Half Marathon Prep

The half marathon is two days away and I'm about as ready for the race as I am for Amelia to start dating. My training has been sporadic at best. I'm as slow as ever. And this 13 mile run will involve much walking. HOWEVER, the most important part of my preparation, my race day playlist, is coming along quite nicely. Given my current conditioning, I'm estimating that I'll need about three hours of motivational tunes. I'm still about thirty minutes short on music and there are a few songs in my current list that need to be replaced because they're really not the right fit for running a road race and/or vomiting on myself before passing out.

So help a brother out and give me some more tune suggestions. The biggies are here already -- Eye of the Tiger, You're the Best, Gonna Fly Now, etc. I seem a little light on Hip Hop, Heavy Metal and Scandinavia, so maybe you can help out there. Sorry, but Eminem's Lose Yourself and Kanye's Stronger have been played to death in my workouts, so they're disqualified. Any new song selections need to meet at least one of the following criteria (and the more criteria met, the better):

1. A solid pavement pounding beat that gets me through at least three minutes of running without realizing it.
2. Running or other goal oriented lyrics. Though death and pain related lyrics are equally acceptable.
3. Main theme in a 1980s feel good movie soundtrack, featured in a Nike commercial or used without the artist's permission at some point in a political campaign.
4. Includes clapping or harmonious shouting. Especially clapping while harmoniously shouting.

***If I add one of your music suggestions to my race day playlist, I will not only give you full credit on the blog, I will also write your name on my race day shirt in black marker as some sort of weird honor that all the other runners will surely mistake for some much more meaningful tribute as to why I'm punishing myself with this athletic endeavor.***


Sweet List of Songs to Listen to Until I Cross the Finish Line or Lose Consciousness, Whichever Comes First
Nothing to Worry About -- Peter Bjorn and John
I Wanna Be Sedated -- Ramones
Battle Without Honor or Humanity -- Tomoyasu Hotei
I Love It -- Icona Pop
Cherry, Cherry -- Neil Diamond
Two -- Lenka
You're the Best -- Joe "Bean" Esposito
Tear It Up -- Yung Wun featuring DMX, Lil' Flip & David Banner
Carry On -- Fun.
Hold Me Back -- Round Table Knights
Elephant -- Tame Impala
Bang On -- The Breeders
I'm Alright (Theme From "Caddyshack") -- Kenny Loggins
Don’t Stop Now -- Guided By Voices
Nuthin' but a "G" Thang -- Dr. Dre
Run With the Wolves -- Prodigy
Ho Hey -- The Lumineers
Gonna Fly Now (Theme from "Rocky") -- Bill Conti
Blood -- The Middle East
The Underdog -- Spoon
Surf Wax America -- Weezer
Sour Cherry -- The Kills
One Foot -- Fun.
Eye of the Tiger -- Survivor
We Will Rock You -- Queen
Everything At Once -- Lenka
Can't Get Enough of Your D+Dang-Da-Dang -- The Taste
Rhythm -- Awol One & Daddy Kev
Jerk It Out -- Caesars
I Like You So Much Better When You're Naked -- Ida Maria
Mrs. Robinson -- Simon & Garfunkel
Serpentine (I Don’t Give A, Pt. 2) -- Peaches
I'm On a Boat (feat. T-Pain) -- The Lonely Island
The Final Countdown -- Europe
Poker Face -- Lady GaGa
Pumpkin & Honey Bunny/Miserlou -- Dick Dale & The Del-Tones
Go for the Exit -- Boston Spaceships
Helena Beat -- Foster the People
My Doorbell -- The White Stripes
Cannonball -- The Breeders
This Too Shall Pass -- OK Go

Your help is greatly appreciated!

Big Mac Attack

I recently boasted lamented that I could eat a Big Mac in six bites. The truth is, I've never actually counted how many bites it takes me to finish the sandwich.

So I decided to find out.

Well, it's less than six bites. And that was with very little effort.

Who knows -- maybe if I pushed myself I could finish a Big Mac in one bite.

[Click through for the video.]

This is how the pros do it.

Maybe the Native Americans Will Save our Asses

We planted a potato this year. And despite our Irish ancestry, our harvest was less than, um, bountiful. If we were among the original settlers in the New World, you could pretty much guarantee we would be the last of our line. Forget making it through the winter, we wouldn't have made it to opening week of the NFL season. (I wonder if the Bengals were as terrible then as they are now?)

Here are the whopping three delicious looking potatoes we hauled in this year.

Not exactly enough to feed a family of six.

And by family of six, I mean six mice.

Yes, those are actual Idaho potatoes (as grown in Ohio).

Julie thinks it's hysterical. Truman wants to know if I grew them small on purpose. Jameson thinks we're going to starve. Personally, I'm optimistic. By this time next year I bet I'll be growing potatoes the size of quarters.

Return of the Man Baby

Remember that old Man Baby shop job I did for me and Truman? I got a chuckle when I saw it just resurfaced on Parenting.com.  It still gives me the creeps anytime I see it.

Free and Clear

I'm doing laundry in the buff tonight.

Believe me, it's not a pretty picture. (Amelia recently informed me that my belly is "pushy.") Why the naked chores? Well, it's not a kinky Valentine's Day gift for Julie or anything. It's because I HAVE NO CHOICE. Washing laundry has got to be the single lamest resposibility that comes with the at home parent career. It's monotonous. It's soul sapping. It. Never. Ends. And the biggest thorn of all is that even when you put that very last load in the washer you still aren't done. You can't storm your aircraft carrier, "mission accomplished" banners a-waving, because the sad fact remains that at that moment you are still wearing more clothes that need to be washed.

But tonight I will claim victory. Every last soiled garment, bib, pillow case -- and all of their bretheren -- will be laundered. Everything down to the socks on my feet will be cleaned. And I will have my glory. Well, that's assuming I can convince Julie that I need her to take her clothes off for more noble purposes than as a kinky Valentine's Day gift for me.

Oh, and please pray that Julie's parents don't come home while I'm doing my victory dance in front of their washer and dryer. No one wants that mission accomplished.

And You Thought My Facial Hair Was Bad

Hey kid.  You like candy?

God bless you, Ryan. Thanks to this 'stache, Julie will have a harder time making the case against my own facial hair.

Yes.  Face pubes rule.

Let the porn star/predator/mountie jokes commence.

Update: Apparently Ryan is in the running for the straight-to-DVD sequel to Paul Blart: Mall Cop.

First Road Race

We shamelessly signed up Darwin in what is technically his first road race.  It's actually the annual Diaper Derby held at a local grocery store.  It's really not much of a race.  It's more of a mess of cuteness with dozens of clueless babies doing their best to not cross the finish line in the most adorable fashion possible.  I pretty much just considered it the perfect opportunity to put Darwin in a headband.

Darwin took his Cheerio carbo-loading a little too seriously and was in a food coma by race time.

The look of disgust as Darwin ponders what his parents will be like when he actually begins to compete in sports.

Half Ton Transforming Piece of Etsy Crap

I like to build crap. The emphasis there being "crap." Whenever I get the urge to build something, I can always count on my cousin Curt to help me because he is an enthusiastic crapbuilder, too. This past December we teamed up for one particularly ambitious crapbuilding session. The family Christmas was going to be at my house and we were a little short on seating, so I called up Curt to see if he wanted to help me build some furniture. Of course he wanted in on this action. It wasn't meant to be fancy or anything -- we just needed some additional butt space for the basement where some guys would be drinking beer and watching sports.

And thus, the Half Ton Couch Bed project was born.

Since we had no furniture building experience, no idea what we were doing and no fear, we decided to build a couch that would also unfold into a queen size bed. It took a couple of late nights to complete, but eventually we ended up with a lopsided, oversized mass of hinged 2x4s and plywood.



The end result was an abomination of furniture design and construction. But it was big. And solid. And could hold the weight of several asses.

And there was no effing way this thing was coming with me when we moved.

So a couple months ago, Curt officially inherited this monstrosity that had been collecting dust in my basement after being sat on once. Curt didn't really want it other than for possible scrap wood, so that meant there was only one thing left to do.

List this piece of crap on Etsy.



Never heard of Etsy? It's like eBay for handmade crap. Etsy merchandise is made up of about 10% handmade crunchy crap, 10% handmade baby crap, 10% high quality artisan crap and 70% total crap. Some of the crap is so crappy that there is a website dedicated to highlighting the worst of the worst crap. See Regretsy for a serious laugh. I mean it. It's unbelievable. As their tagline says, it's "Where DIY Meets WTF."

So anyway, the Half Ton Couch Bed is now for sale for $500 plus $250 shipping and handling. Hurry, if you're interested in owning this fine piece of craftsmanship. I'm sure it's going to go fast. And by "go", I mean up in flames. And by "fast," I mean doused in gasoline.

Birds Eye View

I took the kids to the park so we could fly a new kite I just bought. Eventually I decided to see if I could get my iPhone airborne on the kite and snap some photos. The phone was whipping wildly in the wind, so most of the images were really warped. These are some of the results.

Epic Dinner Fail

It's pork tenderloin.

I don't want to talk about it.



(The kids were happy. They got emergency hot dogs for dinner.)

Man Babies

Truman and I are on display over at ManBabies.com.

Terrible Times Two and the Velvet Failure

A couple of weeks ago Truman and Amelia turned two. I would say that so far they are both living up to the Terrible Two moniker. As expected, they are each taking different approaches to their reign of terror.

One of Truman's many nicknames is "Truminator" and it's fitting his two year old personality quite well. If something can be broken, spilt, crushed, thrown, knocked over, eaten, ripped, dismantled or otherwise ravaged, Truman is focused on it like a laser. He has an antagonistic relationship with any and all objects at rest.

Amelia is taking a different route. What she lacks in destructive force she makes up for in unbridled independence and defiance. She thinks she's twenty-two and has little need for parents or older brothers interfering in her day-to-day pursuits. From teeth brushing to diaper changes and car seat buckling to eating there is only one thing to remember with Amelia -- SHE DOES NOT NEED YOUR HELP. Should you attempt to intervene, be prepared for a spectacular verbal onslaught of "NO!" and "STOPPIT!" I lose sleep over the thought of what she'll be like as a teenager.

The one area where Truman and Amelia are on the same page is bedtime. Unfortunately, the page they are on is "How Not to Go to Sleep at All Costs." This one has me stumped. Up until recently, Truman and Amelia had been extremely easy to put down for bedtime and naps. No fussing. No complaining. Just walk in, put them in bed and walk out. Now all of a sudden, bedtime is an outrageous ordeal. No matter how tired they are, they will not go to sleep at night. They'll carry on. They'll get out of bed. They'll get in each other's beds. They'll go into Jameson's room. I've seen Amelia start to fall asleep at the dinner table yet fight sleep for over an hour once I put her in bed. It's only slightly maddening. On the bright side, it's so exhausting that I easily fall asleep at night right after they do.

Jameson didn't really have a terrible two stage. Julie and I both thought that with Jameson three was a much tougher age than two. Knowing that, I am not sure if I should be relieved or scared. Maybe Truman and Amelia are getting it out of their system earlier than Jameson did. On the other hand, maybe this is just some grotesque harbinger of the insanity to come when Truman and Amelia reach age three.

On a side note, I baked a cake for Truman and Amelia's birthday. Since we needed two cakes, I asked my mom to bake a second one for me. But it was more than just a simple confectionary request. I basically challenged her to make the exact same recipe I was making. In general, this challenge is a joke because she can bake circles around me. In this particular case it was futility at it's finest since the recipe of choice was actually one of her specialties: Waldorf-Astoria red velvet cake. I've never tasted one as good as hers and I've never made one much more than edible. Comparing our two cakes was almost laughable.

Mine tasted better as batter.


The losing cake.

The winning cake.

Broke My Wii

Our Wii has been out of commission for the last few months. There appears to be something wrong with the DVD drive. Everything else seems to be in working order. We can play any of our downloaded content, but the game discs won't load.

I announced tonight that I would be disassembling the Wii and returning this console to it's former glory. I have no experience in this sort of endeavor, but that's never stopped me before. I mean, how hard can it be?

Upon hearing my announcement, Julie quickly offered her dutiful spousal support.

"You have no idea what you're doing. You can't fix that thing."

Oh yeah, Julie? Well now I'm going to fix this thing even harder.





(And by harder, it's safe to assume that means running out and buying a new Wii when I've thoroughly busted this one.)

Smooth as a Baby's Bottom

"When a resolute young fellow steps up to the great bully, the world, and takes him boldly by the beard, he is often surprised to find it comes off in his hand, and that it was only tied on to scare away the timid adventurers." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

In a matter of minutes, I went from hair to bare. Yes, I grow a terrible beard, but man, I look like a twelve year old now.



Here's the time lapse of how it went down (with some Guided By Voices for your listening pleasure). I almost stopped at the 'stache. Almost. (That beauty is on display at about the 1:40 mark.)



And check out this apropos gem I pinched from LiLu over at Live It, Luv It.

Goodbye

Once I left my job to become a stay-at-home-dad, I decided I was going to quit shaving for awhile. With a new baby on the way, "not shaving" turned into growing a "playoff beard" until the baby was born. Well, now the baby has been successfully delivered and that means it's time to bid adieu to my food catching, security alerting, playground mom disturbing bristles.

Good bye, Beard. You subjected me to many an Amish or face vagina joke, struck fear in the hearts of small children and attracted law enforcement scrutiny in public places, especially outside of elementary schools. But that's not to say you didn't grow on me. Despite our somewhat adversarial relationship, I'm sad to see you go.

Stay the coarse my follicular friend. Maybe one day we'll meet again.

Surprise! (Don't Be Mad)

I'm rolling the dice a little today. I've planned a surprise party/cookout in Julie's honor. We're less than ten weeks away from welcoming baby number four into the family and I don't think we've made much fuss about it. Julie has been incredibly busy at work. I've been incredibly busy not strangling the kids. We haven't had much time to reflect on the fact that we'll soon have another life in our home. And, frankly, the novelty of pregnancy has worn off a little this third time around. It's not to say that Julie isn't 100% aware that she's the size of a beach ball, is constantly kicked from the inside out, and is perpetually tired, hungry and ready to pee. We are all well aware that she's pregnant. But I don't think we've given Julie or this baby their proper due. We haven't looked at any baby name books. No need to shop for baby clothes. No wild ass speculation about the sex of the baby. Much of the lack of hype is a credit to Julie. Physically and mentally she's handled this pregnancy better than the previous two. She's been diligent about watching her blood sugar. She was still taking karate classes up until a few weeks ago. (Don't worry, no sparring.)

So, I decided to invite some neighbors, friends and local family over to lavish a little attention on Julie and the new baby. Right now she's off to the salon for a haircut and a facial. When she gets back we'll surprise her.

Now please pray for me that this isn't the exact opposite of what a six and a half month pregnant, full-time working, mother of three would want.

SAHD - Day 17 - Lesson Learned

Some days are easier than others around here. I learned a valuable lesson today: Three year olds with Tootsie Pops don't mix well with one year olds with Gary Busey hair.

Announcement #1

I have two very important announcements to make.

Announcement #1: I've grown a beard.


I've gone down this road before, but usually it's been a half-assed attempt that really should be classified as temporary shaving laziness. It never lasted more than a week or two and could barely qualify as a beard. This time it's for reals. And after several weeks now, it's really started to grow on me. (Oh hells yeah that pun was intended.) What I've got going is no Chuck Norris, and I have no delusions of ever growing a beard as ass-kicking as his. Right now I'd say it's somewhere between James Lipton and gay porn. I may let it go a little while longer even though it makes no sense as summer weather looms. I think I can go to the point where I could pass for a fish stick hawker (or maybe at least a Phish concertgoer).

Yes, I know beards have not been in style for quite some time. And mine doesn't look particularly good. And all but two people questioned on the subject have recommended that I immediately shave it off. (The two that didn't recommend shaving only said "do whatever the hell you want" followed by some muttering that sounded like "idiot.") But I don't care. It's my inalienable right as a man and as someone who can't grow hair on top of his head. Plus I know my girly little brother Kip couldn't grow anything nearly as manly as mine so I'm sure he's way jealous. It's true, no one holds the door for me at the daycare anymore, but it's a small price to pay. For the time being, the beard is staying.

Some beard knowledge* for y'all:

-The study of beards is called pogonology.
-The last U.S. President with facial hair was William Howard Taft, who was in office until 1913. Currently, not one Senator has facial hair.
- In ancient India, the beard was allowed to grow long as a symbol of dignity and of wisdom.
- In 1698, Peter the Great of Russia ordered men to shave off their beards, and in 1705 levied a tax on beards in order to bring Russian society more in line with contemporary Western Europe.
- Some Jews refrain from shaving during the 30-day mourning period after the death of a close relative, known in Hebrew as the "Sheloshim."
- Playoff beard is a tradition common on teams in the National Hockey League and now in other leagues where players allow their beards to grow from the beginning of the playoff season until the playoffs are over for their team.
- St. Clement of Alexandria quote: "This, then, is the mark of the man, the beard. It is older than Eve. It is the token of the superior nature….It is therefore unholy to desecrate the symbol of manhood, hairiness."
- In the late 60s and early 70s it was damn near impossible to get laid without a beard.

As for Announcement #2... stay tuned.

*Beard knowledge brought to you by Wikipedia. Mostly.