It's Saturday, and Honey took the baby on an adventure (grandparents), and I'm all alone. So many great things I've been waiting to do. So yea... I'm watching C-Span on the computer. Every once in a while I even yell, "YOU LIE," now that it's the Republicans' turn to speak. I don't want to generalize here, but Republicans have great hair! Maybe when the GOP becomes completely irrelevant, they can become extras on The Love Boat remake.
This guy, John Cornyn from Texas, just said health care reform would create Gulags. I love Republicans. Such drama queens.
Earlier, Sam Brownback said the abortion provisions in the Senate Bill don't meet the moral criteria. So I used my other-other-other Twitter account to say, "Brownback, your mama doesn't meet the moral criteria." See? Sometimes 140 characters are more than enough.
I wish Facebook didn't use words like Friends and Fans. These are big words. For you to join my Facebook page, you have to become Fans. That's silly. Couldn't they just use "Members"?
So I'm writing these words even though I know you're not there. You're either standing in line to get an autographed Going Rogue, or in line for New Moon.
I talked to this writer-guy on Thursday, and I asked him for his informed opinion: Am I allowed to make fun of Twilight fans even though I haven't read the books and while enjoying True Blood? He said Twilight was a horribly written romance novel with vampires. In other words, YES!
We lived in Silver Spring when the sniper was shooting people in gas stations. I remember putting gas in the car and looking around, wondering if the next one was going to be me or the guy pretending not to hunch down next to me. It reminded me of that movie, Little Murders (look it up, you know? Okay. Here's the trailer). But there was nothing funny about it. And as traumatic as it was, I can't feel good about the guy dying today. I can't feel too bad about it either.
Months of practice have finally paid off today: Baby told his mother he loved her.
I'm trying to take it easy. Trying to find reasons to be stressful, then kill them dead. Things have to change.
I shaved my beard. I do it every once in a while. I like to play games when I do that. First I turned it into a goatee. Then I kept on shaving and made it a douchy goatee (the shorter, straighter version), then I made it into a big bushy mustache. And then--am I alone there?--I turned it into a Hitler. Come on! Everyone Hitlerizes themselves when they shave, no?
Game Changer is a girl. Here's a secret: I was hoping it would be.
that I started a blog recently. Well, it's been more than a year.
Here's the story:
I wanted to register a domain name, thinking I'd just start a niche blog and put some content, then see where I went from there. Maybe sell it. And even though it wasn't going to be a real blog like this one, I wanted to be able to update it every once in a while, so it had to be about something I knew a little about. I was a new father, so I thought I'd write about being a father.
And if it wasn't going to be a real blog, then of course I didn't write about it here, because What's the point?
So I started a blog with a silly name, where I talked about other fathers who blog, and about the things we all have in common, and about the meaning of fatherhood, at least the way I saw it, and about being a Stay-At-Home-Dad in a society that does me a favor and "accepts" me, and before I knew it, it wasn't a fake blog anymore. As much as I tried, I couldn't be cynical about it.
And I was slowly being added to parents' blogrolls, then asked to write a few guest posts in a Baltimore Sun parenting blog, then mentioned briefly on NPR...
And then I thought, Is People in the Sun the fake blog? But it's not, because I let myself go here. I even allow myself to say bad words here, like VAGINA.
Some of you may have actually been there. Well, some of you have been there. My Statcounter told me you were there. And some of you even left comments there, which made me feel weird because I felt I was cheating you with my dual-personality.
And then I felt it was too late to mention it here. And the longer I waited, the worst I felt. It's like coming over to your wife and telling her you've had Herpes for a year and you didn't want to tell her because you didn't want her to know you cheated on her with a crack whore a year ago. See why people come here? It's the metaphors.
So here it is. My own Daddy Blog. Come over and say Hi, and I hope you stay around. I will keep this blog, of course, and my other super-secret blogs, as long as I have something to say. And you know the drill: when I don't have anything to say, you can always count on cute baby pictures.
The Way The South Was Won (By A Yankee)
My friend Sally hails from a prominent southern family. In her father's Charleston home hangs a portrait of her relative fondly referred to as 'The Major.' ...