Oh my. Comedy is found sometimes when I least expect it. During the period of mourning for the death of President Ronald Reagan comes this brilliant statement by one of the world's past number one morons.

Yes, yes...I'm going to bed now.

We went to Six Flags on a whim today. There was a 50/50 chance of showers, but it barely drizzled on us on the way up. It turned out to be a beautiful day, and a perfect one for walking around, as it never got real hot. My Mom, Dad and Sister went with us, so It was definitely an interesting day, for those who know us will understand without my having to go into great detail. As for the rest of you, well, I'm not going to go into great detail...actually none, whatsoever. :) One of the highlites for me: Larissa and I rode a ride called the Slingshot which was just incredible (although it cost 15 buck for each of us). The two of us were strapped inside a type of gyroscope that was connected to two towers by steal cables. We were slung upwards, 225 ft. in 2 sec. with a force of 5Gs. Then it was a bungee like free-fall back down. It was just nuts. For the most part, our day was spent catering to the kids, because we went up mainly for their sake. They had a blast in the water park and in the kiddie land, so it was all good. They also road some of the other rides in the park at least the ones that they were tall enough to get into. I think if we had let Rohan just ride the train all day long, he would have been fine with just that. Emily didn't have the greatest time, since she's 7 months along, and they don't want "expecting mothers" to get on any of the rides. She floated on a tube on one of the water park attractions, and also rode on the Scooby Doo Swamp ride, both of which recommended that she not ride them. There's so much to tell, but as usual this is one of the last things that I'm doing before I go to bed, so I'm pretty tired. Here's a pic of us going down the last part of the log flume. Check out the fear in Rohan's face. Pretty funny.

Things that I did today:
1. Got up at 6:15am
2. Went to work, cut many sheets of OSB, and multiple rafters. Nailed off the decking on the roof.
3. Picked Rohan up from my Sister-in-law's.
4. Got home at 4:00pm
5. Mowed the lawn, accidentally killing a snake and a huge bull frog.
6. Got in the house by 7:00pm
7. Took a quick shower.
8. Helped some friends get their web-site rebuild closer to launch.
9. Hugged my Wife.
10. Finally got to eat at 9:15pm.
11. Made some phone calls.
12. Collected dirty clothes from around the house.
13. Washed Rohan's hair and got him out of the tub at 9:30
14. Helped get Rohan to bed with that final glass of water cause "I'm Firsty!" at 10:00pm
15. Drank a glass of milk, and watered the plant.
16. Checked phone messages.
17. Brushed my teeth, closed the garage doors, locked the doors, and turned off multiple lights.
18. Replied to several emails.
19. Made my website rounds.
Now it's almost 11pm.
THINGS TO LEFT TO DO:
1. Publish this post.
2. Call my friend Corey and discuss something sneaky.
3. Call Schurl and see if he agrees that it is sneaky.
4. Work on some lyrics for rehearsal tomorrow.
5. GO TO FREAKIN' BED.

We just got back from my Uncle's Birthday/Burn the Mask bash. My Uncle Alan turns 48 this Monday. He completed his radiation and chemo treatments last October, and tonight he ritualistically burned his radiation mask on a bon-fire. My Aunt Debbie said a small prayer as a large group of us held hands, and then he tossed it in the flames. It was an emotional event, and I can't begin to understand how much of a toll this has taken on his life. Looking at this mask was scary. Not in the literal sense, but just thinking about what it symbolized. When I looked at it, it was like looking at part of the monster that almost killed my Uncle. I'm sure that the mask has been a constant reminder of the torment that was his treatment. I know that because of the treatment, he's on his way to becoming a survivor, but it's something that I wouldn't wish on any human being. It's even more devastating knowing that children have to go through the same thing every day. I don't know if I could ever be that strong. My Uncle is not so much older than I am...just seventeen years. I have many fond memories of him from my childhood as he was probably one of my favorite uncles growing up. He's always been a strong, hard working man; stern, but with a heart of pure gold. I'm happy that we were able to be a part of this tonight ---I love my Uncle and I wish him many, many more birthdays. I can only hope to recall tonight to my grandkids one day when our archaic fight against cancer is a thing of the past.

Okay, so maybe I should change my blog's title from "Staring at the Wall" to "Things that Rohan says". I just got back from rehearsal not so long ago, and Emily was recapping the evening's events for me. She said that she and the kids were watching Return of the King, and Rohan was play acting along with the movie (every night is a Rocky Horror Picture night for this kid) with a He-Man action figure in hand. He holds He-Man up in front of Emily and says,"See, he wears his underwear all the times!"

Another Rohan moment: We thought we were going to get rained out today, so my Dad called off work, and I stayed home with Rohan. I was trying to catch a little more sleep, when I heard Rohan messing around in the bathroom. I sat up in bed, put on my glasses, and stared at the open bathroom door. There was my son leaning up against the toilet, full stream ahead like a race horse, holding up a Bob the Builder LEGO box in front of his face, whispering to himself. After he tinkled out he put the seat down (at first I thought,"How considerate!") and then jumped up on it to do more business. He looked up from the LEGO box and saw me staring at him and said,"Hi Daddy! I'm pooping!" I just said,"Wonderful." Then came the joyous response that got old a long, long time ago: "Will you wipe me?"

This is probably funny to no one but me, but...

Today I was fixing lunch for my son, who is almost four, and myself. I heated up three hot dogs in the microwave, and put one on a bun with mustard for him, with some chips. I set him up at the table, and he asked if I was going to eat the other two. I told him I was, and proceeded to top them with chili dog muck from a can (mmmmmmmmmmmm...) and some cheese sauce from a jar (mmmmmmmmm...carbs......). After I nuked my concoction some more, he asked what it all was, so I told him in a way like I was a car salesman trying to get him excited about clear-coat. He started licking his chops and said,"Yummmmm!!!", so I asked if he would like to try it. He said,"No.", and I said in a sing-songy way,"You don't know what you're missiiiiing!" He replied in the same tone,"I'm missing chocolate miiiiilk!"

HILARITY FLASHBACK

This happened about a month ago: We were grocery shopping at Kroger, picking up the usual fare, along with items that we receive from the WIC program. One of the things that we always get every week on the WIC card is juice. You're given options on what type of juice, and we opt for Donald Duck Orange Juice. Yes, it's really a brand of juice, although I'm not familiar with who makes it. It comes in the big can, you know the type that you use a can opener on to puncture two holes to pour it ---yeah, that type. It's incredibly good, and we just crave the stuff. I mean we're just nuts about it. Hey, it's a simple life. Anyway, we head down the juice aisle, and...they were completely sold out. No overstock, nothing. It's all gone. We we're rather disappointed, but what can you do? So we finish our rounds and head to the front of the store to check out. We got in the line of our choice behind two rather obese women. These were some butch ugly women that looked mean in the norelco way. We were giving eachother secret looks and smiles in regards to our line-mates when Emily's jaw just dropped and smashed the bread and eggs. I quickly surveyed the checkout conveyer belt to see what Emily's deal was, and lo and behold, there were ELEVEN CANS OF DONALD DUCK ORANGE JUICE. Both of us screamed about it all the way home. Fiends.

OOOO!!!! This is just absolutely, stunningly beautiful...M..u..s..t....n..o..t....i..m..p..u..l..s..e....b..u..y...

The Ringling Bro. and Barnum & Bailey Circus family suffered a tremendous loss this weekend when Dessi Espana fell 30 feet during her act. She performed right in front of us when we saw the show in Carbondale and we have several pictures of her, so we were just stunned when we heard the news. Our children didn't ask any questions about it, although we discussed it in front of them. I guess they really didn't catch what we were talking about. Had it happened at the show we saw, I'm not sure how we would have dealt with it. Our prayers are with her Husband and children and the rest of her family and friends. I know that in her life she brought joy to many people of all ages, and I'm sure that is how she will be remembered.

What to say...where to begin...what to say...

Emily's cell phone keeps beeping...I wish she would check her voice mail.

Emily just told me some privey information about a female friend of our's genitalia that I really did not need to know about. Blechhh...

Do you want to know what sucks? Coming home starving and looking forward to that frozen pizza that you bought when you're feeling all junk food like, and finding out that the bagger at the grocery store didn't put it in your cart. Do you want to know what sucks even more? Thinking,"Well, shit. I guess I'll just pop the buffalo tenders in the oven, since it's all warmed up." and finding out that the fucking tenders were in the same goddamn bag as the frozen fucking pizza. Yeah. That's the capper on my night. Just called Domino's and ordered a pizza and some kickers. What's that, a what, like about a thirty-five dollar turn-around???

Went to Wal-Mart earlier this evening (yes that dreaded hell-hole). It was my wife's call as they had something that she can't find elsewhere, supposedly. Anyway, I have some crazy oozing poison weed rash going on up my arm, so I was going to find some sort of ointment. I found something that looked interesting ---a clear gel that you rub on. Emily was like,"Oh no, this looks better." Some sort of spray. Okay, whatever. So we buy our stuff (not before I have to sprint to the back of the store to swipe a bar code sticker for a price check...and oh, by the way, I have a horrible case of the chafed-ass tonight, so the sprinting sucked ASS...and I've had a tiring day at work to boot... SOOOOOOOOOOOO...anyway...We get out at the movies, as we we're going to see Shrek 2, which by the way was f-bombing hilarious, and I don't mean to get off on a tangent here, but the sound at the theatre sucked tonight...

CAN ANYONE TELL I'VE HAD A COUPLE OF BEERS ON AN EMPTY STOMACHE? Blame Hartwell ---we stopped over there a bit ago.

ANYWAY, like I was saying, we got out at the movies, and Emily wanted to spray my arm with the anti-itch stuff, so she did. And guess what? It looked like goddamn Rustoleum white spray-paint. Yep. Big ol'white blotch of spray paint on my dark tanned "hello, I work outside" arms. I looked like a freaking inverted dalmation. Look at me, I have oozing sores on my arm. Well, Emily thought it was HILARIOUS. Yeah, she laughed all the way into the theatre. Oh well.

There was more fun stuff, but I'm tired of typing, so it'll have to wait til never.

Did I say that I bought a Namco classic arcade joystick tonight? I'm going to play myself some Pac-Man tonight. OH YEAH.

MY GOD I AM SO TIRED. We just got home. The kids are in bed. Rohan is singing as usual. My contacts are glued to my eyes. My body is burning with fatigue, I have to be up by 6:15...and I'm about to go to Carbondale to see a band play. What fresh hell is this?

I should point out that the "about" links are dead, only because those files don't exist yet. I was going to do those pages this past weekend, but it just hasn't happened yet. Today was one of THOSE days, and really, I need to catch up on all of my web work that I've let pile up, so who knows when I'll get them up. In the meantime, If anyone would like to contact me about whatever, you can do so at: derek (at) mollusktower (dot) com

BTW, I will always and forever list email addresses in the manner above, until there is a way to stop spiders and bots from culling real formatted addresses from source code. I currently receive anywhere from 15 to 40 pieces of junk mail a day to each single domain addy that I have. I don't need more.

Men and women can fight over the nuttiest things. My wife and I almost never fight. NEVER. Yet when we do, it's while discussing crazy hypothetical situations that are inspired by some television show that we've just viewed.

Tonight we watched the season finale of Law & Order S.V.U. A woman had acted upon pedophilic urges, because of a brain tumor that altered, or rather corrupted her behavior. After the tumor was removed, she supposedly returned to her old self, and was "cured". However, she lost her job as a school principle, because of the terms of her plea bargain, and her husband left her.

My wife asked me if I would leave her if the same scenario had happened to us. I said that I probably would, just because I would have a problem with what had happened, no matter the circumstantial innocence on her part. I said that I would probably need therapy to someday return to any normal relationship. In other words, I would be the bad guy. She still asked why. I told her why. She still pursued the issue. I told her that it would be my problem that I would have to deal with. She asked why I wouldn't just stay married to her and the both of us seek joint counseling. I then asked why the hell were we arguing about this?!?! I then shouted about how I had tried writing an email to a friend during the course of the show and had only typed about six lines, and I was tired, and just wanted to finish it and go to bed. I told her I wasn't going to talk about it any longer. She walked off, angry I suppose.

All of this and I'm drinking ice water. Is there something wrong with this picture?

Such insanity.

This is from the Wall Street Journal's Editorial Page. The title of this article is
"Want a Different Abu Ghraib Story? Try This One: Saddam had their hands cut off. America gave them new ones.". It's definitely something that you will not see on TV...at least before this November's election. We wouldn't want to the American public to have anything but a bitter taste in their mouths from our intervention in Iraq, now would we?

My son who is three and a half has a way with pronunciation. My favorite right now is "weed-eater". I just bought a new one from Sears. He calls it a "wee-neener".

Tell me that Courtney Love is not the funniest celebrity around! Every chance I get, I click on Courtney Love slideshows on Yahoo. They absolutely kick my ass. Here are my six favorite shots from the last media frenzy.



God...She is so damn scary. She recently was quoted in saying to police officers before being arrested:"Please don't do this to me. I'm not the greatest mother in the world but I'm her mother. This incident will affect my custody case with my daughter. I'm not going to be able to get my kid." Maybe, just maybe you should think about your daughter before you throw shit off stage at people. I would do anything to get any of my children back, had they been taken away from me, which first and foremost would be to stop being an ignorant fucking junkie moron. Maybe it's just me, but somehow I doubt that any judge is going to believe her bullshit.

HA! I was just reading through my past blogs in the archives, starting with the oldest. As I scolled down through probably the first, I noticed that I said that I lived in a small town in southern Illinois, only 6 miles south of Chicago. Now that's funny. I meant to say only 6 HOURS (320 mi.) south of Chicago. That of couse is a conservative estimate according to a conservative driving time. I usually make the trip in about 4 1/2 hours. That's nary a bathroom break, fully gassed up for the trip, food already packed, y'know. You could turn it into a 6 hour trip, but that's not my style, to Emily's displeasure. Back in the day (the early sixties) when Interstate 57 was brand new, and only went for stretches here and there, not yet fully completed, my Dad said that he could make the trip in 3 1/2. That's not totally unbelievable when you hear him tell the story. He averaged a little less than 100mph, and would have averaged higher if he had not had to divert over to IL State Hwy 37 where I 57 was still under construction, and where he was able to drive solely on I 57, there was almost no traffic to speak of, nor was it really policed by any law enforcement officials. Anyway, I guess this turned from correction to history lesson, but I easily digress.

children. how amusing one's day is when spent with a child. i was working as usual (while doing laundry, of course) when emily called from work. i was chatting with her when i thought that i heard rohan calling from the back of the house. she coincidentally got a phone call, so i let her go and went to check if there was anything that i needed to attend to. sure enough, i heard rohan saying,"oh my gosh, oh my gosh! daaaaaaddy, where are you?!" as i neared the bathroom, i spied a three-year-old, with his underwear around his ankles, trying to twist, so he could examine his rear, which was speared up past his waist with poop. yeah, that was fun to clean up. sometimes people wonder why my sense of humor tends to get slightly raunchy, with no holds barred ----when you're a parent, life gets raunchy, with no holds barred. you never know what you're going to get into when your child starts saying,"oh my gosh, oh my gosh!"

It's been a year since I changed the look of my blog page, so that's why you're looking at something totally unfamiliar. Of course, instead of working on this, I should have been doing real work, so after I post this, I'm going to get back to business. Oh well...it was fun!

WOW!!! I haven't blogged here since Thanksgiving?!??!?! I swear, I'm not that lame. Most of my time (other than time spent on work and family) has been dedicated to my band's website, which has another blog of mine incorporated within the front page, so that's where I've been.

We took the kids to Chuck E. Cheese's tonight. They had a great time. My major observation of the night was that the Skee-ball game that I grew up loving were not the huge ticket generators that I thought they were. Even at your luckiest, you might get three or four tickets. Yet right around the corner were several other types of games (if you can even call them that) that just spit tickets at you for doing nothing other than pushing a button, stopping strobing lights on a numeric amount, sort of like playing roulette. Once Emily discovered these games, we were swimming in tickets. When I was younger, my brother and I could never combine for more than fifty tickets. Do you know what our take was tonight? Just guess...C'mon....

266 tickets. And I know that probably doesn't even compare to some of the other patrons. We saw guys walking around holding bricks of tickets. Just amazing. What's even more amazing is that I'm typing about this. Oh well...simple minds, simple pleasures.