Cheeky's Hideaway

Four Years Ago...

Below is a transcript of the vows I read to Oodgie four years ago.  If you wish to truly transport yourself back to that day, imagine them read in a sexy radio voice by a man who can best be described as 'Clooney-esque' to a woman whose radiant beauty made the sun look dim by comparison:

"It didn't take long for me to realize that Oodgie was a perfect match for me. From the very beginning she accepted me for who I was, and I never had to act any different than my natural self. Unfortunately for her, that includes a lot of habits that drive her crazy, such as head-bobbing to AC/DC and leaving toe-nails on the bathroom floor. But she also makes the best of me even better. She has always encouraged me when I needed support. She has indulged my curiosity, from intellectual pursuits to simple and--€”occasionally--€”misguided ones. But she is always there for me and with me, and the comfort and warmth I felt on our first date has only grown and intensified since that night.

I want to spend the rest of my life with her because I believe with all of myself that our lives will only get better. I want to grow with her, to share all of my thoughts and feelings with her, and to see the world through her eyes. I want to comfort her when there aren't any parking spaces, and want to laugh with her about the thousands of things we always seem to be laughing about. I can see myself as an old man with her, with our ridiculously talented and good-looking children all around us. And I know she will be my best friend forever. That's why I'm standing here today."

Not a day goes by where I don't think that marrying you was the best thing that ever happened to me, and the smartest decision I ever made.   I'm the luckiest guy in the world.

Happy Anniversary, baby.

Shitty Mix-Tape Challenge 2007

It's that time of year again, when the lovely and talented Paige is challenging us all here on the Internets to devise the shittiest mix-tape imaginable.  Last year my boy Aaron won, while Sarah put up one hell of a fight.  I seriously underestimated the strength of my competition (and the universal hatred of Metal Machine Music) and was caught flat-footed, but this year I'm turning it up to eleven. 

Brace yourselves...here it is:

Luca Turilli - "The Ancient Forest of Elves"

It's like the freakish spawn of Spinal Tap and the Dungeon Master's Guide. 

"R2-D2 We Wish You a Merry Christmas"

Did you know this is Jon Bon Jovi's first recording ever?  That's him on lead vocals.  I wonder why he doesn't play it in his Jersey shows...

Clint Black - "Iraq & Roll"

The title would be enough to make the list alone, but the misplaced machismo and patriot-pandering catapult it into the stars of shittiness.

Captain Lou Albano - "Captain Lou's History of Music/Captain Lou"

You know what's a good idea?  Making a whole album of music sung by professional wrestlers.  And yes, that's the former governor of Minnesota on the cover.

Wing - "Highway to Hell"

I ♥ Wing.  As long as she keeps covering AC/DC she'll have a place on this list.

As a special treat, here's what almost (but didn't) make the list.  Tank tops, hearts with wings, crotch-grabbing...what more could you want?

Happy Father's Day To Me

I'm still not comfortable with the concept of me being a father.  I don't mean "caring for and raising a child"...I'm actually OK with that.  It's the concept of "father" as in "Father's Day" that's foreign to me. 

I get stuff for my dad on Father's Day.  He's part of a fraternity of hard working chaps with pipes in their mouths and a firm but kind lesson to share with Wally and the Beav.  What the hell am I doing lined-up with them?

People asked, "What are you doing for Father's Day?" and I never had a response.  It just seemed like any other day to me, except that I had to frantically scramble for a card and gift for my dad (again).  I'd probably do what I always do:  chase Cheeky, watch bad TV, herd dysfunctional goats, and concoct excuses for why I wasn't doing something more productive.  My dad lives where Father's Day was invented; I live where chop suey was invented.  Again, the application of the title seems ill-fitting.

So when Oodgie asked me a few weeks back what I wanted for Father's Day, I told her I didn't need anything.  After all, it's just another day in the life.  But she pressed me on it, so I went for the brass ring:  The only thing I wanted was Guitar Hero II. 

This was a long-shot since this gift neatly encapsulates everything Oodgie hates in the universe:

1. video games
2. loud, awesome, rocking music
3. me ignoring her for long periods of time

So why not?  I figured I'd have no chance of getting it, and Oodgie would be off the hook getting me anything else.

But far be it for my wife to deny me anything I truly want.  And so it is with a plastic guitar, generously decorated with stickers by Cheeky, that I officially accept the mantle of "father."  I've got me a fine woman.

Party at my place, guys.  Alice Cooper, Guns & Roses and The Stooges will be your musical guests.  Oodgie will likely be somewhere else. Thanks, baby!

The Best Argument for Eliminating Term Limits

Last night Oodgie and I went to an event hosted by the American Jewish World Service.  It's an organization that recognizes that lots of Jews have money it's a cultural imperative of the Jewish faith to promote justice in the world.  I'm told that the Jewish community has suffered injustice from time to time over the last 4000 years, so they know a thing or two about the subject.

The venue was stunning, and Oodgie and I noshed on appetizers while trying to look remotely like we belonged with the rest of the attendees (we were guests of the ECGs).  Everyone there was talking about Darfur and Laos, while I was constantly reminded of how little I even thought about the 3 billion people in the world who live on less than $2/day.  Ann Curry was there, fighting against her nature to exude warmth, as was Paul Wolfowitz's doppleganger.

But the star of the show, without question, was Bill Clinton.

I challenge you to find a bigger rock star on the planet than our former president.  You could tell where he was in the building by the flashbulbs and the adoring masses.  People love him.  One of the speakers, a South African woman who runs an AIDS hospital, was visibly twitterpated in his presence.  Say what you will about his politics and personal life, but wherever he goes the man flat-out owns the room.

I'm an unapologetic Clinton fan (Bill, not Hillary...I find carpetbaggers distasteful) and would have gladly voted for him a third time if our Constitution allowed it*.  He gave an hour-long speech that seamlessly meshed global statistics of population growth and poverty, the New York State Fair, Warren Buffet, charity and faith, and the heroic story of a tsunami victim who lost nine children--all without notes.  He's freakishly smart, incredibly focused and energetic, and utterly dedicated to using his celebrity to make the world a better place for underprivileged of the world...a group he's quick to note vastly outnumber us.

I was really hoping to get a picture with him to splash up here and make y'all jealous, but between the sea of people crowding the sushi table and the strategically deployed Secret Service agents I had no chance.  In the end, sharing a room with him was good enough for me.

* It's ironic to me that the very law that prevented Clinton from being president on 9/11 is the same one that's sparing us the catastrophic possibility of another two years of President Douchebag.  I can't believe we need laws to prevent ourselves from doing something stupid...isn't that what the brain is for?

What is it About Us and Weekends?

Here's a quick rundown of how we tried to kill our child yesterday:

• We decided to go out for breakfast, and as we walked up to the diner I opened the door right into Cheeky's head.  She cried so hard she puked.
• We recovered enough to go in anyway, but as we were putting her into a booster seat Oodgie inadvertently pushed her chair in until her fingers got caught between the table and seat.  More screaming.
• Later in the day, Cheeky was sitting at home on a dining room chair, pushing against the table with her legs while we were sitting around her.  We were inattentive to the point that we watched her chair tip back in slow motion without reacting, with only the loud THWAP of the chair and child hitting the floor snapping us to action.  Again, she puked.

And did I mention Cheeky also has a cold?  And a bloody nose?  We're awesome.

I Need a Life

The Depacification of Cheeky

One of our greatest fears has become reality.

Cheeky won't give up her pacifier.

Let me clarify a bit.  She doesn't stay plugged all day, as if removing it would flood Holland.  But she needs it at night to fall (and stay) asleep, and she's loathe to give it up when she wakes up.

The first half hour of every morning is a communication nightmare, as Cheeky tries to tell us what she wants through a yellow plastic shield.  We try to get her to discard it, but she'll have none of it.  I try to pull it out of her mouth, but it sticks like a stubborn cork when I yank on it. 

It's not like it's the source of her powers or anything, and as a parent I feel like I need to start convincing her to let go before she meets her roommate freshmen year.

Just last night I was talking with Oodgie about whether she'd sleep in a "big-girl bed."  Oodgie commented that Cheeky likes her crib and hates change, to which I stupidly responded, "Well, she likes her pacifier, and we'll need to lose that soon."  Cheeky overheard and started yelling "PACIFIER!  PACIFIER!" and ran to our "secret" hiding place to fetch one.  We tried to negotiate her out of it, but she wailed and moaned, "I LOVE IT!  I NEED IT!"  (I didn't even know she knew those phrases!)

I don't want to make her unhappy, but C'MON!  She looks like an old tub!

So we're faced with a dilemma--do we let it slide and hope that cajoling will eventually convince her, or do we dip them in ashtrays or accidentally drop them in the incinerator?