The rumors are true.
The Wife, the Kid, the Dogs and I are packing up and moving to Port Washington, NY. The Folks created a bit of a juggernaut with the store they've built and need help running it. So we're heading east.
There you go.
We'll be arriving sometime in mid-August. I expect some kind of welcome home shebangebang.
On a more serious note, I need some golf partners. Has anyone else taken up the game? Want to? Now would be a very good time to start.
On a slightly less serious note, is anyone interested in a poker game maybe once a month or something. I've got the table, cards, and chips. Just need the suckers. Let me know if you and your associates feel like getting your pants pulled down and spanked by my card playing abilities.
See you all in a few weeks.
Seriously, take up golf.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
It's Probably Good For You
So I was having dinner last night at my hotel. Chicken cheese and bacon sandwich. Little mayo on it as well. Anyways, during my consumption of said sandwich a piece of bacon fell out that had some mayo on it. I picked it up and ate it...yum! I go back into the kitchen to thank the Chef (as I always do, it's a good idea to be nice to those who touch your food) when I notice bacon floating in the deep fryer. I asked him why there was bacon in the deep fryer and he told me it's the fastest way to reheat bacon. So here's the timeline:
A) They cook the fatty bacon on a griddle that's coated with grease. They then let it cool and congeal in its own fatty juices.
B) They then deep fry the fatty covered bacon in fat.
C) I, now in possession of the fatty bacon, put mayo on it.
D) I ate it.
Seriously, has anyone eaten something so incredibly bad for you? I'm a glutton and even I felt like I crossed a line after I found out about the bacon's travels in the deep fryer.
Pray for me.
A) They cook the fatty bacon on a griddle that's coated with grease. They then let it cool and congeal in its own fatty juices.
B) They then deep fry the fatty covered bacon in fat.
C) I, now in possession of the fatty bacon, put mayo on it.
D) I ate it.
Seriously, has anyone eaten something so incredibly bad for you? I'm a glutton and even I felt like I crossed a line after I found out about the bacon's travels in the deep fryer.
Pray for me.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
The Punishment is Over!
Yeah, I know that I haven't posted in forever.
Possible Reason 1 - No one noticed that the picture of my son on his birth diary was wearing a Trogdor onesie. I bought that especially (F)for that picture. You were all punished by me taking 2 and a half months off from updating.
Possible Reason 2 - Now that I have a 2 month old, uninterrupted sleep, when you can get it, is way more interesting then posting a blog. To me at least.
Truth be told, reason 1 is the (F)excuse I tell myself. Reason (F)2 is the reality.
Anyways, a bunch o' crap has been floating around the old noggin. Instead of one story, I'm gonna give you a bunch of tidbits.
1. Every time you see (F), it means my son has started to fuss and I must take a break from this and attend to him. I just thought I'd give you a small taste of what I'm going through.
2. (F) For those of you who don't know, I'm working at the Rio in Vegas as a Poker dealer. It's a great job and the money is good. But one thing about that place is awesome. No other property I've worked at has had this benefit. If you go down into the underground hallways, past the break room and take a right instead of a left towards the Employee Dining Room, and walk an extra 1/4 of a mile, you come to a men's room. But not just any restroom. It's the poop bathroom.
First of all, it's clean. And it's kept that way by the people who use it. I've been working there for almost 6 months now and in all that time, I've never seen a pee stain on the seat or rim. Second of all, The (F)toilet paper is abundant as is the hand soap. Third and possibly best, the toilets come with one of those sensors that automatically flush. So what, you say? A lot of toilets have that. While that may be true, these are the only ones I've come across that will automatically flush every 2 minutes when the detect someone is there. That's right. Built in auto courtesy flush!
Everyone respects the poop bathroom and speaks of it in hushed tones. I honestly believe that if you desecrate the poop bathroom, you'd be fired.
3. It really doesn't matter how bad my day is going. If I can make my son smile, the day is instantly pretty awesome.
4. I look back a year (F)ago. I honestly thought either the wife or I was sterile. Whoops.
5. As I write this I try to think of things that don't have to do with the kid. Problem is, EVERYTHING in my (F) life has to do with the kid now.
6. So yeah, I ended up going to Boston for two days to see the Mighty Mighty Bosstones. And it was the best concert I've ever been to. So of course, the next concert they decide to play is in Vegas. And yes, I've got tickets to that show too.
7. How the hell do none of my old friends from the east coast not have an xbox 360??? Damn near everyone of my friends out here (F)on the west side has one. Time to get on the trolley. Buy an xbox 360.
8. I got kicked off a golf course the other day because Lee was with me. They said it was a risk for a baby, it could be hit with a golf ball. Couldn't I be hit with a golf ball too? Besides, he's well covered in a stroller while my head is totally exposed. Frankly, I think the guy behind the counter just hates babies. Either that or he hates adults and wants them to die by golf ball.
9. Flansburgh has been my dog for over 11 years. And he wasn't a puppy when I got him. If he was an adult he'd be classified as an old fart. Anyways, he can't go all night without going to the bathroom. But when he gets the call, he can't make it down the stairs and outside in time. So Jenny and I are the proud owners of pee (F)stains...all over our upstairs landing. We've tried pee pads and diapers. The diapers don't fit. (he's long like a wiener dog.) and you can't teach an old dog new tricks...like how to use a pee pad. Poor old dog.
10. I've missed writing. I also have come to the realization that I write better in long stories then short blurbs. Expect one of those sooner then later. Oh yeah, and buy an xbox360.
Possible Reason 1 - No one noticed that the picture of my son on his birth diary was wearing a Trogdor onesie. I bought that especially (F)for that picture. You were all punished by me taking 2 and a half months off from updating.
Possible Reason 2 - Now that I have a 2 month old, uninterrupted sleep, when you can get it, is way more interesting then posting a blog. To me at least.
Truth be told, reason 1 is the (F)excuse I tell myself. Reason (F)2 is the reality.
Anyways, a bunch o' crap has been floating around the old noggin. Instead of one story, I'm gonna give you a bunch of tidbits.
1. Every time you see (F), it means my son has started to fuss and I must take a break from this and attend to him. I just thought I'd give you a small taste of what I'm going through.
2. (F) For those of you who don't know, I'm working at the Rio in Vegas as a Poker dealer. It's a great job and the money is good. But one thing about that place is awesome. No other property I've worked at has had this benefit. If you go down into the underground hallways, past the break room and take a right instead of a left towards the Employee Dining Room, and walk an extra 1/4 of a mile, you come to a men's room. But not just any restroom. It's the poop bathroom.
First of all, it's clean. And it's kept that way by the people who use it. I've been working there for almost 6 months now and in all that time, I've never seen a pee stain on the seat or rim. Second of all, The (F)toilet paper is abundant as is the hand soap. Third and possibly best, the toilets come with one of those sensors that automatically flush. So what, you say? A lot of toilets have that. While that may be true, these are the only ones I've come across that will automatically flush every 2 minutes when the detect someone is there. That's right. Built in auto courtesy flush!
Everyone respects the poop bathroom and speaks of it in hushed tones. I honestly believe that if you desecrate the poop bathroom, you'd be fired.
3. It really doesn't matter how bad my day is going. If I can make my son smile, the day is instantly pretty awesome.
4. I look back a year (F)ago. I honestly thought either the wife or I was sterile. Whoops.
5. As I write this I try to think of things that don't have to do with the kid. Problem is, EVERYTHING in my (F) life has to do with the kid now.
6. So yeah, I ended up going to Boston for two days to see the Mighty Mighty Bosstones. And it was the best concert I've ever been to. So of course, the next concert they decide to play is in Vegas. And yes, I've got tickets to that show too.
7. How the hell do none of my old friends from the east coast not have an xbox 360??? Damn near everyone of my friends out here (F)on the west side has one. Time to get on the trolley. Buy an xbox 360.
8. I got kicked off a golf course the other day because Lee was with me. They said it was a risk for a baby, it could be hit with a golf ball. Couldn't I be hit with a golf ball too? Besides, he's well covered in a stroller while my head is totally exposed. Frankly, I think the guy behind the counter just hates babies. Either that or he hates adults and wants them to die by golf ball.
9. Flansburgh has been my dog for over 11 years. And he wasn't a puppy when I got him. If he was an adult he'd be classified as an old fart. Anyways, he can't go all night without going to the bathroom. But when he gets the call, he can't make it down the stairs and outside in time. So Jenny and I are the proud owners of pee (F)stains...all over our upstairs landing. We've tried pee pads and diapers. The diapers don't fit. (he's long like a wiener dog.) and you can't teach an old dog new tricks...like how to use a pee pad. Poor old dog.
10. I've missed writing. I also have come to the realization that I write better in long stories then short blurbs. Expect one of those sooner then later. Oh yeah, and buy an xbox360.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Transfered
Hey all,
I've decided to start a new blog for my son.
theleehowlandspinoff.blogspot.com
Basically, if you're looking for updates on parenting and how the baby is doing, go there. It's a much nicer, cuter website with a lot of pictures and all that.
If you want to read what a bastard Lee's dad is, stay here.
I've decided to start a new blog for my son.
theleehowlandspinoff.blogspot.com
Basically, if you're looking for updates on parenting and how the baby is doing, go there. It's a much nicer, cuter website with a lot of pictures and all that.
If you want to read what a bastard Lee's dad is, stay here.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Hi There
Sorry the diary didn't work so well. The hospital lied when they said they had internet access which is making this very tough. I wrote a lot and will update when I get the chance but for now:
I'd like to present Lee Simpliciano Howland. He was born at 9:21 PM. He's 6 lbs 11 oz and was 18 inches long. I had a spiel all set up about he was a spawn and evil and all that, but the little booger is just too cute.
I'd like to present Lee Simpliciano Howland. He was born at 9:21 PM. He's 6 lbs 11 oz and was 18 inches long. I had a spiel all set up about he was a spawn and evil and all that, but the little booger is just too cute.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Life
As most of you know, and now all of you know since you're reading this, The Wife is quite pregnant. In fact, she is so pregnant.....
(Did anyone think of saying "how pregnant is she?" If so, well done!)
She is so pregnant that tonight at 7:30PM we will be going into the hospital to start an induction. Not much of a punchline, but true nonetheless. Anyways, to keep everyone as updated as possible, I will be keeping a running diary on here. I'll just keep updating the same entry as time passes and interesting things happen. You can expect the first addendum sometime tonight after we check in. Wish us luck as BABY HOWLAND 2007 sweeps the land!
7:30 PM - We arrive at the hospital armed with just about everything Jenny could need to be comfortable. Socks, games, iPods, all the creature comforts are now in this sterile environment. Jenny's doing well. She's nervous and has had a few moments of emotion but is handling it in stride. I, on the other hand, am a wreck. I've thought of nothing else for the last few days but baby and given myself an upset stomach. I'll be doing most of this blogging from the toilet.
7:50 PM - Guess what doesn't work well. The internet, at the hospital of course! Instead of one update every so often, it's going to be a mass of updates every few hours. Sorry about that.
8:10 PM - The nurse comes in and starts going to work on Jenny, giving her IV's and monitors that show the baby's vitals and hers. All is going well until it's time for the cervix check. This is the part of the story where I get to watch the nurse shove her hand up my wife's crotch. Ugh. I'm not really sure if I should file for divorce or tip them both $20.
8:30 PM - All the consent forms are signed, all the tubes and wires are going where they are supposed to. Time for Jenny and I to get some sleep! I'm aided by a couch that has a fold down cushion that was built for someone approximately half my size and half my weight. Jenny is aided by a blood pressure collar on her arm that goes BZZZZZZZZZ every 30 seconds or so. It's going to be a long night.
9:00 PM - It might be a little bit shorter. Apparently, the good doctor saw that we might be a tad uncomfy and took the liberty of writing Jenny a prescription for a mild sleeping pill. Luckily for me, the dosage was a two piller. I'm not saying the wife gave me a prescription sleeping pill. That's against the law. I will say however, that maybe I'll be able to sleep after all.
11 PM - So Tired. The beds couldn’t be more uncomfortable. The drugs I didn’t get are not helping at all. Jenny is actually sleeping ok, right up until that blood pressure collar activates every 30 seconds, waking her up.
1 AM – Fed up with sleeping like crap, I decide to drive home and get a bunch of comfy pillows. At home, I am greeted by two dogs who are in a bit of a panic. They saw us pack up and usually when we pack up we take them over to our friends house. But they were left at home this time. So when they saw me, they flipped out and wouldn’t leave my side. Because of this, I stayed an extra 20 minutes, lavishing the pups with attention. It might be the last time they get that for a while.
2 AM – Armed with a bunch of comfy pillows and a heap of exhaustion, Jenny and I both get some much needed sleep.
8 AM – The nurse arrives to awaken us with a nice fist in Jenny’s crotch. Jenny informs me that this nurse is nowhere near the gentle lover the last nurse was. Eww. More bad news, the drug that was supposed to soften Jenny’s cervix has done nothing of the sort. No progress. We’ve been in this hospital for over 13 hours now and basically we haven’t even left the starting gate. Jenny’s quite bummed but I just explain to her that if I was baby, I wouldn’t want to leave such a great home either. After all, the food is good, it’s nice and warm and the big hairy guy I hear outside scares me. We were supposed to start the contraction drugs at 9 but now it’s uncertain.
9 AM – Jen’s OBGYN is Dr. Miller and she is awesome. She’s funny, very intelligent, and straight forward, which we both love. Our love grew for her even more today when after 2 nurses told us that because the first drug didn’t work Jen would have to start over, Dr. Miller came in and said start the second drug and if that drug didn’t break Jen’s water, she would break Jen’s water herself. AWESOME! We’re back on track.
12PM - Nothing is happening. Bored Bored Bored. We're watching crap on TV we would never otherwise. I'm going to go home and shower up. Who thought labor could be so mind numbingly dull.
1PM - The nurses are starting to get concerned. They keep shoving their fists in my wife's crotch hoping for progress but none comes. Dr. Miller comes in and says it's time to get this party jumping, shoves her hand WAY up the wife's crotch and breaks her water the old fashion way. Jen seems both relieved and repulsed at the ooze leaking out of her. For some reason, I'm ok with it.
3PM - The contractions are escalating! I'm very excited because I, having read all the latest books on childbirth, know this is a step in the right direction. The wife....not so much. In fact, the wife, who is known for her smile, has stopped smiling altogether. She's now pretty much frowning more and more as the minutes tick by. "Any chance you can find out about that epidural?" I rush into the hall and the nurse says she'll call the anesthesiologist.
(On a side note, I spelled anesthesiologist on the first try. No spellcheck needed. That kid is going to have an awesome dad.)
4 PM - In walks the drug man. (Just cause I CAN spell doesn't mean I want to over and over). He tells Jenny to hunch over and gets one mother of a needle ready. The nurse grabs Jenny by the shoulders and pulls her forward. He misses where he should hit and hits her in the spine. Pulls out the needle and tries again. Misses again. Pulls it out again, tries again, and misses again. He tries to twist it in, nope. Now the wife is sobbing with pain. I'm on the couch watching this, trying my hardest not to walk over and kill this man who has now stabbed my wife in the back three times. He pulls it out once more and tells the nurse to really lean my crying wife over more. The discs are not separating. He shoves the needle in again. NOPE! He missed again. I'm about to start begging him to stop torturing my pregnant wife when on the 5th try, he finally got it in. The relief was pretty quick but I think if my wife had the choice of natural childbirth or 5 needles in the back again, her epidural would never have happened. Anyways, the nurse says this should speed things along. For the first time all night, I feel terrible for what the wife is and is going to go through.
6PM - The epidural, which should speed things along, has not. The wife is stopped dilating and the baby isn't dropping into place. The nurses seem concerned but the wife, full of painkilling happy juice is ok with letting it go a bit longer. She's come this far and really doesn't want a c-section. I haven't slept in a long time and am getting pretty damn tired. I'm starting to root for the slice and dice
8PM - Nothing Nothing Nothing. Seriously, why be in labor if nothing progresses. Give me something, an inch, a drop, something. The wife's labor has totally stagnated. The nurses decide to call the doctor and see what she's recommends. The wife is pleading her case for more time, all she needs is a few more days and she's guaranteed to give birth naturally. The nurses leave to call the doctor.
8:50 PM - We haven't heard from anyone in almost an hour. I decide to check out for the night and go to bed on the crazy uncomfortable couch. I'm exhausted so I settle in for a good night's sleep.
9 PM - I'm awakened to find Dr. Miller in our room explaining to Jenny that it's time for a c-section. It's been too long, no more options. Jenny reluctantly agrees and asks what surgeon will do it. Dr. Miller informs us that she herself will be doing the surgery. Jenny, who completely trusts her doctor, is immediately on board with the c-section! And away we go! The same nurses who have been shoving their hands in my wife's crotch become obsessed with shaving it, actually shaving it as she's being loaded back into bed. Another doctor comes in a gives Jenny a shot which immediately makes her shiver. They give me some large size scrubs and tell me to put them on. Then they give me some new 3XL scrubs that actually fit and tell me to put them on. And we're off to the OR.
9:10 PM - I'm instructed to wait outside the room while they set up. After what seemed like 2 hours but was probably 3 minutes, they allow me in. Dr. Miller is prepping Jen's tummy and I am escorted to her head area where they have draped a large curtain so we can not see the proceedings. This is a good idea as I have no desire to see my wife get cut open. Stuck five times with a gigantic needle, sure, just not cut. The wife is awake but groggy so I tell her how good she's doing and stroke her hair. A few seconds later at....
9:21 PM - I'm a daddy. I hear the baby crying and tell Jenny she's a mommy. I see the baby whisked over to a baby warmer so the nurses can start to clean him up. This was simultaneously one of the most joyous and agonizing moments of my life. On one hand is my wife, the love of life, helpless and crying. On the other is my child, the new love of my life, a few feet away helpless and crying. I couldn't be with both and I had no idea who I should be with. The wife, sensing my painful confusion, told me to go be with my son. So I left my wife to attend to my new son. As I type this, it still makes me feel awful that I left her, but she was right, I had to. There he was, covered in blood and assorted goo. They asked me if I wanted to cut the cord. I know they ask the dads if they want to cut the cord so they feel like they're a part of it. Let's be honest, daddies don't do squat. If labor was an NFL game, mommies would be the quarterbacks and daddies would be the cheerleaders. I was actually going to decline cutting the cord, but the scissors were in my hand before I knew it and next thing I know, I'm cutting his cord. The nurse asked if we he had a name for him. If you read this blog, you know what we were leaning to. I asked Jenny, if was okay to name him. Jenny asked if he looked like the name we choose and I told her yes, so she said to go ahead and name him. We named him Lee Simpliciano Howland. And he's so beautiful.
9:30 PM - The nurses instruct me to come with them into the nursery so Lee can be processed. I kiss the wife goodbye and tell her I'll see her really soon. Lee and I head into the nursery and start the processing. Weight: 6 lbs 11oz. Length: 18in He gets a few shots and some goop in his eyes. I take a quick cell phone picture and send it out to the family. I call the folks and inform them of their upgrade to grandparents which makes them quite ecstatic. I've heard that the birth of your first child will instantly become the greatest day in your life. I wish I could say that's the case. Don't get me wrong. It's a pretty great day. But I've always been under the impression that the best day in your life doesn't include getting peed on. And Lee made sure that was the case about 10 minutes into his new life. Looked right at me and peed on me. I'm fine with it. I'm not even saying it wasn't cute in a weird way. But it makes it impossible for his birth to be the best day of my life. Oh well.
10:30 PM - Lee and I head back to the wife as she has had the full hour to recover. She's still a little loopy but as soon as she sees Lee she starts crying and wants to hold him. I hand him over and she looks so happy holding our son. Our little family is all together now.
I was wrong. This is the best day of my life. Pee and all.
(Did anyone think of saying "how pregnant is she?" If so, well done!)
She is so pregnant that tonight at 7:30PM we will be going into the hospital to start an induction. Not much of a punchline, but true nonetheless. Anyways, to keep everyone as updated as possible, I will be keeping a running diary on here. I'll just keep updating the same entry as time passes and interesting things happen. You can expect the first addendum sometime tonight after we check in. Wish us luck as BABY HOWLAND 2007 sweeps the land!
7:30 PM - We arrive at the hospital armed with just about everything Jenny could need to be comfortable. Socks, games, iPods, all the creature comforts are now in this sterile environment. Jenny's doing well. She's nervous and has had a few moments of emotion but is handling it in stride. I, on the other hand, am a wreck. I've thought of nothing else for the last few days but baby and given myself an upset stomach. I'll be doing most of this blogging from the toilet.
7:50 PM - Guess what doesn't work well. The internet, at the hospital of course! Instead of one update every so often, it's going to be a mass of updates every few hours. Sorry about that.
8:10 PM - The nurse comes in and starts going to work on Jenny, giving her IV's and monitors that show the baby's vitals and hers. All is going well until it's time for the cervix check. This is the part of the story where I get to watch the nurse shove her hand up my wife's crotch. Ugh. I'm not really sure if I should file for divorce or tip them both $20.
8:30 PM - All the consent forms are signed, all the tubes and wires are going where they are supposed to. Time for Jenny and I to get some sleep! I'm aided by a couch that has a fold down cushion that was built for someone approximately half my size and half my weight. Jenny is aided by a blood pressure collar on her arm that goes BZZZZZZZZZ every 30 seconds or so. It's going to be a long night.
9:00 PM - It might be a little bit shorter. Apparently, the good doctor saw that we might be a tad uncomfy and took the liberty of writing Jenny a prescription for a mild sleeping pill. Luckily for me, the dosage was a two piller. I'm not saying the wife gave me a prescription sleeping pill. That's against the law. I will say however, that maybe I'll be able to sleep after all.
11 PM - So Tired. The beds couldn’t be more uncomfortable. The drugs I didn’t get are not helping at all. Jenny is actually sleeping ok, right up until that blood pressure collar activates every 30 seconds, waking her up.
1 AM – Fed up with sleeping like crap, I decide to drive home and get a bunch of comfy pillows. At home, I am greeted by two dogs who are in a bit of a panic. They saw us pack up and usually when we pack up we take them over to our friends house. But they were left at home this time. So when they saw me, they flipped out and wouldn’t leave my side. Because of this, I stayed an extra 20 minutes, lavishing the pups with attention. It might be the last time they get that for a while.
2 AM – Armed with a bunch of comfy pillows and a heap of exhaustion, Jenny and I both get some much needed sleep.
8 AM – The nurse arrives to awaken us with a nice fist in Jenny’s crotch. Jenny informs me that this nurse is nowhere near the gentle lover the last nurse was. Eww. More bad news, the drug that was supposed to soften Jenny’s cervix has done nothing of the sort. No progress. We’ve been in this hospital for over 13 hours now and basically we haven’t even left the starting gate. Jenny’s quite bummed but I just explain to her that if I was baby, I wouldn’t want to leave such a great home either. After all, the food is good, it’s nice and warm and the big hairy guy I hear outside scares me. We were supposed to start the contraction drugs at 9 but now it’s uncertain.
9 AM – Jen’s OBGYN is Dr. Miller and she is awesome. She’s funny, very intelligent, and straight forward, which we both love. Our love grew for her even more today when after 2 nurses told us that because the first drug didn’t work Jen would have to start over, Dr. Miller came in and said start the second drug and if that drug didn’t break Jen’s water, she would break Jen’s water herself. AWESOME! We’re back on track.
12PM - Nothing is happening. Bored Bored Bored. We're watching crap on TV we would never otherwise. I'm going to go home and shower up. Who thought labor could be so mind numbingly dull.
1PM - The nurses are starting to get concerned. They keep shoving their fists in my wife's crotch hoping for progress but none comes. Dr. Miller comes in and says it's time to get this party jumping, shoves her hand WAY up the wife's crotch and breaks her water the old fashion way. Jen seems both relieved and repulsed at the ooze leaking out of her. For some reason, I'm ok with it.
3PM - The contractions are escalating! I'm very excited because I, having read all the latest books on childbirth, know this is a step in the right direction. The wife....not so much. In fact, the wife, who is known for her smile, has stopped smiling altogether. She's now pretty much frowning more and more as the minutes tick by. "Any chance you can find out about that epidural?" I rush into the hall and the nurse says she'll call the anesthesiologist.
(On a side note, I spelled anesthesiologist on the first try. No spellcheck needed. That kid is going to have an awesome dad.)
4 PM - In walks the drug man. (Just cause I CAN spell doesn't mean I want to over and over). He tells Jenny to hunch over and gets one mother of a needle ready. The nurse grabs Jenny by the shoulders and pulls her forward. He misses where he should hit and hits her in the spine. Pulls out the needle and tries again. Misses again. Pulls it out again, tries again, and misses again. He tries to twist it in, nope. Now the wife is sobbing with pain. I'm on the couch watching this, trying my hardest not to walk over and kill this man who has now stabbed my wife in the back three times. He pulls it out once more and tells the nurse to really lean my crying wife over more. The discs are not separating. He shoves the needle in again. NOPE! He missed again. I'm about to start begging him to stop torturing my pregnant wife when on the 5th try, he finally got it in. The relief was pretty quick but I think if my wife had the choice of natural childbirth or 5 needles in the back again, her epidural would never have happened. Anyways, the nurse says this should speed things along. For the first time all night, I feel terrible for what the wife is and is going to go through.
6PM - The epidural, which should speed things along, has not. The wife is stopped dilating and the baby isn't dropping into place. The nurses seem concerned but the wife, full of painkilling happy juice is ok with letting it go a bit longer. She's come this far and really doesn't want a c-section. I haven't slept in a long time and am getting pretty damn tired. I'm starting to root for the slice and dice
8PM - Nothing Nothing Nothing. Seriously, why be in labor if nothing progresses. Give me something, an inch, a drop, something. The wife's labor has totally stagnated. The nurses decide to call the doctor and see what she's recommends. The wife is pleading her case for more time, all she needs is a few more days and she's guaranteed to give birth naturally. The nurses leave to call the doctor.
8:50 PM - We haven't heard from anyone in almost an hour. I decide to check out for the night and go to bed on the crazy uncomfortable couch. I'm exhausted so I settle in for a good night's sleep.
9 PM - I'm awakened to find Dr. Miller in our room explaining to Jenny that it's time for a c-section. It's been too long, no more options. Jenny reluctantly agrees and asks what surgeon will do it. Dr. Miller informs us that she herself will be doing the surgery. Jenny, who completely trusts her doctor, is immediately on board with the c-section! And away we go! The same nurses who have been shoving their hands in my wife's crotch become obsessed with shaving it, actually shaving it as she's being loaded back into bed. Another doctor comes in a gives Jenny a shot which immediately makes her shiver. They give me some large size scrubs and tell me to put them on. Then they give me some new 3XL scrubs that actually fit and tell me to put them on. And we're off to the OR.
9:10 PM - I'm instructed to wait outside the room while they set up. After what seemed like 2 hours but was probably 3 minutes, they allow me in. Dr. Miller is prepping Jen's tummy and I am escorted to her head area where they have draped a large curtain so we can not see the proceedings. This is a good idea as I have no desire to see my wife get cut open. Stuck five times with a gigantic needle, sure, just not cut. The wife is awake but groggy so I tell her how good she's doing and stroke her hair. A few seconds later at....
9:21 PM - I'm a daddy. I hear the baby crying and tell Jenny she's a mommy. I see the baby whisked over to a baby warmer so the nurses can start to clean him up. This was simultaneously one of the most joyous and agonizing moments of my life. On one hand is my wife, the love of life, helpless and crying. On the other is my child, the new love of my life, a few feet away helpless and crying. I couldn't be with both and I had no idea who I should be with. The wife, sensing my painful confusion, told me to go be with my son. So I left my wife to attend to my new son. As I type this, it still makes me feel awful that I left her, but she was right, I had to. There he was, covered in blood and assorted goo. They asked me if I wanted to cut the cord. I know they ask the dads if they want to cut the cord so they feel like they're a part of it. Let's be honest, daddies don't do squat. If labor was an NFL game, mommies would be the quarterbacks and daddies would be the cheerleaders. I was actually going to decline cutting the cord, but the scissors were in my hand before I knew it and next thing I know, I'm cutting his cord. The nurse asked if we he had a name for him. If you read this blog, you know what we were leaning to. I asked Jenny, if was okay to name him. Jenny asked if he looked like the name we choose and I told her yes, so she said to go ahead and name him. We named him Lee Simpliciano Howland. And he's so beautiful.
9:30 PM - The nurses instruct me to come with them into the nursery so Lee can be processed. I kiss the wife goodbye and tell her I'll see her really soon. Lee and I head into the nursery and start the processing. Weight: 6 lbs 11oz. Length: 18in He gets a few shots and some goop in his eyes. I take a quick cell phone picture and send it out to the family. I call the folks and inform them of their upgrade to grandparents which makes them quite ecstatic. I've heard that the birth of your first child will instantly become the greatest day in your life. I wish I could say that's the case. Don't get me wrong. It's a pretty great day. But I've always been under the impression that the best day in your life doesn't include getting peed on. And Lee made sure that was the case about 10 minutes into his new life. Looked right at me and peed on me. I'm fine with it. I'm not even saying it wasn't cute in a weird way. But it makes it impossible for his birth to be the best day of my life. Oh well.
10:30 PM - Lee and I head back to the wife as she has had the full hour to recover. She's still a little loopy but as soon as she sees Lee she starts crying and wants to hold him. I hand him over and she looks so happy holding our son. Our little family is all together now.
I was wrong. This is the best day of my life. Pee and all.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Uh Oh
Sorry bout the lack of posts lately. It's been nothing but baby prep around here. What with buying all the essentials, to getting a pediatrician, to baby proofing the house, it's been a crazy trimester.
Does anyone else find the term baby proofing funny? If you baby proof your house, babies shouldn't be able to get in your house. I think it would be a much better advertising slogan for condoms. ZEUS CONDOMS! BABY PROOF YOUR WANG! If only someone had put that on a box on condoms nine months ago, I might not be in the predicament I'm in now. Oh well.
On a much more terrifying note, I'd like to welcome the newest reader of this blog, my mother! Somehow, someone told my sister about this and someone told my mother about this and someone was horribly disappointed. The disappointed individual would be my mother after reading all horrific thoughts I have and actions I do. I can understand. If I had a son that did all the things I've written about, I'd probably be embarrassed too. Oh wait, I'm having a son. That won't go well.
I knew the day would come that my mother found about about this. It wasn't a secret but I didn't go out of way to tell her either. Now that she knows, I feel..... You know how you feel when you've drank too much and need to throw up but it's not time yet. And then all of a sudden it's time to vomit! So you run to the bathroom, grateful in the knowledge you're about to chunk it out but still quite nauseous as you haven't yet done so. That's EXACTLY how I feel about my mother knowing about this blog.
I've always had my censor on around my mother. Most of you know me, I'm sort of an dick. But most people think I'm a funny dick. Which somehow allows the dickishness. But my mother and I have always disagreed on what humor is. She has always insisted that most things I find funny are not as such and I've always insisted that my mother has no sense of humor what so ever. So most of the time, around my mother, I've always had my internal censor on. Mainly because the few times I "unleashed the beast" around her, she never really saw the funny, just the dick. (I just realized that if the last two lines of this blog were quoted out of context, it would seem I expose my genitalia to my mother. Nice.)
Last Christmas, we (Jen, Mom, Dad and I) were all sitting around the table enjoying after dinner treats when the subject turned once again to Mom's lack of a sense of humor.
Me: You have no sense of humor, Mom.
Mom: You're wrong. I do.
Me: Okay, then. Give me an example of when a fart is funny.
(Both and Jen and my father know this is going down a bad road and their faces show it)
Mom: Well, I guess if.....hmmm.....Maybe if, Um....
Me: WRONG! Farts are always funny! You have no sense of humor.
My dad, appreciating the funny, busts out laughing at my mother as does the wife. My Mother, aggravated and frustrated, changes the subject, which we all happily do as a scorned Mom is a vengeful Mom and she has access to the knives.
Do not take this at all like I don't love my mother. I love her to death. She is one of the best people I know. She is overly kind, loving and supportive. Want proof? The fact I'm still alive after my teenage years is all the proof you need.
I take most of my values from my Mom. She's a staunch Democrat and environmentalist. She hates guns and was so disappointed when she read I had a gun. I hope she understands that I hate it too. Buying that thing was one of the hardest decisions I ever had to make and I still question it to this day.
There's a reason that the spelling and grammar are quite good in this blog. It's not because of proper schooling.
I always hear about men slapping their women around. I could never do that. Not only because my mother taught me very well that men and women are equal, but because if I ever did hit a woman my mother would be on the next flight out to Vegas with the full intent of killing me. As she should.
Being a staunch Democrat, she's also very anti-censorship. Which is why I've chosen not to censor my thoughts on here just because I know she's reading it. My brain will still spew vulgar stupidity here. I'm sure she won't like it, but that's ok. I'll still turn the censor on when I see her and be as charming as I can without dropping f-bombs and making masturbation comments. But on here, my mother participation will not stop me from telling you all about the time the wife and I totally did it in a handicap bathroom in a Japanese middle school. POW!
Anyways, say hi to my mom in the comments. That way, she'll know you read this too and her tears will multiply.
In fact, now that my Mom knows, maybe I'll let the whole family in on my ramblings. I can feel the family pride growing already!
I love you Mom!
You pain in the ass.
Does anyone else find the term baby proofing funny? If you baby proof your house, babies shouldn't be able to get in your house. I think it would be a much better advertising slogan for condoms. ZEUS CONDOMS! BABY PROOF YOUR WANG! If only someone had put that on a box on condoms nine months ago, I might not be in the predicament I'm in now. Oh well.
On a much more terrifying note, I'd like to welcome the newest reader of this blog, my mother! Somehow, someone told my sister about this and someone told my mother about this and someone was horribly disappointed. The disappointed individual would be my mother after reading all horrific thoughts I have and actions I do. I can understand. If I had a son that did all the things I've written about, I'd probably be embarrassed too. Oh wait, I'm having a son. That won't go well.
I knew the day would come that my mother found about about this. It wasn't a secret but I didn't go out of way to tell her either. Now that she knows, I feel..... You know how you feel when you've drank too much and need to throw up but it's not time yet. And then all of a sudden it's time to vomit! So you run to the bathroom, grateful in the knowledge you're about to chunk it out but still quite nauseous as you haven't yet done so. That's EXACTLY how I feel about my mother knowing about this blog.
I've always had my censor on around my mother. Most of you know me, I'm sort of an dick. But most people think I'm a funny dick. Which somehow allows the dickishness. But my mother and I have always disagreed on what humor is. She has always insisted that most things I find funny are not as such and I've always insisted that my mother has no sense of humor what so ever. So most of the time, around my mother, I've always had my internal censor on. Mainly because the few times I "unleashed the beast" around her, she never really saw the funny, just the dick. (I just realized that if the last two lines of this blog were quoted out of context, it would seem I expose my genitalia to my mother. Nice.)
Last Christmas, we (Jen, Mom, Dad and I) were all sitting around the table enjoying after dinner treats when the subject turned once again to Mom's lack of a sense of humor.
Me: You have no sense of humor, Mom.
Mom: You're wrong. I do.
Me: Okay, then. Give me an example of when a fart is funny.
(Both and Jen and my father know this is going down a bad road and their faces show it)
Mom: Well, I guess if.....hmmm.....Maybe if, Um....
Me: WRONG! Farts are always funny! You have no sense of humor.
My dad, appreciating the funny, busts out laughing at my mother as does the wife. My Mother, aggravated and frustrated, changes the subject, which we all happily do as a scorned Mom is a vengeful Mom and she has access to the knives.
Do not take this at all like I don't love my mother. I love her to death. She is one of the best people I know. She is overly kind, loving and supportive. Want proof? The fact I'm still alive after my teenage years is all the proof you need.
I take most of my values from my Mom. She's a staunch Democrat and environmentalist. She hates guns and was so disappointed when she read I had a gun. I hope she understands that I hate it too. Buying that thing was one of the hardest decisions I ever had to make and I still question it to this day.
There's a reason that the spelling and grammar are quite good in this blog. It's not because of proper schooling.
I always hear about men slapping their women around. I could never do that. Not only because my mother taught me very well that men and women are equal, but because if I ever did hit a woman my mother would be on the next flight out to Vegas with the full intent of killing me. As she should.
Being a staunch Democrat, she's also very anti-censorship. Which is why I've chosen not to censor my thoughts on here just because I know she's reading it. My brain will still spew vulgar stupidity here. I'm sure she won't like it, but that's ok. I'll still turn the censor on when I see her and be as charming as I can without dropping f-bombs and making masturbation comments. But on here, my mother participation will not stop me from telling you all about the time the wife and I totally did it in a handicap bathroom in a Japanese middle school. POW!
Anyways, say hi to my mom in the comments. That way, she'll know you read this too and her tears will multiply.
In fact, now that my Mom knows, maybe I'll let the whole family in on my ramblings. I can feel the family pride growing already!
I love you Mom!
You pain in the ass.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
I Had A BLAST!
I've accomplished the two goals I set out to accomplish before the baby is born. One was to break 80 in golf which I have now done twice and the other was to play Pebble Beach which I did last Wednesday. I played like crap but that's ok. The experience was amazing and the ending was perhaps the greatest thing that has ever happened in my life.
Understand that Pebble Beach is a walking course. It's a hilly six mile jaunt through the California coastline with 40 pounds strapped to your back, along which you swing a stick at about 100 mph 90 or so times. For a man of my stature (i.e. fat), this is an ordeal. I made it, but I was pooped.
Pebble Beach is a luxury golf course. They charge a pretty penny to play it but the course and service and second to none. One of the services they provide is when you finish your six mile hike, they ask you to sit on a bench so they can clean out your golf spikes. Nice touch. Instead of brushes, they use compressed air from a hose to clean out your spikes. Once they do so, you start to lower your foot but the attendant then does something unexpected.
He sticks the hose inside your shoe and turns the air on.
I've tried to be honest throughout this blog. Sure, I may have made some exaggerations here and there but most were for the good of the story. But I swear upon the soul of my unborn child that if after playing Pebble Beach, the attendants there offered me the choice of oral pleasure from a still hot 18 year old redheaded Lindsey Lohan, or air in the shoe I would take air in the shoe every single time.
This was by far the greatest thing I have ever felt. It was like angels filled my shoe and were massaging my foot with chilly pillows. I begged the attendant to do it again. He obliged and sent me back to heaven, over and over again for the good part of what seemed like mere seconds to me but my playing partner assures me was the good part of 5 minutes.
After it was over and I had heavily tipped the attendant for introducing me to the nectar that is air in the shoe, I proceeded to regale my partner for hours about my new found love of air in the shoe. He eventually got sick of it and started to try to change the subject. "NO!", I cried. "This entire night will be filled with nothing but my adoration of air in the shoe. Your just going to have to suck it up!"
If you own a air compressor, charge that baby up and go for a long walk. When you get back, stick that hose in your shoe and experience the unbridled ecstasy.
It's better then sex.
It's better then steak.
It's better then playing Pebble Beach.
I don't know if it's better then watching your firstborn child come into the world. I'll know soon. If I was a betting man, the kid would be a long shot at best.
Understand that Pebble Beach is a walking course. It's a hilly six mile jaunt through the California coastline with 40 pounds strapped to your back, along which you swing a stick at about 100 mph 90 or so times. For a man of my stature (i.e. fat), this is an ordeal. I made it, but I was pooped.
Pebble Beach is a luxury golf course. They charge a pretty penny to play it but the course and service and second to none. One of the services they provide is when you finish your six mile hike, they ask you to sit on a bench so they can clean out your golf spikes. Nice touch. Instead of brushes, they use compressed air from a hose to clean out your spikes. Once they do so, you start to lower your foot but the attendant then does something unexpected.
He sticks the hose inside your shoe and turns the air on.
I've tried to be honest throughout this blog. Sure, I may have made some exaggerations here and there but most were for the good of the story. But I swear upon the soul of my unborn child that if after playing Pebble Beach, the attendants there offered me the choice of oral pleasure from a still hot 18 year old redheaded Lindsey Lohan, or air in the shoe I would take air in the shoe every single time.
This was by far the greatest thing I have ever felt. It was like angels filled my shoe and were massaging my foot with chilly pillows. I begged the attendant to do it again. He obliged and sent me back to heaven, over and over again for the good part of what seemed like mere seconds to me but my playing partner assures me was the good part of 5 minutes.
After it was over and I had heavily tipped the attendant for introducing me to the nectar that is air in the shoe, I proceeded to regale my partner for hours about my new found love of air in the shoe. He eventually got sick of it and started to try to change the subject. "NO!", I cried. "This entire night will be filled with nothing but my adoration of air in the shoe. Your just going to have to suck it up!"
If you own a air compressor, charge that baby up and go for a long walk. When you get back, stick that hose in your shoe and experience the unbridled ecstasy.
It's better then sex.
It's better then steak.
It's better then playing Pebble Beach.
I don't know if it's better then watching your firstborn child come into the world. I'll know soon. If I was a betting man, the kid would be a long shot at best.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Chocolate Pudding
Sometimes life truly throws you a bone. The Mighty Mighty Bosstones are returning for a 5 day holiday reunion stint in Boston.
When? About 14 days after the birth of my first child.
Am I going? Hells YES I'm going. The only thing I would miss this concert for is the birth of my first child. And he's going to be well over 10 days old at that point.
I found out about the concert this morning on the internet. The first thing I did was walk into the bathroom where my wife had just taken her morning shower.
"Punch me."
"Why?"
"Just punch me!"
The wife delivered a weak right to the gut.
"Harder!"
"Why?"
"JUST DO IT!"
The wife delivers a much more emphatic blow.
"Thanks!"
"Why did I do that?
"Because the news I have is going to piss you off.....big time."
"Oh no! Where are you going?"
At least she knows me and to be honest, she took it pretty well. Realize I say "took it well" because there was no discussion. I'll discuss religion, politics, and how to raise our child, but I'm going to a Bosstones reunion. She knows of my affection for the Bosstones and was actually sad she wouldn't be able to go. I love her so much.
The next thing I did was text Andrew, one of my best and oldest friends who is a bosstones nut himself. I texted him one word, "THROWDOWN!".
He called back within a minute. And he knew exactly what it meant. I love him too.
So I'll be traveling to Boston for about 48 hours to see the Bosstones twice in the dead of winter. I'll be doing my all to get tickets the nice and legal way but if needed, I'll hit up a scalper.
Am I bastard for leaving my child that early in life? Yes. Will it scar him for life? Shit, what I do won't scar him for life. Besides, he'll be all snug and warm with his mommy while I'll be freezing my ass off in Boston. MIGHTY MIGHTY....
When? About 14 days after the birth of my first child.
Am I going? Hells YES I'm going. The only thing I would miss this concert for is the birth of my first child. And he's going to be well over 10 days old at that point.
I found out about the concert this morning on the internet. The first thing I did was walk into the bathroom where my wife had just taken her morning shower.
"Punch me."
"Why?"
"Just punch me!"
The wife delivered a weak right to the gut.
"Harder!"
"Why?"
"JUST DO IT!"
The wife delivers a much more emphatic blow.
"Thanks!"
"Why did I do that?
"Because the news I have is going to piss you off.....big time."
"Oh no! Where are you going?"
At least she knows me and to be honest, she took it pretty well. Realize I say "took it well" because there was no discussion. I'll discuss religion, politics, and how to raise our child, but I'm going to a Bosstones reunion. She knows of my affection for the Bosstones and was actually sad she wouldn't be able to go. I love her so much.
The next thing I did was text Andrew, one of my best and oldest friends who is a bosstones nut himself. I texted him one word, "THROWDOWN!".
He called back within a minute. And he knew exactly what it meant. I love him too.
So I'll be traveling to Boston for about 48 hours to see the Bosstones twice in the dead of winter. I'll be doing my all to get tickets the nice and legal way but if needed, I'll hit up a scalper.
Am I bastard for leaving my child that early in life? Yes. Will it scar him for life? Shit, what I do won't scar him for life. Besides, he'll be all snug and warm with his mommy while I'll be freezing my ass off in Boston. MIGHTY MIGHTY....
Friday, September 28, 2007
Pennywise
I've decided to start writing guide books to help people to try to live more awesome lives like I do. I've posted the first book here for you all to enjoy! True, it's brief, but genius often is.
How to spend $40 correctly.
Step 1 - Go to Disneyland with two degenerate gambling friends.
Step 2 - Get in line for the Matterhorn rollercoaster.
Step 3 - Point out that the ride allows two people to sit "lap" style.
Step 4 - Offer said degenerates twenty dollars each to ride "lap" style. The degenerates will agree but want their money upfront so make sure you actually have the forty dollars handy.
Step 5 - Get into the ride first, behind where the degenerates are riding so they think you can't take a picture of them. Allow them to enter the ride after you.
Step 6 - Using your knowledge of the Disney Guest Service code, ask the ride attendant to take a picture for you. Because of said code, she can't refuse.
Step 7 - Loudly start mocking your friends for being "total homos". Others in line and ride attendants will join in the fun.
Step 8 - When someone from the line shouts at your friend who is wearing a Green Bay Packer Jersey "I guess he really is a packer.", relish the moment. The world will never be funnier then it is right now.
Step 9 - While riding, continue to mock your friends. After all, this is a rough rollercoaster and they're having all kinds of "dick on butt" rubbing occurring during the ride. Point this out several times.
Step 10 - While the ride might be over, the enjoyment certainly is not. For the rest of the day, congratulate them on their new found wealth and ask them if "riding homo on the matterhorn" was worth the cash. They will both heartily concur it was not. Happily, you can disagree. Because you have proof.
The one in the jersey is Jeremy Drier. The one who's getting the lap dance is Joseph Parks. I include their names in the off chance that a bored love one will google their names and find their shame.
How to spend $40 correctly.
Step 1 - Go to Disneyland with two degenerate gambling friends.
Step 2 - Get in line for the Matterhorn rollercoaster.
Step 3 - Point out that the ride allows two people to sit "lap" style.
Step 4 - Offer said degenerates twenty dollars each to ride "lap" style. The degenerates will agree but want their money upfront so make sure you actually have the forty dollars handy.
Step 5 - Get into the ride first, behind where the degenerates are riding so they think you can't take a picture of them. Allow them to enter the ride after you.
Step 6 - Using your knowledge of the Disney Guest Service code, ask the ride attendant to take a picture for you. Because of said code, she can't refuse.
Step 7 - Loudly start mocking your friends for being "total homos". Others in line and ride attendants will join in the fun.
Step 8 - When someone from the line shouts at your friend who is wearing a Green Bay Packer Jersey "I guess he really is a packer.", relish the moment. The world will never be funnier then it is right now.
Step 9 - While riding, continue to mock your friends. After all, this is a rough rollercoaster and they're having all kinds of "dick on butt" rubbing occurring during the ride. Point this out several times.
Step 10 - While the ride might be over, the enjoyment certainly is not. For the rest of the day, congratulate them on their new found wealth and ask them if "riding homo on the matterhorn" was worth the cash. They will both heartily concur it was not. Happily, you can disagree. Because you have proof.
The one in the jersey is Jeremy Drier. The one who's getting the lap dance is Joseph Parks. I include their names in the off chance that a bored love one will google their names and find their shame.
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