the baby cage!!!!!!!!!!!!

This is quite possibly the coolest thing I have ever seen as a father. I know there are many things that are actually cooler (see Matt’s post below about the wind suits) but as far as things go that I can reasonably have this may top the cake. I mean I get to zip this kid in every time he is supposed to go to bed and the best things about it is that he likes it. I was fully prepared to wait out the 30 minutes of screaming when I put this wonderful contraption on his crib but he thought it was great, like camping every night. There is no way he can get out from the inside so when he wakes up he just has to yell and we go get him out. I know that this very well could cause him some issues later on in life but I am willing to risk it for the time being.

But back to the title of this post.  When does a man cease to be a man?  I am pretty sure I was not quite a man, a little more than a boy, and definitely not a West Virginian any more, which is kind of sad.  Like I said we saw a lot of family this Christmas which means we were going a lot of different places.  Apparently everywhere we go in WV the only topics suitable for conversation are hunting, ammo, Bud Lite, and NASCAR.  What in the hell do I know about any of these things!?  Seriously that’s all we, and I include myself very loosely, talked about.  Not even a football conversation.  My wife’s grandmother even said to me at one point when I was helping clean the dishes, “Well Ben you certainly do make one fine woman.”  How do you respond to that from an 85 year old woman?  I should have just punched her in the throat and ate the rest of the cake she was serving.  That would have taught her.

I love my family and am proud to be from West ‘By God’ Virginia but I don’t think I fit in any more.

Enough of that though. During my first class I met a man who will, from this time on, be referred to as The Emerger. This cat is about as excited about the emerging church as I am that IHOP brought back the never-ending pancake. He’s a good guy it seems like but one of my pet peeves is when someone is so confident that everyone around them thinks exactly what they think about everything. Time will tell how this all plays out but I do feel more excited bout this that my EdD program and I feel like I have a seat at the discussion table, even with The Emerger casting his ‘great experience’ rays all over me.

Watching Seacrest try to high-five a blind kid isn’t anyone else’s wishes? I mean, me neither.

Anyone want to go in on a wingsuit?  I was thinking about either the Blade in orange or the SkyFlyer S.6 Gibraltar in camo, but I’m open to alternatives.  According to the size chart on the Bird-Man Flight Gear store, I wear a large which fits the “Bird-Man” of height, 5′ 11″ - 6′ 0.5″ and weight, 154 - 187 lbs.

However sometimes the use of even a simple Hokie horn can be warped.  Last night the whole family was playing in the living room and, like usual, my oldest had his “tuba.”  All of the sudden he turns around and says, “Whoa!!! My penis is really big!”  

He had turned the horn around backward and had covered his penis, because of course he was naked, with the flared end of the horn.  

I just thought I would share that with everyone and warn you that if you come to my house you may want to think twice before playing with any of the toys.

 This beard–the white [redish brown] wool, unclipt upon my neck,” 

                                                  -Walt Whitman, “Behold This Swarthy Face”

 Every November the students of the university I work for hold a month-long event called “No Shave November.”  There are many schools that do something of the sort whether it is “No Shave November” or “Janu-hairy”  or whatever clever name can be thought of to allow students, and some faculty and staff, the excuse to not shave for a month.  This year I decided to participate.  I have never done “No Shave November” mainly because my wife does not like it and refuses to get close to me when I have a beard.  But seeing as how my wife is pregnant, and when she is pregnant she has a head cold for nine months, and doesn’t get close to me anyway I decided to give it a whirl.

 I have realized something this month.  I like having a beard, at least for the winter months.  I don’t think there is ever going to be any way that I could wear a beard in the summer; if you didn’t read my last post I weigh 332lbs.  I produce enough heat as it is.  But in the winter it is awesome, some would say manly.  I would like to keep my beard but I am a reasonable man.  I will let the people decide.  Should I go full beard or should I return to the goatee?

Graaarrrrr!!!!! I am Eric the Red

Kind of wussy but it will do I guess

So here we go again.  I know the chips are stacked against me with it being the holiday season but I need to do something.  I ran this morning and when I got back I weighed myself and am brining 332lbs with me.  I want the scale to say 299lbs.  Let’s do this.

The second issue is a little more pressing seeing as how I have no idea how it got in there.  Apparently I have a pygmy marmoset in my large intestine.  This is the only explanation I have for the gurgling that happened at about the halfway point in the run, or in other words as far as I could get from my bathroom.  It was this marmoset that forced me to do the, “I’m not gonna make it” waltz back to my house.  I hate marmosets.

If there is a doctor that is reading I would really love a home cure or a prescription to get rid of my furry little companion that lives in my colon.

Who in their right mind wakes up in the morning and says to themselves, “Hey, I think I would like to get stabbed between the 6th and 7th rib today or maybe hit in the jaw with a crowbar at the very least.”  I mean come on kid!  Being a bouncer, although manly, is a little too far toward the Neanderthal end of the spectrum.  I know that bouncers exist much in the same way that a $1000 bill exists, they are out there but I have never seen them.  When I think of a bouncer I think of the guys from Roadhouse, minus Patrick Swayze, or someone who would follow Snoop Dog around not my brother.  I hope this is some last hoorah in order for him to prove something to himself and that he will before he gets into a serious scuffle.  My brother is a big guy and can take care of himself but it only takes one knife, gun, board, car, baseball bat, crowbar, set of iron knuckles, double team, roll of quarters, slap-jack, cattle prod, pool stick, sword, … well you get the idea.  I hope my brother makes it to old age.