• Movie review: Pinocchio (Holy hell this is a dark movie)

    Posted by on March 19, 2019

    We broke down and joined the Disney movie club and recently got Pinocchio.  My daughter absolutely loves it and Good Lord, it’s dark.  Don’t read the book, btw, it makes the movie look like Bob the Builder.  The premise is that a toymaker wants a wooden puppet to be his real son and because he’s good, it happens.  Of course, the puppet has to prove his worth and be moral and good, so of course, he gets an insect to be his conscience.  After many trials, it all works out and he becomes a real boy.  Great ending, the song is one of Disney’s most memorable (“When you Wish upon a Star”) and the image of his nose growing when he lies is still used in pop culture 79 years later.  Now for my issues with this movie.

    First off, once he becomes animated to a living block of wood, Gepetto sends him to school, day one, morning one WITH NO DIRECTION OR GOD FORBID EVEN A MAP.  Hey, welcome to the world, magic toy I want for a son, school is, um, I guess that way.  Here’s a book (you can’t read) and your cricket pal to help.  OH BY THE WAY THE USELESS CRICKET IS ALREADY OVERSLEEPING DAY ONE ON THE JOB.  I’m sure no one will notice a wooden boy and freak out.  Result?  Toynapped and sold into slavery by street con artists to a puppeteer.

    So Gepetto tries to rebound from this colossal mishap by walking the streets to find Pinocchio.  The magic fairy helps the boy escape and he vows to go to school.  SEVEN MINUTES LATER THE CRICKET IS NOWHERE TO BE FOUND AND HE’S GRABBED AGAIN BY THE STREET PEOPLE.  He’s then basically sold into slavery again via Pleasure Island.

    Apparently, I should have been a donkey by now.

    The bad boys turn into donkeys to be used in hard labor as punishment for their sinful ways.  The cricket FINALLY does something good and helps Pinocchio get the hell off the cursed island but again, tells no one about this hell on Earth.  Jiminy Cricket sucks.  Finally we find that Gepetto has been swallowed by a whale named Monstro.  For some reason, he took his goldfish and cat in his boat, I have no idea why.  The dumb puppet finally steps up and saves him and becomes a real boy.  The worst guidance counselor of all time insect gets a gold star for being his conscience.

    This is my biggest issue with this movie, well that, and the fact the street fox and cat that literally sold a puppet boy into slavery twice got no comeuppance.  Jiminy Cricket is the worst and quite frankly, got a gold star, because why?  He didn’t get the kid sold into human slavery a third time?  GTFO fairy lady.  I’ve never got anyone human trafficked before, fairy, give me a gold medal I can resell for a ticket to Pleasure Island.  I’ll go there and I’ll pull a Punisher style revenge on the psycho that runs the show there and make Pinocchio 2: The Reckoning.  There’s a family movie we can all enjoy.

  • How to raise a three year old

    Posted by on March 13, 2019

    I constantly said when my daughter was born, “I can’t wait until she’s old enough to talk.  That will be fun to hear what she has to say.”  I may regret that now.

    G: “I want the Mickey cup.”  Me: (Holding a pot of boiling noodles, shuffling to the sink) “OK, hang on a second.”  G: “I want the Mickey cup, dada.”  Me: (Pouring noodles into strainer) “I said I will get it, hang on.  Be patient.”  G: “Dada.  Dada.  Dada, I need the Mickey cup.”  Me: “I understand.  PLEASE WAIT A SECOND.”  (Puts steaming hot pot back on stove, grabs saucepan about to bubble over and moves it)  G: “Dada.  Dada I need the Mickey cup.  I need a drink.  Dada I need Mickey cup.”  Me:  “OK!  I GOT IT!  (Fills Mickey cup with water, hands it to her)  G: “Dada I want juice.”  Me:  “Mother of pearl…(dumps water hands her juice in Mickey cup) here’s the juice.”  G:  “Dada, I don’t want Mickey cup.”

    This above scenario happens about, oh, 12-97 times a day.  Then there’s this one, which happens daily.

    Me or Wife, aka Parent: “Here’s your shirt, come here let’s get dressed.”  G: “Not that one.”  P: “OK, what shirt?”  G: “This one!  (Picks pink shirt)  P: “OK, fine.  Here’s your pants.”  G: “NO!  I WANT THESE PANTS!”  (Picks red pants, now looks like a Valentine’s Day card)  After a four minute argument, parent gives in…  P: “OK, but we aren’t going out in public.  Here’s your socks.”  G: “NO, I WANT SNOW WHITE SOCKS!”  (Picks sky blue socks, repeat same argument, give in again)  This repeats for coat, hat, gloves and finally shoes.  At the end, my daughter looks like she went to a Goodwill on a budget that is ran by the My Little Ponies.  A homeless toddler rainbow.  P: “OK, put on your play shoes, I’ve let you pick every single article of clothing.”  G has nuclear meltdown over shoes that lasts ten minutes even though we have let her pick literally every stitch of clothing down to the underwear.

    Of course, there’s also all the fun conversations, mostly about poop and her telling me who has what genitals, which happens daily.  Then there’s the little things, like reading to her and seeing this line.

    Who’s the three year old? Still her, I’m more like a ten year old, though.

    In case you can’t read it, it says “inside Stinky’s hole is nice and toasty” which made me laugh because I’m still a middle school boy.  It’s the little things that make your day with children.

  • My kid is obsessed with horrible things

    Posted by on March 7, 2019

    I am probably (especially when having a few adult beverages) one of the most crass, uncouth, and unrefined people on Earth.  My wife is very lucky.  I wasn’t always.  As a kid, I was honestly very shy and reserved.  The only thing that made me shift gears?  I did a ton of impressions.  I know, I shuddered also.  I used to do a spot on Robin Leach.  My Irish, English, German and Scottish accents are solid and I can mimic most cartoon characters, even with my stupidly deep voice.  In high school, the only time I came out of my shell (sober) was doing a deadly Matt Foley, motivational speaker.  As a young kid though?  Nope.

    My daughter, the aka more gentle sex, talks about poopy and pennes and butts like she’s getting sales commission.  Someone help me.  I don’t know what to do.  I was taking a piss and she barged in, like only a three year old can.  “THAT’S YOUR BUTT!  I DON’T HAVE A BUTT.”  Well, you’re half right.

    Yesterday, I was changing her pull up, as we are almost potty trained.  “I DON’T HAVE A PENNE (pronounced PEY-NAY).  LOOK!”  Then she went full spread, as if I didn’t know from before her birth there was indeed, no penne.  “LOOK DADA, NO PENNE!”  Oh dear Lord, I thought girls were more gentle than boys.  With this trend, I can only guess my son will wag his ween on the street corner like a trenchcoat creep by 18 months.  Someone help me.  Yes, Karma is a real bitch also.  I’m paying for ruining all those weddings in the early to late 2000’s with my shirtless dancing and best man speeches.

  • What will I do with this new found power?

    Posted by on March 3, 2019

    I have probably never once blogged about my real job, but here goes.  I sell wide format sign equipment and related printers.  It’s a lot of work, a ton of training and tech knowledge and extremely stressful due to the market being competitive.  “But I thought you were just a comedian?”  No, my kids like to eat and stuff, so I have a real job.  I KNOW, RIGHT?  YOU ATE YESTERDAY OR WHATEVER.

    Recently, I got the word I would be helping create training videos for the Epson F2100 Direct to Garment printer.  I get to print t-shirts.  Here’s what I did this weekend.  Disclaimer, none of these are for resale, so don’t sue me.

    “These are a few of my favorite things!”

    Oh you knew I was going there.  Get it Captain Lincoln, you bad mofo.

    Eddie is awesome, but Powerslave Eddie is the BEST.

    Piece of Mind still the best album, but you knew I was going to test print some metal shirts.  (The Pantera one didn’t turn out because I’m not good enough at graphic design and vector art editing yet.  Pray for me or send Abbott Brothers vector art.  RIP Brother Dime and Brother Vinnie.  #CFH)

    Oh and one last one, a gift for my wife.

    Shout out to Jamie Rockwell for doing this art about 8 years ago at the Cincy Brew Haha.

    Nothing says “I love you” like a personalized gift.  I gave it to her and she mumbled something about making the biggest mistake of her life or something.  I am sure I just heard her wrong.

  • Tales from “the House”: The Confused Pooper

    Posted by on February 28, 2019

    My memory was recently sparked by a post from my friend Amanda about college bathrooms and I remembered a story about the confused pooper.  I should do more material about college, but most of it isn’t very believable to the average person.  For three years, I lived in a fraternity house with 33 other guys.  It was like a living organism of pure chaos and destruction and mostly, a petri dish of filth and fun.  It constantly smelled like old yeast and beer.  I remember guys’ moms leaving in tears as they helped their sons move in.

    One feature that really stood out when I was there was the absence of stalls or doors in the bathrooms.  There was an upstairs and downstairs bathroom, identical.  Three sinks on the left, showers in the back, and two toilets and a urinal on the right.  Literally the only chance you had of privacy was to poo at 5 am, which exactly no one ever did.  I knew guys that would walk a mile to campus to use the cleaner facilities.

    One night, having forgotten to lock my door, I awoke after 3 am to a fellow brother staring at the glider chair in the room.  I was directly across from him on the couch I slept on.  He was fixated on the chair.  “What’s up, man?”  No answer.  “What’s going on?”  Nothing.  He just kept staring a hole in the red chair, the only piece of new furniture in my worldly possession.  He finally reached down, flipped up the seat cushion, and dropped his pants.  As he spun into a poo crouch, I moved like the wind.  Faster, actually, the wind never had anyone drop a deuce on their favorite chair.  My roommate had also sprung to action as we wrestled him, depantsed, from the chair and into the bathroom.  He realized, in his stupor, that his surroundings were more appropriate, then sat down and passed out, pants around ankles.  I didn’t stick around to see what happened next.  We locked our door more often after that.

  • An Oscars recap for parents of young kids

    Posted by on February 25, 2019

    What did I think about the Oscars?  NOTHING!  I was reading stories and doing baths last night, but no worries, young parents, I have you covered!

    Best Actor – that guy who played Freddie Mercury.  Did I see the movie?  No, but a co-worker said he was good in it and the preview looked really amazing.  Great work, Academy, no protests here!

    Best Actress – Olivia Colman from the film, “The Favourite.”  There’s a “u” in Favourite, so that means it’s foreign and I will literally never watch this movie ever.  I’m sure she was great, though!

    Best Picture – Green Book.  Is this about a Dr. Seuss book?  No?  Never heard of it.  Will probably watch in 2024 when on Netflix and kids are older.  Check back for my review then.

    Other awards of note – I saw a movie about menstruation won an award, so if I live to be 346 years old, I’ll get to that one and let you know what I thought.

    Avengers: Infinity War didn’t win anything, so it’s all pretty much crap, but I saw Black Panther and it won several Oscars, so I’m pretty cultured and stuff.  Those are the two I’ve seen, so I guess this review is done.  Oh yes, the red carpet – a guy wore a tuxedo gown and it was absolutely ridiculous, but it was a statement, so people loved it.  Go read the Twitter for more!  See you next year!

    I was going to make the “Oh man, he took my outift!” joke, but I was beat to the punch by ever comic on Earth.

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