Minivan of Cornicopia

Note: This was written on my way to Kansas City…

As I head to Kansas City with my mother and father for Thanksgiving, we have on board my niece Kiera (7) and nephew Aidan (4). I’m plopped in the back with a laptop, ipod, Nintendo DS, and the self appointed task of making sure the kids are entertained. The last task mainly involves bribing them with peanut M&Ms every twenty miles.

I am convinced that effective parenting revolves around a strong regiment of M&Ms, which ensures Mars Corporation a healthy profit and job security. (Coupled with the fact that interplanetary exports are at an all time high, while Martian labor is at a record low).

Earlier we took turns making soup, to my mom’s dismay if she only knew, between the captains chairs. Why have the seats been promoted to a status of “captains” chairs. They remind me of the emergency exit seats on airplanes, and this concerns me because I’m pretty sure out Honda minivan isn’t equipped with deployable slides and neither Kiera or Aidan can barely open the van door let alone a 55lb door from a hatchway. This is why Children Fire Departments probably don’t exist.

Oh yea, the soup. Kiera made potato soup with “soup, potatoes, carrots, and onions.” Aidan made tomato soup with “tomatoes, carrots, and onions.” Both soups were received and better received than my Laurna Soup, in honor of my mom’s border collie (both my mom and her dog are excellent cooks). My soup included “beef, carrots, onions, and dog food.” This aroused a chorus of “NO!!!! DOG FOOD DOESN’T GO IN SOUP!” They forced me to drink the entire pot of soup and I immediately suffered side-effects of barking and bouts of growling.

Happy Meals, Depressing Toys

Kiera is the child who will eat only part of a cookie and return the second half because she is full. Aidan is the child who routinely attempts to sell his sister for the nearest double stuffed Oreo. So, when it came to dinner suggestions Aidan’s brain could only produce one vocalization: “McDonald’s”. (For the record, McDonald’s is a special treat their parents would never take them to).

Since my degree is psychology, I toyed with the idea of lacing his food with exlax to create taste aversion to McDonald’s. However, I’m not old enough to be constipated on a regular basis, so there is no exlax in my purse. McDonald’s didn’t have exlax, however they did have a great DVD selection… which is odd, because I don’t know any people who rent DVDs from McDonald’s. And I know even fewer people who rent DVD’s from a McDonald’s located on an interstate 35 miles from the nearest civilization or outhouse.

To Kiera’s relief, McDonald’s wouldn’t accept her as a legimate exchange for my #5 Ranch BLT with a Sprite, though I tried. Oh, and being the uncle I of course got to assemble the Happy Meal toys. I’m a young man and an uncle, so the following isn’t simple opinion, it is a called hard fact: McDonald’s toys are shit.

The toy they got: a dragon from Shrek. Its head comes off and you can place trivia cards inside it. “Oh wow, someone stop the fun wagon things are getting too fucking crazy,” we all shouted! They might as well be handing out buckets of flap jacks. The only thing potentially fun is the chance these toys have a heavy lead content.

Not only that, the quality control of the toys is terrible. The only requirement for the toy is that the head can come off, and Kiera’s toy doesn’t even know that.

I was concerned for a minute as Aidan was making deep gasping sounds. He was only drinking from his cup of water, but he had to do so in the classical stylings of Jaque Crousteau preparting for a long dive.

Plans of a Galactic Overlord (aka Vaginas aren’t funny)

Maintaining my blog has been hit and miss over the last year and a half. Don’t worry though, unlike bungee jumping or harvesting unicorn horns, I’m not giving my blog up. I’m working on getting back in to the rhythm of it. The biggest challenge when returning to a blog, is where to begin writing. A lot of note worthy things have happened that I’d love to write about, and hopefully I’ll get to them.

Thursday I wandered to Gundersen Hall for the first OSU Improv Club meeting. The meeting had an impressive turn out (~20 people), and we played almost two hours of improv games. This brings me to an important topic: When you elect me to congress or galactic overlord, I promise to amend our nation’s great Constitution to include the immediate execution of any person who suggests a topic dealing with vaginas  during an improv session.

Though vaginas can surely be fun. They’re not funny. Yelling out “gynecologist” at every opportunity is not only a stupid suggestion, but is also uncreative. Here is an actual incident from the Thursday night meeting that illustrates a bad suggestion versus the cleverness of my suggestions…

Host: “We need a location.”
Stupid Uncreative Ugly Guy: “Gynecologist.”
Me: “NO! Use a Unicorn Farm.”

We know he had to be stupid, uncreative, and ugly because any smart, creative, even mediocre looking person can make a better suggestion. See, when I yell out “Unicorn Farm” things are already looking up, because everyone wonders where in the world I came up with that suggestion. Also, a Unicorn Farm is a unique place where almost anything can happen. Looking at vaginas is the only activity at a gyno, and it means every punch line is the same boring stuff.

Needless to say, Unicorn Farm did much better than any of the umpteen suggested gyno skits. Also, as I write this it occurs to me that it is never women who yell out “gynecologist” (women know it isn’t funny). Guys yell it because we have no earthly idea of what actually happens there, except that on DVDs it optimistically involves oil and pillow fights.

On a different tempo, we played the game Party Host and I had to be Luke Skywalker. I should have done a better job. For instance, I might have shown up after having landed in the swamp or I might have been looking for power converters.

The best moment of the night came during the game “Questions”. The game’s host picked the topic of pregnancy, so when I entered the stage I looked at my opponent and asked… “Do you have a hanger?” There was a slight pause as everyone realized what I’d said, and then a great burst of laughter.