I'm Fat AND a Stupid Monkey

Buggy stayed home from school the other day as he was not feeling well. After work, my wife comes home, and in the process of conversation somehow the word short is brought up. I don't remember what exactly was said, but it seemed to be a shot from my wife at both Buggy and myself. So I looked the kid dead in the eye as he was in his mother's arms and said, "you hear that, Bug, you're short!"

Without even missing a beat he shoots right back, very matter-of-factly, "You're fat." The boy has a very dry sense of humor, and of course once a thought hits his brain, it generally comes right out his mouth. And to be honest, as dry and easily as it came out of his mouth, I'm not sure if this was his idea of a joke, or just a debative form of us shooting derogatory facts at each other. Either way, I was temporarily shut up, and of course his mother couldn't help herself and busted out laughing hysterically. Apparently she is amused by the fact that my boys are smart enough and bold enough to go toe-to-toe with their father. And apparently having missed school due to a stomach ache was enough for him to be feeling much better.

Generally I have a talent for sarcasm and a biting wit that usually keeps people in check around me. I have in the past used this very effectively against my wife. Yes, I am aware that this is not the best way to go about building a relationship, but it appears she is getting the last laugh via our offspring. It appears that the same gene that has allowed me to fake my way to a superior position has been passed on. I'm going to have to maintain my alliance with the Colonel to keep these kids in check and from usurping my power over the Mookified compound.

So yes, I am officially fat for sure now.

Last weekend the boys and I are wrestling around, like we do. Josh has once again wildly thrust himself in the unenviable position of being chicken-winged by me. Sooner or later we are going to have to get him to learn to focus. Too much of this power ranger/mutant ninja turtle flying around business has done in his ability to fight me effectively. Well, while I'm holding him at bay, Bug climbs onto the couch and prepares to challenge me while I have one arm occupied with holding his brother down. But he makes the mistake of leaving his arms at his side, laughing and announcing that he is about to make the leap from the couch and come choke me out. So I give him a little fatherly open-handed love tap on the cheek.

Incredulous he looks at me and exclaims, "You just slapped me like a stupid monkey!" and continues laughing his head off as he prepares to remount his attack. It took me two days to realize that I slap him like a stupid monkey does, in his mind. I thought I had slapped him, as he is a stupid monkey. But nooooo, turns out not only am I fat, I am also a stupid monkey. And this is currently his phrase of the week I guess. I called home early this morning to say hello to the boys before they left for school. After Buggy handed the phone to Josh, I hear "OW. You slapped me like a stupid monkey!" come over the phone from Buggy's mouth. I have a feeling "Stupid monkey" will be a key part of his vocabulary until he finds something new to entertain himself.

Yesterday I hit the RedBox and rented the movie Law-Abiding Citizen. It was an excellent movie. One of the Stars is played by actor Gerard Butler, the same guy who played King Leonidas in the hit movie 300. There is a scene in both of these movies where you end up seeing Butler naked as a jaybird from behind, showing off his butt. Well, I got up to get ready for work last night and my wife is watching the movie. Just as I walk in, that scene is on the TV. I made casual mention that I think Gerard Butler gets paid a good chunk of change specifically for showing off his rear end. And so my wife replies, a little too quickly I might add, "Yeah, and its a really nice butt!"

Nothing else to say to me, just enough words to let me know that Gerard Butler has a better ass than mine.

So I guess the moral of this story is that I need to start working out to sculpt my butt to look more like Butler's and maybe get a more enthusiastic response to its form; and to trim down the obvious fatness I have going on. And then, when time and money permits, I need either plastic surgery to correct my monkey-like physical features, or mental health treatment to get out of a monkey-like mindset.

Either way, I have a lot of work ahead of me!

Assigning Blame For My Son's Sayings

Saying #1: Junk
Culprit: Buggy
Blame: Me
Rate of Saying: Everytime he and his brother fight, or he comes in contact with anyone for contact play purposes.

Unfortunately, it happened once when he headbutted his brother below the belt. My initial reaction was simultaneously trying to hold the laughter back (lets face it, hits to the groin are always funny unless it happens to you) and feeling sympathy. but when I opened my mouth the only thing that emerged was the admonishing statement of telling Buggy "Don't hit your brother in the junk."
And ever since then, the concept of hitting one in the junk, replays in his head over and over again. If he crawls onto my leg to latch onto me, any movement and I hear him state so eloquently, "Oh, Dad, you just hit me in the junk!"
He's overly dramatic, and I believe is actually looking for excuses to just say the word "junk" in reference to his groin. This is of course the boy who would stand outside on the sidewalk, and in an awkward attempt to amuse his father, and punch himself down there and then laugh....repeated several times, because apparently his activity overrides my authority to tell him to stop doing that.

Saying #2: Nipples
Culprit: Buggy
Blame: I HAVE NO IDEA!!! (seriously)

The other evening, prior to supper, Buggy and Josh are wrestling. Josh was getting hot, so he goes to take off his sweatshirt. Buggy, in mirrored emulation starts to take off his single t-shirt, and loudly and boldly proclaims, "OHHHH, So you want to show off our little nipples, huh?!"
He has mentioned his nipples in the past, and continues to occasionally mention them still- again, despite efforts of both myself and his mother to tell him to quit talking like that. And again, his "fun with vocabulary" is still overriding any parental authority.

Saying #3: Payback
Culprit: Buggy (yes again, its always him)
Blame: again, I have no idea where it came from, although this one saying I'm okay with him using.

Everytime Josh gets the better of Buggy when wrestling, or takes the kind of random cheap shot out of nowhere, like siblings do from time to time, Bug is insistent on paying it back. I've heard the statements come forth in various forms:

1. "Oh that's IT, Josh. You're going to get the payback now!"
2. (When Josh is still in wrestling mode and Buggy can't get the upperhand) "You're
NOT playing fair Josh...you need to come here and turn around so you can get your payback!"
3. "Dad, Josh wont let me give him his payback!!!"
4. (as he and Josh are in the middle of grappling, and it looks more like a bear hugging anywhere on the body contest) "You're gonna get it, you're getting payback! I'm gonna give you the payback you deserve!"
5. "But Dad, after I was going to choke him out, he flipped me and stepped on my arm. He needs Payback!"

Saying: For no reason...
Culprit: Buggy
Blame: I think this preface for any excuse is biologically rooted into the DNA of every kid. Kind of like the answer of "I don't know" whenever asked why they did something.

This particular saying is usually accompanied with my cat, The Esteemed Colonel Beauregard Sterling Lovell, having peeled back ears, wild eyes, and a twitching tail. He gets a little worked up sometimes. And usually right about the time I here the words "for no reason" I also see the Colonel lunging at Buggy and try to dig claws into his torso and eat him.

The cat goes through severe mood swings....sleeping and full on Pscyho Killer Kitty. If Buggy is running through the house, and the cat is in one of his moods, he may well get chased by the cat as he streaks on by. Of course Buggy is encouraged by this, and baits the cat into doing this two or three more times. If the Colonel becomes bored, he does what cats do best: Make it quite clear they aren't going to even bother feigning interest. But then what does Buggy do in return for the snub? He goes up and starts patting the Colonel on the head, or back, or pet his belly. This is a very dangerous maneuver during the Colonel's wild moments of the day. But, since I do it, you know, to TRAIN the attack kitty, apparently buggy thinks he's as much or more of a man than me, so he can do it too. But then the Colonel leaps at Buggy and tries to eat him. Then those words, "Colonel is trying to attack me FOR NO REASON", and thats when it happens. Unfortunately, I never have a video camera ready to go, because it is quite the humorous sight to see.

A Birthday and A Beating

All started out well. My Pseudo-brother Jeremiah's son Jaden had his 1st birthday. His wife Holly had the party at her parents' house, as there was more room there than at their place. And good thing, as the turnout was the biggest I had ever seen for a 1 year old's birthday in my life. Good food, good cake and ice cream, good people. Not much more you could ask for in a birthday party.

The presents came, and Jaden was interested at first only in one of the cards, but eventually became enamored with one toy, while other children helped open his presents. Daddy Miah was videotaping the event, while Mommy Holly took care of overseeing the present opening. Holly did a good job, as most mothers do at these sorts of things. Miah on the other hand...very different story. On more than one occasion he almost slipped up and gave away the fact he was watching more of the Iowa-OSU game that started just as the present opening began. I also caught him videotaping me...and I'm pretty sure he was checking out my crotch. Thought I saw a little wink and a nod right after that. He is a weird one.

After the gift opening, the party divided into factions. Most people upstairs, a few of us downstairs watching the game. Then came Buggy downstairs, who decided to pick a fight with uncle Miah. It didn't work out so well for Buggy, but eventually Miah was relieved by my other son Josh. They went back and forth for quite awhile, providing some entertainment in addition to the game on TV. Holly's son, Gary and another girl got in on the action. Aunt Janine's son Austin, a 15 year old boy got in on it. Buggy tagged him in to help out against Josh. Austin proved too much for Josh, but this didn't stop Buggy from splashing in on his brother a few times for god measure. It ended up a bit of a free-for-all for a short period of time. And then before I knew it, I was pulled into the match.

Now, if all information was filtered through the actual truth and common sense channels, this would be the story:

Austin is a kid I haven't seen in quite a long time. In fact during the first say 3 years of his life, I had seen more of him than I had since he started school. The boy is 15, and today was maybe the second time of his school life I had met up with the young lad. Well, we tangled, after he decided to jump up on my back. I found it rather amusing at first. He sort of rested his hands on my shoulders, checked me with a little pressure as if to see if I would tell him no, before jumping up and wrapping me into a half-hearted headlock. Once I laughed him off and walked around with him hanging onto me, he tightened it up a bit. So, I obliged him with some effort of my own. It went back and forth for a while, eventually resulting in me tapping out. Right near the end, we went into a roll, I involuntarily tried to simultaneously eat and nasally inhale some portion of his body, heard some kind of popping noise from my face, and ended up in a well executed supine side headlock. That's when I tapped out.

I could make some excuses that my wife was ready to leave, and would leave me there if I didn't come upstairs to leave very soon. I could say that I wasn't going to actually choke Austin into unconsciousness. Both are very true statements, but in the effort to not make excuses, I was plain out-stubborned. Neither of us, given an indefinite time limit, may have gone until one of passed out, and /or broke a bone. Well, passed out. I have a feeling that even with broken arms, legs and ribs, we still would've attempted to wait the other one out. But, I have to give it to the kid. He was tough, flexible, and as stubborn as anyone I know. So, I tapped out. I now sport some good bruising action. The top front of my nose is one big bruise, I have a bruising striped along the front of my right nostril, and another one on the left side of the bridge of my nose. It doesn't hurt so much, but it looks pretty bad, and is somewhat annoying. The upside is, I think him smashing my nose worked the nostrils into a wider position allowing me to actually breathe easier.

HOWEVER, we all know all information is filtered and geared toward an agenda. Going through the Mook News Network is no different. Here is that version of the truth:

OLD MAN MUGGED BY YOUNG STREET HOODLUM!!!
Dateline Altoona Iowa 14November2009

What started off as a calm birthday celebration and a football game for an old man took a turn for the worse. Minding his own business, The Mook suddenly was attacked from behind by some young punk. The old man never stood a chance. Pummelled and pounded repeatedly, The Mook fought the good fight. However, his attacker, being half his age and full of youthful energy that had long since been sapped from the old prize fighter.

The Mook was checked out by doctors at the James Medical Institute, and diagnosed with a deviated septum, severe rhino-contusions, a separated exterior nostril wall, and a broken ego. The Mook was quoted through an overheard conversation that he would've taken the young whippersnapper had it been face to face, instead of this surprise attack from behind loaded with cheap shots. Reportedly stolen was his blind-guy's walking stick thingy, his AARP and Medicare cards, and some random medications.

Current Rent-a-Cop investigations have come up with two possible theories for the attack. It has been narrowed down to a random act of gang violence, or a specific attack for the purpose of stealing identity and drugs. One certain Rent-a-Cop, who chose to remain anonymous had this to say about the day's vicious attack, "Darn kids these days...always out to strike fear into innocent citizens, and all to satisfy their drug habits, make money that other people work hard for. And they're all just crazy, although this one, it seems the insanity runs in the family.

The Mook has decided to put it out there publicly that he wants his rematch at a future time, after his face heals. Despite better judgement, he feels he can hang with this kid. And any other kid half his age for that matter!

An Update From The Colonel

From The Desk Of:

Col. Beauregard Sterling Lovell, Mookified Army, Feline Brigade, Commanding

Well, it has been awhile since we last updated all you humans on the state of affairs within the feline world. We have, as most of you know, completely and totally eradicated the terrorist fleas in our protracted War On Pests ('07-'08)

With the weather getting colder by the minute, our other small enemy forces have died off. Besides that, catching flies and eating them became a rather dull activity to pass the time.

Christmas is coming up and the General's wife put up the annual Christmas tree, complete with their stupid decorations. I like to call this thing, The Curiosity That Almost Killed The Cat. I have successfully attacked candy canes and random artificial tree branches, and managed to escape prior to a swift death blow from the wife.

Fecal matter manufacturing production rates have gone down for unknown reasons. We have engaged ourselves in a fiber intake exercise by eating cardboard boxes, random pieces of paper, and other such items in order to keep the General from getting into a slower relaxed routine when it comes to cleaning my catbox out. Recently, the General's youngest son, Private Bug The Terrible had out a Santa Clause Coloring Book. I ate part of it, right along the spine, essentially dissembling the books structural integrity. Served the little punk right. He's always harassing me anyways.

After many instances of psychosis from the child factors running rampantly about the place, I have taken to luring the general and his wife into a false sense of security. I cuddle up on their lap and act all loving with them. This lets down their guard for when I choose to sneak attack them and bite their toes, or attack loose pieces of their clothing. It really is entertaining. And since they wont let me outside to wage preemptive war against other undesirables such as the rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks and birds, this is really my only option.

They have banned me from my practice of patrolling the perimeter of the upstairs neighbors' deck, and running rampantly through the hallways awaiting some poor unsuspecting child to let me sneak out the door when they come in. It really is a shame, and they will pay for this eventually. I do know where they sleep, afterall.

I have learned how to manipulate the General as it is, for my own amusement. It seems one of his previous cats used to make him escort the cat to the food dish and pet him in order to coax eating. I could eat on my own, but it sure is funny making the General cater to my wants, and walk me to an obviously full food dish. It really irritates him, which pleases me of course.

Nothing else to report at this time.

Sincerely,

Col. B.S. Lovell

My Son Follows the Footsteps of Celebrity Justice

Above you will see my youngest son, Corwyn, who will be 5 on Christmas Eve. If you look at his forehead, you will see a very large goose egg he received Sunday morning.
He is smiling here, but shortly after receiving his medal of boyhood, he was a soggy crying mess, in much need of his mother.

I had come home from work, and the boys were watching a movie in the living room. I went back to my bedroom to change out of my uniform and exchange communications with the wife. I heard the boys start horsing around. I am not one to tell them to stop their wrestling, as I encourage them to experience their boyish nature, within limits anyways, and have even been known to encourage it in a not so subtle manner.
Well I never heard the thump, but I surely heard the wailing crying, along with the older brother calling behind him "I'm sorry...I said I was sorry."

I'm really beginning to get irritated with the word "sorry". The oldest, Josh (age 9 1/2), has been using this word A LOT lately. Way more than he should be.

Anyways, Corwyn comes busting in the room, bawling his eyes out, and a noticeable lump on his forehead. He was obviously to shaken up to tell us what was going on besides something about "Josh threw me (unintelligible)"
Josh immediately went into his repeated incantations of "I said I was sorry." Apparently in his mind, this makes everything all better automatically. Kind of like celebrities these days. No matter what you do, say you're sorry and go to rehab, and everything will be okay!

When asked what Corwyn hit his head on, Josh started off with some story, surely trying to find a way to spin it as he spoke to make hiself seem in a slightly better light than reality might suggest. For those of you who know me well...I don't like a sotry when I'm asking a question that only requires one word to be answered. Amazingly enough, even my wife got irritated with his not answering the questions as directly and efficiently as possible. I say amazingly, because she is just as, if not more guilty of the narrative story to any question, even a 'yes or no' typer question. I'm pretty sure Josh got his way of answering questions from her. I'm convinced its genetically passed on. After finding out that Corwyn hit the wooden chair in our living room, then we got the fuller story. Just so you know, I'm fine with the filler material, AFTER my question is answered! Anyways Josh told us they were wrestling and he sort of threw Corwyn into the chair where he smacked his head, but (wait for it)..."I already told him I was sorry." He said it so matter-of-factly, as though that mere statement was the solution to his very recent fuax pas. (He even used it as an excuse for a friend who had kicked him off a slide the other day, finishing off with, "but he said he was sorry, so its okay.") He was sent to his room, after being assured that uttering a saying wasn't the key to ending his problems.

While I applaud him taking a lick like a man, and not making too big a deal out of that physical malady, I think somewhere along the line, he was convinced that apologies solved everything to the point of no further consequences. Worse, I can't even figure out where he learned that from, because it surely didn't come from his mother or me, and I don't recall him watching any TV programming with that kind of message in it.

If you wonder why their isn't a picture of Josh in this post, well, it's because after apologizing, we quickly sent him off to rehab. He should be back in 6 weeks! We're just sooooo proud.