Rants and Raves Revisited Volume 1 Issue 6

Hey all of y’all, and welcome to another issue of R and R Revisited, aka R Cubed. I hope you had an enjoyable weekend doing whatever it was you did. Can you believe that it’s already February? Just two days ago, it felt like January. Next month, it’ll be March. Now before I get into the various items of the column proper, I would like to take a second to tell you what’s in my ear as I write this column. Call it Sesame Street Syndrome (or S Cubed), but today’s edition of Rants and Raves is brought to you by Bon Jovi’s 1988 neo-classic cd, New Jersey. Please excuse me if I spontaneously break into song as I write this; I am a total bitch for hook-laden eighties arena rock. Enjoy the column.

Monday Morning QB. I feel obligated to apologize profusely (and I’m not merely saying that “I state my regret” a la Dwight Shrute) to anyone who attempted to slog through even one line of my Super Bowl Pool Party blog entry from yesterday. I learned two or three important lessons from my incoherent mess of my blogging in real time experiment: 1) I can think waaaaayyy faster than I can type. I came to this unfortunate conclusion during the first commercial break and by then I was already committed to seeing the project through. 2) Blogging in real time is kind of pointless when no one is out there reading and responding in real time. Duh. 3) With all the typing and publishing going on during the game, I literally had no time to properly gorge myself on nutritionally devoid empty calories. Or at least as many as I would have liked to have had. Again, my apologies about yesterday. It won’t happen again.

“Your love is like Bad Medicine…”

Return to Form. From the simulated fire drill to the celebrity roast and all points in between, The Office really came through with the laughs in the hour long post Super Bowl episode. The question now is can they keep it going? If not, you suck, roasted!!!

“You were born to be my baby, and baby I was made to be your man…”

Time to Revoke my Man Card. I spent my Saturday evening at the Khan family house in Union City. Given the choice of what to watch on tv, I settled on the double feature of the movies 13 Going On 30 and The Devil Wears Prada. I even expressed serious interest in going to see Confessions of a Shopaholic when it comes out. Who the hell am I?

Fist Bump. I would like to say thank you to my cousin-in-law Aria for hanging out with me Saturday night. I really appreciate you taking the time and having the patience to talk with me. You are a cool kid and I’m glad that you find factoring in algebra to be easy. Too bad Farah bailed on us after she promised to get Cold Stone for us.

(Don’t) Call Me Mr Pee. When we moved to San Carlos, one of the first things we did was to install a lift to more easily transport me from the floor of the garage up the three steps to the house. Visualize it as a small, single person elevator and you’ve got the right idea. One evening last month as I was taking the thirty second ride up, I was overcome by the most uncompromising need to pee ever. Knowing full well that I didn’t have a cupcake’s chance at fat camp of making it all the way down the hall and into the bathroom, I stopped the lift halfway up and mumbled/moaned, “Gotta pee now,” to Fehmeen. Thinking quickly, she dumped the cans and bottles from a nearby foot tall plastic trash can and handed the empty container to me. I proceeded to relieve my distressed bladder into the recycling can as I stood on the lift. I have to say that it sure beat pissing in my pants…again.

A Sure Sign of the Apocalypse. It takes a big man to admit it but I kinda sorta like a few tunes on the new Britney Spears cd. I find myself singing along to songs like Womanizer and Circus every time I hear them (it’s my own fault since I bought Fehmeen the cd for Christmas). The real gem on the album is called If You Seek Amy. While lyrically, the words don’t necessarily make sense in actual context, it is fun to recite the words of the title phonetically. Try it, you know you want to.

As The Bug Turns. Emma is ten months old as of yesterday. She is crawling on her hands and knees but covers more ground in half the time doing the army crawl. She flings herself with reckless abandon up and down the step from the kitchen to the family room. She pulls herself from a sitting position to a standing one on the coffee table. Emma enjoys eating big people food (including Grandma Maureen’s pish pash dish which she grades as a solid B+) and she mimics every sound we make (even coughs). If I haven’t mentioned it before, I’ll say it now: The Bug Rules. I love you, Emma.

“I’ll be there for you, these five words I swear to you…”

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