Monday, May 30, 2011

Cake Apocalypse

My son Peter recently turned one, and the best way to describe how he ate his cake would be a term that my broseph-in-law Danny coined:

Cake apocalypse!

[Picture: Cake apocalypse!]

Here's what the cake looked like originally. Betty made this for Peter, and she made a bigger version of it for the guests.

[Picture: The cake before it was eaten]

Here's it being placed in front of Peter, just so you can see the cake-to-human ratio. It's literally half his size.

[Picture: Cake-to-human ratio]

Here's his first grab at the cake. Notice how he has his entire hand on the cake.

[Picture: First cake grab!]

As opposed to my daughter Anne, whose first touch of cake was literally a touch of her finger. And she didn't eat much more than that. You can tell by her face in this next picture that she wasn't really sure what to do with the cake. As our first child, we sort of sheltered her from all the sugary treats that first year of life.

[Picture: Anne's first cake encounter.]

Not so with Peter! He knew just what to do. Here's a picture of the cake literally two minutes after his first grab. It's like a scene from NCIS.

[Picture: The cake is dead!]

In case you were wondering - since we were - no, he did not drop much on the ground or spill a lot down his shirt. He ate all the whole damn thing.

Peter's approach to eating his cake is called "Shock and Awe." He shocked us by digging in with both hands, and awed us with his ability to eat anything and everything without getting full. He's a bottomless pit! Yet he's only in the fifth percentile for weight. Maybe eating an entire birthday cake will get him into at least the tenth percentile.

[Picture: Omnomnomnom!]

As you can see in this next picture, there is hardly anything left of the original cake. If you hadn't known that it was originally in the shape of a one then you wouldn't be able to tell me. We had to take the cake away from him while he was washing some icing down with his milk, as we thought he would go into sugar shock.

[Picture: Refreshing!]

We might not have had the rapture on May 21st, but this cake met its maker on May 28th.

Thursday, May 26, 2011

The Power of Facebook

There's been lots of talk about social networking lately. Journalists have started just quoting whatever is on a celebrity's Twitter page instead of doing actual research. Facebook and LinkedIn are probably about to have IPOs. MySpace is going down, finally - it's 92 in Social Networking years.

Even Toyota just came out with a new social network called Toyota Friend so your car can tell you when you need an oil change, in case the dummy lights and dashboard sticker aren't enough to get you to take care of your car. It also tweets you to tell you that it's about to go out of control on the highway, all while uploading photos of you picking your noise and/or singing to Sirius Hits One at red lights.

Personally, I'm partial to Facebook. I swore that I would never get on it, but now that I'm on it, I need it. It's digital crack.

But social networks aren't just about keeping up with your friends' current events or scouring your friends' pictures for bikini shots from their summer vacation. Social networks can actually help you.

Take, for example, my keyboard.

A few months ago Betty got me piano lessons as a gift. How wonderful is that??? The only catch is, I needed something to practice on.

We have a piano but it was severely out of tune. (We just got it tuned, and it was down a half step across all keys. It hadn't been tuned for 30+ years and six moves!) And I didn't have a keyboard.

But I did have my daughter's Kitty Keyboard. (The one pictured in the link is orange, but ours is green.)

Kitty Keyboard makes lots of great sounds - regular piano, organ, bells, an eery voice sound, but my personal fave is called "Meow". When you're on Meow Mode, every key makes a meow sound.

I like to play 46 and 2 by Tool on the Kitty Keyboard in Meow Mode. I just can't help myself!

Anyway, one day I decided that if I was going to take piano seriously then I needed a keyboard. But I also didn't want to spend $300 for a new one. So I logged onto Facebook on my iPhone, asked if anyone was selling one, and got a response 10 minutes later.

That's the power of Facebook, people!

I'd like to thank my friend Caye for responding so quickly to my Facebook post about a keyboard. I'm still not very good at the piano yet, but at least now when I'm banging away at the keyboard at night, I can plug in my headphones so Betty can sleep soundly knowing that she doesn't have to hear me practice and that I'll be entertained for hours on end.

Monday, May 23, 2011

The Hot Nurse

I was recently volunteered to dress up for charity, with the proceeds going to the people affected by the tornadoes in Alabama. Each dollar donated constituted one vote for what I should dress up as. I'm proud to say that we raised almost $600 in cash and supplies in just two days, but ashamed to say that my friends voted to see me dressed up as a hot nurse.

Who needs enemies when you have friends like mine, right?

Anyway, just so my frenemies don't think they can blackmail me any time soon, I thought I'd just go ahead and post a picture of me in my incredibly hot nurse outfit. Just keep in mind that by "hot" I mean "this picture will melt your eyeballs."


[Picture: I'm not proud... but I am dead sexy.]

So... this was the best picture of myself dressed as a nurse that I could find. And in case you were wondering, yes, my man-boobs filled out the front of that outfit just fine, thank you.

I had to change at the venue in order for my kids to not see me dressed like this. They're too young, they wouldn't understand. I don't care if they see this when they're older, but I don't want them to have to go to therapy over this.

Also, I should point out that after seeing myself in a nurse outfit, I have started logging all of the food that I eat. And, to nobody's surprise, I eat a lot of shit. I'm also keeping track of the times that I exercise - or, also to nobody's surprise, the sheer lack exercise of that I get - and have already lost 5 pounds. But 4 of those pounds were from my wig and sexy knee-highs.

Thank you to everyone who donated. And thank you for everyone who voted for me to dress up like a hot nurse. I also bought a lab coat and think that both the nurse outfit and lab coat will come in handy for one of our doctor friend's bachelorette party later this year.

God help us all.

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Peter the Great

My son, Peter, turned one today!

He's a big boy now, so we let him get his driver's permit. We figured he's gotta learn sometime! My parents got him his first set of wheels, and he drove his shiny new red sportster all over the house - stopping for nobody! Books, toys, people... anything that was in his way got squashed. He knows how to "go", but he hasn't mastered turning the steering wheel yet. And the few times he did use the wheel he did not use his blinkers.

He's clearly already a Baton Rouge driver.

[Picture: Peter in his new car]

We were able to capture lots of great pictures of him enjoying his birthday because we bought a new camera as a birthday present to ourselves. Actually, our old camera died Friday night, so we did what any practical parents would do and freaked out, did minimal research online and then sped to Best Buy to make sure we had something for his first birthday. The camera we wanted wasn't in stock, so we bought something else - and will probably take it back, because a lot of the pictures we've taken have been blurry. At least we had something for his birthday.

After Peter crashed his car into a pile of toys, we told him the story of his birth: how after watching two episodes of Lost, Mommy started having contractions five minutes apart - and once three minutes apart - and so we called the hospital. The on-call doctor called us back and said for us to meet him at the hospital, but he showed up 45 minutes after we did, and that's after it took us 30 minutes to go there. (He overslept. Otherwise, Peter's birthday might be 5/21.) We told him about how I almost got in a fight with the security guard at the hospital because I was annoyed with him because he was taking his sweet time getting Mommy a wheel chair to roll her into the hospital.

We told him how he was almost born in the van on the way to the hospital because I hit every red light... how we didn't know if he was going to be a boy or a girl and that we were thinking up girl names between each of Mommy's contractions... and how we forgot to pack the camera and Pops had to bring it from our house.

Hey... camera problems two years in a row, almost a year to the date from each problem?! I think it's a conspiracy!

The good news is, we haven't had camera problems in between his zeroth and first birthdays, so have taken lots of pictures of him in the last year. You can check him out at his own web site, Pete of the Day.

Happy birthday, Peter! I love you!

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Driving While Texting

I heard on the radio that driving while texting is the equivalent of driving after drinking four beers. That's a pretty sobering assessment.

Immediately after hearing that, I equated the number of beers with all of the other hazards of the road. Here is my Beer Chart for the listed activities:

Driving while...

1. Texting: four beers. This is our control group.

2. Checking out an accident: three beers.

3. Checking out a hot girl on the side of the road: four beers. (Same as texting.)

4. Checking out a hot girl in spandex on the side of the road: 8 beers. (Twice as dangerous as texting, but four times as fun.)

5. Cussing the person in front of you out because they're a moron: one beer.

6. Cussing the person behind you out because he's an idiot: two beers.

7. It's raining: five beers.

8. It's dark: two beers.

9. It's raining and it's dark: ten beers. (The factors are multiplied.)

10. It's dark and rainy, there's an accident ahead of you and it looks like a hot girl in spandex is on the side of the road, and she was either in one of the cars or was the cause of the accident because one of the drivers wasn't paying attention to the road and was instead paying attention to the girl's extremely tight pants and curvaceous body: twelve beers, two shots of Wild Turkey and a #2 from Taco Bell.

There you have it. Now you know that hot girls are the cause of most automobile accidents. And knowing is half the battle.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Mother's Day

I'm a few days late with my Mother's Day blog, mainly because I'm so tired from being Mom for a day.

My daughter likes reading the Fancy Nancy books at the moment. They're great books. Nancy says a fancy word, like "bouquet", then explains that "bouquet is a fancy word for a bunch of flowers." It's great! It's a vocabulary lesson without a mean old English teacher looking down her nose at you.

There's a Fancy Nancy book for Mother's Day, so I gave it to Anne for Easter so we could get ready for Mother's Day. In Fancy Nancy's Marvelous Mother's Day Brunch, Nancy, along with her sister and her dad, do the following things for her mom:

1. Nancy makes her mom a "Do not disturb" sign for her door, so her mommy can nap. So Anne and I made a sign that hangs on the doorknob of Mommy's room and says, "Nap in progress!" Fancy Nancy lets her mom sleep in late, but Anne was just too excited to see Mommy and couldn't wait to wish her a Happy Mother's Day, so Betty had to settle for being woken up early. That just means we all got to spend more time together!

2. Nancy makes her mom a glittery card. Anne, Peter and I got Mommy a card and drew our names in it.

3. Nancy makes her mommy some waffles with whipped cream and blueberries.

[Pic: Waffles, blueberries and whipped cream!]

We also took Mommy out for beignets for lunch, just to make sure she got enough sugar!

[Pic: Beignets!]

4. Nancy gives her mommy a bouquet of flowers. I wasn't able to manage that, because I wish Betty all weekend and didn't want to get flowers ahead of time. But Anne, Peter and I did give her flower seeds that we all planted. (It might be too late to plant anything, but we had fun planting them as a family!)

5. Nancy and her sister give her mommy a nap. So we made sure that Mommy got a nice long nap.

The book doesn't say anything about dinner, but Daddy made steaks for Mommy. Take that, Nancy's dad!

One other gift that Mommy got was that she didn't have to be Mommy for the day. Instead, I got to play Mommy. And I have to say, being Mommy is a lot of work. I was worn out by midday!

So... thanks to Betty for being such a great mom to our kids! I love you! And I'm so glad that I don't have to be Mommy every day! I appreciate you so much, you have no idea. I'm so amazed at what you're able to teach our kids. Mother's Day is supposed to be about giving you gifts, but you gave us a gift by showing us how much of your own time and energy you sacrifice to give to us. You showed us how special we are to you, by us pretending to be you for a few hours.

You are the greatest. I love you.

I would be remiss if I didn't point out that my wife has two great role models for Moms of the Century, with her mom and my mom. Us Tanory / Mathes men have it good!

Talking Dirty

I got in a rather randy mood the other day and decided to talk dirty to Betty.

"Mud," I said aloud.

"What?!" she asked.

"Dirt mixed with water. Dirty, muddy water," I answered, cool as a cucumber.

"Um... I have no idea what you're talking about. But if it's about sex, I'm not in the mood."

I figured she was playing hard to get, so I said, "Dragging dirt into the house. Eating off the floor."

"Yeah, our floor's filthy," she said. She always says that. But it's really never all that bad. But I liked how she was finally starting to play along.

"Oooh," I ooohed, "yeah that floor's filthy. That's a dirty, dirty floor!"

"No, seriously, the floor's filthy," she said. "Would you go sweep and mop it for me?"

Now we're talking! I know that nothing turns a woman on more than a man doing housework (most likely while flexing his six-pack and biceps simultaneously) so I went straight away to the kitchen to start sweeping. And after thirty minutes sweeping and mopping, I realized that the floor really was filthy, and that being surrounded by filth was not all that sexy.

I went back to Betty to apologize for talking such dirty, dirty talk to her.

"Endust," I whispered. "Windex. A mopped kitchen... a vacuumed carpet... the white glove test...."

Time for some Clean Talk!

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Yes I Can, No You Can't

Remember the song, sung by a girl to a boy, that goes: "Anything you can do, I can do better? I can do anything better than you!"

We've had the Boys vs. Girls feud going on for a long time now. You may know it as its official name of "Girls Rule, Boys Drool". But now it's time to throw down the gauntlet and state what each sex is really better at.

Here are five topics broken down by gender.


Girls are better at having babies.
Sorry boys, but as far as we know there's only been one man who's had a baby, and he was really a girl or had girl parts or something. So in terms of baby-having ability, girls rule.

Boys are better at making babies.
At least, we win in terms of number of times and total amount of time that we think about sex on a daily basis. Plus, because we don't actually have to carry the baby, we could potentially have multiple babies with multiple women in the same time that it takes for a single woman to have a baby. (But of course we don't, because we lost all our game back in college and are now too fat and our jowls make women other than our wives try to ignore us in the hallway, and/or we're married.)


Girls are better at reading.
If you are reading this then statistically you are a girl, because men apparently can't read. Congratulations on having a vagina.

Boys are better at Math.
A man made up that formula that figured this one out though, so it's hard to trust it.


Girls are better at holding a grudge.
If you're a girl (and again, statistically you are if you are able to read this) then just the mention of holding a grudge has brought back painful memories of being teased, having your man stolen from you by that bitch Jessica in the seventh grade, and that time your husband forgot your anniversary. You have a Rolodex in the back of your head and defrag it every night so it's nice and ready to be used at a moment's whim. Whereas men forget what we wore yesterday or ate this morning, you know every detail of the night when your ex-best friend talked about you behind your back at a slumber party.

Boys are better at fighting.
Girls claim to be all into peace and love, and want everyone to get together and be friends. In reality, girls are bitches. The difference between boys and girls is that, whereas girls hold a grudge forever (see above), they rarely act on it. Boys will just smack each other around for no good reason, then become best friends. But to be fair, girls are more fun to watch when they do actually fight, since there's always the chance that they can rip each others' clothes off.


Girls are better at cheerleading.
Yes, I know there are male cheerleaders. Yes, I know those guys are really strong and some can do amazing flips. But the reality is, most sports fans are guys, and if they're going to watch cheerleaders (which they will) then they want them to be female. But by all means, if you're a male cheerleader, continue leading the cheers... because we need you to hold the ladies up so we can get a better look at them.

Boys are better at football.
It's not just because we generally don't let girls play football. It's just that most women are too petite to play either offensive or defensive linesman.


Girls are better at socializing at pretty much all levels of society.
Girls are social creatures. They can't even go to the bathroom by themselves. If we didn't have women then all men everywhere would probably be living alone in the woods somewhere. The only reason that men come together for sporting events, or even learn to play sports in the first place, is to watch the cheerleaders.

Boys are better at hunting in packs.
Men are natural-born hunters. We go hunting together. We go fishing together. And usually, all of the men in the group come back alive and with all of their body parts intact. But let a group of women out into the field with loaded weapons, and there's a good chance that their love for grudgery will come into play, and only one will make it out alive.

So there you have it: now you know what facets of live that girls and boys each excel at. Not all of these are necessarily true at an individual level - for instance, I know some girls who can shoot extremely well and can play soccer like nobody's business, and I also know some men who can actually read - but these are things that I think apply to the sexes on a general scale.

But it's important to keep in mind that, although one group may rule and another may drool at a particular topic, when we work together compliment each others' skill sets. We need men to be hornballs so women can have babies. We need women to be cheerleaders so men will play football. (By the way - I just thought of a great way to end the NFL lockout - have the cheerleaders strike. The NLF lockout will end THAT VERY DAY.) When we work together, WE ALL RULE. And if we're lucky, some of us will still drool.

Tuesday, May 03, 2011

We Got bin Laden... Now What?

As you already know, the US killed bin Laden. Instead of celebrating, I decided to take a somber approach by posting "Now on to #2" on my Facebook page. I mean, let's face it, killing bin Laden has probably ticked a lot of radical extremists off, and now's not the time to let up the gas on this particular terrorist organization.

By #2 I meant Ayman al-Zawahri, the brains behind Al Queda, but apparently my friends had different ideas. Here's who my friends think the CIA should take out next:


My friends hate Barney for lots of reasons. First, he's a hideous, man-eating dinosaur. I know he seems all lovey-dovey, but the reality is that he's a T-Rex - one of the most vicious creatures to have ever walked the earth. The fact that he's singing and dancing with our children can only mean that he's trying to lure them into his giant, gaping maw and eat them for dinner.

Plus, haven't you ever seen Jurassic Park? Barney and his friends will probably mate at some point, creating more dinosaurs, who would then eat more humans in an effort to take over the world. Barney loves us - for dinner! He must be stopped!

The Wiggles

When I think of the Wiggles, I think of three things: homo-erotic Australian men in colorful shirts, worms and an eminent raid by the CIA on their music factory. These guys - some of which were originally studying to be pre-school teachers - combine their gifts of music along with theories of child development, all in an effort to brainwash our children to dance around like lunatics. I've never really watched them so I have no opinion on them as a group, but apparently they've led to the creation of other horrific children's television such as the Doodlebops, and therefore they must be destroyed.

The Teletubbies

I have to admit, I wouldn't mind the CIA blowing the brains out of the Teletubbies. Those things freak me out. I won't even post a link or video of them because I can't stand to look at them. Instead of arachnophobia, I have teletubphobia.

Captain Kangaroo

How could anyone hate Captain Kangaroo? But apparently "kangaroo" invokes thoughts of "Australia" which leads people to think of the Wiggles. Bob Keeshan, the actor who played Captain Kangaroo for 30 years, has already passed away. But my friends would like to pull an Oliver Cromwell on him. They are also in favor of taking out Mr. Green Jeans, who again, is already dead. Apparently my friends think the cast of Captain Kangaroo will come back as zombies. I never watched Captain Kangaroo and can only think of the guy dressed as a kangaroo in Adam Sandler's movie Big Daddy.

Yo Gabba Gabba

I've never watched Yo Gabba Gabba except to find this video of them on YouTube. I watched it with the sound off, because I write my blogs at night as otherwise Betty would proofread them and then she wouldn't let me write half the things I write. And all I can say is, I'm happy that my sound was off. I don't know if Yo Gabba Gabba has a moral to it or not, but at the end of the day, I think we need a couple of helicopters filled with Navy SEALS to descend upon these hideous creatures, subdue them with rockets to the face, and then take out the guy in the orange band instructor outfit.

Every other children's television character

It's apparent that my friends hate children's television. So I'll just sum up the rest of my friend's preferred CIA hit list by just saying, "Take out all of the children's television characters!"

Just leave the Disney princesses alone, as a personal favor to me. And if you have to take some out, at least let Jasmine and Ariel live, as they show off the most cleavage. I'm a married man with two kids, I have to take my victories whenever I can.