The Lion King

As we head into Thanksgiving week where the girls will be home all day, I begin wondering:

If I were a Lion and they were my cubs, at what point do I step in to stop them from killing each other? Sometimes, the child’s-play gets too rough for one of them. So, Mommy or I have to referee. Lions don’t do this.

And, why do they have to keep fighting on My bed, watching My TV?

Brush your fangs and go to bed! We’ll have Gazelle in the morning! Not good enough for you? Turn off the TV. And go to den!


Ugly Fish

Just now, the guy on the news shows a clip of the world’s ugliest fish, something from 2 miles below the surface.

Me: That’s one ugly fish!

Julianna (she’s 10): I think it’s beautiful.

Me: Well, I guess you like ugly things.

J: Well, I like you.

You see where this story is going, yes?

Me: And, I’m ugly?

J: Like I said, I like you.

Thank you for playing.

A Family on Lockdown

The girls are off for the week for Thanksgiving break. I stressed to them that they should relax and sleep late on Saturday. Rest your tired bones.

Then they wake up at 6:30am.

Yes, they played with puppy Merlin for a while and talked to Grandma on the phone. But something sinister was afoot.

Isabella (she’s 7) had a tantrum because, what the hell does it matter, she’s 7 and had a tantrum. She was playing piano and Rudolph was being a bitch. What with his nose and all.


Us: Nobody hates you.

Iz: But, you won’t let me play this right.

Us: How are we stopping you?

Iz: Because you are listening!

You see how this is going so far.

Iz: I want to stop this and play on the iPad.

Mommy: No, not until you calm down, brush your teeth, and have some breakfast.

Iz: You HATE me!

At this point, I know you are chuckling. But, when you’re in the middle of it, it is SO not funny.

Mommy: Ok. Nobody gets the iPad.

Daddy: And, no TV or computers or nothing. Read a book.

Iz: But, I have no one to read to! You HATE me.

Mommy whips out the old stand-by:

Mommy: Go to your room!

So, now, I am cowering in the corner of the bathroom reporting this to you. I’m a hostage in my own home. Because a 7-year-old didn’t get enough sleep. Someone call 911 for me.

Wait… at last report, it appears the 7-year-old fell asleep in her bed with her puppy. Call off the SWAT team. I think we’ll survive.

I love Saturday.

I’m Too Sexy for this Shirt

I learned on Thursday that People Magazine had bypassed me once again for the title of the world’s Sexiest Man Alive. I admit that I was a little surprised. Instead, they gave the crown to Chris Hemsworth, of whom I have never heard (which I suppose is only fair since I doubt he’s heard of me. Touché.)

Still, going into the final round of voting, I thought I had a shot. Because a) I have a pulse, and b) I’m a dude. So right out of the starting block, I had already leapfrogged 50% of potential opponents.

From what my sources inside the People editorial room tell me, this is where my candidacy seemed to stall. Primarily because of 3 reasons: 1) Not famous. 2) Not rich. And, 3) you know, Not Sexy.

But, I’ll be back again next year. People, you know where to find me (because I keep leaving messages at the reception desk.)

I’m not a Scientist, but…

I’m not a scientist, but global warming is a hoax.

I’m not an economist, but Trickle Down brings wealth to everyone.

I’m not a crime expert, but Second Amendment.

I’m not an ecologist, but chopping these trees won’t change the environment.

I’m not a doctor, but anyone from Africa needs to be quarantined.

I’m not an evolutionist, but dinosaurs and people foraged together 6,000 years ago.

I’m not illegal, but hablo español. Un poquito.

I’m not gay, but that invites demons.

I’m not a woman, but my uterus is state property. Also, I have a nice ass.

I’m not poor, so fuck ‘em.

I’m not your father. From now on, you are called “Luke.”

— Cordially yours, D. Vader.


This week the Fun Time goes National TV.

Regina, our good friend works in the casting office at General Hospital. They were shooting some Halloween scenes and needed adorable kids. Regina gave us a call, because, well, you’ve met the girls.

And, because absolutely no one asked to see these shots, I thought I’d offer them up.

So, Julianna’s episode aired on Halloween Day.

Julianna, obviously the most talented one, here on the extreme right.

Julianna, obviously the most talented one, here on the extreme right.

Not to be outdone, Isabella showed up on Nov. 4. She was actually featured! With the line “Trick or Treat!” (I hope I am not violating copyrights by quoting that.)

She's the obviously more talented child on the left, in case you didn't know.

She’s the obviously more talented child on the left, in case you didn’t know.

Oh, and she was having a great Hair day:

Isabella's Hair, Approaching Donna Mills (who is apparently a bad guy.)

Isabella’s Hair, Approaching Donna Mills (who is apparently a bad guy.)

Thanks again to Regina. And, no… Don’t send me your head shots to pass along to her. That’s not how this works.

Werewolves of London. Or, Van Nuys.

My poor Chihuahua does not understand evolution. What with the walnut-sized brain and all. He was once a wolf!

“Because you bark does not mean that the man putting things in our mailbox goes away.”

“The squirrel is not coming to overthrow us.”

“The garbage man is actually our friend.”

“You did not protect us from the zombies.”

“The pretty girl in the yoga pants walking her Labrador is really cute. Maybe I should flirt with her. What could go wrong?”

Like I said: Walnut-sized brain. Growl.

Don’t Be Cruel

I’m cruising down the road with Julianna (she’s 10) when Jailhouse Rock comes on the playlist.

Julianna: Daddy, was Elvis Presley famous for his hair?

Me: Yes, I suppose. More the singing and dancing on stage. But, also the hair. It was big.

J: So, he was like Justin Bieber.

Fortunately, we hit a red light, because I was about to slam on the brakes. I turn to her.

Me: Listen to me, if you ever mention that punk in the same breath as the King of Rock and Roll, I will put you up for adoption. On the spot. I can still do that, you know…

Please tell me that she’s not on to something…





Lights Out

On the way to gymnastics…

Isabella (she’s 7): Daddy, my teacher is younger than you.

Me: Probably. Ok. And….?

Iz: But she has kids in High School already. But, you don’t. Is she beating you?

Me: Honey, life is not a race. People have kids younger than other people, and some people have kids older that other people. It really doesn’t matter.

Iz: Yeah, but you’re old.

Me (biologically-speaking): Well, Honey… If you were born before you were born, then you’d be a totally different person.

Iz: Could I still use the iPad?

Me: No. Bedtime is always 9:00. For all kids. Everywhere. Lights Out. Good try, though.