Zeus has learned to co-exist with the 100lb Puppy of Love easily, bopping Quattro on the nose when the puppy gets in the way. Quattro, however, has decided to be unbelievably jealous of Zeus when he gets petted. Quattro stomps about, whines, barks, and makes a cute little @ss of himself; typical manly behavior.

Neutered, microchipped, vaccinated, and a tail the size of Bangor. My cup doth overfloweth!

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Post from: Brain Needed Space

Like a Cat-Boss

DADDY DADDY DADDY!

“Yes?”

DAAADDEEE!

“Yes?”

DADDYDADDYDADDY!

“I’m right HERE!”

Oh. LOOK AT THIS CARD ITS LUQUASIA AND IT EVOLVES FROM QUASAR AND IT HAS 110 HEALTH AND DOES 80 DAMAGE ITS AN EPIC EVOLVED FORM AND I GOT IT FROM JOSH B FOR JUST THREE BASIC FIGHTING TYPES ISN’T IT COOL?!!

“Luquasia?”

DAD YOU’RE SO OLD SCHOOL.

/shot through heart, and it’s too late. I just gave Pokemon… a bad name.

Apparently I needed to learn a little bit about this manic, compulsive, obsessive all-encompassing universe known as Pokemon. So before Christmas, I went to my local gaming store and had a looksie.

“So he’s just starting out?”

“Yes.”

“Does he have a deck?”

“He has a hundred billion cards.”

“Does he have a deck?”

“What’s a deck?”

“Go to pokemon.com and learn.”

“No. He’s my son, but that doesn’t mean it’s my job to do all his work for him.”

“We have a free Pokemon friendly every Monday night at 6pm. Bring him by and we can teach him.”

“Now that’s a plan.”

The following Monday…

“Kiddo grab your cards; we’re going to the Pokemon store.”

THE POKEMON STORE?!? CAN I BUY A LUGIA AND A TURTWIG AND A REGIGIGAS AND

“No. We’re not buying anything.”

DAAAAAAAAAD!

“We’re going to let you learn to play Pokemon.”

I ALREADY KNOW HOW TO PLAY POKEMON! I PUT DOWN MY HIGHEST CARD  AND I ALWAYS BEAT THE OTHER CARD SO I WIN.

“That’s not Pokemon. That’s ‘Let the boy win so he doesn’t throw a fit.’ We’re going to go see..”

WHO?! WHO ARE WE GOING TO SEE?!

“I don’t know if I should tell you. You might get too excited.”

I NEVER GET TOO EXCITED I JUST DON’T HAVE AN INDOOR VOICE.

“We are going to go see.. a Pokemon Master.”

O.M.G. DAD. A REAL POKEMON MASTER I HAVE TO GET ALL MY BEST CARDS TO SHOW THE POKEMON MASTER I’LL BET HE HAS A LUGIA AND A TURTWIG AND A REGIGIGAS AND WILL HE LET ME SEE THEM AND WHAT IF HE BEATS ME REALLY BAD CAN I STILL KEEP MY CARDS OMG I’M GOING TO SEE A POKEMON MASTER.

“Do you have your cards? You should bring them all so the Pokemon master can teach you how to make a deck.”

I ALREADY HAVE A DECK OF ALL MY BEST CARDS.

“Bring them all.”

I DON’T NEED TO I HAVE ALL MY BEST CARDS.

“When you can’t play because you don’t have a deck, that’s on you.”

OK.

And so we get to the gaming store, and there he is. Seventeen years old, straight black hair over his eyes, and the musculature development of an anorexic teenage girl. His girlfriend is beside him, happily texting while Her Man rules the Pokemon Dojo. She is zaftig and dressed to show it all off, but fortunately my son is only interested in the Master’s wildly extensive collection of rare cards.

DADDY DADDY DADDY!

“Yes?”

DADDY!

“Right here, kiddo.”

DADDY I NEED CARD PROTECTORS.

“Card protectors?”

YES THE MASTER SAYS THAT EVERYBODY NEEDS CARD PROTECTORS OR THEIR CARDS WILL GET DAMAGED AND LOSE THEIR VALUE CAN I HAVE SOME PLEEEEAAAASE?

“Free Pokemon night, my sweet, dimpled… OK, let’s see how much they cost.”

YAAAAY! CAN I HAVE THESE BLUE ONES AND A DECK BOX AND A PORTFOLIO AND A CHAMPIONSHIP DECK AND”

“No no no no. Little plastic card sleeves for three bucks, yes. Twenty dollars for more cards, no.”

“AWWW THIS IS THE WORST DAY EVER!”

“Did you learn to make a deck?”

YES BUT I CAN’T MAKE ONE BECAUSE I DIDN’T BRING ALL MY CARDS BUT IF YOU BUY ME A CHAMPIONSHIP DECK I CAN PLAY RIGHT NOW.

“We will come back next week with your deck, but we aren’t buying more cards.”

CAN I PLEASE HAVE A CHAMPIONSHIP DECK I’LL NEVER ASK FOR ANYTHING ELSE FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE!

“Although I would make you sign that statement if you were a teenager, right now I have to say no. Go learn from the master.”

And he ran back to the  master, watched him play cards and flip coins and stare down his girlfriend’s v-neck sweater.

/bing-bing

Into the store waltzed three teenage girls, all wearing animal hats and carrying cardboard shoe-boxes of Pokemon cards.

DADDY DADDY DADDY

“Yes, kiddo?”

DADDY!

“Son, I’m right HERE!”

DADDY DADDY DADDY THERE ARE GIRLS HERE AND THEY HAVE POKEMON CARDS I THOUGHT ONLY BOYS PLAYED POKEMON DO I HAVE TO PLAY WITH THEM?

“You haven’t played at all, but you should watch them play and learn.”

OK I WILL BUT I DON’T WANT TO PLAY WITH GIRLS AND THEY SHOULDN’T BE HERE ANYWAY THEY SHOULD BE PLAYING GIRL-GAMES LIKE HOUSE OR BARBIE.

“That’s my little cro-magnon. Go learn.”

DADDY DADDY DADDY THAT GIRL HAS A CHARIZARD DO YOU THINK SHE WOULD TRADE IT TO ME I’M SO ANGRY THAT SHE HAS THAT CARD AND I DON’T I WONDER IF SHE’LL LET ME HOLD IT.

“Make it fast; it’s almost time to go.”

BUT I DON’T WANT TO GO I LOVE IT HERE AND I WANT TO SEE CHARIZARD.

“I know. So go ask; we’ve got to go. We’ll get pizza.

CHEESE PIZZA?

“Yes.”

THANK YOU FOR BRINGING ME HERE DADDY. I LOVE YOU.

“I love you too.”

WILL YOU BUY ME A CHAMPIONSHIP DECK NOW?

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Post from: Brain Needed Space

So What’s This Pokemon Cr@p, Anyway

I am feeling very, very good. That’s safe.

I have not been feeling very good for a long, long time. That is too.

I am engaging in a lot of forgiveness, both of others and of myself. Very nice.

A lot of confusion and murkiness has given way to clarity and understanding. Yup.

An almost two year personal journey has ended. I didn’t want to traverse this path, and although I am not completely innocent in choosing this path, my culpability is not nearly as grotesque as I once believed. Close.

The Man (woman) has said I am a good father and that I have done exactly the right thing. Almost there.

I love my son. My son lives with me, and will continue to do so until I have done everything I can to prepare him to survive life’s hardships. There it is.

(But my own mother continues to prepare me, so perhaps I should make my son’s live-at-home time-line a little shorter.)

And we’ve come to the line to which I alluded earlier. At this point, other peoples’ lives would be introduced and it is not my place to foist them onto the Internet. Some I am still working at forgiving for their trespasses, some for whom I hold a great deal of righteous anger, and some whom I pity more than anything else.

And while a part of me, though it is small, yearns to scream into the electro-nether about what has happened, in my heart I know I shouldn’t. Not only because it’s not the proper thing to do, but also because I don’t need to do it. If I was dependent upon the anonymous approval of blog-readers to feel better about myself, that would just be a sign that I haven’t learned anything, that I haven’t grown.

It would be easy to start spewing foul invectives, accusations, I-told-you-so’s, logical proofs of wrong-doings and lies, and unleashing a smugness of Biblical proportions, but that’s not the point of growing, learning, and moving on. So sayeth my therapist, so let it be done.

(Although I am now both medically and legally “smug”, so I really should be given a pass on that one. Yes? No? Aww.)

I heard a story that if a fifty year old man allows a bad experience from when he was eight years old control his life, that’s the man’s fault alone. Yes something bad happened, but allowing it to control you today is the opposite of what one should do. One should grieve, learn, and move on. Life is short, too short to allow a memory to rule your present and future.

I have grieved. I have suffered. I have been, frankly, tortured. Deliberately planned, and executed.

But today… today, I am blessed. I am strong, fortunate, and happy. Truly happy. Not giddy, not jubilant, just… happy.

I have an extremely sophisticated car stereo. I used to drive for two hours every day, and I could put on my music and get lost in the drive, secure in the knowledge that my wanderings would not take me any place that wasn’t safe. But for the past two years, allowing my brain to wander has been a bad thing, so my music was put aside for endless hours of ESPN and talk radio.

But today I listened to Toad the Wet Sprocket again in my 350Z, downshifting and blasting around semis, feeling alive, feeling calm, feeling serene.

Almost two years ago, my soul was forcibly chilled. Like the paint being poured onto the earth in the Sherwin Williams logo, in an instant my existence was drenched with thick, dripping layers of anxiety and fear. I have lived in that state for a long, long time, with additional coats of worry, doubt, uncertainty, and anger applied with thick brush strokes.

But today I lay in my bed, eyes closed, and did not have my mind immediately wander to torturous thoughts. I relaxed, breathed deeply, and said my prayers of thanks.

Today I am in a very good place. Spiritually, emotionally, financially, and surrounded by the love of family, friends, and my son.

Through this, I have made friends that will be with me forever. I have new loves, a new foundation, and new dreams. My faith has been reaffirmed, and the kind of parent I want to be has been demonstrated more forcefully than I could’ve imagined.

My son is named after my grandfather. He is the man who showed me what being a man is all about. Every time I look into my son’s eyes, I see my grandfather looking back at me. I wanted my life to mirror his, and to one day be at rest in the manner in which he lies.

But I have learned that I shouldn’t obsessively mourn the path that I wasn’t permitted to take, and I shouldn’t hate the people who were the architects of destroying that path. And this is especially true when a new path has been presented to me, a path that could not be at all possible without having completed the journey of the last two years. And complete it, I have.

Today, my grandfather would be proud. Today, he would say I am a good father.

I think I’ve finally grown up.

And I’m at peace.

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Post from: Brain Needed Space

The Long, Deep Exhale

2. A hayride itself is benign, but if the driver says “Whoops…” you know the party is getting started.

3. If you rent a car, get the GPS unit. Best decision of the week.

4. And get the $5/day upgrade for the Chrysler 300 with the satellite radio, too.

5. I’m from NY, and I won’t fly through NYC unless I’m being held gunpoint. Hartford rocked.

6. If you’re one of 25 retirees at the swanky hotel pool and all is quiet, but then a seven year old shows up to practice his cannonballs, you cannot be upset. It’s a pool, not a museum. Daddy is telling him not to yell, but it’s a pool for goodness sake.

7. Don’t charge me $2 for a Coke at the poolside cabana and expect me to tip you much for the burger.

8. When I order an Old Fashioned at the hotel bar and the guy blinks not once, but twice? That’s a bartender-problem, not a me-problem.

9. The hotel pub chef shouldn’t mess around with the basic recipe for pizza. The bread and cheese were amazing, but the bacon and red onions and arugula and mushrooms were too much. Simplification is a good thing.

10. A little discipline will go a long way. And that’s true in not punching the GPS unit when it says “Recaaaaaaalculating” like I screwed up. There was a concrete divider between me and the exit!

11. There is no good time to take the Throgs Neck Bridge.

12. There is never not a good time to take the Bridgeport-Port Jefferson Ferry. We were king of the world!

13. My mother lost twenty five pounds by stopping putting ice in her white wine. There’s more of a lesson here than I’m seeing, but dang if I can find it.

14. It may take years, but Karma exacts her payment eventually.

15. In-flight Internet is a big, slapping, kissable Yes. $10 is nothing; just get it.

16. The answer to “Do you want an upgrade to 1st class?” is Yes, especially when your scheduled to be slammed into a middle coach seat for two and a half hours.

17. It’s totally OK to despise the guy next to you for bringing his iPad and mocking you with its presence.

18. Apparently they make combined clothes washer-dryer units. /ponder

19. Always take the bigger piece of luggage. Always over-pack. Always take extra contact lenses. Always bring a pair of shoes you don’t think you’ll need.

20. Don’t sweat little purchases on vacation. The locker will cost $6 and the new water-shoes $15, but the memories of swimming and playing with your son at Lake Compounce will last a lifetime, and who can put a price on that.

21. OK, so don’t get the Raisin Bran and the chicken nuggets AND a Hostess cupcake on the ferry. He’s not a bottomless pit.

22. The water at Lake Compounce is maintained by keeping it stored in an Igloo cooler surrounded by liquid nitrogen. One word: C.O.L.D.

23. The pony ride is always worth the money.

24. If he wants to feed donkeys, let him feed the donkeys. But don’t let him near the emus.

24. Or the geese.

25. Now that I think about it, maybe we crashed that hayride. He did say, “Aren’t you with the group?”

26. Legos, water park, petting farm, grandma and grandpa, and lots of hugs and wrestling on a swanky hotel bed makes a good vacation, I don’t care where you live.

27. One can make friends out of any situation, and sometimes the worst situations help make the best friends.

28. If you need to kill two hours in Hartford, go to the best-looking restaurant, order the chef salad with blue cheese, and write a blog post about your vacation.

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Things I Learned on Vacation

Well, what kind of car would you buy?

ONE WITH MISSILES SO I COULD DESTROY MY ENEMIES.

…

Girl: “I love horses!”

Another boy: “Well that’s just an opinion.”

My boy: “I HATE OPINIONS.”

…

DADDY CAN I EAT MY STARBURST?

No, you have to wait for the lights in the theater to go out.

NOW?

No, the lights are still on.

NOW?

No.

NOW?!

Um, the lights are still on.

WELL WHEN?!

When the lights are off.

WHEN ARE THE LIGHTS GONNA BE OFF?

When the previews are over.

I HATE PREVIEWS!

Well, they’re necessary.

I HATE THINGS THAT ARE NECESSARY!

I know, kid-o.

NOW?!

No, the lights are still on.

(the final preview ends, and the lights dim)

Kid-o, you can eat your candy now.

NOT NOW THE MOVIE IS STARTING! DON’T YOU KNOW ANYTHING?

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Post from: Brain Needed Space

Random Conversations With a Seven Year Old

2. No, I’m not going to violate the Non-Disclosure Agreement.

3. No, this does not mean I’m coming back to “play” WoW. My account has not been active for a year and it isn’t active now.

4. No, TJ is not going to be the BRK Executive Assistant. Not because she wouldn’t rock at it, but frankly she’s extremely busy with wedding plans and electro-shocking Phil’s thumbs into the air.

5. Yes, a new BRK EA is being groomed.

6. Yes, my son is the most important person or thing in my life. He and his mother and I are linked for the rest of our lives. I wish her nothing but happiness and success as that will make her a better mother for our son, as I hope she wishes for me to be a better father. I will never bare our family issues in a public forum, ever. Just like every marriage that doesn’t turn out as we hoped, both parties had their roles to play in how everything evolved, both good and bad. My marriage did not end because of WoW, but last May I did quit WoW to focus on saving my marriage. At this point, we are both much happier than we were for many years, and that’s what’s best for our son, which is what’s most, and basically all, that’s important.

7. No, I will not be covering the entire frickin’ expansion.

8. No, I will not be min-max’ing.

9. No, I will not be developing shot-rotations.

10. No, I will not be espousing one spec over another.

11. Yes, I am going to try be a Hunter Tour Guide for Cataclysm. That is an excellent nom de guerre.

12. Yes, I will be maintaining both websites.

13. Yes, I’m going to do everything I can to keep Mania out of the alpha and beta. (/giggle snort)

14. Yes, Ghostcrawler totally emailed me a T-Mobile phone.

15. Yes, if you believe #14, you owe me a dollar.

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Answering the Mail Bag

“Uh, kiddo? You need new swimming trunks…”

CAN WE BUY ME NEW SWIMMING TRUNKS SO I CAN GO SWIMMIIIINNNNNGGG?!?!

“Yes.”

YAY!!

And we go to the big bad evil shopping center where apparently the 12.2% unemployment rate in Florida has no effect on their business ’cause the place is PACKED with people buying stuff, and we find some nice swimming trunks.

“Do you like the ones with sharks on them?”

YES I DO DADDY.

“Then let’s get them and…”

DADDY DADDY DADDY LOOK LOOK LOOK THEY HAVE PHINEAS AND FERB SWIMMING TRUNKS CAN I GET THEM CAN I CAN I?!?!

“Only if they have them in my size, too. Do you see lean-hipped Daddy-size?”

DADDY QUIT KIDDING I WANT EM PLEAAAASSSEE!

“Let’s see how much they cost… $2000. That’s a bit much…”

DADDY IT SAYS EIGHT DOLLARS. QUIT FIBBING.

So apparently he reads price tags, now. Awesome. I taught him to read… why?

We get home, and if it weren’t for the seat belt, he’d bolt through the car door and change into his new trunks en route to the pool. But the restraint held and I was able to get him upstairs to change properly and modestly. Beach towel acquired and to the pool we went.

DADDY ARE YOU GETTING IN?

“Kiddo, there are icebergs in that pool. It may be 83 degrees in the air, but that water has not warmed up yet.”

YES IT HAS.

“No, it hasn’t.”

YES IT HAS!

“No, it hasn’t.”

HAS HAS HAS HAS!

“You go try it, Captain Penguin.”

/sploosh!

DADDY IT’S REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY COLD!

“Score another one for Science, kiddo.”

And he swam and he swam and he swam, the entire pool to himself, because the college kids were much too busy tanning themselves in their own new bikinis and jim-jams to even contemplate attempting to become members of my son’s polar bear club.

Now of course I’m on the other side of the pool, away from the kids, because it would be creepy for a 41 year old guy to go jump into the skin-parade that is college girls and guys posing for each other. I know my place, right? Right.

I stayed in father-mode, watching the boy swim, throwing his goggles for him to fetch-n-retrieve, and just soaking in the atmosphere and cajoling my son into acting like something resembling a child with a modicum of pool-deportment.

“No running!”

“No yelling!”

“Keep your trunks ON!”

“Get out of the flower bed!”

“TRUNKS ON, KIDDO!”

“No spitting!”

“Stay in the pool area!”

“IF I SEE THAT LITTLE WHITE BOTTOM AGAIN, KIDDO, IT’S BEING SENT HOME!”

Success? I’m claiming it. Or I was claiming it, until this happened:

My son was happily paddling in the middle of the pool and went to get out on the ladder, which is where a phalanx of college girls had assembled to sun and talk. About ten of them, but I wasn’t counting. So the boy hops out of the pool, turbo-walks over to them, cocks his hips to the left, makes guns out of his hands, his index fingers pointing directly at the ladies, and says,

HEY!!!

And the girls look over at the soaking-wet seven year old, in the super cool Phineas and Ferb swimming trunks.

MY DADDY NEEDS TO MARRY A HOT LADY!!!

…

…

It’s not possible to crawl under a pool; that’s proven now.

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Post from: Brain Needed Space

No, There Were No Takers

1. Boy got his first “credit card” there. You know how you load it up with fake-money with real-money, then you spend the fake-money without thinking it’s real-money, but you KNOW it’s real-money so the anger is just doubled because they think you’re so STUPID as to NOT know it’s real-money. Yeah. He loved it.

2. Boy adores claw-machine games. He has a natural talent at them, too. On his fourth try, he got a NY Yankees necklace that is straight out of Jersey Shore. The girls — and there were a lot — who were quietly rooting AGAINST my son because THEY were trying to win it for THEIR boyfriends, started to hiss and “awww” when he won. But I gave them a 40-year-old-protective-father look, and they cheered and smiled for him. I’m sure I was burned in effigy later.

3. Yes, he won his necklace in four tries, but he used his remaining eight dollars on the exact same machine. No air hockey, no basketball, no race car game, nothing else. I guess he needed to work on his mad claw-game skillz.

4. If you’re going to take a bunch of kids to go bowling and aren’t sure whether or not to rent the lane per-game or per-hour, choose the per-game method. We didn’t complete a single game in the hour I rented the lane. Fun, yes. Cost-effective, heck no. Lesson learned.

5. I asked for mild, mild, MILD wings, so I could pretend they were BBQ chicken, for which the boy has been clamoring. They gave me medium. The boy didn’t try them,  of course, as he was busy showing off his Bling to everybody, but I did nearly kill someone eles’s child with them.

6. I had a Bass Ale. All four sips of it. I was WAY outta control.

7. There was absolutely no need to get a stack of plastic glasses for the water pitcher. Without a marker to identify which glass belong to which child, it was a communal water festival. And no, pitchers of soda with a gaggle of kids and only two supervising adults is extremely bad strategy.

8. Each and every child threw a mild hissy-fit with the first bowl. Kinda like Wrigly Field in late March.

9. Mini-bowling should not be bogarted by birthday parties. Every single child came in, saw it was reserved, and complained loudly. And only two air hockey tables? It’s like a prison.

10. I’M SORRY BUT YOU’RE SITTING RIGHT NEXT TO ME, YOU’LL HAVE TO SPEAK UP FOR ME TO HEAR YOU OVER THE INDUSTRIAL-LEVEL OF TOTO THEY’RE BLASTING.

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Frackin? Frekin? Farkin?

I lost a very, very good friend. Not as in lost-lost, or “I left her at Macy’s by accident” lost, but just lost. I hope she’s going to be OK, I miss her a ton.

If you are up north and are experiencing single-digit temperatures, I feel for you. But for us cold-blooded creatures in the south, temps in the 30s are worse because we have no reason to be used to it. Don’t mock me for my four layers of clothing or double-electric blankets, (only one of which is plugged it,) or wearing my lined leather jacket at the office. Yes it’s colder where you are, yes you have snow, yes you live in Chicago for some unknown reason, but you just don’t understand what we Floridians feel like right now. You just don’t.

I have the coolest iPhone case ever. The tall blonde at the restaurant yesterday confirmed it. Yes it’s a red crocodile-leather case. I like both the color and the texture. It’s wicked-cool, and hot college-aged women agree with me.

My one year of being “single” is approaching and while the loneliness is difficult, at least the pain of being alone with someone in the house is gone.

I have invited a friend down to visit for a weekend. I hope she can make it.

The more time I spend at Starbucks, the easier it is to laugh at people who need 42 adjectives to order their coffee. “Tall mocha” or “tall raspberry latte”, foshizzle.

The 100lb Puppy of Love has a fatty deposit in his left armpit that requires removal. It is not dangerous, but it will interfere with his walking. I can take my son to the doctor for shots and be brave for him, but when a vet touches my dog, I cry and sniffle. I’m getting teary just thinking about him having surgery.

My mean cat, Bisky Boodle, does not understand why I’m not taking pictures of her anymore. She’d me mad if I was, but is also mad that I’m not. Frankly, there’s just no winning with her and I quit trying years ago. If I am lying on the couch, she will hop up, but her face next to mine and say, “I am going to lie next to you, see? Don’t touch me. Don’t coo at me. Don’t call me cute names. Don’t move. I am here because I am sure it is an inconvenience for you, that’s all.”

I have no desire to make stuffed mushrooms anymore. My lemon chicken with carrots, celery, and bamboo shoots was an unmitigated disaster. I think my cooking is suffering because of my lost friend.

All the Christmas decorations are put away. It is both sad and cleansing, I think.

No, I am not going to join eHarmony or Match or anything else.

I totally scored at fixing my attorney’s computer over the holidays. I used to get a text or call every other day about a crash or lockup, but nothing at all this year. Extra RAM and a stay-awake program solved his problems.

The fungus in the 100lb Puppy of Love’s ears has been eradicated. We got through the weekend of peeing every three hours due to the medication, daily cleaning, and twice-daily ear drops. Does anything feel better than taking care of someone that looks into your eyes with total trust and love?

One of my friends who is right about everything, all the time, is gonna be wrong this time, I just know it.

Cub Scouts meeting this week means I get to hang out with parents. There is a mom there, married, who is very pretty and kind. It’s fun just to be around her because she and I are able to talk. We made pipe-cleaner candy canes together before Christmas while our kids brought us supplies. It was the fastest hour-long scout-meeting ever.

I need a new/used vehicle with a back seat, I know this. But my race car is almost paid off and the thought of no car payment is intoxicating. I hate purchasing used cars as the thought of car-repairs sickens me, but any new car is so expensive and such a depreciating investment. A used Porsche 911 has a back seat, but nobody will agree with me that this car would be a wise parenting choice.

Today I drove at a sedate 5mph through the 9″ cones they place in my son’s school parking lot. My car and I could totally smoke that course at 30mph easily, if they’d just move those Safety Patrol 5th graders out of the way.

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Post from: Brain Needed Space

2010 Who the {Bleep} Knows

Does this mean I have to buy my son a dune buggy? I mean if it does, OK, I’m on it, but this is either “Dune Buggy” or “Vacation in Vegas” territory, right?

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OK These Made Me Sniffle