Tagged: closet

July 5, 2016

The Only Times My Son Needs to Poop: An Exhaustive List

1. Two minutes before his swimming lesson starts.

2. When we should already have left the house 15 minutes ago.

3. In the middle of an amusement park ride.

4. Every time we walk into Target.

5. Just as our doctor enters the room for a check-up after we’ve been waiting 45 minutes.

6. At the beach.

7. When a server is about to take our orders at a restaurant.

8. The moment our food arrives at a restaurant.

9. On our way out of a restaurant.

10. Anyone’s house but ours.

11. At the park.

12. While I am sitting on the only available toilet.

13. While his sister is sitting on the only available toilet.

14. Three minutes after insisting he did not have to go while we were all in the public family restroom at the mall and each of his sisters dutifully utilized the toilet and changing table, but now we’re almost to the Disney Store on the other side of the mall.

15. While waiting in the McDonald’s drive-through line.

16. When he is on his bike five blocks from the house and claims to need to go too badly to pedal himself home and starts flipping the f*ck out and I somehow have to get his f*cking bike, his twin sister who is just too tired to pedal and her f*cking bike, and his baby sister and her stroller back home. Also, it is hot out. Continue reading →

November 10, 2011

Veered Science

I make a concerted effort to deliver the finest of content to you, O Loyal Reader, at least once a week, as I know most (if not all) of you hang on my every word. If I say so myself, I’ve been fairly successful at writing regularly, even in the face of crippling adversity. I have slept on floors, chugged boiling-hot energy drinks, dodged spit bubbles and Diaper Bullets, narrowly escaped a suburban coyote attack, balanced my ridiculously ambitious schedule, and still have been able to chronicle my escapades on this fine publication.

No, I didn’t try to create the perfect woman. My wife already exists.

With that in mind, I’m delighted to share highly classified information with you about some shocking scientific research the U. S. Government has commissioned me to conduct. In the beginning, I was told “Mum” was the word (which was confusing, because I had previously been told that “Grease” is the word), but I fought hard for you all and got a Blanket Security Clearance.

I am in the process of writing up the findings for submission to whichever highly reputable academic journal wins the bidding war, but have summarized the data for you in the following chart: