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Lunatic Ravings
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I didn't post a column last week (12/19/03) because I was too tired. The ol' lady had to go out of town for a week,
and I watched baby gurl by myself. Single moms probably already know the routine, but for the guys...this is what
you gotta do:
- Getting up with the baby when she wakes up at night.
- Waking up an hour earlier so you can get ready for work, then get the baby ready
for daycare, then leave a half hour early, to drop her off and get to work.
- After work, pick her up.
- Then follow the following schedule; play - dinner - bath - then bed time (only
she's having trouble sleeping and cry's for half an hour before going to sleep and wakes up at least once, if not
twice during the night).
See? It's a lot of work and the main thing is...you never sleep...YOU NEVER SLEEP!!!
After the third night of not sleeping more that three hours in a row, I was just too tired to write a column. Funny
thing is when the old lady says she's got to go, I visualized myself getting the baby to bed nice and early, going
down to the exercise room and working out. Then coming back up stairs to work on the web site, then shower and
bed. None of that imaginary schedule ever really happened because the baby's sleep schedule got all messed up when
she had a bad flu, and now she wasn't sleeping too well.
That's it, that's my excuse...taking care of a baby by yourself is an insane amount of work, don't let anyone tell
you different.
I did make some observations; however, I noticed that baby gurl always wants her winter coat within plain view.
Maybe she's planning ahead and if an emergency happens, she wants to be able to get at it nice and quick. December
is cold here in the Nebraska..
We're not in Sunny Las Vegas, like stupid Stephen Johnson
(who writes "Lunatic Ravings"). They got
a water shortage in that hell-hole. I don't know what's worse, being forced to only water your lawn once a week
in December...or having a toe amputated because it got frost bit when your car broke down and had to walk to the
nearest gas station. It's a tough call.
I just hope that candy-ass fancy Las Vegas lad can survive the watering hardship.
Back to baby gurl, on Wednesday I give her Gerber toddler style ham and potatoes. But she don't eat it, so I do.
Then I give her Gerber toddler spaghetti, only she don't eat it, so I do. Then I give her Gerber toddler spinach
ravioli, she don't eat it, so I do. I ended up giving her cooked carrots and a hot dog...she likes that.
Meanwhile, I got about 5 lb. of Gerber toddler food in my belly and after an hour my stomach gets to growling.
I have a big-baby-blow-out...only it wasn't normal gas, it was a bunch of little baby-smelling, baby-toot-farts.
Go figure. Some say having gas is low class, but I say it's just a chemical reaction.
If you want to know what low class is, just watch the "You might think I'm Crazy" video by Rick Ocasek
from the Cars. It was made around 85', and he looked really old even back then. Then I remember he married some
16 year old model, but now he's 60 years old, or he looks 60, and his wife is like 31 and she's stuck with a wrinkled
old pot bellied ex-rocker for a husband who hasn't worked for 15 years. Maybe they're on the Welfare now...I don't
know, but it must really suck for her.
Speaking of sucking, I saw a science fiction movie with Tracy Lourdes on the Stargate Channel. I guess she can't
get over the temptation to suck on film...only now the only sucking you'll see in her films is reflected in her
acting.
I KID, I KID, I JOKE WITH YOU.
Oh yes, it's the day after Merry Christmas. Which reminds me...if the baby Jesus' mom's name was Mary, shouldn't
we say Mary Christmas, and if Jesus' mom is referred to as Mary Christmas, shouldn't we call Jesus, Jesus Christmas.
And if Cath-o-holics practice mass, shouldn't we spell Jesus' last name as Christmass, as that would represent
"Christ" and "mass" all at the same time...I really think we need to get some consultants involved
with Christmass and streamline the entire holiday.
And for those who are Christians:
MARY CHRISTMASS!!!
And for those who are not...peace, my brotha!
And now you know!
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