to get angry. Every once in awhile, people would start chanting "Guns N' Roses," hoping to lure Axl out onto the stage.

I had seen them enough to know that Axl would come out when he was good and ready. It might be eleven, it might be midnight. It's just part of his show.

Finally, at 11:45 PM, the lights went down and the opening riffs of Welcome To The Jungle filled the coliseum. A thin, cornrowed Axl strutted out on stage. "Do you know where you are?" he bellowed.

The 6,000 (couldn't believe the numbers were that low) in attendance screamed. Axl was joined onstage with three guitarists, Robin Finck (formerly of Nine Inch Nails), Richard Fortus (formerly of Psychedelic Furs and Love Spit Love), and Ron "Bumblefoot" Thal, bassist Tommy Stinson (yes, the same Tommy Stinson of the Replacements), keyboardists Dizzy Reed and Chris Pitman, and drummer Brian Mantia. While they weren't Slash, Izzy, Duff, and Steven Adler, they did more than a serviceable job. Let's face it, Guns N' Roses is and was Axl Rose.

They ended up playing ten of the twelve songs from Appetite For Destruction (the only omissions were Think About You and Anything Goes), Patience from Lies, five songs from the Use Your Illusion discs, and five from the upcoming (???) Chinese Democracy disc.

For the most part, Axl sounded incredible. Axl has never had the greatest "live" singing voice, and there were times when his voice sounded a little weak, but sounded amazing every time he screamed. The band was tight. I couldn't have asked for a better selection of songs (they even played Rocket Queen). Sebastian Bach even joined Axl onstage for a rousing rendition of My Michelle. It seemed like mere moments had passed when the lights came on for good shortly after 2:00 AM.

Of the new songs, Better was by the far the best. I was already familiar with IRS and The Blues, but had never heard Madagascar or Chinese Democracy (which sounded like classic GNR). These songs only made me long for the new disc even more.

The show was absolutely unreal. Axl never bitched at the crowd or threw a tantrum. He smiled often. Hell, after they played Paradise City, the eight of them came back onstage, arm-in-arm, and took a bow. A kinder, gentler Axl Rose? Go figure.

In closing, if you have the means (ticket prices were very pricey in my opinion, but I'm also pretty cheap) and the desire, I would definitely recommend checking out Guns N' Roses on this tour. Before they implode.

In case you're interested, here's the entire setlist:
Welcome To The Jungle
It's So Easy
Mr. Brownstone
Live And Let Die
Knockin' On Heaven's Door
Better
Finck Guitar Solo
Sweet Child O' Mine
You Could Be Mine
Dizzy Reed Piano Solo
The Blues
Fortus Guitar Solo (which segued into an instrumental version of Christina Aguilera's Beautiful with Finck)
Out Ta Get Me
IRS
Axl Piano Solo
November Rain
Bumblefoot Solo (which sequed into an instrumental version of Don't Cry)
Rocket Queen
Madagascar
My Michelle (Axl was joined on the mic with Sebastian Bach)
You're Crazy
Patience
Nightrain

Encore
Chinese Democracy
Paradise City

Stuff Only I Care About XXV

Rebel Hell

It looks like Twisted Sister will have some competition for your holiday dollar. According to the excellent site Lost In The 80s, Billy Idol is releasing an album of Christmas classics on November 19th.

Must. Resist. The. Temptation.

Weekly Random Thoughts On The Carolina Panthers

The Panthers played three decent quarters against the Cowboys on Sunday night. Unfortunately, a football game lasts four quarters. They gave up twenty-five fourth-quarter points and lost 35-14. Their bye couldn't have come at a better time.

Weekly Random Thoughts On The Carolina Tar Heels

Memo to Notre Dame: If you let the Heels put twenty-six on the scoreboard, you've got major problems. Carolina actually looked pretty decent at times. Of course, they looked like Carolina at other times.

But there's good news: only three more games left to the John Bunting Era! Woo-hoo!

And more good news: only ten more days until the hoops season opener against Sacred Heart in the NIT Tip-Off.

Sunday Morning Hangover

Here are some of the more interesting/entertaining posts I've come across this week:

• Chris shares a scary Halloween tale.
• Izzy creates a funny Halloween Public Service Announcement (it's after the pics of her cute kids).
• Lindsay's parents are reading her blog (to me, this is scarier than Chris's story).
  

Damn You, Disney!

While trying to help Zoey put on her shoes this morning:

Zoey: Octopusses [sic] aren't real.
Me: Yes they are.
Zoey: Oh, I know that (she knows everything, after all). But they can't talk like mermaids can.
Me: ...

Didn't have any idea where to go with that one.

Considering there's a tiny part of me that likes to think Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster, and aliens are real (I can her you giggling from here), who I am to tell her that mermaids don't exist?

**************
The preceding is the kind of crap you'll be getting from me this month if I'm going to post daily as I threatened promised. Told you guys to come back in December.

It's The Return Of The Great Halloween Recap, Charlie Brown

This is the last Halloween post until next October. I promise.

Remember all that stuff I've been writing lately about how much I love Halloween, how it's the greatest holiday ever, and all that crap? I take it all back. Because on Tuesday night, I was seriously hating Halloween.

We took the kids trick-or-treating Tuesday night in our neighborhood. Or at least we tried. Zoey was excited, hoping to score as many Sweet Tarts, lollipops, and other hardcore sugary items (for some reason, she always passes up the chocolate (Note to self: get a DNA test done on her)) as she could carry. Zed, on the other hand, was more interested in every rock, stick, and leaf we passed along the way. Candy? Who needs it when you've got crunchy leaves to crinkle in your fingers?

Two entirely different agendas. So you can imagine how our Halloween went down.

Zed would stand in the middle of someone's yard, picking at their leaves. Zoey would drag one of us by the arm to the front door while complaining that we're not moving fast enough. The other one would pick up Zed. Much kicking, crying, and screaming would ensue. We would try to make small talk with our neighbor, ignoring Zed's screaming and Zoey's whining about wanting to go to the next house. Rinse, lather, repeat. Fun stuff!

So after braving three or four houses, I took Zed home. I stood on the porch and greeted the approximately 46,000 trick-or-treaters that came to our front door. That might sound like an exaggeration, but I firmly believe that's how many people showed up at our front door that evening.

See, we live in a large subdivision. Over 1,500 homes. We have our own elementary school, even. So in addition to having A LOT of children that live in the surrounding area, a lot of kids from other areas come to our neighborhood to trick-or-treat because they can cover a large number of homes in a short period of time.

I don't mind this. What I do mind, however, is when a kid comes up to the porch wearing the same clothes they wore to school that day and carrying a Wal-Mart plastic bag. At least put a little effort into it, you know? I refuse to give candy to these kids. Of course, most of these kids were too old to be trick-or-treating anyway. If you are old enough to drive a car, you shouldn't be trick-or-treating. Go tp someone's house or go pumpkin chunkin' instead.

Even though we bought a shopping cart full of candy, we ran out well before the crowds thinned. We turned off all the lights (which, sadly, didn't stop some kids from ringing our doorbell), put the kids to bed, and watched horror movies for the rest of the evening.

Captain Sam And The Forest Creatures

On Saturday, we had a Big Family Outing Day planned. We were going to go to a pumpkin patch in the morning and then downtown to the Arts District that evening for their Halloween festivities.

But as he is wont to do whenever we try to plan anything, Zed woke up that morning with a fever and a cold. So we decided Ella, since she's the arty one, would take Zoey downtown that evening and I would take her to a pumpkin patch that morning.

I flipped through the paper and found a listing for Captain Sam's Pumpkin Land. It promised hayrides, a Mystical Forest, games for children, a scarecrow exhibit, pumpkin carving, food, and fun. Sold!

After printing directions, Zoey and I headed out for our thirty-minute drive through the country. With each passing mile, the scenery became more rural. Since 99.9% of all Halloween Festivals are held at an elementary school, a church, or a fire station, I began to wonder what kind of elementary school, church, or fire station was out there in the middle of nowhere.

My heart sank as we turned down the road where the event was held: it was a dead end road. "This is how horror movies start out," I thought to myself.

We saw the giant inflatable pumpkin at the end of the road. It was someone's farm. There was a giant field that the farmer had roped off into lanes for cars to park. But guess what? There were no cars in the field.

"Christ," I thought. "He's going to hack us up into little bits and turn us into barbeque."

But despite my better judgment, we pulled into Captain Sam's field. We walked down the path and were greeted by three overly-eager elderly men. We went to the games section. They had the classic games: ring toss, throwing darts at balloons, and knocking down bottles with a softball. Of course, Zoey didn't want to play any of the games. Maybe if there had been some other kids around (hell, maybe if there had been one other kid around), she would've played a game or two, but I guess she was feeling self-conscious.

Or afraid. Like her Daddy.

We checked out the scarecrows and the jack-o-lanterns. I could tell Zoey was a little bored, so I inquired about the hayride.

"I like to have a few more kids on the trailer before I fire up the tractor," Captain Sam said. "Can you wait until some more kids show up?"

"Sure," I replied. Mid-November, maybe?

He began making small talk. He gave Zoey a pinwheel. When he found out that we had driven thirty minutes to come to his Pumpkin Land, he said, "Wow! Well since you drove all this way, I'll give you a ride right now!"

So we climbed into the trailer and drove through the farm. Captain Sam pointed out squirrels, fallen trees, and creeks to Zoey. He mentioned that most of the time he sees plenty of wildlife on these rides. Apparently, deer, foxes, and skunks are quite common on his property. But we didn't see any wildlife besides the squirrels. And Captain Sam.

Suddenly, Captain Sam stopped the tractor. "Zoey, we're getting ready to enter the Mystical Forest. Are you ready?" Zoey turned to me with a WTF? expression on her face. "Answer the man," I whispered.

"Sure," she said, sheepishly, unsure if she was really ready to enter the Mystical Forest.

Captain Sam pointed out the Magical Tree People in the Mystical Forest. Basically, they were just regular trees with those cheesy faces stuck on them. Then we got to see the Forest Creatures. Or as I like to call them, the Send My Daughter To Therapy At The Tender Age Of Four Creatures.

Imagine if you laid out an outfit on your bed and stuffed the shirt and pants with padding or pillows. That's what a Forest Creature's body looked like. Some were standing, some were sitting, some were lying on the ground. One was using a walker. Yes. I said walker.

But each Forest Creature had a different head. One had the head of a Barbie doll. One had a Tickle-Me-Elmo head. One had a Big Bird head. One had a Dora head. It was all quite unnerving. I guess at some point, Captain Sam ran out of doll parts because a few of the Forest Creatures simply had trash bags for heads with smiley faces drawn on them.

As we drove closer to the Forest Creature with the Dora head, I shouted out to Zoey, "Look! It's Dora!" Zoey became excited. Then I noticed Dora the Forest Creature's hands.

She. Had. Knives. In. Her. Hands.

KNIVES! IN HER HANDS!

I started looking around at all the other Forest Creatures. Some had knives while others had sticks. But all of them were armed. I guess that was in case the Magical Tree People ever got out of line.

It was then that I knew this hayride definitely ended at the slaughterhouse.

But Captain Sam drove us back to our car. We thanked him and sped away.

But in hindsight, I realize it wasn't that bad. Captain Sam had invented a place that he thought would be fun for kids. He had games, jack-o-lanterns, scarecrows, and a scary Mystical Forest. Something just got lost in the execution.

In fact, I realize that Captain Sam was a lot like me. Except with a bigger budget. And advertising.