One Down, Thirty-Nine To Go

With all the hullabaloo yesterday about Super Tuesday, I forgot that it was also Mardi Gras, which means today is Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent. I'm going to try again this year to give up yelling at small children, so it's a good thing that I had a nice little yelling fit with S-Boogie yesterday when I found her in the middle of a pile of styrofoam pieces just minutes after I'd told her NOT to pick apart the styrofoam container. It must have been my subconscious mind telling me to spend Mardi Gras reveling in sin before entering a forty-day fast.

Today, I'm happy to say, went well. It's easy to keep my cool when the kids are in a good mood, and they were in a good mood today. My challenge will be not screaming back when they are screaming at me.

It's funny because I think most people who know me would say I'm a fairly even-tempered and easy-going guy. I'm not usually one to get angry and throw tantrums. Something about the irrationality of children, though, messes with my rational mind. The aspects of my personality that my children bring out in me are not pretty: my obsessive need for order, for control, for reason. When I don't have these things I become the type of parent that kids grow up to write bitter memoirs about. I don't want my kids living in fear that at any moment, if they don't do everything exactly right, their smiling, cheerful dad will snap and call down the wrath of God on them.

On the other hand, on days like today when I manage to behave how I insist my children behave--treating others with respect and finding appropriate ways to express our feelings--I like myself a lot more and I like them a lot more. And everyone goes to bed feeling happy. And hopefully S-Boogie and Little Dude will grow up thinking of home as a safe place, not as the source of their PTSD to be worked through in years of expensive therapy sessions.

FLASsing Regularly

I have been informed that the federal government wants to pay me lots of money next year to take Spanish classes. I'm convinced this is a direct result of the fact that I have flossed every night but one since Ash Wednesday, and that one flossless night was when I was in Utah and FoxyJ had taken the floss with her to Wyoming. God rewards good dental hygiene.

The Polls Are Closed

Well, technically, they closed sometime yesterday, as I had to decide what I was going to indulge in.

The results:

• Chocolate -
  
• Fat -
  
• Swearing -
  
• Yelling at small children ||
  
• Sloth -
  
• Procrastination -
  
• Bad posture |
  
• Bad oral hygiene (i.e. failure to floss regularly) ||
  
• World hunger -
  
• War ||
  
• Misogyny -
  
• Misandry -
  
• Gerontophilism |
  
• Narcissism |
  
• Lust -
  
• Narcissistic lust -
  
• Gluttony -
  
• Pride -
  
• Excessive listmaking -
  
• Excessive questioning of the status quo |
• Vegetables |
• Yelling at old people and lusting after small children |

And when I add my own three votes, we get:

• Gluttony |||

But I am willing to give up more than one thing for you, my electorate, so in addition to giving up gluttony (in the form of eating large portions and eating out of boredom), I will give up bad oral hygiene, yelling at children, and war.

Yesterday I celebrated Mardi Gras by eating a pastry, two Hostess cupcakes, three cookies, a large yummy dinner (prepared by the amazing FoxyJ), and a molten chocolate cake with Haagen Daas vanilla bean ice cream and whipped cream (also courtesy of the foxy one). I also failed to floss, yelled at random children on the street, and invaded three small countries. I hereby repent of these sins. Until Easter.

And now I present, at no added cost (and I assure you, no added benefit), my answers to Tolkien Boy's inane questions:

The sweet kind or the sexual kind?
Is there a difference?
Yours or other people's?
Yours.
What the hell?
What indeed.
Yours or other people's?
Yours.
Actually, I read that most sloth meat is poisonous. Are you addicted?
I don't appreciate you mocking my addiction.
Don't you think it's taken you long enough to come to this resolution?
No, I think I'll put it off another year.
If you give this one up, does it give me permission to punch you in the stomach every time I see you slouch?
You, as well as anyone else who chooses to, always have permission to do so.
Are you aware that no one flosses except movie stars and the children of dentists?
Are you aware that you are the only person in the world who doesn't floss (as of today, now that I've started), and therefore should feel deep and lasting shame?
I gave this up in the spring of '89. Does it need to be given up again?
"...I would ask, can ye feel so now?"
In Bush's America?
Last I checked, Bush doesn't own the country. You must be thinking of Bill Gates.
You are aware, of course, that as long as you interact with women and maintain your Y chromosome, that this is impossible?
What makes you think I intend to do either?
Don't you know how cute the anders are?
Oh, believe me, I know.
How old is old?
40 and up.
You're giving me up?
Heh. Funny you should ask.
See last question?
See last answer?
Okay...that's weird...does this explain your need to wake at unholy hours to lift heavy weights?
Yes. Why is that weird?
A poll taken by Sir Jupiter and myself concludes that this is not something you deal with. Or are you talking metaphorically?
I am always talking metaphorically.
But not prejudice?
No, I never really had a thing for her. Apparently you didn't read my 100 Essential Facts carefully. Do so now; you'll notice he merits two facts but she, none.
Why not add excessive questioning of the status quo?
I did, but you were outvoted. Sorry.

Thank you for playing, please come again.

Lenten Votes

Tomorrow is Fat Tuesday. For those of you not up to par on your Catholicism (and I don't claim to be, except in this minor instance wherein I adopt a form of pseudo-Catholicism), that means that I will spend tomorrow indulging in an orgy of something, after which I will give up that same something until Easter. Last year I gave up ice cream (except in instances where it was offered to me by true friends). This year I am considering giving up the following:

• Chocolate
• Fat
• Swearing (though I'm not sure that counts because I've already mostly given up what little I ever did)
• Yelling at small children
• Sloth
• Procrastination
• Bad posture
• Bad oral hygiene (i.e. failure to floss regularly)
• World hunger
• War
• Misogyny
• Misandry
• Gerontophilism
• Narcissism
  
• Lust
• Narcissistic lust
• Gluttony
• Pride
• Excessive listmaking

I'm having a hard time deciding which sin(s) to give up, so I need your help. Please vote below. I expect no fewer than 52 comments--surely gerontophilism is as controversial as circumcision.

Farewell, Dear Lent

Your mom's going to eat ice cream tonight.

I Mardied Your Mom's Gras Last Night

If you're offended by that title, as all decent folk should be, then you should leave now and come back tomorrow.

All the decent folk gone?

Good.

Your mom's gone.

Today is Mardi Gras, which means that tomorrow is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. (I began your mom's Lent last night.) For Lent this year, I'm giving up two things: ice cream (I creamed your mom's ice last night) and your mom jokes (your mom's a joke). This means that I will spend the next forty days hungry and without much to say. (I spent the next forty days with your mom last night.)

This also means, in case you have not noticed, that I am obligated to observe today's celebration of debauchery by binging on ice cream and your mom jokes. (Your mom binges on ice cream.) With that in mind, I invite all of you non-decent folk who are still reading to join with me in this sinful orgy of ice cream and your mom jokes by eating a carton of ice cream today and by filling my comments section with tasteless your mom jokes. (Your mom's tasteless.)

By the way, I've decided that it would be rude of me to insist that others change dessert options on my account, so I will not turn down ice cream when you offer it to me in your own home. Just so you know.

Thank you. That is all.

Your mom goes to college.