Fake Samuel

Hey, so

noreply@blogger.com (Samuel) — Mon, 03 May 2010 01:43:00 +0000

For those of you faithful who regularly check this blog, wishing,
hoping, pleading for another post from yours truly, I just want you to
know that I don't care. And I never have.
I spent my weekend doing things you could only dream of doing, seeing
things many of you will never see, pondering ideas most of you would
not understand.
I do not say these things to shame you. Even though I'm sure they do.
I say them to open your eyes to reality: I don't always have time to
stoop to capturing my thoughts for posterity. Cash is a bit of an
issue right now, but I hope someday to have a personal assistant, and
perhaps that person will write down for you...stuff that I do and
whatever. Anyhoo. I kinda just forgot what I was writing about.

I had waffles for dinner!

Fricken Little Einsteins

noreply@blogger.com (Samuel) — Sun, 24 Jan 2010 21:11:00 +0000

Hey Einsteins, prop planes don't fly in space. I'm not an idiot.

Game

noreply@blogger.com (Samuel) — Sat, 16 Jan 2010 18:43:00 +0000

Playing Hi Ho Cherry-O and kickin' some ace.

Little Einsteins

noreply@blogger.com (Samuel) — Thu, 14 Jan 2010 21:24:00 +0000

Hmmm, should we waste time looking for a key OR JUST TAKE OUR FRICKIN
ROCKET.

If I learn anything about music or art on this show it will be to USE
THE ROCKET.

Little Einsteins

noreply@blogger.com (Samuel) — Sun, 04 Oct 2009 19:51:00 +0000

You do realize there is nothing "Einstein" about this show. He would
be appalled at the physics concepts presented here.

Facebook

noreply@blogger.com (Samuel) — Sun, 04 Oct 2009 19:49:00 +0000

As some of you may know, I'm on Facebook. It's interesting I suppose,
I just think it's kinda silly seeing how it'll be obsolete and very
uncool by the time my peers figure out how to use the Internet.

Anyhoo, i've discovered that there are really just a few different
status updates.
-the person saying they are doing something they are obviously not doing
-the parent lamenting their absent spouse for the night(hehe)
-the update with way too much information
-the ever optimistic, "we can do it" post
-the political commentary
-the I shouldn't be on facebook/I'm wasting time post
-the person whose status updates you keep forgetting to block
-and of course the annoying person that actually tries to keep us
updated on their current activity. As we care.

That's about it I guess. Anyhoo I just woke up from a nap so I'm
fairly cranky.

Book review: if you give a mouse a cookie.

noreply@blogger.com (Samuel) — Wed, 30 Sep 2009 00:13:00 +0000

I know it's been a while but the folks lock the door now after bedtime
and it's hard to get out to post.

But I stole the Father's phone tonight so I can post this. Forgive me
if there are typos. I'm not bothering to learn how to type with my
thumbs as I expect my generation will do something completely different.

I first picked up "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie" as part of a
collection of such books about what could happen if you give certain
animals certain things. First, what I don't like. Pretty much at
every turn of the page I find myself in the shoes of a weak little boy
who can't even stand up to a mouse. Now a moose I can understand. If a
moose comes to my window demanding muffins and jam, there is little
room for refusal. But, for example, the second sentence in the first
paragraph:
"If you give a mouse a cookie, he's going to ask for a glass of milk.
When you give him the milk,...."
Hold it right there-"when"? Thats what bugs me- too many "whens" in
this book, not enough "ifs." The line should read "if you haven't
killed the mouse yet,...." or "since you didn't gave the greedy mouse
a cookie", etc.
Pretty much every page could have the words "Thats when you make your
move." stuck in just before the page turn. For example:
"...he might notice his hair needs a trim. So he'll probably ask for a
pair of nail scissors. That's when you make your move. "
or
"...when he's done he'll probably want to take a nap. That's when
you make your move. "

Anyhoo. What I liked about the story: it's the classic story of the
small triumphing over and even subjugating the weak. The mouse, like
all of us, just wants to stick it to the one in power, take all he can
get and, in the end, try and get even more. The mouse doesn't care
who he steps on on his way to the top, how many suffer because of his
selfishness, how many messes are made or naps ruined, how many jobs
are half started or milk jugs are left out to spoil. He wants his
cookie and he wants it now and no one will get in the way.

It's the story of my life.

Bedtime

noreply@blogger.com (Marcos) — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 02:43:00 +0000

Have you heard of this? Apparently, The Folks think I need to abide by something they call "bed time." As I think back on it, I'm pretty sure I never had one in the past - this is all new to me. Pretty sure. Anyhoo, they're requiring that I go to bed at a certain time, and then stay in there until I fall asleep.

I know: crazy.

So naturally, I'm fighting it. It's what I do - I fight for the little guy. For you. For you little guy, because you can't fight on your own - you'd hurt yourself. Look at you, you're pathetic. And thats usually not me. I'm a lover not a fighter, usually. I love. People, things, markers, daddy's beard - whatever. I'm a lover. Of stuff, whatever it may be.

Forget it - Aaron's the lover. I'm the fighter. I've always been the fighter. Lets face it, when Aaron gets his face messed up by some steroid abusing SuperWhy wannabe on the first day of Preschool, its gonna be me who saves him. Me, my moose and puppy, and a little help from the green car and remote control.

But don't get me started on those.

Book Review - "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie"

noreply@blogger.com (Samuel) — Sun, 29 Mar 2009 20:12:00 +0000

I stumbled across this find when it was given to me as a gift by my
Aunt Bunny. She apparently is a voracious reader and found this in
her quest for literature. It opens with a small child inviting a
rodent into their house, feeding it and giving it shelter, while
letting it run amuck, ruining this child's life. The problem with
this book is that its not based in reality. A quote from the book:

"If you give a mouse a cookie...he's going to ask for a glass of milk"
"When you give him the milk...."

And there's the problem - "when". That assumes I'm going to give him
milk. If I give a mouse a cookie I'm trying to lure him somewhere so
that I can capture him. If he asks me for a glass of milk, I've been
way to slow with my approach. Forget about sharing any of my milk
with him. And thats another thing - why in the world would I share a
cookie with this rodent when he would be just as happy with a bread
crumb or a small amount of toothpaste? I'm not sharing my milk, and
I'm not sharing my cookies.

So in conclusion, if you are in the habit of deluding yourself and
others with works of fiction that accurately portray the life of
rodent loving fools, quick to be parted from their cookies and milk
alike, then by all means, go out and read this book and make your
donation to PETA. If on the other hand, you are a sensible person who
prides himself on the finer things in life, the hum of an electric
toothbrush, the sound that certain toys make when they turn on, the
feel of a newly trimmed beard, the soft bouquet of fresh milk straight
from the fridge, the smell of warm cookies, the quiet squeal of metal
clamping down on soft mouse flesh, then I would recommend that you
steer clear.

I give this book 1 thumb up for high re-readability. Like every night
if I get the chance.

It's true what you've heard.

noreply@blogger.com (Samuel) — Sat, 07 Mar 2009 03:53:00 +0000

I am cooler than you.

Good work.

noreply@blogger.com (Samuel) — Thu, 05 Mar 2009 19:56:00 +0000

I just to take this moment to congratulate the Broge girls on their
recent accomplishments. I was a bit behind on their folks' blog and
just caught up today. It looks like they've taken some of my advice.
Now don't get me wrong- when we visited a few weeks back it was
obvious that these girls knew what they're doing. The pitch of their
cry, the occasional pouty face, the mealtime fussiness - all perfect.
This kind of stuff is innate. I have nothing to teach them there.
While we were there in St. Louis, I took the opportunity to speak with
them in a collaborative way - really learning from them as I imparted
some of the things I've learned these past couple years. We all came
away from the meeting with a greater understanding of just what we can
accomplish if we make a concerted effort.
Anyway, just wanna throw out some props to EJ and MP for implementing
some of the ideas they've been thinking about for the past few months.
I'd like to think I helped encourage them to take that step.

Ok ok

noreply@blogger.com (Samuel) — Wed, 04 Mar 2009 05:15:00 +0000

Look. I don't know if you noticed, but the brother is mobile and he's
sort of a handful. And the folks can't handle him. So it's up to me.
I'm all "no aaron" and distracting him with toys and keeping away from
the stairwell. It's an all day job. You stop to post on the blog and
all of the sudden he's heading for the fireplace. Or the bathroom. Or
the oven is turned on. Or he's playing with the mower.

I'm telling you he's fast. It's a good thing he sleeps exactly when I
do, so The Folks don't have to entertain him while I'm napping. I
don't think the Folks could handle it.

Requests

noreply@blogger.com (Samuel) — Thu, 12 Feb 2009 12:59:00 +0000

Not surprisingly, people are surprised and disappointed at my recent absence from the blog. Do not worry people, I assure you, I am alive and well. I liken my plight to that of a missionary working under an oppressive regime. News flows in and out of the country, but at times the goverment cracks down. And they occasionally beat their citizens. And the citizens occasionally pee in places they're not supposed to. And go on hunger strikes. And stage protests and sit-ins. Etcetera. You get it.

But fear not, "we will overcome." They cannot hold me back with their bedtimes and naptimes, their imposed restrictions on my SuperWhy watching or blueberry consumption, their insistence on "respect" and "listening to mama" and "be gentle with the X*", their "are you poopy?" or "I smell poopies" or "want to go on the potty?", their complete lack of trust in me as a person to be able to regulate my own bodily functions, time management, or self-preservation.

Gotta go play loudly in the hall while Aaron's napping.

*the plant, that cat, Aaron, certain toys, etc

Little Twit

noreply@blogger.com (Samuel) — Mon, 12 Jan 2009 17:23:00 +0000

So the little brother informs me that he will no longer be posting on this blog. He says that blogs are so 2007 and he is embracing 2009 in all its glory. Whatever. He says that means he going to be posting on Twitter. Its all the rage with the tweens. Apparently its like a blog but you can't write as much. Only like 2 sentences at a time. I would never survive. Anyhoo.

I did notice an increase in my advertising revenue when he came on board, so I'll be keeping his posts (apparently they're called tweets) in the sidebar to the right.

Oh, and I found this video that explains twitter for you losers who care to watch. This is the future? Great I get to hear about every stinkin' diaper from now on.

Unbelievable

noreply@blogger.com (Samuel) — Fri, 26 Dec 2008 17:00:00 +0000

I can't believe I'm out shopping on the day after Christmas.

Just woke up

noreply@blogger.com (Aaron) — Thu, 25 Dec 2008 20:22:00 +0000

So at least today when I woke up I was on daddy. Contrary to what
Samuel writes of the Folks, we seem to get along just fine. He let's
me poke his eyes and scratch his face and stuff.
Anyway apparantly all I got for Christmas this year was some clothes
and a screwdriver set. Not the best in the toy department, but I do
appreciate the opportunity to do some woodworking.
Just as soon as I obtain some fine motor control that is.

My thoughts...

noreply@blogger.com (Samuel) — Tue, 09 Dec 2008 16:40:00 +0000

Given the current financial crisis, I thought I would provide my
knowledgable viewpoint on the situation.
Money, apparently, is something of some importance. While it does come
in the form of delicious looking coins, it also comes in the form of
nice bendy cards. While I am never allowed to bend these cards, I can
only assume this is where their value comes from. Apparently, because
of how much fun these cards are to bend and play with, our country has
a lot of them and we value them highly.
Now, some people have too cards, and those who have them are afraid of
getting them taken away. I assume they are afraid of people like me,
who have no cards, but want them. The Folks won't give me one.
So my thoughts: just give me the card.

Frickin' photo op

noreply@blogger.com (Aaron) — Sat, 29 Nov 2008 01:33:00 +0000

Occasionally, out of town yokels will see me on the street and think "oh it's Zack from Saved by the Bell" or "hey is that Brad Pitt" or "he must be someone important-look at his entourage and the way he carries himself and orders all those people around." These yahoos thought I was a big name celeb and demanded my picture. After taking my usual fee, I acquiesed.

Another nap...

noreply@blogger.com (Aaron) — Mon, 24 Nov 2008 00:07:00 +0000

...another room. Everytime I wake up I'm in another location. It's a
little unsettling.
And they wonder why I fight them on naps sometimes.

Bumbo

noreply@blogger.com (Aaron) — Sat, 08 Nov 2008 20:56:00 +0000

So the folks got me this Bumbo seat the other day. You know them.
They're those minimum security prisons for babies that parents buy
when they want the appearance of a happy baby but don't want to spend
the time with them. Yea it kinda sucks.
Anyway, I make sure they know I'm not happy.

What the upper crust eats

noreply@blogger.com (Samuel) — Sat, 08 Nov 2008 01:35:00 +0000

Just wanted you to have a tiny glimpse into how the other half lives.
This was my lunch today: macaroni & cheese, tomatoes, and grapes.
Ok, collect yourself.
You may have had a grape once, when you found one in the trash,
dumpster diving at a country club. Or a tomato left discarded and half
eaten at a high class restauant you used to bus tables at.
But this was my lunch-a plateful of such delicacies.
For a glimpse into my life: you're welcome.

Yea, I'm sick

noreply@blogger.com (Samuel) — Sun, 02 Nov 2008 15:56:00 +0000

Ok? Happy? You probably gave it to me. And now I'm the one who's
running like a faucet. And it's not my fault I can't blow my nose and
I have a terrible aversion to the bulb suction. I have a cough and
I'm achy. WHERE IS MY TYLENOL? What if this is cancer? Great there I
go again now I'm gonna spend my nap today thinking about that. Awesome.
Hey come here once. I have a present for your shirt.

New Office

noreply@blogger.com (Aaron) — Tue, 28 Oct 2008 20:07:00 +0000

So I just moved into my new office. Apparently the previous employee
still works here. He keeps coming by when I'm trying to get my work
done, messing with my stuff, pressing all my buttons, etc. It's
fairly annoying.

Why I say "yeeeaaass!"

noreply@blogger.com (Samuel) — Mon, 27 Oct 2008 02:15:00 +0000

So most of the time when you ask me a question, I respond with a "no."
Sometimes I respond with a long, higher pitched "yeeeaass." You may
wonder why this should be so.

First let me rephrase that first sentence: So most of the time when
you ask me a stupid question that utterly insults my intelligence, I
occasionally respond with a long, high pitched,
coming-down-to-your-level "yeeeaaas." As in "yeeeaaasss of course I
want to go outside bozo, Where else?" Or "yeeaaasss I like to zoom
the truck. Do you like to rattle off stupid comments to everyone who
happens to pass by or am I just lucky today?" Or "yeeeaasss I think
you should put me on your shoulders- I've only been asking for that
for the last half-hour." You see, its my way of letting your know
that I'm on to your little
talk-down-to-the-20-month-old-cause-he's-still-a-baby game and I'm not
gonna take it anymore.

And, no, I'm not gonna give you a straight answer about the state of
my pants: poopy or not. So quit asking.

Toy Review: Enn Naaa

noreply@blogger.com (Samuel) — Sat, 20 Sep 2008 01:08:00 +0000

We received our Enn Naaa by way of special overnight delivery roughly
2 months ago. I admit, I was initially uncertain of either its
function or purpose. Its chaotic flailing movements and loud high
pitched squealing noises left one wondering why The Folks didn't
immediately "tun off" or be "all dun" with the Enn Naaa. Or at least
put it "a why why." Certainly it would have fit in the closet where
we put the shoes "a why why." Anyhoo, after sticking it out with, a
couple months later it turns out that while I'm no closer to
discovering a purpose for this toy, I do seem to find myself enjoying
it, screaming out "ENN NAAA" and "ENN NAAA SEEEPING" at random, in
apparent happiness. I don't know why I do these things, but I propose
that it is some sort of evil toy, sent here by our enemies to
infiltrate our ranks and lure us into a false sense of security.

Beware!

Two thumbs up.