Halloween through the weekend

Here's something to ponder while you work through your sugar-induced diabetic comas this weekend:

What is the best Halloween/Horror lyric? I don't want an entire song, a line, a stanza at most, is all.

I ask because it's a personal tradition of mine to jam out to the Misfits all day on Halloween, but, man, while they sound cool, some of their songs have some pretty stupid lyrics. My personal favorite Misfits song (well, second favorite) is Horror Hotel. But the lyrics:

Check into horror hotel
This place is creepy and it's somber too
And a little Vampira wrapped on my neck, said
Say something, say something
You wanna start something with me

Leave a little something to be desired. So, I wonder, which lyrics read best out of context of their music? Go ahead and post yours. I'll post mine on Monday.

UPDATE: OK, so it's still a Misfits lyric, but I've always found this line appropriately creepy: Your future is in an oblong box, yeah, from Die, Die, My Darling.

Happy Halloween

Mass hysteria and other ramblings

Today is the 70th anniversary of the Mercury Theatre on the Air's radio broadcast of War of the Worlds, perhaps the most infamous entertainment radio show in American history.

We all know the folklore surrounding the hysteria that occured during the broadcast. There's been a lot of research done and many historians now believe that the newspaper reports of widespread panic were exgaggerated. I don't find this hard to believe. But, regardless of how many people reacted to it, there were enough to sear the memory forever into our folk history.

There were many issues that led to the panic. The fact that this was the first time a radio drama was presented in news-flash format threw some people off. The fact that the working script only had three statements about the fictional nature of the broadcast meant some listeners might not have heard Orson Well's reassuring voice tell them that it was all a play for some time into the show. On top of this, there was mounting pressures about what Hitler was doing in Europe.

I think, for most of my life, I didn't quite understand the panic that this show caused. Logically, yes, but I had never felt it. That is, until Sept. 11. That event caused such uproar through America as a collective, that I now understand mass panic. I realize how the misunderstood becomes blown out of proportion. The horror of 9-11 spawned a lot of misinformation and true (albeit justified) panic.

Hitler even commented on the newspaper articles that talked about the reaction to War of the Worlds and said that is was "evidence of the decadence and corrupt condition of democracy."

That kind of language sounds pretty familiar to most of us today, I think.

Well it is through this changed perspective that I can now look back on this humble radio show with a greater appreciation for the terror is caused some folks so long ago.

You can visit the Mercury Theatre on the Air where many of their radio programs, including War of the Worlds, are available for download.

Sheila, of course, has a fantastic post up about the whole affair.

Halloween post 5: The godfather of shock is still the godfather of shock

This one's dedicated to slick, who thinks a certain someone from Arizona just maybe should be Elected.

Halloween Post 4: I had the flu, but I was Dracula

When I was stationed on Okinawa (’95 – ’98) I was in a band. We did mainly covers. Shit, we only had two original songs and both of those were instrumentals.

I was the singer and it while it was fun, there was a tremendous amount of pressure. We were all in the Army. All the guys in the band were in the same unit except for me. There was kind of weird dynamic going on, I had replaced a guy who was in their unit and while they preferred my voice, I know they missed how well he clicked with them.

Our first gig was very soon after I joined. We played a festival on base, just one or two songs, but it was pretty cool. Our first “real” gig was at this Okinawan bar downtown. We only knew like three songs and played them about three different times. We were opening for another band, our sound was horrible and we came away from that experience with a pretty bad taste in our mouth for that particular club.

We took a little time, learned more songs and played our next gig at another Okinawan bar further down the street from the last time we played. Our set consisted of Green Manlishi by Priest, Twist of Cain by Danzig, 10 in 2010 and Punk Rock Song by Bad Religion, London Dungeon by the Misfits and Cleanse My Wounds by Corrosion of Conformity. Over time we grew our set to include some more Danzig, Misfits and Bad Religion we also had a Life of Agony tune, and some other things I can’t remember well.

I wish I had photos or videos of this era, but I don’t. This is due to the same reason I got kicked out of the band – I was a huge binge drinker and no one really wanted to be around me when I was that drunk. I couldn’t remember lyrics. It was pretty bad. So they replaced me with a Marine.

That hurt.

What hurt more was the fact that they guy couldn’t sing. I put it behind me though.

Then, one night after I hit the sack, the phone rings. It’s the drummer from the band. He’s like, “Hey, our singer is going to the field. Can you fill in?” I know they didn’t want to do that, but they did. And I wasn’t about to let them down. This was the weekend prior to Halloween.

Guys, I gave the show of my life and they asked me to sing again the next night. Many people talked about who I sang much better after having been kicked out. The next night was also awesome. It felt great to jam with them again. By this time, the band had pretty much become the de facto house band at this bar and they asked me to sing with them on Halloween weekend because their singer was still going to be in the field.

I caught a bug sometime during the week and had a full-on, throat fucking flu. But I dressed up as Dracula. Cape. Vest. Black pants and Docs. I drank some lemon juice and honey. I drank beer. And I fucking rocked socks. I am not exaggerating to say that it was my best performance. The bar, while small, was full and it just rocked hard.

One of the songs we’d added to the list was Where Eagles Dare. We’d added this breakdown in the last Chorus. After singing through the “I ain’t no Goddamn son of a bitch” the first time through, we dropped everything but the basic drum beat. There was a quick bass fill. Then a guitar fill. Then a drum fill. Then a huge buildup back into “I AIN’T NO GODDAMN SON OF A BITCH!” The entire bar rang as everyone screamed along with us.

Dracula sang with the flu and all was right with the world.

Where Eagles Dare.

Halloween post 3: Fear this!

Scott Ian is not scary. In fact, I'd say that your musical respect/credibility is inversely proportionate to your appearance on any VH1 "Hey, Remember The ..." programming. Which means Scott's was gone some time ago.

His beard, on the other hand ... holy Christ. It's a thing filled with murderous intent. I'm sure it walks the nights alone, thirsting for blood while its owner is asleep.

Anyway, here's a YouTube video from back when Anthrax was still on top of their game, the appropriately named: Among the Living.

Finally

We've been planning on doing this for months and I finally had the time, energy and motivation to get it done. All of our instruments had been stashed in a nook in the master bedroom. Getting them down here and on the wall is freeing. There's still more to do.

I need to do something more with the walls. The guitars are cool, but we still need something else going on there. We also want to put some seating in there. But this is a huge step in the right direction.

Halloween post 2: The guys in Samhain look funny in retrospect

Warning: Turn your speakers down, it starts with really loud feedback. Language warning also.

Thus begins, the week of Halloween posts

And we begin it with the best song in the history of ever:

Wallop, thy name is Judge

Y’all, this handgun is amazing.

Let me tell you, in the Army, I didn’t have much desire to own a gun. I mean, yeah, I kind of wanted one because I enjoy shooting, but any time I really wanted to go out and shoot, all I had to do was find a unit that was running a range and find the time. I was able to go out pretty often.

But it’s been five years. I haven’t shot anything except my little pellet pistol since then. That is, until the other day when my father in law came to visit and brought this bad boy with him.

In addition to the Judge, he had a Springfield 9mm and a Walther .22 LR. We went to the local indoor range primarily so he could sight in his new laser site on his Springfield (a beaut’ too, BTW), but he had plenty of ammo to shoot all three.

Out of them all, I had the best shooting experience with the Springfield. It ain’t like riding a bike, if you want to remain a good shooter, you need to shoot, and I could tell I was rusty. Still, I was able to fire reliably with the Springfield at 7, 10, and 15 yards. It felt the best too.

The Judge, however, was just fun. Loaded with .410 shells, I took the first turn and, sheesh, it’s a knuckle knocker. But seeing that target flip out like someone called its mamma fat was a heartwarming experience. After unloading the .410 shells I fired some .45 Long Colt rounds and it was like I was firing the 9mm again. They were nothing after shooting those shotgun shells. I think it has a lot to say with how well the Judge is constructed that you can fire such a round from that pistol so comfortably.

The bad is that the pistol carbons up pretty quickly. It was noticeable more difficult to put the .45 rounds in after firing the .410 shells and that progressed through more shooting. All said, my father in law and I went through a box of .410 and probably 20 .45 rounds.

Folks, I missed the smell of carbide.

FYI, here’s a good review of Taurus’ newest version of the Judge.

Things you thought you knew enough about but then learned something new and then want to know more

What I really appreciate in the above photo is the juxtaposition between the has-been rocker and the hopefully soon-to-be has-been rocker.

A couple of weeks ago I caught a documentary on one of the movie channels called New York Doll. Figuring (correctly) that it might be about the New York Dolls, I figured I'd click over and give it a go.

The New York Dolls weren't, well, I guess considering their revival I should say aren't a band I ever followed closely. I've heard plenty of their tunes, really dig a lot of it, and realize full on they're the musical model upon which Malcolm McLaren based the Sex Pistols (just listen to Lookin' For a Kiss and tell me that the Pistols didn't rip their sound from the Dolls – hell McLaren even managed the Dolls for a while, as I’m just discovering). Other than knowing that Buster Poindexter was really David Johansen (the Dolls' lead singer) I didn't really know a hell of a lot about the band.

So, I thought I'd give the movie a shot. I clicked over (I missed the first 20 minutes or so) and here’s this bald dude in a white dress shirt, black tie and name tag speaking extemporaneously into the camera. I almost changed the channel, but something about that name tag made me pause. And then they did a cutaway to another person. The subtitle below this person had his name and title: Arthur’s former bishop. It clicked then! This dude’s a Mormon!

I’m not. But my wife is. And I’m no subject matter expert, but I do have a vested interest in these things, so outside of my already somewhat piqued interest because it was about a New York Doll, the addition of the LDS tie held me rapt. So, I settled in and even hit record on the DVR.

There’s a lot of disaffection in the tale. I didn’t know the outcome of any of the Dolls other than Johansen’s somewhat mediocre career in the ‘80s under his Poindexter pseudonym and that guitarist Johnny Thunders had died of a heroin overdose. I didn’t know much of anything about any of them, really.

We’re used to tales of rock and rollers. The Decline of Western Civilization parts 1 and 2 (and now 3) set the stage for the rockumentary that is now part of our common conscious. I was expecting a story about the rise to stardom, the tragic fall, and the “where are they now?” to come out like the spoon-feeding most sitcoms give us every night. What I got instead was this meek man, someone who found his place in the world with the LDS and the work he did in their family history center in L.A. I’m not here to write about the church. I don’t even really want to discuss it. You are welcome to your opinions, I have mine. What is clear to me from this film and from what I’ve read on the subject since is that the church saved this man’s life and offered him something that no one else had in a long time – a sense of purpose.

But that’s not the film’s story. That’s just the backdrop. Here’s a balding, washed-up, has been of a guy who no one would realize was once rocking faces world wide and he’s finally found peace with that fact. However, his world is changed when he gets a call. A call from mutha-freaking Morrisey.

I am not a fan of the Smiths. I was never fond of Morrisey’s stuff (other than How Soon is Now and you don’t have a soul if you don’t like that song), but it just wasn’t my scene. I was in the harder stuff and, more truthfully, Morrisey fans annoyed me more than their music. But here he is, on this documentary, putting together a music festival in London trying to get the Dolls back together to perform.

That’s the story. A changed man. A man who has found his peace and forgiveness, but has never lost his desire to get back up on stage and rock again. He spent years trying to reform bands and never stopped playing until he became so destitute he hocked most of his gear. There’s a great part of the movie when he’s getting ready to go to England, he goes to the Pawn shop to get his basses and they cutaway to one of his friends who says (I’m paraphrasing from memory, but essentially):

I said to him once, “Hey you’re paying (a hundred something) a year to keep his stuff from being sold when all he had to do was pay (two hundred something) to get them back.” He looked at me completely dumbfounded. Like the idea never occurred to him … like he never had (two hundred something dollars) at any one time to get them back.

All this time I keep waiting for the collapse, because in my heart I don’t believe in these kind of real stories having happy endings. But it all plays out. The band reforms. They rehearse. They make it to England. They play. They rock.

The biggest issue here is his reunion with David Johanssen. The film takes great pains to make it clear that Kane blamed Johanssen for the Dolls’ disintegration. He viewed Johanssen’s success in the ‘80s and early ‘90s with contempt. He felt robbed. There was a train he was riding and he didn’t get off by choice, he was thrown.

There might have been some truth to this. I don’t know. The film doesn’t give insight. Nothing I’ve been able to find online really says who’s to blame for break up. Really, after Thunders left the band, it was probably all over anyway. But Kane couldn’t blame him, he was dead.

And yet, Johanssen walks in on the second day of rehearsals and they play a couple of songs and the first thing he and Kane do when there’s a break in the playing is hug it out. It was an amazing moment to me because Johanssen represented the success that Kane felt he was owed. There was contempt there. There was hate there. But he had found his redemption and showed that to Johanssen. It was interesting because the movie points out through several interviews that it was like Kane and Johanssen picked up where they left off and the years of separation and hatred never existed. The interviews help, but the feeling is apparent in how the two treat each other in the film from the meeting point on.

And then the concert ended and Arthur chose to go back to L.A. and return to his volunteer work at the LDS Family History Center rather than do future tours with the Dolls. Twenty-two days later he fell ill and was diagnosed with leukemia. He died two hours after diagnosis.

It was a sublime film. I hate to say that because it sounds like I’m taking pleasure in someone else’s pain and death, but I don’t see this movie that way. This movie isn’t about his pain or death. This movie isn’t about being able to pick one’s self from destitution and be a star one more time. This movie isn’t about redemption either. This movie is about forgiveness. The ability to find forgiveness within ourselves. The wrong isn’t necessarily what others have done to us, but the hate we carry inside ourselves because of it. This film is a triumph because it’s about freeing yourself from that.

Same band from below

This one's for me. This is also Dream Theater, but one of their older, more mellow songs put to a video by some Youtuber.



Even here in this, their own song, you can hear the Floyd influence. They're heavily influenced by all the great progressive bands. Most of their stuff is probably too heavy for many of y'all but they're my favorite band.

The moments that make up a dull day

For my dear friend, Ken.

The Slash Room

Not a horror movie. Not some place from some overdramatic new article. Not a place where butchers do their butchery. No, we have a slash room of an entirely different connotation.

So named by my girls, the place where my kids have their homeschooling also serves as our children’s library. It also serves as our guest room. It also serves as our girl’s toy room. It’s the school-slash-library-slash-guest-slash-toy-slash-extra TV room. So you see, it makes sense. I thought it was pretty clever of them, actually.

Honestly, I never thought too much of the space because I knew it was going to be used for the kids. But since buying a new computer and moving our old one there, having the solitude is kind of nice. It’s great for J-Mom and the kids to have everything right there and I’ve been doing my night classes in there as well.

So, I won’t be dragging the machete, katana or chainsaw to the room. But I’ll probably visit Slash Dot.

Bizarre, out-of-context quote of the day 10/21

Haven't done one of these in a while:

I don't mind being your filter.

Which isn't necessarily funny by itself until paired with my quick, Dana Carvey-inspired quip:

But [coworker], you can't piss in a Mr. Coffee and get Taster's Choice.

Yes, our job would be so much easier if we didn't have to filter excrement.

Quick Monday-night TV recap 10/20 edition

Chuck
Still enjoying the heck out of this show. Even more so this season. However, Nicole Ritchie being a bad ass is beyond suspension of disbelief folks. Just not cool. There was a moment, during an interrogation sequence where Adam Baldwin (who, by the way, is the voice of Superman is most modern Superman animation) shows the interrogatee a scar and attributes it to “Mad Dog” Chuck. A very funny moment in an increasingly good show.

Heroes
Gotta tell you, last week left me cold. Even though I knew that Hiro’s stabbing of Ando was a trick, it still just didn’t play right. And, of course, they opened the show by showing how Hiro pulled off the trick. Still … it just doesn’t quite resonate. However, I was quite fond of how well they took care of Adam Monroe by showing just how much of a badass Poppa Pitrelli is. So, Peter’s powerless. You know that’s not going to last. Either Sylar’s going to fix him or he’ll get himself some superhero juice. This one’s clunking, guys. Hope it finds its pace.

My Own Worst Enemy
I wasn’t going to watch this show, but because Sheila’s cousin Mike is one of the main characters, I gave it a chance. The first episode was enjoyable, but in the second one I find myself asking all kinds of questions that the story has presented to me – not in a good way. I mean, why the hell did they have to create the second personality in the first place. It just doesn’t make any sense. At all. And, even if they did have a plausible explanation for that, there is no way in hell they’d keep Christian Slater’s character alive once his programming started to fail. No way. So, this is one that’s unfortunately coming off the DVR, I think. I might give it one more episode because I really do enjoy watching Mike O’Malley as a bad ass – it is the best thing about the show – but everything else is hard to deal with.

No ... no ... I don't have a problem

I can stop any time!

Our country still rocks

I early voted yesterday and it was nice to get it done. I mean, I haven't been too excited about this election (at the national level, my representative in the House is awesome), so I pretty much voted against someone rather than voting for someone. And that really makes me kind of upset. But you know what makes everything better?

This does:

Cullen: The Wall

I grew up an Air Force brat. In the early ‘80s we lived on Peterson Air Force Base in Colorado Springs. Enlisted Air Force housing is typically styled like townhomes with two, four, or eight individual homes smooshed into one large unit. There would be several of these units per “neighborhood.”

It was pretty nice housing, honestly. A long, straight street would have several inlets. These inlets had two sets of garages on either side and dead-ended at a housing unit. The garages served this unit and another two housing units behind each set of garages. So, each of these inlets served, roughly, 12 families. And, usually, military kids at that time were quick to make friends or, at least, hang out. The number of times one had to move while growing up kind of made the ability to insinuate yourself into a new group a survival method.

I digress.

These particular units were of two kinds: four homes in a row, like a typical townhouse design; or four homes where two a smooshed and two sets are joined in the middle. In front of the homes that were four straight across, there were these walls that were, I imagine, supposed to be decorative. They provided a façade that covered things like air conditioning units and other utility pipes and such.

I was about 10 years old when we lived here. That was a weird time. I was still very much a child. There were plenty of GI Joes and Transformers all around. I lusted after these products just like any good American kid was supposed to. However, we had cable and I discovered MTV. I don’t think I was there for the launch, but it wasn’t long before I was watching and discovering these things. I won’t say that this was a threshold age. I think 12 or 13 (and I hope that’s still the case) was more likely an age where there was a chasm crossed. But there was an awakening to a much larger world.

Looking back on this time, there is something that we kids all did that symbolizes all of these emotions, meshes it all together into one event.

Those walls that were in front of the row units were about six feet tall. In my memory, they seem huge. Imposing. But I can remember my dad and friend’s dads standing next to these walls so I do have a realistic perspective on their true height. But to the mind of a 10-year-old, they were high. And, being young boys, we jumped off these walls.

It was a game we played a lot, actually. We’d climb to the top of the wall and see who could jump the furthest, or, in some cases, who would jump at all.

You know that feeling you get in your stomach right before you’re about to do something that’s both exciting and frightening? That feeling that both warns you and eggs you on to do this thing? That’s what the wall was. Every. Single. Time. It seems a small thing now, but then it was fun and thrilling. Like the first time you learn that you could launch yourself through the air from a swing … it was freeing and competitive.

And that feeling is what I associate with being 10 years old. It was a dawning awareness of the greater world, but it was still fun and exciting. There was knowledge that there were scary things on the threshold of our existence and yet there were still the naïve childish thoughts of invincibility about your surroundings. But there was that nagging something going on … that nagging in the pit of your stomach. Warning and goading.

My oldest daughter is about the same age that I was when I was doing these things and I wonder how she sees the world. Is there an approaching and dawning awareness of great, scary, exciting and frightening things? I hope so.

Scanning the days gone by

I got a bit nostalgic last night looking through some old photos and got a bit scan happy. Don't know if these photos are going to mean much to anyone outside of my immediate family and friends, but here they are anyway:


Here's an '80s-era J-Mom - Look how '80s!


Here she is in '95 standing in front of my old Ford Custom 500. I was in Okinawa at the time fervently trying to get her on orders to come over. I left in late-March '95 and didn't get her over there until September of that year. It sucked!


This is me about 8 years and about 100 pounds ago.


This is also either late '99 or 2000. Just the TV addicts, me and my oldest, hanging out. I can't believe she's 9 years old now.


Here's Daughter Number 1 again, I'm thinking this is circa 2002ish. You can tell she's really helping out in the kitchen.


I'm not sure when this is from, but this is how DN1 sees the world -- with wonder in her eyes.


This one is definitely from 2001. Daughter #1 and 2 just hanging out with daddy.

Well, that's it for now.

I'm ba-ack

I go back to work today after two-and-a-half weeks of convalescence. I'm a bit apprehensive about it. I've gotten used to lying in bed catching up on South Park episodes.

But I'm also excited to be getting back to it. Honestly, I was getting a bit stir crazy and bored here (though I had plenty of things to do for school, I just can't not put those things off -- yes, I am doubling the negative on that, dammit).

So, now that I've burned up most of my sick days, I'm going to have to stay healthy for a few more pay periods.

Flies time

Gotta write a paper tomorrow. Go back to work Wednesday.

Where does two weeks worth of nothing go?

Remember

Hey y'all, just a reminder that the Friday F-O thread has a new location.

Pushing Daisies Season 2

If you aren't watching this show, there's something wrong with you.

It's the most creative, innovative, colorful and surreal show on TV right now. The stories always take you places you don't necessarily expect but are familiar also. While it is based firmly in formula is resists being formulaic.

The character interaction is stylized, the kind you see in some of the more lucid moments in a David Lynch movie or in old noir flicks. What's cool though is that there's a truth in this fakery. You know that people don't really talk this way or react this way, but knowing this gives the character interplay an honesty that most TV shows don't have.

Of course, the cinematagrophy and sets are gorgeous -- seemingly inspired by the same places and things Salvador Dali and Dr. Seuss were.

Of course, the show isn't without its problems. Sometimes there are issues with flow. Getting from one area to another sometimes is forced or awkward. But these are small prices to pay for such a great show.

Pictures that make me happy 5/5/2006 edition

Both of these shots were taken in 2006 during our trip to Disney World while we were waiting in line for the "It's a Small World" ride (AVOID-AVOID-AVOID! my lord you can only hear that song so many times before you start going loopy).


Here's a 10-month-old Bo-bo with J-mom.


Here's Daugher Number 2 with DN1 right behind her.

So, I've been using Windows Vista now for a bit and I gotta tell you, I like it. I was worried, but I do. And one of my absolute favorite features is the slideshow gadget. I have it set to go through all of our old photos and it's cool to see what pops up from time to time, like the shots above.

Course, running 4 gigs of RAM may make a difference in your Vista experience, but dudes, RAM is CHEAP now.

Random snapshot updates

> It's been storming here at Casa del Cullen. (Yes, The Cullen, there may be other Cullens out there who are just another Cullen, but I am The Cullen, as in the genuine article. Not really.) I like that, but I slept through most of it.

> My back is doing much better. It's pretty much just sore now unless I walk a lot or try bending over and picking things up. Yesterday we went to WalMart and that was just a little much. The doc put me on Percocet and Valium for pain and I'm at the point where I'm only using them about twice a day (waking up and going to bed). I should be able to downgrade to much lower pain med in the next day or two.

> I'm reading a book called Statistics For People Who (Think They) Hate Statistics for a test tonight that I'm not sure what is covered or how it's going to be delivered or how long we'll have to do it. Fun, huh?

> Pain meds help produce some of the coolest dreams.

> I should have blogged this a long time ago, but: Daughter Number 1 had her first swim meet last Saturday (28 Sept). This is only her first year in swim and even though she's 9, they have her swimming in the 7&8-year-old group because of her inexperience. She didn't win anything, but she gave it her all and it was awesome to see how much effort she put out. J-Mom and I were so very pleased. DN1 is not the most naturally athletic person and in the past -- in soccer -- her teammates would yell and get mad and belittle her. I wasn't fond of that. We talked her into swim to get away from that and it's been great. She never finishes first -- almost always last -- but she really enjoys it and that means so much.

> Gotta go study.

So give me sanctuary from the law and I'll be all right

Anyone else catch Sci Fi's new show Sanctuary last night? I was pretty impressed with the show. It seems to be a very blatant take off of BBC's Torchwood only good.

In another Doctor Who-esque move, the main character Amanda Tapping as Dr. Helen Magnus, is sporting brunette locks giving her somewhat of a Sarah Jane look. It's quite a departure from her blond do from Stargate and her character's quite different as well. I like her on this show a good bit better. I always felt her to be somewhat out of place on Stargate and here she seems in her element.

As for the show, it mixes liberal amounts of X-Files, Doctor Who, Torchwood and good ole nouveau American Sci Fi angst to make the show click.

In addition to Tapping, there's her daughter, Ashley Magnus plays the heavy who fights first, and Dr. Will Zimmerman who seems to have almost a psychic link.

I look forward to ep 2.

It's the little things

I was able to take a shower for the first time since Monday. Amazing what something as simple as that can do for your emotional well-being.

Unfortunately, things aren't going as well anywhere else in the house. Last night J-Mom has some stomach issues and then, throughout the night Daughters Number 1 and 2 both had stuff coming out both ends. So, only the boy is doing good, which is in itself a problem. Here's this 3-year-old bundle of excitement feeling all his wildness and everyone else in the house feeling teh suck.

Hopefully everyone else will get over their stomach woes soon.

I am, in this order,

> In tremendous pain

> Bored out of my mind