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Kiss my ass, John Ashcroft: Part 74

Like a zillion other romantic losers with a Flannery O’Connor fixation and a total obliviousness to college as an “investment,” I squandered four years and every last tuition penny on a BA in English Literature. Given the lifetime earnings potential for English Lit grads, this degree firmly secures your future as the most highly-educated fool…

“Mom, why is Eliot wearing a beehive?”

In hopes of getting her and Dad’s Florida-based selves relocated within spoiling distance of cherished only-grandchildren, my Mom’s been shacking up in the super-deluxe basement luxury suite (because nothing says “well appointed” like a utility sink) for a good six months, job hunting and nuzzling babies and cheerfully enduring our little experiment in multi-generational living….

Consumption Junction

Screw the surge: if we’re serious about eradicating the insurgents, we will immediately decommission all U.S. military facilities in Iraq. And repurpose them into DAY CARE CENTERS. Because as the past two weeks of unintentional research has learned me, there is no more powerful biological weapon than a sick day-care kid. I’ve never visited one…

Vashon, Vash-off

Grammy and the girls and I took a scouting expedition to Vashon Island as a potential place for the folks to settle once they’s all relocated here in a year or two, and also as a possibility for Mike and I once the niblets hit school-age. The ferry ride? “Wawa!!!” A huge hit, and only…

Miss Misery

For the past 10 days or so, we the members of Team Glisson-Ortlieb have been engaged in a delightful yet spirited round of Bacteria Pong. Grammy got the viral ball rolling, deftly passing off to Eliot and Mama, who angrily spiked to Dada. Eliot then executed an unexpected hand-off to Nola, who regifted Mama AND…

Clinical regression

We expected to deal with some… issues from Eliot after Nola dropped — you know, your garden-variety jealousy, attention-seeking, aggravated fratricide strain of concerns. Mike and his brother are 15 months apart, so he had a little insight into the older-sibling mind, and according to him, this mind is exclusively dedicated to the art of…

Dear Odious Zoo Mommy:

I get it, I really do. Like you, I have a 2-year-old and a 6-month-old. While an otherwise spectacular January day, it’s minus-goddam-fahrenheit out, and until America kicks its oil dependency by finally discovering a means to harness toddler energy, you and I must let them run and scream themselves stupid in indoor clusterfucks like…

Getting thurr luurrn on.

The girls visit the Pacific Science Center in search of the ever-elusive 34th Annual Model Train Show. Michael wows us with his knowledge of modular and sectional layouts from “Z” to “G” scales, thus affirming his true genus as Dorkus Homunculus. More photos.

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