We are a bit worried around these here parts. Thomas the Train has gone missing again.

At first, he would be gone for only a few hours at a time. His normal response to our inquiries regarding his whereabouts was simple silence. Luckily, our son was none the wiser to Thomas’ increasingly aberrant behavior and attitude. He is far too young to be introduced to the dark side of Thomas’ weakness.

Unfortunately, over time, Thomas would go missing for long and longer amounts of time, only to return looking far more worse for the wear. Forgive the pun, but it would appear as though he had begun showing signs of “track marks”. Again, our son did not pay any mind to Thomas’ increasingly degenerating state and simply illustrated his zeal for the return of his friend. Caboose shares our worries as he has known Thomas for far longer than we have. He tells us that Thomas has had a history of decadence and weaknesses that have resulted from stardom, but never anything of which he had see at the present time.

The seeds of worry were quickly sprouting into an uncontrollable mess of weeds that were choking any hope out of us.

It has been three days now since we last saw Thomas. We fear that he has lost the battle with his addiction. Every now and again, we hear a faint “Chhh….chh…ch-hoooo*COUGHCOUGH*…ooooo”, but we can never pinpoint its origin. Our son has now noticed Thomas’ absence and is showing the signs of extreme worry. We fear that he has been exposed to a horror of life that will decrease the lifetime of his innocence. We simply cannot forgive Thomas for that which he has wreaked upon our household.

Right now, our son sits with Thomas’ caboose in his hands, They are both visibly distraught and are illustrating signs of detachment. We think that it is going to be a long road to recovery. I just wish we could have seen the sings sooner. Perhaps we could have helped him with his problems. At this point, we will never know what could have transpired, but must deal with the mess he has left in his wake.

If you have seen Thomas, let us know. He was last seen with these these two individuals. We believe Thomas has resorted to prostitution in order to support his habit. This image only reinforces the latter and leads us to believe that he is now involved in some heavy kink.

******OR******* Our son might have simply lost his toy train and we have not found it yet…

I was chatting with Deltus yesterday about the fact that the Meeeeeses called me a “Handy Man”. I joked saying that all this time, I thought “Handy Man” meant that one was rather keen on masturbation and that, apparently, I was wrong. This spiraled into a series of punny jokes about punching the clown and I am certain that there were a few Bukkake-esque jokes tossed in, as well.

So, what spurned this discourse? Well, you see, I installed a dishwasher yesterday morning. We went to Lowe’s to get a dishwasher since ours was getting old and we always do away with the old in our house to make room for the new (My mother-in-law should read between the lines on that one.). When the salesman asked if we wanted to shell out the $200 for installation, I did the typical male thing by saying, “No, I should be able to handle this. I mean, really, how hard could it be?” You can laugh if you wish, but know this. I cut and soldered a new coupler and male end on the copper pipe under the sink to accommodate the new steel-weave flex dishwasher line that was needed for the new dw. In fact, I used an omelette pan as a heat shield so that the torch I was using did not burn a hole through the wall. Not only have I become a “Handy Man”, but I also channeled the ingenuity of MacGyver.

I will admit, it took me almost four hours to complete, but I think it looks great for having been installed by a complete neophyte in the ways of plumbing.

Bitchin’…

This winter is pathetic. Even though we were supposed to get 2 to 4 inches of snow today, we only got about a half inch. Hooooray winter in Philly. We keep getting screwed on the snow. We want a blizzard to come in and lay about three feet of snow down in the first twenty minutes. Is that so much to ask?

If giving someone head while they are taking a dump is a blumpkin, what would it be called if you were giving someone head who was getting an enema?

Yes, I said voiceless labiodental fricatives.  That is very important to me right now.  Why?  Because if my son could perform a voiceless labiodental fricative, he would have loudly aped me by saying “FUCK!FUCK!FUCK!FUCK!” instead of “UCK!UCK!UCK!UCK!”.

My wife is feeling rather proud that she is not the first to be caught by this little parroting toddler.

I have recently found that my favorite series, Eureka, is now available for viewing on Hulu.  This is pleasing to my wife since now I no longer need to have my Sci-Fi shows taking up space on the Tivo.  This evening, I watched a particularly riveting episode called, “I Do Over”.  At this point, I will state the following to avoid anyone calling me a bad name for not doing so in the first place:

*****SPOILER ALERT*****

(Read on …)

That ring of fire, that ring of fire.

Hindsight, as I have always said, is a veritable kick in the teeth.  Why open with such a peaceful, easy feelin’?  Because this is fair warning to anyone who is not me, Buzz or Empress at this given moment.  Last night, I got to baking bread.  Rather insignificant when I put it that way, right?  Well, what I left out was that I made habanero beer cheese bread last night.  Yeah, I can hear the wheels turning now.  Why would I make such a thing?  Well, let me state the reasons below:

1. I love things that are spicy.  (Although, habs are not spicy…they are nuclear.)
2. I can be rather foolish and blinded by male bravado and the ever-present need to eat things that are spicy and manly and make the hair on my chest grow even more. (The meeeeeses has lost count for the number of times that I have said, “I think I may have over done it.”)
3. It is habanero beer cheese bread…who would not make that if they had a hab plant that was over loaded with peppers?

I am sure there are more reasons than that, but at this point, the only thing that matters is that I warned (albeit a wee too late) Buzz that he need not eat a lot of the bread because it will have rather drastic consequences associated with said action of eating.  I just got off the phone with him and he essentially said, “Gee, thanks for that.  I am already shitting fire, though.  Next time, perhaps you should warn me a bit earlier.”  I do not know if he will be a willing participant in my baking tests.

BTW, I am writing this will shitting pure fire out of my posterior.  I hope they sell o-ring replacements for a ‘77 Norwegian body like mine.

Every now and again, while reading a book, I come across a quote/quip/paragraph/stanza/etc that really just knocks me off my feet in that, “you could not have hit the nail on the head any harder than that” kind of way.  I am reading “Dead Beat“, by Jim Butcher (brilliant fucking series, btw.  I implore you to read it.).  I started it sometime on Tuesday while on the train to Boston, but really bit into it last night on my train back to Philly.  It was approximately 11 pm and I was getting tired to the point that I was re-reading pages ten times over and just not getting anything.  I then came across the following paragraph and it was like getting hit with a bucket of cold water.  It was just a sentiment in which I truly believe with all of my being and something that I could not have iterated any better than that of Jim Butcher.

“Nearly everyone underestimates how powerful the touch of another person’s hand can be.  The need to be touched is something so primal, so fundamentally a part of our existence as human beings that its true impact upon us can be difficult to put into words.  That power doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with sex, either.  From the time that we are infants, we learn to associate the touch of a human hand with safety, with comfort, with love.”

That paragraph speaks volumes about that which I already know and believe.  I just know that I could not have ever put it so brilliantly or in such a concise manner.

What is a quote/paragraph/etc that made you sit up like you had been buggered by a cattle prod?
In other news, I have not had time to regale my Norsk updates for week 3 and now, week 4.  I shall try to get to them by the weekend, but I don’t know if that will happen.  Although, I am not sure that you lot care since you cannot understand what I am writing, anyway.

Kansje fremskritt er ikke den riktig ord. Jeg hvet ikke bare fordi jeg har ingen synonymordbok. Hvis du leser og forstår Norsk, bare forteller meg hvor jeg er feil.

Jeg gleder meg med hva min sønn har lært i bare en uke. Noe som var helt spesielt var når jeg sa, “vær så snill” og han gjørt den tegn med hand hanes. Han kan litt på tegnspråk. Det som var rart om det var at jeg har bukket ikke muy før (kansje fem tid). Dette fortelle meg at (og dette er ikky nye) han er helt flott og gjøre det bedre hver eneste dag. Jeg er en veldig glad far.

Denne uke er mer om farger, dyr, tall og mat. Jeg snakke til han neste hele tiden på Norsk. Jeg tenker at han liker det og kos seg med den språk. Jeg tenker at han kjenner det er vår egen språk. En dag, jeg håper det er alt vi bruker til å snakker.

Uke To:

Leketøy
Tingene inn i huset
Mer mat
Tall (En til Ti)
Aksjoner

Det er alt for nå. Jer er syk og begynner å føler som dritt. knasje. inmari knasje.