Random Tangent Moment: sorry, this is why I never write with the television on but this new laptop is holding me captive on the bed as it sits in my lap.  TLC has a show on right now called “I Eat 33,000 Calories A Day” documenting the struggle of the morbidly obese.  Being overweight myself I can empathize, however; how does one who weighs 672 pounds and is bed-ridden get access to 33,000 calories a day?  They just showed a caretaker bringing in a tray full of food that had a salad, large bagel, bottle of salad dressing (Italian, I think) and a JAR of mayonnaise.  First off, I think I’d give him a small cup of dressing on the side.  Next, the bagel shouldn’t even be on the tray, let alone accompanied by a JAR of mayonnaise; I mean, the guy weighs SIX HUNDRED AND SEVENTY TWO POUNDS!  I’m not saying you chop him off at the knees and make him drink Slim-Fast shakes all day, but good gravy, HE’S STUCK IN BED!, bring him a diet coke and a salad with NO dressing.  Trust me, if it sits there long enough, he’ll eat it.  My daughter asks for Doritos for breakfast every morning, but I certainly don’t give them to her.  Well, there was that one day….  My point is; this guy is being enabled to the point of ridiculousness.  They’ve offered him stomach reduction surgery if he’ll lose 112 pounds, and he can’t, or won’t, do it.  112 pounds?  Skip afternoon snack #4 one day.  Forget the mayo slathered bagel.  Burp.  OK, that’s it; I can’t take this anymore, they’re getting ready to change his diaper and I’m sure it’ll be 3 times as hard to watch as it was to hear.

It was a fabulous time and I’m sure you’ll be hearing plenty more about it in the near future.  I was glad to get home to NukeMom and the NukeKids On The Block; I missed them terribly.  We are already planning a trip back for next summer so they can all enjoy the best Mexican food in the world just like I did.  And BBQ.  And Michelob  Ultra.  Well, maybe no Ultra for the kids, but NukeMom would probably enjoy one or two.  Or thirty; like I did.  OK, OK; it wasn’t thirty, it just felt like it.  I learned a couple of things about Michelob Ultra while I was home: 1) Ultra sounds very similar to ‘otra’ ; which means; ‘another’ in Spanish.  The bartender; Moises, spoke limited English, so my journeys to his domain turned comical (I thought I was being funny) when I would say; “Otra Ultra, Moises!” and would walk away with one, or sometimes two beers.  This became problematic later in the evening when I was trying to remember how many beers I had had and whether or not I should order ‘otra’ one.  I lost count when I had to take a shoe and sock off and decided that one more wouldn’t hurt anybody, which brings me to realization number two.  2) Michelob Ultra presents itself as a ‘light’ beer that can be consumed while playing a round of golf, working in the garden, or even running a marathon.  Put a six-pack in your pockets during your next Triathlon.  Being that I haven’t partied like it’s 1999 since, well, 1989; I was a bit rusty on the execution.  My math dilemma notwithstanding, Ultra can pack a punch if it is consumed in even numbers or small groups.  I don’t drink beer anymore; well, not in any quantity at least.  An occasional beer or two on the porch every couple of months is about the extent of it for me.  That being said, I guess you could classify me as one of those ’social drinkers’; one who only consumes alcohol (in limited quantities, mind you) at office parties, dinner parties or the occasional neighborhood get together.  With that in mind, understand that I will not allow you to say that I was “drunk” at my sisters wedding no matter what WeaselMomma tells you (Click on my favorites).  If you’re going to accuse me of anything, accuse me of being too social.  That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.  Try and reply to a tweet at 1:30am after consuming copious amounts of Michelob Ultra and your fingers will swell to the size of Johnsonville Bratwursts and the keyboard keys will look like Pez candies.  Nope, typing after that many Michelob Ultras isn’t recommended.  Realization number 3)  If you go to a party and the bartender only speaks Spanish and they have a choice between Ultra and Bud Light; I’d go with the Bud Light.  The math is so much easier.  Trust me on this one.

Our thoughts and prayers go out to the Weasel Family today as they cope with the loss of one of their own.   Claire Elizabeth Elaine passed away 2 weeks after her birth in 2002.  Please take a moment today to remember WeaselMomma and her family.

(Update) What a doofus I am.  Apologies to the WeaselFamily for getting Claire’s middle name wrong.  I’m still working on the badge not being visible issue.  Sorry for the mistake, WeaselMomma; although, I know you don’t mind too much; I’ve just given you gig ammunition for the next few years.

TIME FOR A SWIM

I feel like Snerdley McDweeble pacing his mother’s basement waiting for his Ukrainian mail-order bride.  Or Ralphie waiting for Christmas morning so he could unwrap his Official Red Ryder carbine-action 200 shot range model air rifle with a compass in the stock and this thing which tells time.  I’m as anxious as an emaciated piranha lurking downriver from a swim camp for the morbidly obese just before adult swim.  I’m a little excited (can you tell?), and now; I’m out of metaphors.  Damn, I was rollin’ there for a minute.  I have a surprise coming tomorrow.

My father’s day present came in a bag that was way too big.  You could have easily fit 2 or 3 bowling balls in there and still had room for shoes.  Hiding at the bottom was a wireless mouse.  Great, I thought; the old one is about to give out any day now and we already have a spare.  I’m thick as a brick and didn’t realize that my months of begging, pleading, bribing and blubbering had paid off: I was getting a laptop! My plan was to extoll the benefits of adding a second computer to the NukeHousehold over the months from Christmas ‘08 until my birthday in July.  I figured by then NukeMom would either agree with me, or be driven over the edge and buy me one just to shut me up.  She trumped me by getting it early; for father’s day.  Now, there are some conditions that come with this laptop; namely, that in addition to being my father’s day present, it is also my birthday present, my arbor day gift and my stocking stuffer for Christmas.  And I’m totally cool with that.  I mean, hey, I’m getting my own laptop!  Whoo Hoo!  No more drudging my carcass the four and a half feet from the bed to the computer desk; I can blog from under the covers!  We already have a wireless router for NukeMom’s work computer, so I’ll be able to pontificate from both the front and back patios!  The possibilities are endless, really.  The newspaper, Readers Digest, telephone, cell phone and DayRunner won’t be the only things I haul to the bathroom anymore.  The pool!  I’ve got to call the board members of our pool; I think it’s time we go WiFi under the canopy.  In fact, I’ll demand it.  I’m a member, dammit!  I hope they appropriated funds in the budget for extra outlets.

NUKEMOM & NUKEBOY1

One camping trip last week coupled with a trip to the New River in Foster Falls, Virginia today has led me to my present state: banging out this post while listening to John Denver.  I know, I know, Dr. Isaid No is laughing hysterically right now, and that’s to be expected, but I’m secure enough in my musical manhood to type that out loud; JOHN FREAKIN’ DENVER!  Yeah!  Dan Fogelberg is cued up after that, so there.  Where was I?  Oh yea, 1975; so anyway, I’ve been on this whole granola-back to nature-mother earth thing lately.  Don’t worry, I’m not turning into a cap and trade tree-hugging hippie, I’m just appreciating and enjoying the outdoors a little more these days.  NukeMom isn’t as impressed, but that’s probably due to the fact that I haven’t bathed in a week.  My argument that “The pioneers sometimes didn’t bathe for WEEKS!” isn’t working; which would explain the open suitcase sitting next to the unopened bar of Dial soap.  The ball is clearly in my court.  Maybe I’ll just pick up the NukeBeagles and we can all three jump in the tub tomorrow and make everyone happy.  I don’t know what they’ve been rolling around in out in the yard, but at this point, I could probably use it and call it cologne.

It hasn’t really been a week since my last bath encounter; we went to the water-park yesterday, and then there was that rainstorm I got caught up in last week…I guess a little soap never hurt anyone.  Maybe those “Cute, but he’s scratching his head” looks will abate as well.  I hope you don’t really think I’m that slovenly, I’m not, it’s just that summer is here, and, well; bathing is more of a choice now than a mandate.  Some days I take a shower, some days I don’t; some days I take 2 or 3 showers, it all depends.  Wake up at the crack of noon and stay inside watching TV all day?  No shower required.  Have your sewer line break while you’re standing over it?  You may need to just fill your pockets with quarters and hop in the back of your buddy’s truck and head on down to the carwash.  This post had a point before the smell sidetracked me towards John Denver and personal hygiene, I just can’t remember what it was.  Oh well, just know that John Denver’s music is still relevant if you’re a stinking mess and want to sing his songs in the shower.  Calypso always works for me during the rinse cycle.  I can hit those high notes like no body’s business.

I’ve found the ultimate diet plan.  You’re guaranteed to lose 12 pounds in 2 1/2 days.  It’s called; “The Scout Camp Diet” and it works.  I should know, because I invented it over the latter part of last week.  All that is required to make this diet work is to hike 12 to 15 miles per day in 90 degree heat.  Results will increase if you start the plan in the rain and end it in 60 percent humidity.  Night chills and subsequent night sweats are just part of the exultation you will feel while on this plan.  Need to lose 3 pounds before dinner?  Easy, just hike to dinner.  Need to knock off a few pounds before bedtime?  Basic, just hike the 39 percent grade up the hill to your campsite after dinner.  Still feeling a little thick around the waist?  No problem!  Just hike to breakfast tomorrow, back to your campsite, then to the other side of the camp, then all the way BACK to the dining hall for lunch, over to the other extreme border of the camp, then BACK to the dining hall one more time for dinner.  See?  Easy as pie.  Don’t worry about what kind of pie it is, because you’ll be sweating it off as you eat it.  And don’t you fret about the time commitment; it’ll only take you from reveille at 7am until taps at 10pm to accomplish your goals.  Who needs all those fancy fad diets when you can just have your kid join the scouts?  Call now and receive our bonus “How to Survive Camp on Just 6 T-shirts a Day” video.  Operators are standing by.

BOULDERING ROOM

Truth be told, it wasn’t that bad.  Don’t misunderstand; I did lose 12 pounds, that wasn’t an exaggeration, and I did sweat like a pig in a Louisiana bayou, but I sure had fun doing it.  NukeBoy2 had the time of his life.  I never went to any kind of camp when I was young, scout or otherwise, so the experience was new to me as well.  The venue was Camp Raven Knob in the foothills of North Carolina near the Virginia border.  Beautiful area.  The scouts have about 3,200 acres to call their own up there, and I think I saw every single one of them.  OK, that was an exaggeration, but it sure felt like I hiked the whole thing.   There was archery, rappelling, bouldering, mystery meat, BB gun range, nature trail, aquatics, something that resembled chicken and fishing.  NukeBoy2 learned how to shoot with a bow and arrow, I learned that tree roots get taller in the dark.  NukeBoy2 learned which leaves come from which trees, I learned that daddy long-legs spiders can hide under a toilet seat and crawl upside down across your nether regions.  NukeBoy2 learned how to rock climb sideways, I learned that a herd of carpenter ants, with the right motivation, can find their way into a tent no matter how well you zip it up.  No, I didn’t leave food in the tent, I’m not that much of a newbie.

NUKEBOY HOOD?

The efficiency of the camp blew me away.  Three times a day they would move over 1,000 people through the dining hall, feed them and have the place cleaned up and empty in under an hour.  I’m not kidding.  It was unreal.  The Boy Scouts that were working the camp worked their butts off.  They were teaching the Cub Scouts during their sessions, working the kitchen line or floor during meal time and manning the counter at the trading post and snack bar.  It was a great experience; NukeBoy2 is already talking about our “next” trip up there.  He thinks it’ll be next summer, I haven’t told him yet that it’s actually going to be in November.  I’ll post then about the wonders and excitement of hiking and sleeping in snow.  The best part of it all is that we got back in time on Saturday to see this:

NUKERINA?

NukeGirl had her dance recital on Saturday.  Her dance academy covers all age groups and ability levels.  The recital was over 3 hours long and it was great.  The competition dancers were incredible.  Some of those girls must have changed costumes at least a dozen times.  We know a few of the girls dancing and are anxious to ask the parents if a second mortgage was required to purchase all of those costumes.  NukeGirls group danced to a couple of Disney tunes whose titles escape me right now; namely for the fact that I think I heard every Disney song ever recorded during the recital.  NukeGirl was absolutely beaming when NukeMom handed her post performance flower bouquet to her.  She watched the older girls dance in complete awe and then backtracked on her statement earlier that she didn’t want to do dance again next fall.  We’ll see if her motivation holds through the summer.  That’s the best I can do for now; my foot blisters are calling for attention.  I’ll give you more of a heads up before the next camping trip so that you can buy stock in Gold Bond Body Powder and Mennen Speed Stick.  The Aquafina and Granola bar cartels might make a few bucks off of you as well.

Greensboro Flight Attendant Flight 93

The kids got out of school on Friday.  Their weekend was packed full of fun and excitement.  Now I’m fearing that we’ve painted ourselves into a corner; what do we do for an encore?  Friday night we went to a baseball game in Greensboro.  It’s a downtown stadium that’s only a few years old.  There is a monument out in front of the gate honoring one of Greensboro’s bravest citizens; Sandy Bradshaw.  We, of course, sat in a luxury suite.  As you know, the NukeFamily has become accustomed to a certain level of affluence when we venture out into the realm of family entertainment amongst the great unwashed.  Yeah, right; we were just lucky enough to get these tickets for a Friday night.  Friday night is fireworks night; everybody wants tickets for fireworks night.  Thankfully, NukeMom was able to get them.  Oh, it also happened to be our 14th wedding anniversary.  Romantic dinner for just the 2 of us?  Nah, hot dogs and beer on the balcony with an outdoor ceiling fan.  It was great, though.

Yogi snares a bat

The Greensboro Grasshoppers have 2 black labs that act as bat boys (bat-dogs?) for their games.  Yogi Berra and his girlfriend; Babe Ruth.  They also bring out a bucket of baseballs to the home plate ump every other inning so that he can re-stock.  The ump didn’t look too happy about the arrangement.  Babe dropped and spilled the bucket at his feet while he was facing the other way and then barked at him because he was a little tardy with the kibble treat.  Two innings later Yogi left a meadow muffin behind home plate.  Hey, when a bat-boys gotta go, he’s gotta go!  I noticed that nobody slid into home plate face first after that.  A 3 run triple in the 10th inning ended the night for our team.  No pitchers mound pow wow could fix the problems they were having.  I think I saw the 2nd baseman and the right fielder both filling out Home Depot applications after the game.  They both committed errors that allowed the winning run and the 2 insurance runs to score.  Such is life in Minor League ball-at least they don’t have to listen to Susan Sarandon quote poetry to them.

NukeBoy2 and NukeGirl Lookin' To Land A Monster

Saturday morning we were up early for a fishing derby for NukeBoy2’s cub scout troop.  This was a “family” event (not all of them are), meaning NukeBoy2 could bring his brother and sister; and he did.  Friday afternoon we owned 2 fishing rods, Friday night, after a trip to Wal-Mart, we owned 5 fishing rods and Saturday afternoon after the derby, we owned 7 fishing rods.  Great.  Information I could have used Friday night at Wal-Mart.  NukeBoy1 and NukeGirl each won a fishing rod and a plethora of other fishing gear.  NukeBoy2 came away with his fair share too, so don’t worry about him.  The North Carolina Wildlife Resources Commission put it on as part of a Statewide campaign to get kids interested in fishing.  EVERY KID LEFT WITH SOMETHING, which was awesome.  The park rangers and volunteers did a great job with this event; I was very impressed.  The creek was small, so fishing on it with 50 scouts, including some who had never even seen a fishing pole before, was an adventure to say the least.  I looked like Muhammad Ali the way I was bobbin and weavin to avoid getting hooked.

Believe it or not, this DID NOT win the smallest fish prize

The "Horny Head"-Ugliest fish on the planet

I thought it was diseased

NukeBoy2 had the misfortune of being right across the creek from a girl that lives near the creek.  The Park Rangers all knew her by name, but I never found out what her name was.  We’ll just call her; “The One.”  She’s like a local legend up there, and I can see why.  She pulled 3 fish out of the creek in the first 30 minutes; one of them a 15 inch Catfish.  NukeBoy2 thought it was going to be easy pickins.  Guess again.  He did finally catch one, and I thought he was a shoe-in for the smallest fish caught prize, but, alas; it wasn’t to be.  NukeBoy2 caught the ugliest fish of the day; a “Horny Head.”  Just like its name implies, it has horns on its head right between the eyes: about 8 of them.  Ugliest fish I’ve ever seen; hands down.  The only one who didn’t catch anything was NukeGirl, bless her heart, but she tried her darnedest.  She was anything but shy.  She was sticking her fingers down into that cup of dirt and pulling out night-crawlers like she was Babe Winkelman.  She was getting bites like you wouldn’t believe, but the crafty old fish (I’m sure he was a monster; fish don’t get big by being dumb) would take her worm every time.  I suggested that we break the worms in half and really get them on the hook good so that we’d have a better chance of hooking that bad boy.  When I turned around to grab the cup and get a worm I saw NukeGirl tearing this worm into 3 or 4 pieces.  Just like that.  No “Ewww!” or “Gross!” or any of that nonsense, she wanted a fish!  We didn’t catch him, but I have a feeling that we will be dueling with him again soon.  Sunday was spent poolside at the neighborhood pool we belong to, and then the weekend was over.  But the stories.  Oh, the stories.  NukeGirl cried when we left the creek.  She wanted to stay.  On the way home she said; “Daddy, can we go fishing tomorrow?”  The girl is hooked.  Wow.  That was punny.  NukeBoy2 and I are off to the mountains for cub scout camp this week, so I promised her a date with destiny the following week.  This little girl has got to catch a fish.  We also talked about setting up more fishing trips this summer, camping trips, rafting trips; hell, we even went out and looked at a camper yesterday.  Our van won’t pull it, so NukeMom is looking for a used truck.  Seriously.  I’ve never seen her like this.  It’s like my whole family has turned into the gang from Deliverance.  I just hope I don’t have to play Ned Beatty’s character.

Now, normally, I’d laugh myself silly, and in all honesty, it IS pretty funny, but how about a quick flash of Toby’s artistic interpretation?  Did we really need to be subjected to 4 1/2 seconds of his technique?  Did you really have to go back to him after the cut away?  Did you think that I’d missed the point?  Do you realize how long 4 1/2 seconds is in a 30 second spot?  It’s almost 1/6th of the whole!  Proportionately, watching 5 minutes of a news anchor getting caught picking their nose in a 30 minute newscast would be almost as bad.  I also like how you flash to the poor little boy’s face when he realizes that he’s just gotten his best pal and pet friend Toby banished to the yard for life.  The anguish on his face is priceless.  Maybe you can do a follow up commercial showing Toby frolicking in the yard and happily dragging his ass along the patio while the camera cuts to the little boy sitting cross-legged in the corner of his room.  As he rocks back and forth clutching his knees he can be heard quietly whispering; “No, Toby, bad boy Toby, make him stop Toby, 15 minutes to Wapner.”

Dumbing down commercials is nothing new, but good God Mr. Steemer!  I know what a dirty carpet is; I’m well aware of the fact that over time carpet becomes dirty and needs to be cleaned.  I’m even smart enough to know that I can purchase this thing called a vacuum cleaner to help me eradicate the dirt on a schedule; like, every few days, or twice a week maybe.  Was this the best you could come up with?  Did Baby Sophie projectile vomiting her peas on the carpet not test well with the focus groups?  Did Aunt Edna’s drunken trip and fall and subsequent spilling of 32 ounces of Chianti on the shag offend too many alcoholics?  I’d work on your copywriting department if I were you; I don’t need my dog to wipe his ass on my carpet to realize it’s time for a cleaning.  Besides, I feed him better food than that.  I guess with a last name like “Steemer” you had no choice butt to go for the poop angle.