Five Bad Reasons Why Parents Might Actually Want XXXL Progeny

Da-da used to be a fat kid, so he was wondering if perhaps some parents might actually WANT THEIR KIDS TO BE GYNORMOUSIZED. Why would someone want this terrible outcome for their child?? Check out the following un-PC reasons why some children might be overweight:

1. So parents can KEEP TRACK of kids better. 
2. So parents can KEEP UP with kids better.
3. So parents might have a fighting chance against marauding hordes of cannibals/zombies.
4. To remind parents of their favorite '80s monster, The Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.
5. To save money on lead weights and rope and duct tape. 

Da-da's currently plying his own hellspawn with PIZZA AND DONUTS as he writes this, so he can spend less money on lead weights and rope and duct tape, as 5YO Bronko and 7YO Nagurski currently see every store/museum/mall at a dead-run. (NOTE: Da-da doesn't think fat is funny, esp. after being the butt of so many jokes for so many years, but he did get a sense of humor out of it. AND he does wish he could somehow strap lead weights to his children to slow them down to sub-light speed.)

Remember: muscle burns fat. Marshmallow just BURNS.

The Seven Days of CAKE

CAKE is powerful. You heard it here, first. Cake can cause Revolutions. It can break marriages (e.g., the bride and groom couldn't agree on the CAKE). Cake in the face can cause riots. Files contained therein can loose felons onto the world, etc. Cake is also key to controlling children. Children will OBEY if cake is in the cards. Of course, said obeyance vanishes AFTER cake. But above all...

...CAKE makes Mondays bearable. Mondays SUCK. Oh, wait... did anyone mention that there's CAKE? CAKE! YAY! Cake also makes Tuesdays easier to bear...

...as do donuts, but let's face it: donuts ain't cake. Tuesday cake can also be prophetic and even stop banking scandals in their tracks. Yes, Tuesday cake is LIBOR Scandal kryptonite. Wednesday cake on the other hand...

... is simply something to look forward to... esp. if you get to dangle a participle and wax elliptic.

Thursday cake is always intense. See? It says so right there. It's also both insousciant and effervescent, in a cakey way. Friday cake, however...

...well, Friday doesn't really need cake -- esp. the same damn cake you've had every day that week... but when it's there... well, Friday cake can be pretty cakey, so you might as well go with it. Which brings us to Saturday and Sunday...

Ew.

Saturday and Sunday ARE cake, which after a whole week of cake can simply be TOO MUCH DAMN CAKE. But even too much cake is good cake!

Cake is indeed powerful. That is, except when it comes to Da-da. Because Da-da doesn't really like cake. Unless it's COCONUT CAKE...

Da-da will walk on hot coals for coconut cake -- even UGLY COCONUT CAKE.

Thursday Cake Has Far to Go

No, really.

Happy Hallmark Day, Mom (or, "Take THAT, Doves and Bunnies!")

Just a small root problem.

As usual, Da-da's spending Mother's Day being Da-da and dealing with Da-da things. So, while Ma-ma and the boys frolic in the woods, battling doves and bunnies on a picnicky nature adventure, Da-da's stoically awaiting the Roto-Rooter guy to de-root Da-da's clogged sewer line. Ma-ma gets all the fun, so long as her ammo holds out.

Take that, doves and bunnies! (Ma-ma's still an artist with a Thompson.)

 

Apoca-Parenting 103L: Soundproofing Your Nest

How many coats of noise-absorbing paint do you have to use before you can no longer hear your monsters children screaming at the top of their lungs playing? 900,001 and still counting.

The Aquabats...

Why are they all dressed like Da-da?? THAT'S COPYRIGHT VIOLATION.

...are incredibly stupid, make little sense, feature ludicrous plots, schizoidy punky rocky music, an ugly recreational vehicle, cheesy rubberoid monsters, cheesy shots, horrid acting and embarrassingly bad production value... THREE THUMBS UP FROM DA-DA! And from Bronko and Nagurski, The Fearless Monster Hunters... NINE STAKES! Or tentacles. Or something gooey. Whatever.

The Aquabats Supershow, now on The Hub, if you get that channel (yes, it's geared toward kids), is an extension of the Aquabats' already awesome musical stage act (where monsters invade every song) from the Roaring '90s. Da-da has already started writing their next season scriptage!

Listen for the voice of Plankton from Sponge Bob, and... Da-da's laser ears are detecting either an uncredited Danny Elfman singing the title track, or the uncanny Elfmanesque stylings of the MC Bat Commander channeling the Oingo and the Boingo. What Da-da can't figure out is how they these dorks figured out how to DRESS LIKE DA-DA. Anyway, Da-da says check it out. (Great site, too.)

They even eat like Da-da. SHOCKING.

UPDATE: The show seems to be losing proton spin as of this pre-apocalyptic writing (5/19/12), perhaps due to other directors smoking too much latex. The first few episodes showed great promise, but the latter ones are not as well written/directed -- except for the Pilgrim Boy non sequitur one. Simply awesome.

Grampa Scotty vs. The Pepper Monsters

It's Grampa Scotty's birthday (wow, THIRTY... million years... wait, that's Da-da), so Da-da thought he'd dredge up some terrible, painful memory and make fun of it -- painful for Grampa Scotty, that is.

The scene: the bleak green shag of the Seventies. Grampa Scotty was wearing some open-collared disco shirt (and yeah, gold chains, chest hair). He's tan, and he's makin' GAZPACHO. (For those of you in Nebraska, gazpacho is a cold, andalusian/portuguese soup made from fresh tomatoes, cukes, onions, peppers, lime or lemon, parsley or cilantro, S&P, etc. It's refreshing, especially in the summer, and especially if it's summer in the desert where Da-da grew up.) Grandma Scotty, still hot and yes, tan, wearing some '70s floral shirt-caftan thing, was making something else, Da-da can't remember what. Coffee maybe, knowing her. Young Master Da-da was using G.I. Joes and duct tape and a rubber chicken to contain a radioactive leak from... well, from something.

As it turned out, Grampa Scotty was also wearing his glasses, but he'd just bought some of the new (at the time) soft lens contacts. His glasses were falling down his nose while trying to chop hot peppers, so he went to put in his contacts, located in a bathroom on the other side of the house. Can you see where this train's gonna wreck?

Thirty seconds later...

Grampa Scotty's horrible screams sounded from the far side of the house, the screams leaking through the windows and echoing off the surrounding scrubby hills.

Da-da looked up in alarm... but Grandma Scotty wasn't freaking out. No. She was laughing, despite the howls of pain coming from the other side of the house.

Grampa Scotty soon returned, still wearing his glasses. His eyes were horribly, horribly red. He was not happy.

Yes, Grandma Scotty already called it: Grampa Scotty failed to wash his hands before putting in his contacts, so his eyes were basically bathed in hot pepper oil. Poor guy couldn't see for the rest of the day.

Anyway, Happy Birthday Grampa Scotty. Here's hoping you've either learned your lesson, or secured some meds for Grandma Scotty, who always seemed to be laughing whenever you're gravely injured.

Ow.

It's the "B" Family

Mr. B is chock full of B-plots.

Da-da loves "B" plots. Ok, he doesn't, but he needs a lead-in, so there. WherewasDa-da? Right. B-plot. You know, the part of a movie where minor characters have to do something minor that reveals a minor bit of the plot, but the "A" plot heroes then swoop in and reinterpret the facts and take all the glory and then smooch and drive off in the Ferarri? You can see where this is going, right? Yes. You're so smart. Da-da's life is one big "B" plot. (Ok, maybe a "D" plot, but allow Da-da this little fantasy.). Just like sleuthing out your Native American Name, it's important for family members to determine and embrace their "B" nomenclature, that is, the names that aliteratively and predictably start with the letter B. Why is Da-da bothering you with this, you ask? No idea. But this morning at Da-da's house, 6YO Nagurski (of Bronko and Nagurski fame) announced that his new name was, "BADGER." This name fit so well that Da-da assigned B names to the whole family. And no, there's no magic formula. You gotta use your own creativity, so break out the pull starter and give it a yank.

Da-da's Awesome Family "B" Nomenclatura

4YO Bronko is now, "BUMPER"
6YO Nagurski is, "BADGER"
32YO Ma-ma is, "BUN-BUN"

And of course...

89YO Da-da is, "Mr. B."

 Factually, Mr. B is one of Da-da's file cabinets (and has stopped more than his share of bullets), but Da-da doesn't think he'll mind. Much.

Mrs. B is not amused.

That Sunday Look of Parenthood

"Da-da... get up... time for Monday ironing."

[Man, Ma-ma's testosterone treatments are working
with a vengeance. Look at that hand and arm.]

That Monday Look of Parenthood

Parenting Humor and Horror, Monday edition.

That Monday Look of Parenthood

Close the coffin lid, willya?

A Friday Rapprochement

Da-da's Psychotronic Catalog of Extreme Mental and Physical States of Parental Vagabondage

Ex. 26b. Parental Denial (LEVEL EIGHT) about why you did this to yourself.

Da-da's Native American Nomenclatura (or, YOUR "INDIAN" NAME HERE)

Da-da's Native American name used to be, "Materializes-in-Green-Laundromat-Chair."

It's very important for families to both determine and then firmly embrace Native American nomenclature -- or as politically incorrect, coonskinned kids in the '50s called it, "yer Indian name." (They're all running Congress, now.) This naming ritual is easier than you think, and is SO important. Why is it SO important? Come on, Da-da can't answer every one of Life's Mysteries for you. If he did that, you'd just materialize in and out of laundromats all day and all night in dispair of KNOWING EVERYTHING IN THE UNIVERSE. How dull.

Anyway, sans further ado, here is Da-da's Awesome Native American nomenclatura for his own awesome family:

Da-da's Awesome Native American Family Nomenclatura

4YO Bronko is now, "Loud Bear"
6YO Nagurski is, "Many-Places-at-Once"
32YO Ma-ma is, "Big-Hair-in-Charge"

And of course...

89YO Da-da is, "Stands-With-No-Brain."

See? Case closed.

Yet Another Sign Unto You

Another Sign Unto You

A Sign Unto You

Da-da's Psychotronic Catalog of Extreme Mental and Physical States of Parental Vagabondage

Ex 172. "Prehistoric Attack Women" massage therapy, usu. prescribed for overexposure to
malls and grocery stores for mr. moms who are still in possession of their reproductive options.

That Python (Monty) Look of Parenthood

"Children? Ahgggghg!"

That Penultimate Look of Parenthood

Upon reaching this level of parenting madness, you are invariably found half-naked in an enormous
bowl of cornflakes, loudly channeling Capt. John Luc Picard from an imaginary bridge while doing
pointillistic drawings of farm animals and IRS agents on the inside of your eyelids.