Jake the Dog
Storage is cool
congrats GMac!
Who's a Daddy? Who's a Daddy?
- Thread starter Clocker
- Start date
GMac said:Just to let you know, my little brother arrived a fortnight early at 7.20AM BST this morning (7lb 2oz). He and his mum are both doing well, and the news still hasn't quite sunk in yet.....
GM
Congrats to you as well!
:beer:
Cliptin
Wannabe Storage Freak
How are the little fellas these days?
______________________________
Some lite entertainment:
THEME PARK
Copyright 1999 W. Bruce Cameron
[ www.wbrucecameron.com ]
One of the most endearing traits of children is their utter trust that their
parents will provide them with all of life's necessities, meaning food,
shelter, and a weekend at a theme park.
A theme park is a sort of ARTIFICIAL vacation, a place where you can enjoy
all your favorite pastimes at once, such as motion sickness and heat
exhaustion.
Adult tolerance for theme parks peaks at about an hour, which is how long it
takes to walk from the parking lot to the front gate. You fork over an
obscene amount of money to gain entrance to a theme park, though it costs
nothing to leave (which is odd, because once you've been inside the walls
for a while, you'd pay anything to escape).
The two main activities in a theme park are (a) standing in line, and (b)
sweating. The sun reflects off the concrete with a fiendish lack of
mercy--you're about to learn the boiling point of tennis shoes. Your hair
is sunburned, and when a small child in front of you gestures with her hand
she smacks you in the face with her cotton candy; now it feels like your
cheeks are covered with carnivorous sand.
The ride your children have selected for you is a corkscrewing,
stomach-compressing roller coaster built by the same folks who manufactured
the baggage delivery system at the Denver International Airport. Apparently
the theme of this particular park is "Nausea." You sit down and are
strapped in so tightly you can feel your shoulders grinding against your
pelvis.
Once the ride begins you are thrown about with such violence it reminds you
of your teenager's driving. When the ride is over your children want to get
something to eat, but first the ride attendants have to pry your fingers off
of the safety bar. "Open your eyes, please, sir," they keep shouting.
They finally convince you to let go, though it seems a bit discourteous of
them to have used pepper spray. Staggering, you follow your children to the
Hot Dog Palace for some breakfast.
Food at a theme park is so expensive it would be cheaper to just eat your
own money. Your son's meal costs a day's pay and consists of items
manufactured of corn syrup, which is sugar, sucrose, which is sugar,
fructose, which is sugar, and sugar, which is sugar. He also consumes large
quantities of what in dog food would be called "meat by-products." When,
after another couple of rides, he announces that he feels like he is going
to throw up, you're very alarmed--having seen his meal once, you're in no
mood to see it again.
With the exception of that first pummeling, you manage to stay off the rides
all day, explaining to your children that it isn't good for you when your
internal organs are forcibly rearranged. Now, though, they coax you back in
line, promising a ride that doesn't twist, doesn't hang you upside down like
a bat, doesn't cause your brain to flop around inside your skull--it just
goes up and then comes back down. That's it, Dad, no big deal.
What they don't tell you is HOW it comes back down. You're strapped into a
seat and pulled gently up into acrophobia, the city falling away from you.
Okay, not so bad, and in the conversation you're having with God you explain
that you're thankful for the wonderful view but you really would like to get
down now.
And that's just how you descend: NOW. Without warning, you plummet to the
ground in an uncontrolled free fall. You must be moving faster than the
speed of sound because when you open your mouth, nothing comes out. Your
life passes before your eyes, and your one regret is that you will not have
an opportunity to punish your children for bringing you to this hellish
place.
Brakes cut in and you slam to a stop. You gingerly touch your face to
confirm it has fallen off. "Wasn't that fun, dad?" your kids ask. "Why are
you kissing the ground?"
At the end of the day, you let your teenager drive home. (After the theme
park, you are impervious to fear.)
______________________________
Some lite entertainment:
THEME PARK
Copyright 1999 W. Bruce Cameron
[ www.wbrucecameron.com ]
One of the most endearing traits of children is their utter trust that their
parents will provide them with all of life's necessities, meaning food,
shelter, and a weekend at a theme park.
A theme park is a sort of ARTIFICIAL vacation, a place where you can enjoy
all your favorite pastimes at once, such as motion sickness and heat
exhaustion.
Adult tolerance for theme parks peaks at about an hour, which is how long it
takes to walk from the parking lot to the front gate. You fork over an
obscene amount of money to gain entrance to a theme park, though it costs
nothing to leave (which is odd, because once you've been inside the walls
for a while, you'd pay anything to escape).
The two main activities in a theme park are (a) standing in line, and (b)
sweating. The sun reflects off the concrete with a fiendish lack of
mercy--you're about to learn the boiling point of tennis shoes. Your hair
is sunburned, and when a small child in front of you gestures with her hand
she smacks you in the face with her cotton candy; now it feels like your
cheeks are covered with carnivorous sand.
The ride your children have selected for you is a corkscrewing,
stomach-compressing roller coaster built by the same folks who manufactured
the baggage delivery system at the Denver International Airport. Apparently
the theme of this particular park is "Nausea." You sit down and are
strapped in so tightly you can feel your shoulders grinding against your
pelvis.
Once the ride begins you are thrown about with such violence it reminds you
of your teenager's driving. When the ride is over your children want to get
something to eat, but first the ride attendants have to pry your fingers off
of the safety bar. "Open your eyes, please, sir," they keep shouting.
They finally convince you to let go, though it seems a bit discourteous of
them to have used pepper spray. Staggering, you follow your children to the
Hot Dog Palace for some breakfast.
Food at a theme park is so expensive it would be cheaper to just eat your
own money. Your son's meal costs a day's pay and consists of items
manufactured of corn syrup, which is sugar, sucrose, which is sugar,
fructose, which is sugar, and sugar, which is sugar. He also consumes large
quantities of what in dog food would be called "meat by-products." When,
after another couple of rides, he announces that he feels like he is going
to throw up, you're very alarmed--having seen his meal once, you're in no
mood to see it again.
With the exception of that first pummeling, you manage to stay off the rides
all day, explaining to your children that it isn't good for you when your
internal organs are forcibly rearranged. Now, though, they coax you back in
line, promising a ride that doesn't twist, doesn't hang you upside down like
a bat, doesn't cause your brain to flop around inside your skull--it just
goes up and then comes back down. That's it, Dad, no big deal.
What they don't tell you is HOW it comes back down. You're strapped into a
seat and pulled gently up into acrophobia, the city falling away from you.
Okay, not so bad, and in the conversation you're having with God you explain
that you're thankful for the wonderful view but you really would like to get
down now.
And that's just how you descend: NOW. Without warning, you plummet to the
ground in an uncontrolled free fall. You must be moving faster than the
speed of sound because when you open your mouth, nothing comes out. Your
life passes before your eyes, and your one regret is that you will not have
an opportunity to punish your children for bringing you to this hellish
place.
Brakes cut in and you slam to a stop. You gingerly touch your face to
confirm it has fallen off. "Wasn't that fun, dad?" your kids ask. "Why are
you kissing the ground?"
At the end of the day, you let your teenager drive home. (After the theme
park, you are impervious to fear.)
Bartender
Storage is cool
Great post Cliptin.
Jake the Dog
Storage is cool
6 weeks on and i'm starting to forget what sleep is... oh the joy i might be sleepless but i'm very happy.
nice post clipton and thanks for asking thanks too to clocker.
seth is doing very well, extremely well actually. he's grown 9cm (3 1/2") in 6 weeks. i didn't growth at that rate was possible.
i might be sleepless but i'm very happy.nice post clipton and thanks for asking
thanks too to clocker.seth is doing very well, extremely well actually. he's grown 9cm (3 1/2") in 6 weeks. i didn't growth at that rate was possible.
Cliptin
Wannabe Storage Freak
Jake the Dog said:6 weeks on and i'm starting to forget what sleep is... oh the joy
nice post clipton and thanks for asking
seth is doing very well, extremely well actually. he's grown 9cm (3 1/2") in 6 weeks. i didn't growth at that rate was possible.
I grew 10" :eekers: in the summer between my sophmore and junior years of high school. No pains but I slept all the time. Not your luck huh.
Will Rickards WT
Learning Storage Performance
Jake the Dog
Storage is cool
i can't imagine today getting any better for me. i got my first smile from Seth this morning. it was awesome :mrgrn:
GMac
Learning Storage Performance
Jake the Dog said:6 weeks on and i'm starting to forget what sleep is... oh the joy
I can appreciate that - little Fin (my bro') wakes every two hours without fail at night - made my first visit to see him somewhat tiring, but enjoyable for all that :mrgrn: ; during the day though he'll sleep for upwards of 3 hours at a time. And boy, can he eat! - not surprisingly he's put 3lbs on in the last 3 weeks. Hopefully I'll be getting a few pics of me & him together before long, so I'll try and post one (kill two birds with one stone :lol: ).
GM
Koggit
What is this storage?
My sister had a baby not that long ago, Owen is the cutest thing on the planet, I wish I could meet him in person but my sis lives in california.
Groltz
My demeaning user rank is
I've made my contribution to the planet.
After a visit to the urologist earlier today, I am now sporting permanent built-in birth control.
After a visit to the urologist earlier today, I am now sporting permanent built-in birth control.
Buck
Storage? I am Storage!
Koggit said:
How unusual. It's rare that people (especially in California) name their child Owen. Let's see, with a name like Owen, you could end up with initials like ONO, or OHM.
Buck
Storage? I am Storage!
Ooops, thinking out loud again. So Flagreen, if you may answer, where does this beautiful new addition to our planet reside in California?
San Francisco. My daughter, Emily, and her husband Chad have been living out there since she graduated from college a few years ago. He's a software engineer and a very decent sort. Emily was going to go to law school until the baby came about. She had been accepted and was all set to go. Oh well "The best laid plans of..." as they say. He is an adorable baby of course.
Buck
Storage? I am Storage!
flagreen said:
San Francisco: a city with extra-ordinary people. For your daughter and son-in-law, I wish the best. Law school is nice, but being witness to, and enjoying the life of a newborn is unimaginable (hectic & enjoyable). I certainly hope that grandfather Flagreen and Uncle Koggit have the pleasure of visiting with Owen soon (if this has already not occurred).
I have reservations regarding the city of San Francisco, but seeing has how your family is prospering there, I dare not say a word to the opposite. If you daughter allows ( I don’t know of any that wouldn’t), take her to Macys in Union Square and indulge; then stroll over to here:
Westin St. Francis
. . . for a nice afternoon drink or tea.