the108

Inside the mind of America’s (raunchy, foul mouthed, overly opinionated, sexually aggressive, incredibly offensive, fly by the minute, ridiculously absurd, often times erratic, psychologically questionable) Sweetheart.

What She Should’ve Said November 30, 2006

Filed under: Uncategorized — the108 @ 9:52 pm

In the house there were the Gentleman, all the young men and then there was Lady Sue and off far in most corners yet right there in the center of the room was the girl.

On this particular day, the girl woke up and came down the stairs to the kitchen to have breakfast and, as typical, all the young men had scattered off to do what they do when they scatter off like that. Lady Sue sat in the quiet kitchen at the table and in front of her she had a cup of coffee and a bowl of Sugar Smacks and one small spoon. The girl sat down across from the Lady at the table and it was strange in the mornings because the Lady always sat where the Gentleman sat for supper and the girl sat in the seat the Lady usually occupied at supper. But in the mornings, the Lady was the head of the household and the girl eager to take her spot when available.

The Lady almost always had a look on her face. It is the kind of look that has no real name but everyone knows what it means. She eyed the girl over the table and observed her carefully, noting how she watched her right back with a look of amusement in her eyes. The Lady knew what this look was because every single morning, the girl would watch her stir her coffee with her tiny spoon and then dunk it directly into her bowl of cereal and this drove the girl nuts. She felt that the Lady should lick the spoon first and figured that the Lady’s cereal must always taste like coffee. Forever and for every day after until she died, every time the girl had a bowl of Sugar Smacks, it would taste and smell like coffee to her because images do something strange to all of your other senses. The Lady watched her.

After breakfast, the girl scooted off. Winter was here and for her the most exciting thing of all was knowing that right outside at the back of the house and down the steep hill was the lake and that the lake would be frozen. So, she bundled up and grabbed her skates and her earphones and off down the hill she went where she would creep onto the ice, listening very carefully, hearing all the hollow popping noises that come from natural ice. The girl almost always considered leaping onto the ice from the bank. For some reason, the edges always seemed scarier to her as though they might begin to chip away. She was uncertain of how deep the lake was or how thick the ice may be but she was alone and it was quiet and cold and she was happy there even though she could crash through without so much as a warning and drop, sinking alll the way to the bottom of the lake and no one around to save her. It comforted her to know that no one could. If she died then it would be her death, her way and no one else’s and she was glad of it.

But today, she thought of nothing but being nothing at all. She popped the earphones in and gave a tiny little hop on the ice to get a feel for what she was dealing with and off she went, tripping across the knobby surface and oblivious to it. On the ice way down there at the lake, she wasn’t an annoyance and she wasn’t a burden and she wasn’t anyone at all, really, and it was good for her.

Up in the house the Lady stood at the kitchen sink, alone and all quiet. Through the window she watched the girl spinning across the ice and she just stood there watching every move. She knew about the girl. She was smart and silly and wanted to make people laugh. She saw talent in her… the singing and the drawing and the painting and she knew the girl was capable and intelligent. The Lady wanted to think of her and smile or go down there and tell the girl that she was beautiful out there or that she was needed. But the Lady also knew that the only words she would really say to the girl would be to tell her not to track snow on the carpet or wear her skates in the house. She would greet her at the door and make sure she didn’t do these things. It was always the wrong thing, the wrong words and the Lady knew it but after so much time, she didn’t care anymore. The girl was or would be fine.

Today it was something in the same way that it was always something, both for Lady Sue and the girl. Lady Sue after so many days, just stopped seeing the beauty and the greatness and the girl stopped trying to have it. There were days when she should have said she was sorry or that she loved her, these words important coming from either one to the other would have been good, but they never did. Instead, the words became hurting and ugly until eventually, they just disappeared for good leaving Lady Sue happy at last according to the girl and who ever knows about the girl anyway because she is gone now to be someone else entirely.

And the Lady remains the same.

But I wonder now what Lady Sue would say to the girl today, a hundred lifetimes later because relationships that hurt always last a hundred lifetimes. I wonder what words she would choose today, if she would do it differently and if so, would the girl have ever stopped trying to hear them. I wonder if it will ever be enough to lose the ones you might love very much had you paid attention, or if it’s all okay with you in the end. I wonder if had just the words been different if the end would have been different, too.

In the one house, there is the Gentleman and the young men have all scattered away for good this time and in the other house there is Lady Sue.

And far, far off in the corner yet in the center of the room is the girl. Only she is a different girl, now, merely a ghost of the one before. And with the girl is another Gentleman and two young men and over by the window playing with her dolls, the lovely rose of a child, sweet and content and happy. The girl watches her and smiles and thinks to herself how beautiful and smart and amazing the child is and marvels at every movement she makes. She chokes on her emotions, stumbles over them, gets back up and goes to her, holds her, tells her.

The girl is out of the corner, knowing what words Lady Sue should have said and happy to know that she, the girl, will always say them. She has come a long way, she has…

but the Lady remains the same.

Alone.

 

Mystery Claus November 29, 2006

Filed under: Uncategorized — the108 @ 9:46 pm

I wrote a blog post a couple of weeks ago telling Santa how much I hate him and declaring my desire that he burn in a fiery hell for all of eternity. I told him that he sucked for taking all the credit after we, as parents, freak out and stress ourselves silly making sure the kids have gifts every year. I explained to him that he is a fraud and I even went as far as to insult him for his teeeeny little weight problem. And accused him of wearing cheap polyester.

Then, earlier today Santa walked into Wal Mart and threw down a few hundred dollars by paying off our Christmas layaway.

I’m not kidding.

Someone anonymously went into Wal Mart and had the people at layaway pull up our names and then they paid for it. All of it. And I have no idea who it was.

Oh my god!!! Who did this??? Why???

We don’t really know anyone here. We have a couple of friends, but no family and I cannot fathom who just does something like that. Our entire Christmas was paid for by someone we know and who won’t admit it. I want to tell them somehow how much that means to me and not because they saved me a load of money but because, frankly, I have become so jaded to this world and how we as people live each day. I want to thank them for the reminder that there are people out there who are truly selfless.

I think so many of us deal with our own personal issues day to day and it makes us forget the people out there who have bigger monsters in their lives. I think about the bitching and complaining that I do… the worries I have and to be totally honest with myself, are a result of myself and my decisions. My choices are the cause of most of my problems… with relationships and personal feelings and how I cope and deal with them. I create the turmoil in my life whether it is by spending that dollar irresponsibly and paying a bigger price for it later, or by allowing people in my life that don’t belong there. I forget how lucky I am to have the power to change so many of my situations even when it may be difficult to do so.

My problems are not the result of my environment or my economy. I live in America, have freedoms that plenty in the world die fighting to attain, and although I appreciate them, I take them for granted. I have a home and furniture and food and clothing. I have medical care. I have the love of my children and, for the most part, have the security that other than a freak accident, they are okay. I am lucky to have responsibilities because with them comes choices and options and ways to deal with them. And I have all of those things. I am lucky to know that if I have two dollars in my wallet today then I am wealthier than 75% of the Earth’s human population. Two dollars. Yet, I bitch that that is not worth a gallon of milk here.

Yet, this is America and if push comes to shove, I could go steal a bottle of milk or a can of Similac at any store on any busy American streetcorner. It’s not right. But if I had that unimaginable need to feed my family, the option is there that they will not starve today.

I am lucky. There are a lot worse situations to be in. To me, if I am stealing food for my family then I have hit rock bottom and consider that real struggling. But to compare that with the way life is in so many other places, I have been handed a gift. I could feasibly go get a job at any place of business in this country. Sure, it would be hard to juggle everything in our situation but hard is really only hard when compared to easy living and who has that anymore? We like to think it is us, but it’s not. Drop me in the middle of a destitute country and I’m suddenly doing pretty damned well.

Yet, we continue to bitch after everything we are being handed. Grants and loans to further our education, unlimited job opportunities… even the shittiest homes is still walls and running water in our country. Beats the hell out of having nothing and having to pray that the rain comes so that the crops will grow just so that we can work day in and day out to grow food for our families. And if the rain doesn’t come, then you watch your children shrink, growing smaller and smaller until they evaporate. Those hard living folks don’t have a Wal Mart up the road they can lift a loaf of bread from. They have nothing but calloused hands, broken bodies and pain. But they appreciate so much. Their families come together and unite against the horrible odds where they live. They cope together and stand up together to do what needs doing. Then, sometimes in the end, due to no fault of their own, they can’t do it anymore or the elements work against them and they begin to die. They work and hope and work and hope some more and they die young.

I haven’t had to make the choice to sell my body to have money to feed my kids. I live in a place where the odds are good that I’m not going to be raped and given AIDS. I don’t have to watch my children starve or wither away with disease. Yet, I cry everyday in all my stupid sadness over what is going wrong and how I fix it. I complain that I’m losing my strength. I bitch about waiting for two hours to see the doctor and lose it over the gas prices. And the saddest thing of all is that I do all that not even realizing how very lucky I am to be allowed such things.

Someone reached out today and did me an umbelievable kindness. I don’t deserve it. I love it. I appreciate it. I am completely moved by this generosity. But I don’t know what made someone here up and decide that our family could use a little holiday giving. We’re just people living blind to what we have and it takes something like this to remind us.

Maybe it was Santa proving me wrong. Maybe it was someone with a secret crush on me or Dean. More than likely it was just someone who said, “I want to help out this family this year, make things less stressful and make them smile.”

Whoever you are, thank you. I have no other way of showing you my gratitude. If I had your name I would shout it to the world but I get the idea that you didn’t do this so that you could be shouted about. That’s what makes you so incredible.

And if it was, in fact, Santa…

I’m sorry I called you a fat fucker.

 

Flattery Will Get You Everywhere November 28, 2006

Filed under: Uncategorized — the108 @ 9:10 pm

I was just sitting here checking my email and I was alerted that I had a new message from someone on my yahoo 360 account. I click on the little button to retrieve my message and I see this:

Message ReceivedTuesday November 28, 2006 – 12:59 pm PST
Bob has sent you a message

Bob
Offline IM
25 / MDes Moines, Iowa US
Sent To: KarmaPolice
Hey Sweetie
Hey Sweetie,I was just wondering if you would join my group?http://groups.yahoo.com/group/DesMoinesWifeBigButt/

Des Moines Wife Big Butt?? That’s a yahoo group??

What exactly are you trying to say here, Bob?

I’m thinking of joining. Who’s with me!!

Represent, bitches!

 

The Contributions of Children

Filed under: Uncategorized — the108 @ 6:26 pm

Just look at this face. This, my friends, is the face of an angel.

My sweet, sweet baby boy who brings us much joy and happiness. His heart sings songs of innocence. His spirit is undying, his genius untouchable.

This is why when Owen suddenly announced yesterday that we should name the new baby Ass Fucker, I almost fainted. Three years old and I have never heard him say a bad word. Never.

He could have started small with, say, damn or hell. Perhaps even crap. But, no. He busts out the big guns with his cursing debut shocking his mother and father and inducing an outburst of giggling from the peanut gallery known as Matthew.

It came out of nowhere and in that split second moment I had a decision to make. The responsible thing to do would have been to burst out with a reprimand of some sort and then sit the child down and explain to him the reasons why certain words are derogatory and inappropriate. Which is what Dean attempted to do. The minute the words popped out of the boy’s mouth I glance at Dean in disbelief, wondering if I had heard correctly this cheerful suggestion. I see Dean’s face go stony, the jaw clench, the mouth tighten up in that way that says that Owen may want to consider turning on his heels and running as fast as his little legs can carry him. He takes a deep breath and I can tell he is about to let loose when he startles and turns to look at me, the source of that loud snorting, nasal, grinding noise. I’m sure I must have looked a fright. I sat there, hand clamped down over my mouth and nose desperatly trying to hold in the laughter that was trying to force it’s way out. I tried sooo hard I worried my eyeballs may very well pop right out of my head and shoot across the room. I went purple. I clamped harder.

At this point, I see Dean start to falter. He gets out an “Owen! You must never say….” before he let out his own snort and the corners of his mouth started to curl up. At this point, I lost it. I buried my face into the couch trying my damnedest to keep from laughing because I knew that the boy would then decide it was funny to say bad words and I’d be screwed. I tried to compose myself. I looked to furniture for support. Nothing worked. Finally, Dean and I both gave in and fell over laughing.

The boy had no clue what was so funny so he just stood there watching his parents fall all over themselves in hysterics. His eyes were wide and you could tell that he was thinking that it had finally happened and that we had both gone right over the edge of sanity.

Eventually, we composed ourselves and attempted to hiccup out a lecture about not saying bad words but we just couldn’t stay in control. So, I did what I had to do.

I made Matt do it.

Matthew calmly explained to Owen why he shouldn’t say bad words and which ones were not to be said. But since he wasn’t about to say them himself it went sort of like this:

“Owen, you must never say the A word. Or the F word. Also there is an SH word that you can’t say and a D word and a C word, well, lots of C words, really. Also….”

And then after he has satisfied himself by listing every letter of the alphabet he looks at Owen who is just staring at him and then I think he realizes briefly that Owen has no idea what he is talking about so instead he tries a different approach:

“Owen, if you say bad words you will have to eat soap and soap is gross. It will turn your mouth into bubbles and taste really awful and you will burp soap bubbles for weeks after.”

Then, he stands there smirking and assuming that he has sufficiently scared the boy from ever uttering another curse word again. He has that look of total authority on his face when:

“Really? You can burp bubbles? Cool!!”

Matthew throws up his hands and stalks off, fully offended by Owen’s response to his brotherly speech and teachings on the ways of life. Owen, turns to Dean and I who are still trying to stifle our giggles. We look at Owen. Finally, I find the words I should have said a million moments ago:

“Owen, don’t say bad words.”

His response?

“Okay, Mom.”

Then, off he trots and I bask in my victorious triumph that I stole from Dean who had tried to do it from the beginning. The two of us sit in silence for a few minutes until he snorts again, snickers and says, “hee hee…. Ass Fucker Muchmore.”

It has a nice ring to it. I think it is growing on me.

 

Speaking to the People

Filed under: Uncategorized — the108 @ 1:29 am

As I sat here enjoying the silence of my house and taking the time to blog as Dean had the kids with him at the store, he walks in. Being that his soul purpose in life is to amuse me, he has brought me this treasure:

I’m not sure it gets any better than this.

Look closely at the can. It proudly declares:

“Big Ol’ Can of Whoop Ass energy drink. (Revitalizes attitude and restores faith in mankind)”

Serve Chilled.

And it’s only 100 calories per 8 oz. serving. That’s less than soda! Or, at least comparable.

I think this speaks to the people. We know now what we have to do.

Thank you Whoop Ass Energy Drink.

Thank you.

 

In the Zune

Filed under: Uncategorized — the108 @ 12:52 am

We’ve been having some outrageous luck lately with the px here at Ft. Lewis. Dean keeps submitting entries to contests and we keep winning. Last month, he entered his name in a drawing to get the new Nintendo Wii which was the big prize being awarded to one person. Then, five other people would win the handheld Nintendo DS. So, Dean threw his name into the pot thinking that Matthew would love to have one of those things for Christmas and lo and behold, he receives an email from AAFES the next week telling him to come claim his prize, one of the DS’s. I was like, “no shit!” Winning stuff is always fun.

So, then, last week he and Owen go up to the px to get some stuff… diaper wipes and all that crap. Nintendo is there once again, this time, looking for people to apply to be testers for the company Nintendo of America which is based in Seattle. The perk to doing this is that you get all of your Nintendo stuff for free, games systems, games… all of it. Then, once a year, Nintendo sends you to some hotel in Seattle to attend a conference where you get to give your input on the new games that are coming out and all that jazz. Naturally, Dean applied. We want the Nintendo Wii really badly. Personally, I’d rather have that thing than the new Playstation 3 anyday and it is expected that the Wii will blow the PS3 out of the water anyways. They reviewed his information and told him he stands a good chance at being accepted so we’ll wait and see. But I’ve ventured off subject so we’ll get back on track.

As Dean was there at the px trying to wiggle his way into the Nintendo franchise, he saw another table set up with raffle tickets to win an mp3 player made by Pioneer that has xm radio in it, the Pioneer Inno. The damned thing costs $400 bucks so he gets his ticket just to see if he wins.

Now, I’ve been obsessing about a good mp3 player for a while. I’ve poked around and researched which one I hope to get one day and after staring at Samsung and Pioneer and ipod and all the rest, I decided that I wanted a Microsoft Zune. I decide this because it’s awesome, from what I can tell by reading up on it. It was getting rave reviews and I even went and visited one at Walmart and fell in love with it. The memory on it is bordering on making my computer look like a piece of shit and the picture on the screen is awesome. I teetered between that and the ipod for a while before deciding that the ipod sucks in comparison. The first reason being that the Zune is a 30 G for $250 and the ipod’s 30 G runs a hundred bucks more in most places. The screen on the ipod is teeeeny and the only songs, from what I understand, that you can load onto the thing are from itunes which requires you to pay for them. I’m a bad girl. I’d rather steal my music, thank you. A thousand songs for a buck each is a thousand dollars worth of music that is in the shitter if I lost the $350 device. Hell no.

So, for all these reasons, I decide that one day when I throw down a shitload of money, it will be for the Zune. This, naturally, isn’t going to happen anytime soon what with Christmas coming and the kids needing the damned presents and all that crap so I’m thinking that sometime next year, I’ll get it.

Off track again.

So, Dean is leaving the px and he keeps hearing this announcement over the loudspeakers that he is ignoring and then it finally hits him that they are announcing the winning number for the raffle. He pulls out his ticket and realizes that it is his number they are hollerin’ about. So, he goes up there and gets the thing which is pretty cool looking but also a pain in the ass. He brings it home and all is good but we discover that we hate it. So, he tells me he is going to try to return the thing and get some store credit which we will just hold on to to add to the Christmas craziness. Up to customer service he goes with his won item not thinking for one second that they will let him return something he didn’t pay for. He explains to them that he won this thing and it sucks and he doesn’t want it. He asks if he can get some store credit. They tell him the most they will do is trade it for another mp3 player of equal or lesser value. They offer him the ipod and the Zune. WTF? Why would they give us something by a different company if he won it from Pioneer? Well, I guess the px paid for the Pioneer doo-hickey and could switch it out if they wanted to. Dean had thought it was a raffle sponsored by Pioneer, not AAFES and he was wrong. Dean calls me and explains that they won’t give us store credit but they will give us another mp3 player. I tell him to try for the store credit again. They say no stating that the prize called for an mp3 player and therefore, that’s what they’d give us.

So, I got my Zune. A brown one like I wanted. And the thing is kick ass. After screwing around with it for the past few days I seriously can’t fathom why anyone would buy an ipod. I have so far about 500 songs on the thing, plus 833 pictures I put on there of the kids and shit, plus movies and videos and have barely dented the memory. Out of 30 G, I have used about 3. That’s insane. The picture on the thing is better than my flatscreen computer monitor. It’s crazy. Not only that, but it made me a music library on my computer that is awesome. I’m in love.

So, this is my big holiday recommendation to anyone out there looking for an mp3 player. For being only $250 bucks, the thing is better than anything else I have seen.

And I’m kinda thinking I like the name Zune as a baby boy’s name. Hee hee.

 

Oh, What’s In a Name? November 27, 2006

Filed under: Uncategorized — the108 @ 9:18 pm

I’m pregnant and there is nothing really to do but sit around and get fat. Later on, there will be the buying of clothes and all that crap but for now, there is quite literally nothing to do. Because I’m knocked up and bored, I have been badgering Dean to supply me with some ideas about baby names.

Baby names are important to me. I’m not sure why. It just seems like such an important decision to make when awaiting the arrival of a new human being and it seems such a big responsibility that it stresses me out. And as with all things stressful, I can’t get enough of it.

I’m wierd. With every child, I’ve wanted to come up with something outrageous and I have yet to do so. When I got pregnant with my first child I was living with Dean and a slew of other people all young and idealistic in what I continuously refer to as “the hippie house”. We wore hemp necklaces, painted murals on the walls and smoked enough pot to put every one of us in debt. The realization that I was pregnant put a quick end to the pot smoking for me but it didn’t change the person I was back then. Finding out I was pregnant didn’t stress me out for some reason, but coming up with a name did.

I wanted a boy. I knew from the git go it was a boy and as a result never spent a minute thinking up a name for a girl. It was all about testosterone back then. It was also pretty difficult. There was pressure and opinions on all sides. Dean is and always has been science and am was and always will be soul. He wanted Darwin as a name. He wanted Berkely. I wanted Brady which means “peace”. I wanted Lyric for music. Dean agreed to Lyric since he is a musician. We thought up about a million eccentric names to give the kid and finally agreed on one. And then…

The grandmothers got wind of it.

They had a cow. Both of them. They wanted traditional, normal names. We wanted to name the damned kid something bizarre. We didn’t put up much of a fight and decided to be big, fat smart asses about the whole thing. I got a baby book and looked up the ten most popular names for babies born in the U.S. that year and picked numero uno: Matthew. Done deal. Then, to be even bigger smartasses, we shoved the grandmothers right there in the middle of it all making Matthew’s middle name hyphenated (which drove both women crazy)and also making it their maiden names. My mother’s maiden name being Jordan and Dean’s mom’s maiden name being Scott. So, in 1999 Matthew Scott Jordan was born.

When I got pregnant for the second time I decided I wanted a name that was classy but not too common. Dean and I thought of a million different ones including Carter,Carson, Liam, Aiden and many more. We found out at 15 weeks that we were having another boy so we didn’t really plan on any girl’s names that time either. I know that in the beginning I had thrown out the idea of Olivia and it was swiftly rejected by Dean who hated the name. In the end, it didn’t matter because we delivered a strapping young man in 2003. We named him Owen and as tribute to the grandfathers, gave him their middle names. Owen William Russell.

Baby number three I was convinced was another boy. The first boy name selected was chosen as the one and then we sat around thinking up girl’s names. It was the first time we had really done that and it was difficult. Had it been a boy, it was going to have three names once again. Matthew, who was very into the X Men at that time and rather obsessed with Wolverine threw out Logan (Wolverine’s human name) and I loved it. Dean was told to pick one middle name and I was to pick the other. He decided on Yorke, the last name of his favorite musician and I selected Henry after a character in one of my favorite books, A Farewll To Arms. So, had number three been born with a penis it would have been Logan Yorke Henry. I liked it.

But this time, the vagina won out. Woo hoo! We had a very hard time settling on a name. We tossed around Dylan, Avery, Emma and a looong list of others. Finally, I brought up the name Olivia again and Dean shot it down. So, I did what I had to do.

I called his mother.

After whining to her that I loved the name so much and she agreed that it was beautiful, I sicced her on her son and she was magnificent. One conversation later and Dean had backed down. Olivia was an important name to me because I’m a Shakespeare lover and he invented the name. Her middle name, Rose, came from a Beatles song about looking at the world through Rose colored glasses. It was perfect for her.

It’s that time again.

We have selected round one for a girl’s name and are totally stuck on a boy’s. Figures.

This time we have complete creative control and being that it will be our last child, have decided to be nuts once again. Only this time, we’re sticking to it. Dean’s mother can’t object because she is dead and my mother can’t object because she may as well be. No one can tell us what to do.

So far, for a girl, we have decided to name her Nova. Dean is a big old astronomy enthusiast so I started looking into some names that would have something to do with it. I found Nova and loved it right away being what it is. A Nova is the brightest star in the sky and will, as of right now, be what we name this baby if it is a girl. No idea about a middle name yet. Sigh.

And nothing for a boy, either. We have thrown around so many today that I don’t even care anymore. After about a hundred possibilities, we just started fucking around and throwing names out that made no sense and were ridiculous. Like Nipple.

This brought forth the idea of using this baby as a way to get free shit for the rest of our lives by naming it after something. Like an endorsement. We sat and thought of stuff that we would love to get for free for the rest of our lives and came up with the following:

Microsoft
Fisher Price
Napster
Motorola
Rolex
Audi
Sony
McDonalds
Coca Cola

We’re thinking that if we name our new baby after something like that then they will give us stuff for, like, ever. Like, when David Letterman goes on t.v. and claims he loves Snicker’s bars and then Snicker’s sent him a lifetime supply. Awesome.

There was also the idea of giving the baby a name that would award us stuff that we needed at the time and then just changing it every couple of years. Like, at birth, he could be named Similac and then after the first year we could rename him Pampers. Then, Playschool, moving on up to Lego, Nintendo and finishing big with Harvard.

Then, it hit us.

We could name him after some universal superpower that will supply us with stuff for his entire life. We settled on:

Nike.

Nike would be perfect. Clothing, sports equipment, shoes, all kinds of junk. Plus, so we wouldn’t feel entirely wierd about using the kid to get free stuff, we could put his name down on his birth certificate as Nichael. We can say it was a misprint on the birth certificate and then blame the Nike part on some random Uncle giving it to him as a nickname. It works so well.

When he turns 16 I’m going to let him get his first tattoo. I’m thinking it will be the logo for Penzoil or something. Like in Nascar (which was also thrown out as a potential name idea) when the cars are covered in endorsements. Why not? The kid’ll think he’s bad ass and we can collect the checks. Watch the money rollll in.

Oh, what’s in a name? Would a rose by any other name smell as sweet?

Well, yes. So long as it had a good stock option.

Cheerio!!

Oh yeah. I’m completely open to ideas here. Think, wierd, uncommon and with a strong meaning. C’mon people. Gimme whatcha got.

I like the name Amos but am afraid people will call him Anus. Dean likes the name Oliver but is that too close to Olivia? He also likes the name Nash but I conjure up images of old Nash Bridges reruns and it makes me feel wierd.

Help!

Save this child from being named Nike!