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