Randoms from February

Hi players.

After weeks and weeks and weeks, February is almost over. . . and that means the glorious Age of St. Patrick will soon be upon us.

Since not a whole hell of a lot happened around these parts this month (besides the usual work and school, my Dad's visit and the Superbowl, Hallmark Day, and something or other related to 'cookies'), the pickings for Random Pics are pretty slim this month.

Regardless, here's some to tide you over 'til next time.

Cheers.

The Cannonball stares dumbly at an archaic vessel believed to contain 'audio.'  Her school library still keeps Books on Tape (not CDs, mind you, but actual cassettes) in rotation, and she decided to check out one out to bring home.  Fortunately, Yours Truly stockpiles vintage electronics, so we had cassette players on hand.  Too bad Kris has already forgotten how to load cassettes. . .

Kris had been really wanting to take the girls rolling skating for some time, and a couple Saturdays ago she had the whole family dressed, showered, and somewhat ready to go.  Alas, the Cannonball decided to have a Grade-A meltdown shortly before leaving, so her and I stayed back at the house while Kris took Abby to a local roller rink (or whatever the hell they're called now.)

Abby got the hang of it after awhile, but, knowing Abby, she probably fell.  A lot.

Day off from work = Legend of Zelda on the Wii U and microbrews.

I don't like playing Memory with Abby anymore.

I didn't go to church on this particular Sunday, but apparently some biker gang overran the congregation.  Fortunately, my children made it out relatively unscathed.

Abby, at her first Dentist's Appointment, shortly before completely losing her shit.

Abby discusses current events with Mr. Voigt over crayons.

After watching her sister play chords on the uke, Abby has recently started expressing interest in playing.  That, or she just likes it 'cause it's pink.

Yet another stuffed animal convention in the living room. . .

Letting the kids practice with some kid-friendly chopsticks they got from Grandma and Papa John. . .

- Brian

Happy Hallmark Day

This guy looks like a perv.

I loathe to even acknowledge this one, but - queue fanfare - today is Valentine's Day.

Also known as the shittiest day of the school year.

Usually, we don't celebrate this one.  Fortunately Kris is one of those rare females that doesn't buy into the whole Valentine's Day thing - we're both in the mindset that it's little more than a Hallmark Holiday anyway.

And, to be honest, when you're married to Brian J. Hough, everyday is like Valentine's Day, ladies.

Alayna and Abby tear into a Valentine's Day care package from the Grandma and Papa John. . .

Personally, I always take Valentine's Day off of work, as it is - without a doubt - the shittiest day of the school year.  Teenagers really don't want to hear about the Persian Wars when they're distracted by chocolates, stuffed animals, and heaps and heaps of overblown drama.

No thanks.

80's babysitting ruled.

So besides a glorious day off of work, this year we said 'what the hell,' and decided to go to dinner.  Not necessarily to mark the occasion, of course, but rather because it happened to be a Friday, and on Fridays Sunchild holds it's weekly Parents Night Out.  For $25, we can drop off both kids from 7 - 11pm.


That's, like, 1980s babysitting prices, people.

This place is awesome.

Initially we were going to splurge and go out to a nice steakhouse, but we opted against this since Valentine's Day is one of the busiest nights of the year for restaurants, and service was bound to be terrible at larger venues.  And with paying $25 for a steak, I want that shit perfect.

With that in mind, we opted instead for our usual sushi joint - Shiso Sushi - which is never at half-capacity anyway.

Tonight, though, it was packed (not surprisingly), but we ended up getting a table after about ten minutes and the service - and sushi - was excellent.

Afterwards, we got Kris her usual Boba tea fix from that joint down on Osceola Parkway and swung out to Stogies so I could sit outside and have a cigar while Kris enjoyed her tea.  After a meal, we fancy ourselves some good ol' fashioned people-watching, and down in the Hunter's Creek Villages - where all the date-friendly restaurants and bars are located - there's always idiots to gaze upon.

We picked up the kids around 10pm, just as they were mowing into bowls of ice cream. . . 

So yeah, that was basically our Hallmark Holiday.  I'd wish you and yours a happy one in return, but that'd just be buying into a horrible tradition that really shouldn't exist in the first place.

So, instead, Happy Parents Night Out, America.

- Brian

Pipes, Cookies, and Firedudes

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Papa, Gators, and a Lion-less Superbowl

Hi America,

So my Dad flew down on Friday for a short weekend visit.  Cindy would be later traveling to Tennessee with some friends, so Papa was visiting Nana-less this time around.  We didn't have much on the agenda for this weekend, besides watching some football game between two teams I could've cared less about.  Eventually Dad and I cleaned and hooked up a new turntable, we took the kids over to Gatorland to stare at animals that could easily digest them in a matter of seconds, and ultimately forced ourselves to sit through the most boring Superbowl in human history.

Behold a shit-load of pictures - enjoy:

Papa, gettin' his hair did. . .

Both kids are fascinated with Papa's white hair

Opening some Valentine's Day gift bags from Papa and Nana

Dad and Cindy bought the girls some miniature Lego sets for their Valentine's bags, which, to me, was awesome - I love Legos more than I love most people.

Papa and Abby having an in-depth conversation about lip gloss. . .

Watson received a rope animal of some sort.  He's still working on the rope part, but the plush face was decimated in a matter of minutes.

Abby and her beach Lego set.

I think Alayna had a soccer set or something along those lines. . .

Abby made the mistake of leaving her chocolates out and uncovered on the recliner.  Watson's going to be shitting himself like crazy for the next few days.

Taking Watson out for a walk, trying out a new harness from my brother, Chris. . .

Homeboy here was hanging outside the girls' bedroom for quite awhile on Saturday.

Ready for an outing (please ignore the grass - I've been meaning to get around to that for some time.)

These are for dogs.  Seriously.  Once a month we take Watson to the Purple Pooch in order to get his nails trimmed.  It's a full-service pet salon and bakery, and caters to the upper-class, dog-spoiling soccer moms and bored, affluent housewives of Hunter's Creek.  They do a good job, though.

I don't care if these are for dogs.  I would eat the hell out of this.

After running some errands, Dad helped me re-calibrate and clean up a turntable I had sitting around that I had received a few months ago.  I thought it was a lower-end model, but as it turns out it's actually a really good turntable, and worth a few hundred bucks.

The turntable was so good, in fact, that we swapped out my Thorens and hooked up the new Sony. . .

This thing sounds AWESOME.

Alayna hung out with us in the Study while we played a few records and adjusted the sound on the receiver.  I can think of much shittier ways to spend an afternoon.

The next morning, we got the girls around and drove them over to Gatorland (which is practically within walking distance of our house.)

Not 4.6, not 4.8.  The Speed Limit in the Gatorland parking lot is 4.7.  Ye be warned.

Abby was afraid of this large alligator mouth, as she thought it was real.  Because cement alligators with buildings for bodies evidently haunts her dreams.

Noted.

They don't let you swim at Gatorland.

These guys are all over the place throughout the park, and are so used to people that I'm pretty sure you could walk up and pet the damn things.

That bird is brave as hell.

Alayna looks like she's posing for the cover of a Beastie Boys album right here.

Some hillbillies working up the crowd (unfortunately, they were not eaten by gators while doing so.)

Once the kids saw the playground, they could've cared less for alligators. . .

Of all the crazy animals one can see at Gatorland, Alayna was most impressed with the common lizards you can find all over one's own backyard.

We didn't pack our suits.  The kids were pissed.

I really, really want one of these chairs. . .

Land tortoises - these guys are each over 100 hundred years old. . .

I was about a foot away from this bird - what keeps them from flying all over the place and biting people's fingers off is beyond me - Fezzig definitely wouldve done so.

Posing with Chester - the alligator that hate dozens of dogs in the Tampa area before being captured and relocated to Gatorland.

Chester's such an aggressive asshole that he has to be housed in his own pen, or else he'll attack and kill the other alligators throughout the park.

No colored gators allowed.

These guys are apparently NOT albinos.

They, too, can't be housed among the normal alligators, but it's more for their protection - normal alligators would flip out and murder the bejesus out of these white ones.  Because they're racist.

WHITE POWER

We have awesome, awesome luck.

Papa bought a bunch of goat food (food pellets in ice cream cones) for the girls to hand out to the animals. . .

We spent quite a lot of time feeding goats - the kids are big into petting zoos. 

This is the ugliest goat I've ever seen.

Abby, flipping the hell out.

Feeding goats through cracks in the fence. Why this is so hilarious, I don't know.

Massaging some gator skin.

You can get eerily close to the animals at Gatorland.  Needless to say I watched our disaster-prone offspring like a hawk throughout the duration of our stay.

In the bird room. . . or whatever the hell it's called.  Basically a large, screened in room you can go in and pick up parakeets on a stick.

Abby makes a friend.

The girls always wanted the blue or white ones. . .

Kris and a Conure (however that's spelled.)

Alayna was a little freaked out by the size of this one (even though he was slightly bigger than Fezzig was.)

After the Parakeet sanctuary, or whatever it is, we walked over to see some local redneck 'wrastle a 'gator.'

Been there, done that. 

The gator fell asleep. . . or something.  I don't know, I forget.

In the dining pavilion, waiting for Papa and Kris to make with the lunch. . .

This area was a pretty decent eating area - wider and more open than a lot of the Disney park eateries (of course, Gatorland has about 2% of the foot traffic the Disney parks do, but still. . .)

I love people watching. . .

Alayna was on the verge of passing out while waiting for lunch. . . it had been a long morning.

Chowing down on fried food (Yours Truly was fortunate enough to nab a Daddy's Coffee.)

A couple cranes, standing around waiting to order from the cafe.

(This isn't real.)

A bunch of lazy assholes.

Abby steals one last peek at the gators on our way out of the park. . .

Family portraits are always a disaster with this family.

Back in the gator's mouth.

Alayna had begun to throw a tantrum as we left the park - both kids needed some serious naps after a few hours of walking around in the sun, checking out deadly reptiles.

Two teams I couldn't have cared less about.

Yes, I'm that guy.  I don't care.

We made a shitload of snacks for the big game.  Surprisingly enough, the girls would NOT eat the pizza pockets (whatever the heck those are.)  Doesn't every kid love those things?!

SPORTS 

 - Brian