Cheeky's Hideaway

What? This is My Regular Hat!

Permission to Speak Freely, Sir!

When I started this blog back in July, I decided that there were some topics that would be verboten.  It was mostly an act of self-censorship, knowing full-well that they were topics about which I had a LOT to say and which would either (a) turn this into something I didn't want it to be, or (b) bore the living crap out of you, my faithful readers.  Besides, this started (and largely remains) a blog about Cheeky and our lives as we train her to take over the family business.  I've re-examined my position on this, and I now realize how ridiculous that is.  It's hard to be honest and forthright about anything if you can't weigh in on everything.  So I'm loosing myself from the shackles of expurgation (first time I've used that in a sentence since my 9th grade reading class) and

POLITICS

There's a reason why George W. Bush doesn't show up on my "People I Hate" list.  It's not because I don't think he is systematically undermining everything good about this country for self-serving or diabolical purposes.  It's because adding him would also include adding Cheney, Rumsfeld, Gonzales, and pretty much the entire leadership structure of Congress, and I need to save room for other forces of evil.  I didn't watch the State of the Union address because I knew it would be boring, vacuous, and painfully labored over by the media until I wanted to gouge my eyes out...just like every year.  I heard it had some juicy morsels in it, which many of my fellow bloggers have done a masterful job skewering.   Most disappointing, of course, would have been watching the Democratic response.  Guys, if you can't mount a rudimentary challenge to abject incompetence, I'll vote for people who can.  Every time I see that smug idiot give a speech--hell, say anything--I hope and pray that the 62,040,606 people who voted for the chowder-head are ashamed of themselves. 

That's enough on that for now...what's next?

WORK

I'm not stupid.  I'm not really going to say anything about my job or company that would get me fired.  In fact, I have the best job ever at a company which is a delight to work for...it's a joy to be part of their family.  But that won't stop me from bitching about some of the "perks" of being here--like the corporate cafeteria.  As many of you know, I work in Queens, which lacks the lunch alternatives that the 8 million people who work across the river enjoy.  We're basically stuck with a space in the shape of a crescent, just wide enough to fit five people across but lined on both sides with food tables designed to drive people into each other.  Getting food there is like standing in the return line at Best Buy the day after Christmas, except it's that way every day.  And they have an uncanny ability to make virtually anything taste like pit-sweat.  How do you screw up a make-your-own sandwich bar?  Stock it with bread left over from the invasion of Panama and meat which looks vaguely familiar but you can't quite place it.  If that doesn't encourage dieting, I don't know what does. Based on some of the people pushing their way to the fried chicken and beans today, it looks like some people are just immune to such encouragement.

FOOTBALL

I've already hit on this a little bit this year, because my boys are having a dream season.  Fantasy football, which constitutes approximately 40% of my neural energy from September through December, is over, and that usually means I'm tuned out during the weeks leading up to the Super Bowl.  When are they going to get around to declaring Super Bowl Sunday a national holiday?  I LOVE the Super Bowl...even the crappy ones.  But I am REALLY FIRED UP for this weekend.  I was there in 1992, celebrating our second (and last) win of the season with my buddy Hud in an empty bar in Spokane.  I own a Rick Mirer jersey.  I've got the lash-marks to show my loyalty, kids, trust me.  God knows I've been taking some abuse the last few weeks ("Do you think this will be the lowest-rated Super Bowl ever?  Who's are the Steelers playing again?  Is Dave Kreig still your quarterback?") but I'm immune.  I'm cookin' up some nachos, stocking up on beer, and throwing a party, and you're all invited!  Seriously!

I've got to get my calisthenics in so I'm prepped for Sunday.  If you're not coming to our pad (your loss if you don't) then enjoy the game and the weekend!

I'm Openly Weeping with Joy

Got MLK?

Three cheers for three day weekends!  I'll take a day of changing diapers and screaming infants over the hard slog to Queens to slowly feel my IQ and will to live seep away.  I have to confess, though, that my poop-avoidance campaign continues to be extraordinarily successful, having dodged a 10-pounder while at the gym this morning.  It's not like I want Oodgie to be stuck with all the crap, but it's hard to complain when you go two weeks without a Pamper-breach.  I'm sure the karma-wheel is about to turn on me, but I'm enjoying the ride in the meantime.

There are two important things I'd like to acknowledge about this weekend.  First is Martin Luther King, Jr., himself, who is the last Great Man that this country has produced.  If I think about what he stood for, how he inspired people, and his lasting influence on our world, then compare him to any one of the chowder-heads who hog the spotlight nowadays, I get a shudder of regret that I live at a time without any real heroes.  I'm not saying there aren't everyday heroes in the world, or people who inspire me, but it's just not the same.

The second item is, in a natural segue, football.  What a weekend of games, eh?  Cheeky joined me in yet another cardiac-inducing Seahawks victory on Saturday.  FINALLY!  Although someone needs to have a sit-down with their special teams players to discuss the importance of not. dropping. the ball.  And did you see the Colts-Steelers game?  Holy cow!  Awesome!  The Steelers and Broncos deserve props for great wins, and no matter which one of them loses to Seattle in the Super Bowl they should be very, very proud of their performances.  I love this time of year.

Not much else to report.  Cheeky just completed a paint-peeling screaming fit as if we were putting her in a Judas Cradle, when we were actually just putting her down for a nap.  And tomorrow I get my annual review at work, in which I find out if I my boss has paid enough attention over the last six months to notice that I'm both very talented and completely disengaged.   Should be a nice way to start the week.  My guess?  It's corporate America, and they'll probably give me the same average rating they give everyone else regardless of how well or poorly your performance was.  One of the rewards of living in a mediocracy, I guess...