Some Trucks Should Be Neutered

You should be so blessed if you’ve never seen these before:

These are silver metallic “nutz”.  Other colors include pink, titanium, black, orange and for all you hunters out there… camo. 

They go on any range of vehicle… but mostly trucks driven by guys who think they’re cool… like this:

This owner went with a more traditional, flesh-colored set of truck balls

I’m going to go out on a limb here and say if Jeff Foxworthy was still doing his “You know you’re a redneck if…” jokes, then half of them would be at the expense of the those brainy individuals who purchase these hard plastic male gonads for their truck.

I can tell you that the image I have of everyone who has these on their truck is something like this:

“Yessir… I thank them ther truck balls are the derndest funniest thang I e’er seen.  I like my blue ones the best… it goes best with mah eye color.  Where’s my Milwaukee’s Best at?”

Perhaps they’re only more prevalent where I live in Oklahoma because people here are ignorant and don’t have anything else better to do.

Why do I hate these “ornaments” so?  Well… I’ll tell you with four reasons.

First of all, I don’t want to look a testicles.  Plain and simple.  Now… if you’re a truck ball owner… you may like to do that and that’s okay.  I personally like boobs… that doesn’t mean I’m going to put them on the front of my car.

Hmmm… maybe there’s an idea here:  “Car Boobs”!  What do you think?

Secondly, I believe the presumption is that if you hang a pair of these saggy balls from the back of your truck is that your truck is a “male truck”.  The most common kind of saggy balls I see are on un-neutered dogs or bulls.  So, I am made to presume that your “male truck” is a fierce bull or rabid killer dog like a Pit Bull, Doberman or that dog from the movie “Kujo”.

What a farce.

What you have here is a common misconception that all trucks are “boys”.  These “ball hangers” are probably the same people who think all lady bugs and cats are “girls”.  What if your truck happens to be a girl?  Hanging the defining characteristic of the male anatomy will not suddenly turn your girl truck into a guy. 

Sorry Jed… you might want to check the sex of your truck before you go hangin’ some male marbles on it.

Thirdly, if you’re a big cowboy redneck who wears your skin-tight Levi’s, ten gallon cowboy hat, belt buckle bigger than your head and super starched western shirt while spitting your huge wad of chewing tobacco into a used Coke bottle… don’t you have enough working against you?  Truck balls aren’t going to get you any more attention than you’ve already gotten. 

My guess would be… if you’re trying to impress your lady friend with a romantic evening of dinner and a movie… she might just tell you she came down with a sudden illness when she sees you pull up in your mammoth truck that has saggy balls still swaying from the momentum of pulling into her driveway.  That is… if she hasn’t tucked tail and ran just from seeing you in your full regalia the first time.

My fourth and final reason is the plain and simple fact that it just isn’t funny nor are you seen in a positive light by anyone except maybe other oversized testicle owners!  You may think you’re being creative because you’re pretending that your truck is a big, bad, testosterone filled machine with one hot Rico Suave driving it when in fact you’re a giant hick driving an oversized vehicle to compensate for your lack of confidence and creativity.

I think I ate too many rage muffins this morning.

Whirlwind

So… the last 10 days have been somewhat of a whirlwind.

About 10 days ago, Bunny threw me a 3-week early surprise (30th) birthday party… and I was VERY surprised!!

Me (standing in the background… in black, not the white haired, white shirt guy)… shocked!  Who’d a thunk?

Little beknownst to me… our good friend Tabi bought me what I had been asking for this year: A Scanner.

Me and a picture of said “Scanner”.

I had asked for a scanner because I wanted to be able to preserve many many pictures I have of which there are no negatives.  Also… I wanted to be able to scan pictures to illustrate some of the things I may talk about on this blog frequently.  Also… I wanted to see if I might be able to scan my ass.

So… after the party ended, I happily thanked everyone for their attendance and gifts, I thanked my wife endlessly for throwing me this “surprise” birthday party for me of which I had “no idea what was happening” and off I went installing my “CanoScan LiDE 200”.

It was quite easy actually. 

Here was my first scan:

You might be saying, “Awww… what a cute picture of Daddy’s Little Girl!”  Well my friends that is actually a picture of Bunny when she was just a tyke herself!  What a fascinating thing this “technology” where you can magically take something from the outside world, some black magic happens inside the scanner and then… it’s on your computer!  Forever frozen into your hard drive!  Unless, of course, your hard drive is dropped from the nearest cliff, slips into a smoldering volcano or used to tip a one-eyed midget cab driver in Chicago… then it’s really gone.

So… I was ready to scan some more things when this happened:

My two brothers passed through on their way to my parent’s house for Thanksgiving and we decided to throw mass amounts of fermented barley and hops down our gullets (as well as some aged grapes in fancy bottles)… making me unable to have a desire to scan much of anything.  I also had surgery to replace my eyeballs with tiny shiny crystals.

Then this happened:

This is Daddy’s Little Girl several days later at my Mom and Dad’s playing in leaves.  I was too occupied with keeping her cute to worry about scanning anything.

Then this happened:

Thanksgiving.  I was too fat to even move.

So after all this… I was able to then focus on scanning some stuff.

First, this cartoon my mother cut our for me that I thought was extremely funny and appropriate:

Seeing that I have OCD and all…

Then she gave me this cartoon that I thought was funny too:

Seeing that I’m a huge fan of AMP Energy Drink and all…

Then I scanned this:

That would be my face.  Not my ass as I had originally planned… although some might call me an “ass-face”.

Anyway… much more to come this week of more subtance…

Thanks for hanging with me through Thanksgiving.

Am I The Worlds Hottest Dad?

This is something I’ve been struggling a lot with lately. While I do believe I am probably one of the hotter dads in the universe… I’m a little sketchy on if I am The Hottest Dad Alive.

Let’s explore the possibility shall we?

Some things that may inhibit me from being THDA are the fact that I don’t have a six-pack, I’m not a model (yet), I can’t ride a lion without a saddle, I haven’t quite yet perfected the worm and I laugh every time I fart. I am currently in the process of amending these things to try and solidify my case for THDA.

While those things are working against me… there are many more things that are working for me: I can bounce my pecs to the beat of any song, I have a sweet ass that will hypnotize you if you walk behind me, you can get lost in my eyes, I can sneeze while keeping my eyes open at the same time, I have 17 well placed tattoos, I can make stimulating conversation, I exude love and compassion, I can’t go a day without putting on deodorant and I always put down the toilet seat.

While most of the more prominent fathers in the world think they are quite assuredly THDA by making headlines in the pages of the New York Times, People Magazine, Us Magazine or Playgirl Magazine… I quietly take my place among the sea of normal fathers and build my army of followers who believe that I am indeed… more than likely… The Hottest Dad Alive.

Let me see if I can prove it to you and myself with a random cross section of the world of dads as we know it:

 

Papa K                                       VS.                                      Brad Pitt

This is no contest really. While Mr. Pitt may have me beat in the amount of money he makes, numbers of countries he’s been to, movie stars he’s dated and kids he’s adopted I decidedly crush him in a number of areas:

– my wife is hotter… Jolie looks like she’s hanging on a coat hanger
– He’s never made a good movie
– I’m not an asshole
– I’m pretty sure I could defeat him in a cage match… if they allowed us to have weapons

 

 

Papa K                                       VS.                          Twilight Freak

Okay… so he’s not a dad yet… but there are plenty of Twilight obsessed chicks who’d want to have his baby… so it’s only a matter of time.  I crush him in these areas:

– Unbelievably… I’m more tan
– He’s not really a vampire… neither am I but that’s not the point
– He’s British… I’m not
– I’m not ugly as hell

 

 

Papa K                                       VS.                                      Jon Gosselin

This one’s going to be easy:

– I’m not a douchebag who thinks wearing Ed Hardy clothes make me cool
– I didn’t marry a lesbian
– I didn’t wh0re my children (child in my case) to make a million bucks
– I’m not followed by paparazzi all day with nothing better to do than follow my pathetic life

 

 

Papa K                                      VS.                                        Male Praying Mantis

– My wife did not consume me after we consummated our relationship
– My eyeballs are positioned on the front of my face and not the sides
– I am decidedly bigger and much more attractive
– I can be camouflage if I want… but decide to not be most of the time

So… with these random examples I have hands down completely obliterated the competition. 

I am officially 100% hotter than these examples!

I think this proves my theory and solidifies my place as The Hottest Dad Alive.  We could do this all day but just to save everyone time and money… I officially appoint myself as such.  I expect to be addressed as “Hottest Dad Alive” in all future correspondence.  Thank you.

I accept this trophy in complete and utter humility.  You like me… you… really like me!!  Really… I couldn’t have done it without you.  Don’t worry… maybe you’ll win next year.

Movie Review: Up

Starring the voices of Ed Asner and Christopher Plummer

Rated PG

Total Running Time: 96 minutes

Few non-animated movies have as much heart as this movie does.  As did Wall-E before it, Up harnessed the emotions in me that make me feel damn good once I turn the TV off. 

Many folks may not be interested in seeing animated movies as the stigma might be that they’re “cartoons” or “they’re for kids”.  Hell… if half the adults in this world had the same values portrayed in movies like Up… humankind would have a much better track record.

Up starts pretty slow… but this slow time allows the main character to be built.  In a period of about 15 minutes, we see Carl Fredricksen go from a small child to a tired old man.  Up effortlessly portrays in this 15 minutes how quickly life can go by and if we’re not careful, we may not enjoy them as much as we could have.  Carl and his wife share an incredible love for adventure and from the moment they met each other as kids… they vowed to one day make it to Paradise Falls in South America: the epitome of their adventurer dreams.  Unfortunately, life gets in the way.  Despite numerous efforts to save money to go… they have to dip into their savings time and time again to help pay for things and before they realize it… they’re too old.  Then, in a blink of an eye… she’s gone.

Up to this point, Up doesn’t seem to me like it’s going to be that great of a movie.  I’m an emotional person and tears were welling up in my eyes as I went, “What the freak?  I thought this was going to be funny!”

Well… I was fortunately correct in my assumption as Up gradually gets to the moving and accomplishes what it was set out to do… and that’s “put a happy feeling in your tummy”.

At the final moments before Carl is forced into a retirement community, he rips the only home he’s ever known from its foundations aided from about a million helium filled balloons.  His destination:  Paradise Falls… to fulfill the lifelong dream he and his late wife had shared for so long.

With the surprise addition of a pudgy kid named Russell to his floating, runaway house, Mr. Fredricksen is forced to realize it’s never to late in life to start a new adventure and the fact that age is just a number… OLD PEOPLE CAN HAVE FUN TOO DAMMIT!!

I loved this movie.  Last year when Wall-E wasn’t nominated for “Best Picture” (although it won “Best Animated Movie”) I was a little put out because I think that animated movies get pigeon-holed a little.  The message that a lot of these animated movies portray are the same values that movies like “A Wonderful Life” did back when it won Best Picture back in ­­­1947.  Now movies, actresses and actors that win revolve around films portraying violence, murder, hatred and the like.  When is it going to be time to give movies like Up the credit it deserves?

By gosh… let’s give the award to a movie that depresses the poop out of you rather than a feel good movie like this one.

Gimme a break.

So… In the spirit of Thanksgiving… I give Up FIVE out of FIVE turkeys with tan lines:

I wouldn’t recommend renting this movie… I would recommend buying it.

WARNING: Insert At Your Own Risk!

Anyone who is considering becoming a parent had better be prepared before they ask me what it’s like becoming a dad because I will be brutally honest.  Still, no matter how brutally honest I am… that will never prepare them for the onslaught of emotions that will hit them the day they stare into the eyes of their child for the first time. 

I loved Daddy’s Little Girl the moment I laid my virgin Daddy eyes on her.  The memory of her grand entrance from the moment she was extracted from her home she’d been so comfortable in for nine months is forever burned into my memory.  I will never forget the emotions cascading over my limp body at that moment… a harbinger of things to come in the upcoming weeks, months… years.

Immediately… people would ask me, “So… how does it feel!”

“Awesome!” I would say.  “Better than I expected!”

But I really didn’t know “awesome” from a hole in my head.  I didn’t really fathom how awesome it was until much later in retrospect as I watch the growth of her from infant to toddler and beyond.  I look at her and I remember everything that we went through to get to that moment

If you haven’t been able to tell already, I’m a bit of an emotional person… a little too much most of the time.  For this reason, I tend to give a dissertation when people ask the question, “So what’s it like?”

It can’t be answered in a simple sentence… too much weighs on being a parent to answer that question in one sentence.

I answer the question the way I wish it had been answered for me when I was pre-child: with tough love.  Too often, the question is answered with images of love, happiness, joy, thankfulness, etc.  While these are indeed all components to being a parent… they are not the only ones.  Fear, indecision, anger and a multitude of other emotions also seem to weasel their way into your new psyche.  Love is the most powerful emotion but it is always being challenged by its lesser, more annoying emotional cousins who are vying for the top spot.

I was recently asked by someone here at work what it’s like being a dad because he and his wife are trying to get pregnant.  I think I may have just scared him enough to rethink their strategy.

I felt really bad.  I didn’t mean to make parenthood sound scary … well… maybe I was!  I was merely trying to make it sound more realistic as opposed to painting a picture of pillows, maple glazed donuts and rubber duckys. 

I honestly don’t know if I scared the pants off the guy or not… he said I didn’t. 

In answering this question… I usually try and to be painfully realistic in the beginning of my discourse and then end it with all the rewards that are making themselves known as the days go by.  While in the beginning, there was no return on the love, hugs and kisses being displaced by her mother and I… they are starting to be returned in abundant numbers.  With the abundance of these acts of love… the lesser cousins slowly sulk away knowing their defeat is immanent.

There are so many different kinds of love the human has for different aspects of their surroundings.  They love their wives.  They love their parents.  They love their siblings.  They love ice cream and pizza.  But the love you have for your child is a totally different love that’s more powerful, more unfamiliar and evolves faster than she grows out of her shoes.  I think that if an up-and-coming parent only realizes that they are going to get their ideas of love blown out of the water by the time their child is christened by their first earthly breath… then they’ll be on the right track.

Quick Hits

So… I ain’t got much to say today.  Only this:

I know that these things are pretty much old news but Bunny and I discovered this thing that takes warped pictures of your faces on our computer and couldn’t stop laughing at the above picture after we took it.  Just to be fair… here’s a picture of me as well:

I said I was going to plug some other bloggers every now and then so here’s a few for you to check out:

Luke, I am Your Father: Seems this guy is a lot on my level

Nerd Dads!: Just fun for nerd dads like myself

& Boobs, Ballgames and Beer: “A Blog By The Only Chick With A View From The Mancave”.

… and finally, if you’re a guy and want to just zone out for a while, burn a few brain cells and watch Jaime Pressly roundhouse kick some dude with a green moustache then watch this movie:

It’s about the furthest thing from Forrest Gump you can possibly watch… but I hear it’s based on a true story!

I’m going to go shove a 2 x 4 down the damn dogs throat that won’t stop barking about two doors down from us now…

My Useless Talents

We all have them.  Talents that may be fairly unspectacular when compared to others who may be able to hit a baseball 500 feet or run the length of a football field in two seconds… but talents nonetheless.  These talents may not make us millionaires… but they do make us unique.  Here are some of the things that I can do that most the population probably can’t do:

Spin A Pillow:

Spinning pillows never looked this good…

Twirl A Pen Around My Thumb:

 

Use your imagination as to what happens between these two photos.  I’ll help you: the pen spun around my thumb.

Sit Indian Style On The Floor And Push Myself Up Into A Handstand:

Step one: sit on your hump

Step two: strain then explode the veins in your neck forcing your legs heavenward…

Step 3: Celebrate

Wear My Hat Sideways:

Do not try this at home.  You could look like a giant douchebag.

Make This Face:

This face has been passed down in my family from generation to generation.

And This Face:

I can see down my throat…

And This Face:

Call Guinness… I see about eight chins there.  That’s gotta be some sort of record.

Discover Water On The Moon:

I took this picture with our digital.  See the water there… it’s that smudge that could just as well be an alien fart but just between you and me we’re going to call it water.

Worry Myself To Sleep:

I see giant boobies…

Fly:

Up up and away… through the roof… gonna have to fix that…

Put My Leg Over My Head:

Well… I used to be able to…

Okay… maybe not.  My hammy is tightening up…

Rack Myself:

10 out of 10 on form…

Not as graceful of an impact shot…

Oh… now that just looks painful.

Turn Into A Koozie:

Now… this is my best trick.  I can change at will to….

 A Texas Rangers koozie.  Pretty nifty, eh?

What are your unusual talents?

Side Note:  I have to give props to my very tolerant wife who took these pictures of me while being completely sick and wanting to go to bed.  She’s a keeper.  Love you Bunny!  Thank you!!

Whaat’s In A Naame?

So… I’ve received some kind backlash from this post and before you read this it please understand I’m not bashing what anyone has named their kids.  All the writing before the big finish is simply to illustrate all the little nuances that people put in their kids names that, through time and from people respelling it a different way, eventually results in a name that’s is completely misspelled.  So… if you’ve spelled your kids name “Lyndsi” instead of “Lindsay” or “Randi” instead of “Randy” it totally doesn’t annoy me to the point wanting to pitch myself off a cliff… I may misspell it though.  So, I’m sorry if I may offend you a little but all it is is my opinion.  Let me know what you think… a little debate is always good on these things…

In a desperate effort to make their kids “unique”, parents are pulling out all the stops when it comes to naming their children. 

In a certain sense, I kind of understand it.  Bunny and I named our daughter a fairly uncommon name… but not one I would classify as “weird” per se.

There are three types of ways to name your children, I’ll list them from least annoying to so annoying that it makes me want to rip the buttocks from my hindquarters and wear them as earmuffs.  Let’s visit these naming faux pas shall we?

1.  Slightly changing the spelling of the name. 

You run into this quite often.  I have a friend who named their daughter “Kourtney”.  And as I just wrote her name right now the spell check on my computer marked her name with a red squiggly line below it indicating that I spelled it wrong.  I would have spelled it “Courtney” personally… but they wanted it with a “K” and that’s cool. 

The only problem with this is that the wide majority of people are going to spell it wrong when sending you mail, entering you into wet t-shirt contests and filling out your application for parole.  This is probably annoying for the person with the name because they constantly have to correct the person spelling their name or just deal with the fact that their name is just going to be misspelled half the time.

But… it’s all in who’s doing the spelling of the name too.  My first name is subject to interpretation on how to spell it.  “Chris” can be spelled any number of ways:  Cris, Kris, Khris or even Chriss.  I’ll get any number of these spellings when people transcribe my name when I think that C-H-R-I-S is probably the most common way to spell my name.

So, while a slight changing of the typical spelling of a name is a little annoying, it’s not something to start wishing I had my two, fine, fleshy posterior pieces over my ears.

2.  Naming Them A Name Never Before Heard In The Annals Of Time

What will Apple’s kid brothers name be?  Banana?  Kiwi?  Pomegranate?

Gwyneth Paltrow most recently named her kid “Apple”.  I’ve heard of other names like “Cloud”, “Rainbow”, “Fruitstand”, “Bird”, “Moon”, “Camera” and “Dweezil”.  What the F?  I understand a kid should be given their own individuality but why give them a name that people are going to laugh at then roll their eyes and instantly understand that their parents were either famous movie stars, hippies, gangsters or named their kid somewhere around 4:20 in the afternoon (if you don’t know… that was a pot reference).

You could even take it a step further and name your kids “Adolf Hitler” and “Arian Nation” like this genius.

Awwww… what a cute little Adolf Hilter…

To be fair… if God had given us a little boy and not a girl… I really wanted to name him “Ca$h”.  Literally with the “$” instead of the “s”.  But this post isn’t about me…

3.  Totally F-ing Up The Proper Spelling Of The Name Just So It Will Confuse People

I have the dubious distinction at my work of having to call and confirm about 350 consultants and their addresses for our annual Christmas mailings.  Part of this responsibility is making sure there isn’t anyone left off of our mailing list.  A recent conversation with the receptionists at one of these businesses went something like this:

“Hi, my name is Chris with Billy Badass AV Company (yes… that is not the name of the company I work for) and I’m just calling around to confirm some names on our Christmas mailing list before we send all of them out.  I just want to make sure the names we have are people who still work there.  Can I run through them with you real quick?” I said.

She obliged and I ran through my short list of names I had for their company.

After I’m done with that I have to say, “Now… is there anyone that I didn’t name that should get our mailing?”

She replied, “Yes, you forgot Karen Taylor”.

My idiot mind just assumed that it was spelled as I just spelled it above.  I assured the receptionist I would add Karen and started my graceful exit from the phone call.  Before I could get through the end of my spiel she interrupted me and said, “Don’t you want to know how to spell her name?”

“What, ‘Taylor’?” I said.

“No, ‘Karen’”.

I spelled it out, “K-A-R-E-N?”

“No actually it’s spelled K-A-A-R-I-N”.

I had to repeat the spelling back to her several times just to make sure I got it right.  “Kaarin” is how she spelled “Karen”.  I held back my frustration at Kaarin’s parents until I got off the phone then I made a vow to find them someday and ask them, “why”… right before I slapped them across the face with armadillo roadkill.  Why would you purposefully misspell your kids name?  Unlike “Chris” that can be spelled “Cris”, “Kris”, or at worst Khris… there aren’t really many other routes to go with “Karen” unless you go off the deep end with “Kaarin” or maybe “Care-In” or “Cuhairen”.  Kaarin is forever destined to have to misinform people on the correct spelling of her name which should be “Karen”. 

That’s not being unique or different… that’s just being annoying to everyone involved.

—————————————————————————————–

So… if you’re thinking of naming your kid “Sttepfanny” instead of “Stephanie”, “Fillup” instead of “Phillip”, “Cayteah” instead of “Katie”, “Fhf5orrtejj” instead of “Eddie” or “Wolfman” instead of “Bill”… please don’t.  Please don’t because the only person that thinks it’s cool is you.

How I Know I’ve “Made It”

I think everyone has a different standard on what it means to “make it”. 

What was your “one thing” you wanted as a kid?  Did you want a garage full of fast cars?  Did you want a bunch of money in your bank account?  How about a 4-story, 10 bedroom, 7 1/2 bathroom house and five car garage?  Or your face on the cover of “US” magazine?  Or a sex change operation?  A penthouse in the south of France?  A third boob?  Two buttholes?  A permanently hairless body?  Steel wool instead of hair?  A girlfriend from a rap video?  X-ray vision?  A midget slave?

For me… for some reason… in my mind… the way I feel as though I’ve made it… is… to have a crapload of movies.

Ahhhh… my lifes work.  Something that I’ll pass along to my kids who will pass along to their kids and so on and so on until the end of time.  I have this picture framed at work.

A closer up shot of my movies, or as I like to call this particular area of my movie collection, “shelf two, DE through IN”

When I was a kid, I imagined having a house with an entertainment room and the walls filled with a library of movies.  Then I could have a movie night at my house where every one of my friends would come over, we’d pull out the list of my movies and pick one.  Maybe two.  Maybe a trilogy!  Drama night?  Comedy night?  Keanu Reeves night?  Sean Connery night?  Julia Ormond night? Macaulay Culkin night?  Pick your poison.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that my parents had (and still have) a 13-inch television (that is now almost officially 20 YEARS OLD MOM AND DAD!!!)for me to watch my movies on.  Maybe it had something to do with the fact that movies were really my only friends for a long time during the 4 year period in which I was homeschooled.  Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I had stars in my eyes and I would pull these actor’s talents from the screen and burn them into my subconscious only to let them sit there and suffocate within the deep inner recesses of my psyche, destined never to show their face unless by some miracle I’m discovered by a Hollywood agent as I act like a mime on a sugar high in front of my one year old.

Whatever the reason, for me Lots of Movies = Success.  So if that is the true measure of success in a worldly sense… then I guess I’m pretty successful.

The really sad thing about having this as a way to measure my success is that I tend to just sit there and stare at them.  When no one else is around… I’ll sit on the side of my couch and take it ALL IN. 

My thought process might go something like this:

“Chris… you are the coolest person alive!  Look at all your movies!  You have finally made it!  Your collection is so finely distributed that any person who enjoys a particular genre would be able to pick a movie they like!  Wow… go make love to your wife you Godfather of movies you!”

Embarrassingly enough, Bunny once caught me making sexy eyes at my movies and took pictures of me.  Now I know what it’s like to be famous and followed by paparazzi who catch you in compromising situations.

Moments before the flash caught me off guard…

Moments after the flash caught me off guard…

Moments before smashing the only digital camera we have then promising to buy a new one…

Recently I just alphabetized them.  Next I plan to itemize them on a spreadsheet complete with links to the synopsis of each movie.  I’m also in the process of engineering something like a jukebox… but for movies where someone can choose a movie then… BAM… it plays on the TV.  Then I plan on making love to the movies… wait… what?  No, no… I didn’t mean to say that.

If anyone breaks into our house while we’re gone… they can have anything… just don’t take my movies… please.

Help me.

Five Questions

1.  Do you think farts are funny?

You all know the answer is “yes”.

2.  What’s a good new TV show I should start watching?

… since Rock Of Love isn’t on anymore.

3.  What’s something I should write about next week?

If no one can think of anything I’m going to write about this.

4.  Which should I learn to do first: break dance or kung fu fighting?

I mean… they’re both so similar…

5.  Short hair or long hair on me?

Also notice the blonde and dark contrast of Bunny’s hair… she hates that it looks so good dark!!