Rude Cactus

Something Princess This Way Comes

2008-07-23T06:59:52-05:00

I'm no Biblical scholar but I'm pretty sure that when the Book of Revelations was originally drafted it mentioned that the Apocalypse would be preceded by explosions of pink, the appearance of legions of princesses bedecked in taffeta and, quite possibly, the hosting of a three year old's birthday party in your backyard during the summer. And whichever of those Bible guys wrote it (John, right?), he rethought the content on the second draft and changed it up a bit. You know, trumpets, the beast and his number, four horsemen, zombies. To-MAY-to, to-MAH-to. If John was right, though, the end is neigh.

Mia's birthday was wonderful. We prodded her awake - so I could see her before I left for work - by singing and revealed to her the new playhouse Beth and I had built for her the previous evening. The reveal was in true Price Is Right fashion with the curtain and everything and she was thrilled. I'm not sure how or if Beth got her out of the thing during the day but I'm pretty sure the torrential rain storm which hit our area in the morning got her back inside for at least a few minutes. The house aside, though, the day was really owned by princesses.

I'm surrounded by Ariel, Belle, Aurora, Snow White, Jasmine and Cinderella. Yesterday Mia ate breakfast (donuts) on her new princess placement, donned a Cinderella dress and glass slippers and, thanks to the magic of Disney, Cinderella even called Mia last night to wish her a happy birthday. I think Mia almost passed out. I'm only moderately horrified. I mean, the way Disney portrays princesses doesn't exactly make them look like rocket scientists. They're weepy, fall in love at the drop of a hat and climb on any random sheik's - uh-herm - magic carpet. It's like their entire celluloid existences are geared entirely towards landing a prince. And that's not right.

In spite of bad stereotypes and near-lethal amounts of sugar, Mia's birthday was a gigantic success. Just keep your fingers crossed that we have the same luck on Saturday...when friends, family and kids descend upon our house for the party. Send good vibes. And if you don't hear from me by Monday, send help.

What's the key to making it through a three year old's birthday party?

Three

2008-07-22T07:09:23-05:00

Three years ago - at 9:52 AM if you want to be precise - the world changed. Mine at least. Mia was born and the world was instantly a better place to be.

I really have no idea how these past three years flew by. Despite the promise I made to myself that I'd somehow develop a photographic memory and freeze all the important memories and moments inside my brain so I could remember them forever, it's all a blur. That mental camera is somehow faulty and what I've got is a grossly inadequate time lapse sequence in which she goes from a baby blob incapable of sitting up to a little girl who can spell her name and the duration of this film passes in the split second it takes for a hummingbird to flap its wings.

We started three years ago with a little baby. A helpless, cranky little thing who wouldn't sleep or eat. When she wasn't swaddled, her legs shot up so her feet covered her ears. Her shock of black hair - which never fell out, merely lightened - surprised us. As did her lungs. Her entry into the world was miraculous though we didn't know it until she tasted air for the first time. Her umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck three times. Three short years later, we find her no less miraculous but altogether different. She's this hilarious, independent person who dresses herself, tells off and not altogether successful knock-knock jokes*, and wants to be a paleontologist-astronaut when she grows up.

Of course, life as I knew it changed but so did I. Things reprioritized themselves. What was important before, wasn't any longer. And the opposite. After she was born, I wrote this:

Being a parent lets you add "parent" to the list of things you are. And it becomes the most important thing on the list. I was in the local drug store picking up some stuff for Mia. Behind me was a guy buying simply a case of Bud and a fly swatter. Now, call me crazy, but I'm so much happier having a child and wife who need me to run home to instead of a roomful of insects and bad beer buzz.

And it's true. I was a husband, an IT geek, a wannabe musician, an avid reader, a music lover and, while I remained those things, I was instantly and above all other roles, a father. But I have learned that a good beer buzz helps.

I could spend hours speaking in euphemisms and idioms describing the ways in which time flies but instead I'll just wallow in the challenge that is parenting and the beauty that is my daughter. And try not to fuck either of them up.

Dearest Mia Bean - Miasaurus, Bean, Squizzle - I love you more than you will ever fully comprehend. I could say that repeatedly until I'm blue in the face but it'll make more sense when you grow up and have kids of your own. But don't do that anytime soon. The time just goes too fast. In the mean time, you'll just have to trust me. Sure, I might tell you that princesses like banana yogurt so you'll eat it but I'm not skirting the truth about how wonderful I think you are. I love you, Bean.

* Knock knock.
Who's there?
Pink.
Pink who?
Pink nose.
(I don't get it either but she claims it kills in Albany.)

Happy Birthday, Rude Cactus (By The Numbers)

2008-07-21T06:31:38-05:00

Five years ago, give or take, I started Rude Cactus. Having never successfully kept a paper journal for more than five minutes, I figured it would last about a week. Turns out, I was wrong. Especially considering that the entire site crashed and burned due to technical difficulties less than three weeks after I started it (which is why the archive starts in August). Five years later, here I am.

Total posts: 2.559
Comments received: 59,124
Haiku Mondays: 227
Times I've written aborted entries that started with the sentence "I have no fucking idea what to say": 1,395
Number of people who've stopped by: 1.26 million
Hits: 8.9 million
Bandwidth used: 314 GB
Kids had: 2
Odd bathroom encounters: 782
Photos posted (to flickr): 2,746
Cats died: 2
Cups of coffee: 5,475
Schadenfreude victims: 174
Search strings that scare he hell out of me: 1,278
Times I've said "fuck it": 372
Times I've reconsidered: 373

So, what do you like about the site? And what do you hate? More importantly, should I try for another five years?

Haiku For Monday #227

2008-07-21T06:30:08-05:00

Monday once again.
Just how in the hell did that
happen? Coffee. Now!

The Weeklies #45

2008-07-18T06:41:23-05:00

The Weekly Popular Sleeping Location. The floor in Mia's room. Mia's been under the weather and prone to waking up in the middle of the night. On Wednesday night she volunteered to go to bed at 4:30. Unheard of. When she woke up at 3:00 in the morning, she didn't want me to crawl into bed with her. So I got a comforter from the guest room next door and camped out on the floor. I woke up later to her lying next to me. She's been sleeping on the floor since. And, as she continues to wake up and want her dad, so do I. I've realized I'm too old to sleep on a floor. Ouch.

The Best Talk Show Get of The Year. Rush on The Colbert Report.

The Weekly Reads. It's been a long time since I read anything quite so perfect as Don Winslow's The Dawn Patrol. At least, since the last book by him that I read. Winslow's got a unique voice and a true gift for creating fiction that transcends labels like mystery or thriller. If you haven't discovered this guy, The Dawn Patrol is the perfect place to start. Books just don't get much better than this.

The Weekly Music. I've got this massive playlist I call - mysteriously - Massive. It's got 953 songs and would run more than three days if played continuously. I've been listening to it most of the week. One recent run I particularly liked: Speed of Sound (Coldplay), Take A Picture (Filter), Alive (Pearl Jam), Hollywood Nights (Bob Seeger), Won't Get Fooled Again (The Who), Take Me To The River (Talking Heads), Live and Let Die (Guns N Roses), All The Young Dudes (Mott The Hoople), Black Star (Radiohead), Wise Up (Aimee Mann), Secret For A Song (Mercury Rev), The Rover (Led Zeppelin), In The Cage (Genesis), Blow Up The Outside World (Soundgarden), Angels/Losing/Sleep (Our Lady Peace), The World Spins Madly On (The Weepies), You're All I Have (Snow Patrol), Can't Find My Way Home (Blind Faith), Have a Cigar (Pink Floyd), Army (Ben Folds Five), Hornets! Hornets! (The Hold Steady), Getting Better (Gomez).

The Weekly Picture.

The Weekly Schadenfreude. Remember Andy Dick? Yeah, that NewsRadio guy? The 42 year old actor, father of three, and miserable pathetic drunk was arrested for sexually assaulting a 17 year old girl in the parking lot of a Buffalo wing place. You know what I'm thinking? Andy Dick and Amy Winehouse = match made in heaven.

The Weekly Hypothetical Question. If you could go back and right any wrong in history - historic or personal - without having to worry about any of that Star Trek past changing the future paradox shit, what wrong would you right?

Why Toddlers Are Like Magic 8 Balls

2008-07-17T06:47:27-05:00

Talking to a toddler is a wonderful thing. Here's a kid who's finally mastering the English language, capable of independent thought and full of all kinds of interesting ideas and a unique way of looking at life. Having conversations with Mia is absolutely astounding. But frequently maddening. This is because talking to toddlers is a lot like trying to have a meaningful conversation with a Magic 8 Ball. You're talking but it's never clear what kind of response you're going to get in return. More interesting, the answers frequently don't really reflect the questions you originally asked. And most of the answers beg yet more questions. To illustrate, I give you several recent examples of exchanges between me and my Magic 8 Ball Daughter.

In order to head off any questions you may have, I'd like to assure you that she really does call me "silly old daddy". Beth swears she had nothing to do with this. I'm not sure I buy it. I also don't want you to get the wrong impression and think that I don't like these conversations with Mia. They're puzzling, yes, but they're wonderful. Especially in light of what's in store for me in another, say, 12 years.

What kind of kid were you? A rebel, a jock, a straight-A student, a band geek?

Hi Ho Hi Ho

2008-07-16T06:48:25-05:00

Uncomfortable button down shirt? Check!
Stiff work shoes? Check!
Tie? Check!
Suit? Check!

It's early and, for the first time since July 3rd, I'm heading to work. Yeah, I know - you're breaking out the world's smallest violin in my honor. But hey, I've gotten used to the vacation thing. For the past week and a half, I haven't worn anything more formal than a t-shirt and shorts. I wore actual pants twice. I wore flip flops most of the time. And Crocs. Yeah, I bought a cheap pair of fake Crocs to wear while I worked in the yard. I've always been anti-Croc. Beth still is. She told me she wouldn't be seen in public with me. I'm planning to attempt to seduce her by wearing nothing but Crocs tonight.

But the art of seduction while wearing unattractive footwear is not my point.

The point is that, in a few minutes, I'll be getting in my car and heading to Monkeytown. I'll spend the majority of the day in two ways - catching up, figuring what's gone on without me and missing my family. Even the screaming, the crying, the battles about poop and eating and the palpable tension around bedtime.

This vacation was tough. Taking two kids anywhere is just plain difficult no matter how well planned you happen to be. If they get sick, forget about it. I need a vacation from my vacation but the kids desperately need me to be back at work so they can get back on their schedules.

You know how you can repeat an ordinary word in your head over and over and over again and eventually it starts sounding strange? Like, your mind is breaking the word down into the individual sounds and piecing it back together again and the whole it comes up with is oddly foreign despite the fact that its a word you use every day? Life is kinda like that. I was sitting down yesterday having this long conversation with Mia. Or, rather, she was going through a long explanation about something bouncing from tree to tree to tree (I'm a little unclear what the point was). Mentally, I took a step back from the situation, looked at this little girl standing there talking about trees, and became amazed that this was my kid. And that I had another one somewhere sleeping off a milk buzz. Like repeating a familiar word over and over, I saw my life as not so much strange (though it is, I'm sure) but as it must appear to an outsider. It's pretty cool yet surprising. I'm not sure how I got here nor am I sure how I got this old and responsible. But life is good.

Now, anyone have any ideas how I could become independently wealthy, move the family to the beach and spend every day with my kids? Seriously.

What's the very first thing you'd do if you found yourself suddenly independently wealthy?

Spamalot

2008-07-15T08:00:07-05:00

I love spam. Seriously. I love the stuff primarily because it's so absolutely terrible and inadvertently hilarious.

I typically get three categories of spam, if you go by the subject lines. The first category consists of messages that are apparently designed to sell something but are insulting or are targeted to illicit some sort of personal reaction. The second are those messages that contain information that is patently and obviously untrue or seeks to get you to open said message because of some sensationalized event (real or not). The third and final category revolves around penis enlargement. Allow me to illustrate.

Insulting or Oddly Personal:

You look stupid rudecactus. Fuck you.
You are nominated for an MBA, Rude Cactus.
We caught you naked in the shower, Rude Cactus. Dammit! The one time I take a shower with my clothes off, I get busted.

Headline News!

2008 Olympic games will possible not take place.
Osama Bin Laden caught finally. Look, pigs are flying too.
Saddam Hussein found dead. Uh, not so much.
Dan Brown's latest novel.
Summer is here - stay tuned. Thanks for the breaking news, chief.
Terrible earthquake devastated Beijing. Again, not so much.

All About The Weiner:

Warlock, victory is yours when its big. By the power of Grayskull!
Power in your pants! Get 'er done!
1 month, 1 inch. I thought the goal was enhancement, not shrinkage.
Obtain a perfect genuine erection. As opposed to all those fake erections I usually get.
Bragging rights in your pants. Yeah. That's what I'd brag about.
Turn your rod into a monster. Growwwl, get a load of my penisaurus.
Engorge your organ speedily today. I can just see someone sitting at their desk with a computer and a thesaurus coming up with this one.
Update your penis. Penis 2.0 is coming.
Stew the love into the soup. What the fuck does that even mean?
Enlarge your power and realm of influence. This is either an ad for male enhancement products or the United Nations.
Penetrate deeper with longer pole. And thusly another spammer has mastered the laws of physics.
Be your own gladiator. I won't even pretend I understand that.
If you build it they will cum. Word.

So, what do you do about spam - do you trash it, ignore it or read it and laugh? What's your best one?

The Week By The Numbers: Beach Edition

2008-07-14T08:19:08-05:00

As I have frequently lamented over the past few days, we're indeed back from the beach. Instead of boring you all with every little detail of the trip, here's The Week In Numbers Beach Edition...and some pictures.

Sick kids we took to the beach: 0
Sick kids we brought back from the beach: 2
Generations of family at the beach: 3
Snowcones consumed: 4
Pounds of french fries eaten: 298
Ice cream cones bought: 3
Bad sunburns gotten: 0
Times we got in the car while at the beach: 0
Times my mom got really drunk and amused us all: 2
Beers consumed: 5 (sad, really)
Rides ridden by Mia at Funland: 6,203 (you think I'm exaggerating)
Books read: 1.75
Laps around the boardwalk: 27
Eastern Europeans seemingly employed in the coastal service industry: 1.4 million
Current events paid attention to: 0
Times I've wished I was back at the beach: 433
Days off before retuning to the reality of work: 2 (including today)

What are your numbers?

Haiku For Monday #226

2008-07-14T08:18:00-05:00

I'm clutching to my
vacation for two more days.
Then, reality.

The Weeklies #44

2008-07-11T09:30:44-05:00

The Weekly Current Location: Home

The Weekly Location Up Until Yesterday: The beach, baby!

The Weekly Random Narrative That Explains What's Been Up While Still Conforming to "The Weeklies" Format: We've been at the beach. It was wonderful but now, sadly, we're home. Which is actually a good thing considering we wound up with two sick kids. Both had a great time but seem delighted to be home. Beth and I, well, we need a nap. About three days long.

The Weekly Read: Whilst at the beach I only managed to get through one book. I attribute this to the fact that I was chasing after kids the entire time. Apparently people frown on just throwing kids into the ocean. Anyway, I read John Lange's Zero Cool. It's the perfect beach book and requires absolutely no thought whatsoever. John Lange is also a pseudonym of the early Michael Crichton. So it's pretty well written too.

The Weekly Kick Ass Thing About Being In A Small Beach Town On Vacation: You can walk everywhere. We didn't get in the car once.

The Weekly Kick Ass Thing About Being Home: My own bed.

The Weekly Schadenfreude. See that whole Karl Rove thing? He refuses to testify but a judge has a different opinion. However this works out, I hope we get to see Rove in a prison jumpsuit. Squeal like a pig, puppetmaster.

The Weekly Non-Hypothetical Question: What did I miss? Seriously, I've been out of the loop for a week!

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Scenes From The Beach Volume III

2008-07-09T08:18:19-05:00

My wardrobe this week at the beach consists of:

- a stack of t-shirts
- a bathing suit
- underwear (sometimes but not always worn)
- my "morning shorts" which are marginally dirty and most likely smelly but I don't care because I'm at the beach and no one's going to come up and smell me and if they do, serves them right to get a whiff of salty shorts
- my "evening shorts" which are only worn between the hours of 5 and whenever so as to preserve their cleanliness because I'm not doing laundry
- flip flops

Now, please give me a reason why we shouldn't sell the house, buy a little place in this small, wonderful beach town and wear smelly shorts for the rest of our days. Seriously, got any good reasons?

Scenes From The Beach Volume II

2008-07-08T09:09:41-05:00

Scenes From The Beach

2008-07-07T10:00:53-05:00

Haiku For Monday #225

2008-07-07T08:45:46-05:00

I'm at the beach.
Please feel free to be jealous.
It's a blog day off.

So over to you.
Open comments and 'ku like
there's no tomorrow.

Yep, that's right - an old
school haiku smackdown, bitches.
Now 'ku like the wind.