Read My Words. I Am Important. What I Say Matters Most. My Points Are More Valid Than Your Points. I Am More Intelligent Than You.

All apologies for not blogging more regularly - as I said last time, life's just not all that exciting right now. In the next month or so I'll have a new kid, rugby starts up again, and...who knows, maybe the "band" that a coworker and I are starting will have experienced a meteoric rise to fame of unparalleled heights and ensuing plummet back to earth - via drug addiction, inner-band conflict, and a sleazy agent named Morty. Thanks for the kind words and kudos post promotion to the two of you that piped up - yes, it can be stressful to have people depending on my "skills," such as they may be. Most of the time, however, everyday is the same and I'm actually sitting around hoping something will break or get screwed up just to add a little flavor to the proceedings. Still, always nice to get a leg up, have some coworker recognition, etc. Although, the title I asked for was "Galactic Overlord" and not, in fact "Manager, FACS Facilities." Oh well.

Here are the much sought after (by parents and grandparents, anyway - mom, be sure to show grandma all the pictures of her bouncing great grandchildren) pictures, complete with my continuing frustration at Blogger's formatting retardation. Guess I should spellcheck now, so at least half of the crap I right doesn't look like it was puked onto the keyboard by an illiterate six year old.

I am 100%, full-on, dead-on, unequivocally sure that I will pick the wrong pictures of very preggo wife to slap up here, but my ma was curious as to how big the baby belly's gotten, so here you are. Notice elf in the corner - he wants you to.

Here's something creepy - We Flickred these pictures, and I got an e-mail from some guy telling me my wife looked lovely (I already knew that) and that he wanted to be internet buddies or whatever. Out of curiosity (the whole internet buddy thing has never really sat well with me) I clicked on his Flickr profile to see who the hell he was. My reward? Naked pictures of his nasty old wife. It's a good thing I've got squirt bottles full of bleach in the lab, because my eyes definitely needed cleaning and sanitizing, right down to the optic nerve, after that. Now please, don't hunt me down and skin me alive so you can wear my face as a mask while you do your little pooky dance, internet guy.


Something tells me that this picture is less about Ethan being a good, piggy-back-ride giving older brother than it is about Connor being a rambunctious, beat-the-hell-out-of-my-older-sibling little brother.


I am told that this picture looks a lot like me at a young age.


Obligatory fat dad, young son, shot.


For some reason, little Master C likes to lay back in the tub with his face completely surrounded by bubbles...


...Then, when I approach with camera in hand, I'm forced to take a picture of his foot - really, the word foot was said about 20 times before I reluctantly snapped a picture.


Finally, for future gift-giving opportunities (everyone always asks what to get the kid/s) GeoTracks is the word - even just the packs that have pieces of rail or road in them so we can have a less maddening time making a complete closed circuit for the train to travel around on. Also, these things have far fewer small parts than most other toys, which is a major bonus since the living room has become the play/lets-booby-trap-with-toys-so-dad-can-have-a-puncture-wound-in-his-foot room.

Now, go read about one of the best ideas ever, have a nice day, and thank you, come again.