I finally realized the other day that because our oldest daughter is a vegetarian, at home I am effectively a vegetarian.

This blows on many levels.

1) I’m not really big on things that grow in the ground. i.e., fruits and veggies.

2) I like meat.

3) I hate animals passionately and want to eat all of them. (see #2).

Not only has the flesh of dead animals mostly been banished from our house, but we also have a bunch of organic food in the kitchen. Fake meat, free range eggs, milk from “happy cows,” etc. I don’t mind it that much, really. It’s healthier and it doesn’t taste that bad.

In fact, I *really* like this one cereal: Kashi’s Go Lean Crunch (the original flavor, not the fancy pants stuff with flax)

Also, flax is just some made up thing, isn’t it? The hippies got together and after passing the “doobage” around said to each other, “Dooooode. Wouldn’t it be cool if there were a plant that was all good for you and stuff? Let’s make one up and put it in the cereal, man!”

But I digress.

The relationship between this excellent organic cereal and my intestinal tract can be summed up thusly:

It’s complicated.

I really love the taste. Like, it’s the best tasting cereal, EVER; above even Frosted Mini-Wheats and Cap’n Crunch (with Crunch Berries, yo). That’s how good the stuff is.

But if I have more than one bowl in the morning?

How can I put this as delicately as possible?

My insides freakin’ EXPLODE in the late afternoon and I spend a simply inordinate amount of time in the little boy’s room, wishing I were dead.

That was Factoid Deemed TMI #1.

Factoid Deemed TMI #2:

The plumbing in the building at work appears to be from the late 1800s, so the toilet clogs by wafting even one teeny piece of TP over the bowl, never long putting anything in the thing; it’s enough to start brackish and vile sludge swirling around and slowly creeping up the side of the bowl. The toilet is going to overflow. This elicits yelps from me and I begin to pray in that shouting whisper that means I’m panicked, but I don’t want the rest of the studio to know that I’m FREAKING OUT right there in the men’s room and I commence pleading to any and all deities within earshot to “Oh, please, please, PLEASE, Zoraster! I’m begging you! Make the water stop! Make the water stop!” I look over to where we usually keep a plunger, but it’s gone; it must be in the Ladies’ room. I think I’d rather be dead than have to deal with the mess that is about to happen.

Oh… and did I forget to mention that I still have my pants around my ankles?

Welcome to my Wednesday.

Which brings me to my main point.

If you are going to be a semi-forced vegetarian and eat organic, hippie granola cereal?

Always know where the water shut off valve is.

*Too Much Information

“Die, you accursed pig dog!”

“I’m hit! Aaahhhhh!”

These are small sampling of quotes from Lucas’ birthday party at a Laser Tag place last Friday. None of those quotes are specifically from me, but they could have been, but for a small amount of self control.

Here’s the thing about Laser Tag:

When you are 14 and running around with your buds and screaming and shooting anything that moves: very fun.

When you are in your 40s and doing the same thing: kind of freaky.

Which is not to say that I didn’t have fun, but I found myself thinking, “Dude, you are way too old to be doing this. Stop having so much fun!”

Sadly, I “dude” myself when I talk to myself. Even I roll my eyes at myself when I do that.

The whole Laser Quest extravaganza is a bit nuts, actually. The “game arena” is set up like an Unreal Tournament map from 1999. Maze-like, dark and misty. You have wear this bulky backpack/chestplate thing with flashing lights for targets and but in turn you get to carry a laser pistol.

As you can imagine, it speaks to me on a very nerdly level. Flashing lights! Lasers! If there’d been a cheesy talking robot as my sidekick, my geek life may have been complete.

I even caught myself doing quick “check six” moves and quickly glancing behind me every few moments, just like I used to when I played first person shooter games.

Dweeb Alert Level: Dangerously High

Except, when you are chasing your wife through the maze who has the 5 year old in tow, because even though the 5 year old can’t play because the backpack target extravaganza is far too large for her and she can’t carry it without toppling over, the 5 year old desperately wants to play and would be screaming to high heaven if she’d been left out, you kind of realize, “What are you doing here?”

Ever have one of those experiences where you walk into a situation and immediately realize that you DO NOT belong there?

In the movies, the cliché is the white guy opening the door to the predominantly black bar. Or the reverse, black guy in a white bar (country club, etc.), or the plot line to just about any Eddie Murphy movie from the eighties.

I’m just saying, though it’s pretty fun, I think I’m done with Laser Tag as a sport. I won’t be joining the club and entering league play.

Yes, there is league play for Laser Tag.

Process that for a moment. It’s like paint ball wars for nerds who absolutely refuse to go outside.

Plus, these people were there:

Hate to break it to you Obi-Wan Kedoofus, but that fake light saber you are holding? DOES NOT BLOCK LASER TAG SHOTS LIKE IN THE MOVIES.

They ran the Kentucky Derby over the weekend.

Hillary Clinton picked the only philly in the race, a horse called “Eight Belles” to win the big show.

Her horse was soundly trounced.

By a horse named “Big Brown”

Her horse broke BOTH its front ankles after the race.

The injury was so severe that the horse had to be put down.

Draw your own conclusions.

Reha the Extra Special and Wonderful Spouse of Love comes home today!

For a treat, give yourself a little mental picture of me over here doing the “Happy Joy Dance.”

Generally, when I do the “Happy Joy Dance” I’m only wearing a pair of white tube socks and a stocking cap with fuzzy yellow antlers that stick out at crazy angles, but in this case I’ll give you a pass. I’ll be over here doing The Dance fully clothed and not stinking of sweat and covered in antler fuzz.

I usually do OK when Reha is out of town, but this week just hammered me down to component parts. Carrie got the most horrendous case of strep throat imaginable and her throat would balloon out like a rain forest tree frog whenever she took a breath. We made fun of her and drew funny faces on her expanded throat, but then she threw her penicillin bottle at my head and stabbed me in the face with the broken shards. It stopped being entertaining at that point.

Seriously, she was really sick the whole week and taking her to Instacare and fetching prescriptions and ice cream and rice pudding and EVERY LITTLE THING her heart desired at the drop of a hat (note: not the antler hat), all that stuff took a lot of time.

Toss in the normal “get whiny delightful children to gymnastics, band practice, dance classes; help with homework, book reports and practice spelling words; make dinner and get the little goobers in bed at a decent hour” duties and I was utterly spent.

And plus work stuff was kind of insane this week. Like, “holy crap we are all going to die!” insane.

Anyway. I’m not complaining really. I just want to say that I never want to be a single parent. It’s really hard. Kudos to all of you who make that happen.

Important safety tip! In order to pull off the appearance that you have kept things under control while your spouse is away, implement the following helpful hints. Learn from me, kids, I’m a pro!

1. Dispose of all take out food containers and dirty up some pots and pans and plates so it doesn’t appear to a casual observer that you had take out food every night while she was gone. You don’t want to leave the kitchen a disaster, just enough that it looks like you made “real” food.


2. Bath the children the night before she comes home. Make it a “soaking bath” because magic marker is hard to get off.


3. Pay the cleaning service people in cash so there isn’t a paper trail (you did reserve a cleaning service, didn’t you?)


4. Force the children to sit down and write little notes of affection to the returning spouse. This will distract her from the marker stains on the children’s hands and feet.


5. Bribe the children to keep their traps shut about how things went down during the spouse’s absence. Plan on going to Toys R Us, the bookstore or the video game store while the cleaners are at your house.

Reha comes home today and since everyone in the house has been holding his or her collective breath until she finally shuffles through the front door of the Deal Family Compound, we all look forward to being able to finally and with great relief, exhale.

1. Reha is out of town until Friday night.


2. Because of #1 and my sixteen children, I lack the will to live after 8:30 PM, never long try and be witty, clever or funny


3. Jonah, the poster child for ADD, has a book report due on Wed. We will both be lucky to be alive come Wednesday morning.


4. Normal work stuff: Big Client, Tight Deadlines, Insanity, the Usual Fare™.


5. The new Madonna album drops today. (OK, technically, I don’t really care about Madonna’s new album, but I really don’t care about GTA IV coming out today and that’s about the only other thing happening in media right now.


6. I am bereft of creativity.

Take all those and stir them up in a pot (a hefty dose of #6, of course) and what do you have? A giant soufflé that deflates on your plate:

I’ll be back next week.

Wait, are you smirking? Stop that!

This is serious stuff! I can’t just let the kids fend for themselves, lock myself in the bedroom and write! (I generally write late in the evenings).

I have to be all responsible and be the Main Parental Unit for a WEEK!

People won’t get fed unless I do it!

Well, technically we have enough junk in the house that the kids could just graze and scrounge enough calories to get by, but NOT on my watch, baby! Real meals. With vegetables and hitting all the major food groups. At Chez Dad we dine well. Or we go out to someplace that has all the major food groups and takes AmEx.

Anyway, this week is going to be goofier than usual for me and updates will be virtually non-existent, I suspect.

Ellis (5) [Shocked and horrified]: What?!

J: Yeah, we considered “Floopy McBundy Deal” but decided against it at the last minute.

E [Even more chagrined]: Nu-uh! No Way!

J: Totally true, E.

E: Hmph!

[Silence for a few moments]

Jonah [chiming in from the other room]: I like “Floopy” better.

Top 10 reasons to die before you turn 40:

10. Gray hair
9. Spider veins
8. Your beautiful children turn into teenagers
7. The price of plastic surgery
6. Second mortgage
5. Mini-vans
4. Surly children and their spelling words
3. Paying for college
2. Mammograms
1. Chin hair

Hi!

What’s up, chicken butt?

Ha! Ha!

I mean, what’s up, Internet?!

OK, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say here, but they say you should always start off with a joke.

OK, here we go!

It’s a dirty joke. Am I allowed to tell dirty jokes? OK, it’s not really a DIRTY joke, but it is REALLY funny. Well, it’s dirty, but it doesn’t have swear words. Is that OK? Are you sure? I don’t want to get in trouble or anything. Remember that one time I said the “s” word kind of loud in Mrs. Hennessy’s class and everyone turned around and stared at me, but I didn’t know it was a bad word and then I had to go to the vice principal’s office and he made me stay after school and pound erasers clean on the red brick wall outside? That wasn’t very fun at all and I got chalk dust all over me and I had a coughing fit because of all the dust and then when I got home I got I trouble all over again for getting in trouble in the first place and then even more trouble when I wouldn’t say WHY I got in trouble at school, since I’d get in even more trouble for saying the “s” word?

OK, I’m going to tell my dirty joke now. Are you ready? Because you are going to DIE from laughing!

“How did the white horse get turned black?”

Hold on, I have to pee. I’ll be right back.

Hey! I’m back! The bathroom is kind of scary. The toilet is REALLY LOUD when it flushes. And the swirly it makes is SUPER strong and I thought maybe I was going to be sucked down into the vortex. Where does that go anyway?  think it goes into the sewer where the alligators live. I didn’t want to touch the seat, but I ended up having to go #2 so I had to sit. Do you think I’ll catch any diseases from sitting on that thing? Plus, my tooshie got splashed when I went and that’s really gross. I HATE it when that happens. I think the swirly thing tries to reach out and grab me and that’s why I run away really fast after I flush. You do that, too, right?

Where was I?

Oh! My joke! It’s really funny! Let me start again.

“How did the white dog get turned black?”

I know! I changed it to a dog from a horse, but it makes a LOT more sense as a dog instead of a horse. I’m allergic to dogs. And horses, too. We got me a puppy when Mom and Dad got a divorce, but no one knew I was allergic to dogs when we got the dog and since I’m allergic and the dog slept in my bed with me, I ended up scratching myself red and bloody. That wasn’t any fun, and my eyes got all runny and swollen, too, and then the puppy had to go away. I wasn’t really sad when the dog went away because even though it was really cute, I think I wanted to die after a couple hours.

Where was I?

Oh! The joke. It’s really funny! And dirty! It’s a dirty joke!

“How did the white dog get turned black?”

“He fell into a mud puddle!”

HA! HA! Get it!? The dog was white and then fell into a mud puddle and got all dirty! That’s why it’s a dirty joke!

Why aren’t you laughing? It’s funny!

I like to color. I like to play with my toys. My favorite toy is my princess cash register.

My big brother Lucas is fun and friendly and he needs a haircut or he won’t look cool.

My big brother Jonah likes to play with Legos. He’s kind of funny and is like a monkey.

My big sister Carrie was in a play. I wasn’t allowed to see it because it was too scary for me. During Spring Break she took care of me. We went out to lunch with her friend Autumn.

My mom did the marathon and she runs a lot and she likes to play games and she likes my pictures. The ones that I draw. She’s funny and makes little funny jokes like, “Why did the meatball roll down the house? Because he thought it would be fun, but he fell down and he hit his head and he went in the dirt and then he grew a bush and that had meatballs on it.”

I like to play princesses with my dress ups. My favorite movie is Mariposa and my favorite book is “The Secret Mermaid Handbook.” I go to school and I don’t like nap time and I like to sing and play with my friends. I like to read at school. Tonight my mom gave me a haircut and now I have nice bangs. My mom took me to see Disney Princesses on Ice and it was FUN! I liked it when Cinderella was in a carriage on ice. She had no horses. And when the dragon came out in the Sleeping Beauty part. He blowed out fire [sic.] and lit the ice on fire.

My Daddy is silly and he was sick over the weekend. He is not cute. He has an iPhone and it’s cool because you can touch the screen and watch Harry Potter Puppet Pals on it.

That’s all I have to say and can we be done now?

Jon: Thanks for talking to us, Wall Street. How are you doing today?

Wall Street: How am I doing? What are you crazy, kid? I’m dying over here. I’m up. I’m down. It’s like a frickin’ roller coaster ride over here. I have no idea what I’m doing from one day to the next. It’s driving me nuts.

J: Bit nervous, are you?

WS: Nervous. Out of sorts. As jittery as a hummingbird on crack, that’s how I am. Wait! Was was that? Did you hear something? Jeez, I’m jumpy this week.

J: I didn’t hear anything. Maybe you should sit down?

WS: Sit down he says. Like I can just sit down! Yeah, like that’s going to go over well on earnings day. Man, I have to keep GROWING! Constantly. The pressure is insane! Seriously. Can’t you hear that noise? It’s like a deep rumbling. I think I’m going to faint.

J: Well, look, I just have a few questions. I’ll try to be brief.

WS: OK. Fine. Go. Shoot.

J: OK. Here we go. I’ve been doing a bit of research on market segments and I’ve noticed in the past few weeks and months and that the market as a whole—

WS: Cripes, man. Get to the point! I don’t have all day here.

J: Um. Sorry.

WS: I can’t believe this crap. You gonna ask the questions or not? And what the hell is that noise? It’s like it’s vibrating my head off over here. You have one of those cheap Blackberries? Man, I hate those things.

J: I don’t hear anything on the line. Anyway. What’s the deal with the market? Where’s it going?

WS: You pulled me off the trading floor to ask me where the market is going? You have got to be kidding me. What is this, amateur hour? 

J: I just thought maybe you would have some insight.

WS: Insight. Ha! Kid, where I come from, insight is just another term for insider information, which means doing 5-10 at the Danbury minimum security facility. Here’s your insight kid: The market stinks right now. We are the Paris Hilton of markets right now. All glitz. No substance. The bears are in charge over here. We all thought the banks were solid, but those guys are shuffling paper over there to hide insane sub-prime losses faster than you can say “debenture.” Everyone’s panicking because they know oil is going to hit $150/barrel by summer and all the manufacturing jobs flew to China years ago and all this country cares about is getting the latest scoop on Britney Spears’ crazy hoo-ha. There’s your insight, buddy. That sound is getting louder! I can feel it through the floor now. It’s a deep growling and rumbling noise. You can’t hear that?

J: Sorry, I can’t. So what are you saying? Is it too late for us? Are we screwed economically?

WS: Listen, you didn’t hear it from me, but OF COURSE you are. Look, I’ll do fine. Golden parachute and offshore accounts and all that. But you little people with your mortgages and saving for retirement and college for your kids. Sorry, man, you folks are going to get nailed to the cross.

J: So it’s a recession that’s coming?

WS: DO NOT SAY THAT! What are you, STUPID? You can’t just say that word in public, man! THAT’S WHAT MAKES IT COME! It’s like Cthulhu or something. You speak the forbidden words and The Devourer comes!

J: Oh, sorry about that. OK, next question.

WS: Nope. We’re done. Besides, I have a small and undervalued petro-chemical outfit to take over and break into pieces. Wait! The rumbling is deafening now. IT’S IN THE ROOM WITH ME! AAHHH! MAKE IT STOP! FOR THE LOVE OF JOHN MAYNARD KEYES, MAKE IT STOP! OH NO! IT’S THE COMING OF THE RECESSION! IT’S HERE! HELP! AAAAHHHH!!!!!

And then there was a muffled gurgle and the phone line went dead.