Your Crazy Friends (and not the good kind)

There has been a flurry of guilt-trippy public service announcements on TV lately reminding you to be nice to your certifiably whacked out friends.

Hell, I'm all for being supportive of my friends who are though tough times . . . however it just doesn't seem prudent to turn a blind eye to any and all mental illnesses your friends and associates may develop.

Call me judgmental, but this commercial and its ominous knocking scares the bajeebus out of me.

Holy crap!!! The occupant of that house has got to GET RID of that creepy-ass-crazy friend. What kind of mental illness diagnosis are we dealing with here?

I just don't know how supportive I can be of a friend who shows up at my doorstep telling me that she's been seeking treatment for her recent bout of psychotic breaks and homicidal ideation. After the third time that bitch tries to stab me, I feel perfectly justified in screening her calls.

Don't make the same mistake we did . . .

I may have mentioned that we recently welcomed our first baby to our home. We named him Max. He is outstanding.

We are learing so much as new parents -- things that you never read about in the baby books. I like to share these lessons and discoveries whenever I can so that others can benefit from our experience.

To that end, please be advised . . .

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. . . this is "Burrito Max"

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. . . and THIS is a Max Burrito

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Keep 'em straight people. A mix up is not nearly as delicious as it may sound.

Quesionable neighborhood

So we thought we lived in a decent neighborhood, but we are starting to see the signs of gang activity in our quiet little neck of the woods. At an intersection a couple of blocks from our home, a vandal has defaced stop sign. I didn't get a photo, but a fairly accurate reproduction follows:

Let me just point out that this stop sign is located on the same road that swears vengeance upon all speeders with silly signs reading 20 mph -- Strictly Enforced! . Well, I'd love to know where the authorities were while these little Gryffendor thugs ran amok on our peaceful - 20 mph - streets.

For some reason, I am still not too concerned about my little family's safety just yet ... even though I do seem to be seeing gang colors of maroon and mustard yellow popping up here and there ...

You are quite welcome, kiddo.

So during the latter part of my pregnancy, I became rather swollen and sedentary. Unable to summit Everest, or participate in other such activities, I planted myself in front of the TV and made beaded jewelry (that's right ... I'm a crafty one!).

In March, I sent my mom home to Wyoming with necklaces to give to my little nieces. My niece Jordan, who truly has a fantastic way with words, sent me the thank you note below:




Let me just take a moment highlight my favorite part of this card:

"I hope you like your son."

I read that and thought to myself, "Good God! I hope I do, too!!!"

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Seriously, no one likes to talk about it, but not all people are equally likeable ... the same is undoubtedly true for babies who are, after all, just teeny tiny people. What if I gave birth to a baby that was a total jackass? How much more difficult would it be to lovingly nurture a condescending, judgmental, and inconsiderate type-A-jackass-baby? I submit that it would be very hard, indeed!

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Fortunately, I got to meet my little wombmate recently. I am happy to report that he is not at all a jackass ... rather, he is a DELIGHT!

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So thank you, Jordan, for your kind words. I do like my son. Tremendously. I hope you like your cousin.

This thank you note will have to go into my "Best of Jordan" category, along with this post and this one. Funny kid, that ...