Nuclear Family Warhead

My friend Kyle the hat stealer, you remember him, just emailed me pictures of his son’s first trip to the horse track.  He told me that the little guy hit the daily double for $158 and won $323 on a quinella.  I suggested getting the tyke a golf pencil and teaching him lotto.  We’ll see.  If his luck holds, maybe the little guy will be sending me a check for 10% of their lotto millions.  You know, consulting fees and all.  Can a trip to Vegas be too far away?  I think not.  If you’re on a winning streak, you gotta stick with it; so Kyle, whatever you do, don’t change that kids diaper.  It’s bad luck.

*This is not a picture of Kyle’s baby.  His baby prefers Mandalay Bay, and wouldn’t be caught dead in a newborn baby exploiting Golden Palace dot com beanie*

As I’m sure you have noticed, Dr. Isaid No has been noticeably absent the last few weeks.  I was trying to avoid writing this post, but I feel that you, dear readers, have a right to know.  The Doc is missing.  Honest.  I have no idea where he is.  His face is too big for a milk carton, and he’s beyond the age limit as well, so I’m running out of options.  I’ve called Interpol, but no one answered at their “International Mad Scientists” desk.  Nurse Thighhighs is gone too, as are the children: Ebola, Bunson and Beaker.  They left about a week after the last time I saw the Doc.  I went to their house and combed over the yard, but didn’t find any fresh, shallow graves, so I’m reasonably sure that he is still alive.  The lab seemed to be in order, but the Lair was empty.  It’s quite possible that he has gotten himself caught up in some madman’s scheme again. 

Oh, you didn’t know?  Yeah, a long history of hanging out with shady characters; Qaddafi, Arafat, Hussein, Dr. Evil, SPECTRE, C.H.A.O.S., and  more recently; Putin, Chavez, the Clinton Campaign and an unconfirmed report that he was in the owners box at the Dallas Cowboys Divisional playoff game loss to the Giants.  Damn that Jerry Jones, can’t he see that the man is sick?  The last time Jones got his hooks in the Doc, Emmit Smith rushed for over 1,200 yards, and Barry Switzer almost sounded intelligent.  I’m not sure exactly what the Doc did while he was in Dallas, but let’s just say that the Doc was able to upgrade the lab after that trip.  Come to think of it, has anyone seen Barry Switzer since then? Hmmm.

Rest assured that we will leave no stone unturned in our search for Dr. Isaid No.  No, really, he loves cold, dark places; under rocks is the first place we will look.  He’s like Patrick Star with orange sunglasses.  Failure to find him there may lead us on a journey to the deepest, darkest slums of the Eastern Bloc.  Again, cold, dark places, he just loves them!  I can just picture him in some bar in a Prague slum celebrating the Czech’s Bronze medal in Hockey at the 1920 Olympic games in Antwerp.  He always was a hockey fan.  If you happen to see the Doc, please contact Interpol or your local High School Physical Science teacher; either of them will know what to do.

Full Disclosure: 

The Doc has been working tirelessly at school.  He just finished up last week, and then started back in again with Summer school this past Monday.  His classes are 4 hours a night, 4 nights a week.  Needless to say, his free time is almost non-existent.  If and when his school load eases up, he will return to being a regular contributor again; until then, you will continue to be stuck with me.  But that’s not all bad, is it?

I’ve stirred up a hornet’s nest with my Rick Astley comment yesterday.  Again; no link, just scroll.  Apparently there are quite a few Rick Astley fans left, and they both called me yesterday.  My intent was not to rile up the “Astleynation”, I was just making a point.  It seems that I am not alone in this regard.  The New York Mets fell victim to being “Rickroll’d” in early April, and other victims include the Eastern Washington University Women’s Basketball Team and The Church Of Scientology.  Mr. Astley is quite good natured about the whole thing, and actually embraces the idea.  Well, sort of.  He says he won’t try and capitalize on the phenomenon, but that’s probably because sales of his back catalog have increased to the point that he can cancel the second leg of his Dinner Theatre Tour this summer.  Go Rick!

I don’t hate Rick Astley, it’s just hard to process the audio/visual contradiction that is the “Never Gonna Give You Up” video (sorry, can’t bring myself to embed it).  He obviously deserves some credit for having such a soulful voice.  His parents, however, should be chastised for teaching him to dress like a Ken doll and eat like a bird.  That voice cannot be coming from that body.  I see Rick in this video, and all I can think of is Anthony Michael Hall asking Molly Ringwald if he can “Borrow her underpants for 10 minutes” in Sixteen Candles.  He looks like a 12 year old who stole his Mothers sunglasses.  Seriously, think about it; if you saw a Barry White video, but the sound coming out of the TV was “Karma Chameleon” by Culture Club, wouldn’t you question your sanity?   Don’t even get me started on the “Dance moves.”  Until I saw this video, I always thought running into a chain link fence was an accident, not a dance move.  Who choreographed this video, Elmer Fudd?  Oh great, now I’ll get inundated with hate mail from the “Looneytunesnation.”  Apologies in advance, Mr. Fudd.  Please don’t send Marvin the Martian to melt my face off with his explosive space modulator.  I think two things would have helped the credibility of the “Never Gonna Give You Up” video: longer hair and puberty.  

Jeremy over at Discovering Dad  asked me last week if I’d like to be a part of the “Spotlight On Dads” series that he runs each week.  Being such a newbie to the blogosphere, I was a little surprised and very humbled that he we would ask me.  I of course said yes, and you can find the results here.  If you are a first time visitor, or someone who has poked around a little bit before, I invite you to come on in, take your shoes off; stay awhile.  We haven’t been around that long, but I think you’ll find something to tickle your fancy.  Look around, peruse, investigate.  Some popular selections can be found here, here, here and here.  Thanks for stopping by!  We hope you come back often.

It all started with one of my “next times”.  Next time I take a shower, I’ll have to get the new bottle of shampoo, since I’m almost out.  The next time I took a shower, I repeated the exercise: Next time I take a shower, I’ll have to remember to get the new bottle, since I had to take the lid off and swish water around inside it to get any lather.  Well, guess what?  Today was “next time”. 

I showered without incident, and wet my hair for the shampoo course.  When I reached for the bottle, it toppled over into two pieces; bottle and cap, clinking and clanging relentlessly off of the shower walls.  I bent down and felt about blindly trying to locate both bottle and cap.  After putting the cap back on, I placed it back on the alcove in the shower (or so I thought), only to hear it clinking and clanging it’s way back to the shower floor.  I picked it up and threw it over the top of the shower curtain and heard it land safely in the bathtub.  There.  That solves that.  Now what? 

Nukeboy1 and Nukeboy2 both shower now, so I realized that I did have at least one option.  But, there had to be another way!  Dare I disturb NukeMom?  She was home doing some last minute cramming before heading out to take part 3 of the 4 part CPA exam.  She’s already passed parts 1 and 2 (Whoo Hoo!).  I thought better of disturbing her and bit the bullet.  I reached down and grabbed the bottle of Kid’s shampoo.  I dried my eyes and perused the label.  “Suave Kid’s 2 in 1 Shampoo-Shampoo AND Conditioner!”  Wow!  Both in one bottle!  That has to be good, right?  What’s this, down bottom?  Tear Free?  Detangling?  Righteous!  And then, I saw it.  As if the soccer playing/sunglasses wearing dogs’ collar medallion hadn’t already given it away.  The “scent” was (gulp) Wild Watermelon.  Oh dear God.

I shampooed as fast as I could, pushing thoughts of lip gloss, blow pops, pixie stix and Jolly Rancher’s out of my mind.  I did take time, however, to make a cool ultra-lather Mohawk and sing some Wayne Newton, ala Ferris Bueller: “I recall, Central Park in Fall.  You tore your dress, what a mess!”  I heard NukeMom through the door asking if everything was alright, so I yelled affirmative, and quickly rinsed my hair.  After toweling off and combing my hair, the aroma around my noggin’ seemed to have dissipated.  Thank goodness!  NukeMom gave me a goodbye kiss, and other than an odd glance, she was none the wiser.  I picked up Nukegirl from school, and after she gave me a kiss on the cheek she said: “Daddy, can I have a lollipop?”  I dismissed it as chance, as she is always asking for lollipops.  The killer, though, was when Nukeboy2 walked through the door a little while ago, and after giving me a hug said: “Did you buy candy at the store today?”, immediately followed by Nukeboy1 saying: “Dad, did you get some gum stuck in your hair?”  Next time I’ll just use the Dial bath bar soap and take my chances.

The mystery is solved, and the NukeVan is cool (well, on the inside, anyway).  Without spending 3 paragraphs describing what happened, suffice it to say that in addition to a new evaporator, the NukeVan required a new AC Compressor also.  Not the cheapest of parts, but through hard fought negotiations and a little gentle ranting on my part, we got the work (and parts) for 35% less than what they normally would have charged.  No admission of wrong doing was required by either side, and the file has been sealed and placed in a safe deposit box in an undisclosed location.

Sue over at Beggar’s Shot Glass has a good post to give you some perspective on the inner workings of a car dealership.  It’s a good read to help you next time you need to get work done on your car.  Thanks, Sue.  While I did get two opinions, I will definitely seek out a third next time.  Finding someone trustworthy to work on you car is important.  Second only to having a good plumber.  Remember; plumbing is like poker: A straight flush beats a full house.  

I feel like I just fell out of the stupid tree and hit every branch on the way down.  NukeMom played me like a drum.  It all started with our little friend you see there in the cup.  It’s a tick.  I state that for those of you that aren’t entomologists and/or don’t own dogs.  He was found residing on the inside of Penny the Beagle’s left ear.  He hadn’t been around very long.  I was able to pull him off with my fingers using a paper towel.  No tweezers, 10 blade or suction required.  We then placed him in a cup.  The only way to kill them (So I’ve been told) is to drown them in alcohol.  You’d think I would have grabbed the alcohol while I still had the tick held firmly between my fingers; but it’s Saturday.  I usually don’t think on Saturdays until at least 2:00pm, and it was only 11:20.  I put the tick in the cup and then ran for the alcohol when the tick started to climb up the side.  I grabbed the first bottle of alcohol that I saw.  That would be it in the cup on the right in the picture.  I doused the little bastard with 3 oz of liquid fury and then went to wash my hands.

Here is a picture of the death fluid.  I think the expiration date was sometime during the Nixon administration.  I don’t know if you can see it or not, but the bottle says: with Wintergreen Oil and Lanolin Derivative.  That explains the green tint.  It was then that I realized that we already have a bottle of green tinted alcohol with wintergreen.  It’s called Scope.  I checked on our little friend and he appeared to be doing the breast stroke and was headed for the swim up bar.  I went back to the medicine cabinet looking for the “good” stuff.  I found it behind the band aids.  Now we’re talking!  This is the stuff I was looking for!  Just a blue label that says ALCOHOL in all caps, in ”we mean business” font.  I think it was Kitty Dukakis Private Reserve, but I’m not sure. 

I poured some in another cup and helped our little friend over with the aid of a paper clip.   He jumped right off thinking the party had just moved down one hot tub.  Little did he know.  After about 5 minutes I came back and he wasn’t moving.  I figured him for dead, but Nukegirl yelled; “He’s still alive Daddy, I saw him move!”  Sure enough, a little nudge with the paper clip, and his legs started moving.  Now I was getting upset.  Not only had I given him a shiny exo-skeleton with the “Lanolin Derivative”, he was also sporting minty fresh breath.  I used the paper clip with all the skill and steadiness of a Matador to inflict the death blow.  He swam around for another few seconds, and then the legs curled in.  Victory was mine.  Or was it?

“You said you were going to give the dogs a bath this week, might as well do it now’, NukeMom said.  I headed out to the store to pick up some odds and ends and some flea & tick collars.  After all 3 dogs were bathed I realized that the tub would need to be cleaned before Nukegirl took her bath.  I got out the Comet and did my duty.  What’s with this mass of wet, dog-smellin’ towels here on the floor?  Better wash those.  Uh-Oh, the washing machine’s full.  No problem, I’ll just put them in the drye……you guessed it.  I took the clothes out of the dryer, placed them on our bed, which already had a clean load waiting to be folded; and went back and loaded the dryer.  I then took the wet, smelly dog towels to the washing machine, loaded it up (Gently!) and poured in entirely too much bleach.  The foyer now smells like a YMCA indoor pool, but I guarantee you those dog towels won’t smell anymore. 

I went back into the bathroom and saw all the dog hair.  I vacuumed the bathroom floor.  “Hey honey, since you have the vacuum out, would you mind doing the den?”, NukeMom said.  Hint taken.  After vacuuming the entire house, I beat her to the punch by saying; “I’m going to go ahead and mop ALL of the floors since I have to do the bathroom anyway.”  “Wow, you’re pretty smart”, she joked.  Dinner was easy because it’s leftover night, and NukeMom helped get Nukegirl in and out of the tub.  The boys took care of themselves, as I attacked the laundry on the bed.  Half way through the pile NukeMom came in, gave me a kiss on the cheek and said; “I think I’m going to go watch some TV.”  I looked at the clock and it was 9:44pm.  I caught a glimpse of a grin on her face as she turned to leave.  It was then that I realized the song I had been humming for the last 7 hours or so was “Won’t Get Fooled Again” by The Who.  Idiot.

You mow the lawn with it, wash the car with it, exercise with it, you may as well clean with it also.  No, I’m not talking about your lucky pair of boxers, I’m talking about your ipod; or MP3 if you’re a (non)working stiff like me.  Load ‘em up Gentleman, we’ve added 38 new songs to the Ultimate Cleaning Music Page to help you get through the mundane duties that better be completed before you-know-who gets home from work.  It’s easier to vacuum up marbles if you can’t hear them, so turn the volume to “11″. 

NukeMom works for a very large multi-national company that has over 1,200 employees in her office, and close to 8,000 worldwide.  You can imagine her surprise then, when she received an email yesterday with the title “Hillbilly Vibrator” in the subject line.  The email came from someone she had never heard of; and, I’m sure, will never hear from again.  Apparently this young Brainiac thought it would be hilarious to share this fun little email with 8,000 of her closest friends.  She and the CEO are tight.  The CFO also.  Let’s not forget all the Executive VP”s, Sr. VP’s, Jr. VP’s, Human Resources (Oops), Controllers, Asst. Controllers, Managers, Staff, Security, IT and Cleaning Crew.

Good Gravy woman, haven’t you ever created a mailing list on your home computer!?  Couldn’t you see that it said “Global” in the distribution list?  Did you really believe that you had entered 8,000 email addresses as default for Sally in Accounting?  I can’t even imagine the colossal mental breakdown that would have to occur to someone for this to happen.  Was she putting away files while on the phone with a customer while texting on her Blackberry while talking to her neighbor while clicking the mouse with her feet?  I’m sure we’ll never know.  I imagine though, that the reply email she got went something like this:

Dear Ms. Used To Work Here:

My kidneys still hurt from the laughter that ensued after NukeMom called me and told me what happened.  I want to feel bad for this girl, but it’s hard.  I would add a link to the site in question, but that would just make me an accessory after the fact if anyone who read this happened to (Oops) forward it on to a loved one at work.  The title is at the beginning of the post and you can Google it if you like.  Dear Lord.

As a big fan of The Office, I’ve  thought “How could they improve upon the characters they already have?”.  The answer, of course, is not easily.  Everybody has their favorites, and at times, their not so favorites.  Nukegirl giggled the other day while watching with me and said; “Daddy, what’s a beet?”  Thankfully, beets have never been on the menu in the Nuclear Family household, and as long as I’m the one with the finger on the button, they never will be.  Beets rank up there with apple rings, rhutabagas and brussel sprouts.  I’m sure Dwight Schrute is a fan of them all.  Out of the blue, while watching The Office with Nukegirl the other day, I was reminded of this video.  Some of you may have seen it already, if you haven’t, you’re in for a treat:

I think we could all use the assistance of a Terry Tate every now and then.  I’d like to take him with me when I go pick up the car from the repair shop.  When the mechanic says; “Well, it was a little harder to fix than we thought it would be, it’s gonna cost extra”, I’d say; “I’d like you to meet my accountant: Terry”.  I think that would do the trick.  I bet my cost would be a lot closer to the original estimate.