The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. XXV

Happy Snow Day, Internet.

Album Title:  Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer and Other Christmas Favorites

Album Artist:  Various Artists

Harmless children's album, right?  Yeah, that's what I thought too.  When I picked it up at a local thrift store, I thought to myself, "Well hey, here we go:  a holiday album for the kiddos."  I mean, it's got two famous Christmas characters on the cover.  In cartoon-form, no less.

Well, as the saying goes, Don't judge an LP by its cover.

This album is f***ing scary.

"Hey Rudolph, wanna see a dead body?"

I'm serious.  I've heard a lot of crappy children's songs in my day, but the first track of Side B on this crap-fest may be the scariest thing I've listened to in some time.  Some random guy (I'm assuming a drifter) sings an occasional verse here or there, and I guess he's supposed to sound like Santa, but instead he sounds like a Balrog from Middle Earth, singing through a distortion pedal from the darkest bowels of the Black Cauldron.  It's horrifying.

And the singing children?  They're horrifying, too.  Creepy, sing-song shit that you'd expect to hear coming from the attic of some abandoned, run-down cottage deep in the woods.  Built on an Indian graveyard.

This album feels every bit like when Netflix releases a B-Movie that's title is so similar to a Hollywood blockbuster that it tricks people into watching it.  So, say you want to watch Pirates of the Caribbean, starring Johnny Depp, and when you search Netflix you find Pirates in the Caribbean, starring a handful of washed-up actors from early '90s shows like Melrose Place.  And as you start watching it - under the false pretense that it is the legit, Johnny Depp-version - you start thinking to yourself, "Wait a minute, this doesn't look right - I thought Disney made this film?  These special effects are garbage -this looks like a high schooler made this movie.  In China."

Then you realize you've been bamboozled, and that you've wasted twenty-six minutes of your life that you'll never get back.

That's what we have here, guys:  a collection of children's Christmas songs that are executed so terribly that you kick yourself for having wasted the time listening to it in the first place.  The instrumental arrangements aren't uniform (the volume rises and falls without reason, as if some chimps were in the control room turning knobs while their handler was off taking a piss), the song selection is considerably dated (I've never heard half of these songs before, and I fancy myself somewhat of a Christmas music aficionado), and the vocals are so scary that I want to hold my kids close and never let them go.

Merry Christmas, everybody!

VERDICT:  2/10 - Reality TV (A dark look into humanity's Holiday basement of horrors.  It gets a bonus point for featuring a clearly-belligerent Jimmy Durante trying to pick a fight with Santa Claus on 'Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.' )

- SHELVED -

Going Out of Business

Offer good while supplies last.

Okay, ladies.

If anyone out there is interested in owning their very own Mini Brian, this may be your last chance.  Consider it a Clearance Sale (one that may or may not be approved by the Mrs. - I can see where she might get upset) - I'm getting rid of my inventory and after that won't be restocking my stores, so to speak.

I'm officially going out of business November 21st.

I'm getting snipped.

Yes, it's truly an end of an era - one that started in puberty and netted me two blonde, high-maintenance (and expensive) tax-deductions.  And two, dear readers, is where I draw the line.   I don't want any more Goddamn kids.  Don't get me wrong, here - I love my kids and everything (no need to call the CPS), but I really don't want to go through the whole process of raising a baby again.

They're cute to hold for a few minutes, but after that you're constantly washing out breast milk stench from over-priced bottles (that fill entire dishwashing loads, preventing you from actually doing any dishes), changing diapers, dealing with fevers and rashes, bleaching toys ('cause everything goes in the mouth), and - my personal favorite - never sleeping.

Thanks, but no thanks.  Went through it twice, not again.

No, Kris and I have spoken about this continuously over the course of the last two years or so, and we decided that while my current insurance is awesome with this, we might as well take care of it.  I guess I can't be surprised that the overall price tag for this surgery is insanely low - $35 - after all, by destroying my ability to make more human beings, I'm saving them a lot of headaches and dollar signs down the road.  It makes good business since to cut me a ridiculously huge discount.

The specialist's office is in Kissimmee, surrounded by jungle.

I know general practitioners are fully capable of performing vasectomies, but I wanted to go to a specialist.  Seriously - if you were in the middle of a storm at sea, who would you rather have at the helm - a casual yachter who owns a boat and has previous experience taking his boat out in bad weather, or a crusty, old sea rover who's actually bored steering his vessel through thirty-foot tall waves?

Give me Ol' Salty any day of the week.

I had an appointment this afternoon with the guy that's going to be slicing up my balls - really nice guy who's been doing it for over 30 years and hasn't had a serious issue in all the years he's been doing it.  I had to take a half-day, which I wasn't fond of doing so early in the school year, but they require anyone going in for the surgery to have a consultation with the specialist first.

My future throne (I didn't get to break in the stirrups today.)

And to further inconvenience all those wishing to eliminate their ability to procreate the species, they require the spouse to accompany the would-be patient.  So Kris had to take a half-day too.

Anyway, the consultation wasn't much more than a "are you both sure you really want to do this?" speech, followed by a walk-through of the procedure (which I'll tell you about later - maybe after my balls have gone under the knife.)  He did ask that I drop my pants so he could feel around down there.

No matter how many times a doctor's done the ol' grope-and-feel in the past, that shit never fails to creep me out.

Let's do this.

So there you have it.  In less than two months - kicking off my Thanksgiving vacation, in fact - I'll be sterile.  Am I nervous about it?  Nope.  Second thoughts or lingering fancies of maybe someday raising more offspring?  Hell nope.

I'm looking forward to this, if only 'cause I've now got a prescription for Vicodin and orders to remain on Bed Rest for three days.

Wii U, Netflix, beer, and pajamas, anyone?

- Brian

LEGOS!!!

You know, as a dad to two little girls, I've experienced my fair share of horrible, horrible bullshit.

From Disney Princesses to Disney Fairies, shitty TV shows to webisodes on Netflix, Barbies to My Little Ponies, dress-up outfits to sticker books, there isn't a whole lot of awesomeness in my house.  At least not by my standards.  Sure, once in awhile one of the kids will start getting into something that gives me a small glimmer of hope:  Alayna will occasionally ask to watch Star Wars or Indiana Jones, which leaves me with goosebumps, but those moments, alas, are sadly few and far between.

Indiana Jones just can't compete with Rainbow Dash or Barbie.

Lego Ninjago

We got Alayna this for next week's Easter Basket.

Over the course of the last couple of weeks, however, we've noted a change.  Alayna's always been somewhat into boys shows on Netflix.  She was on-and-off obsessed with the Power Rangers series (a few different shows, too) for nearly two years, and will watch Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles now and again.  This inclination towards boy shows led to her deciding to check out a show in her Netflix account called Lego Ninjago - a computer-animated series based on Lego ninjas.

Basically a show to sell toys.  Right out of the early 1980s marketing playbook.

Give this kid blonde hair and thirty lbs or so, and that was me.

Now, as you all probably know, I love me some Legos.  I grew up with them, I was obsessed with them, and - frankly - if you sat me down in front of a table with covered with Legos today, you could safely walk away with the understanding that'd I'd zone out and be there for several hours.

They're plastic heroin, and I was convinced that having two girls would forever prevent me from sharing this creative outlet with my offspring.

Not anymore.

The infamous Knights Castle set - I still have most of this.

Alayna's new obsession with this random Lego show prompted me to pull out my old sets from the ol' closet and break them out on the back patio table.  It was a huge hit - both kids took to it instantly.  The girls, of course, have Lego sets already - a few sets from Papa and Nana they received a few months back, along with a basic 'girl'-themed starter tub (or whatever the hell that's called) they got a year or two ago.

Neither kid really took to them at first, but now that there are Lego shows on Netflix, they're suddenly infatuated with the toys.

And this dad's not complaining in the slightest.  Not at all.

It sure beats the hell out of playing Barbies with the kids.

F***ing terrible.

Coincidentally, around the same time Alayna started watching Lego Ninjago, Abby started really getting into Lego Friends - a hugely-popular line of Lego sets aimed towards girls aged 6 - 12.  They, too, have a show on Netflix, but sadly there are only three episodes available.

This means that we're forced to watch the same three episodes over and over and over again.  Every Goddamn day.

The set we bought Abby for Easter.

Still, the silver lining here is that Abby has started playing with her Legos as well, and this opens up the door for Yours Truly to start buying Lego sets for birthdays, Christmases, Bar Mitzvahs, what have you.

I'm not sure how long they're going to be into Legos - with young kids, their obsessions are fleeting - but I'm going to ride this one out as long as I possibly can.

FOR GLORY!!!

- Brian

Happy Stuffed Animal Day

I'm talkin' to YOU, girl.

Hi gang.

If you'll be so kind to notice, I'm not at work.

"What gives?" you may ask yourself, "What's up with Brian's total negligence for his profession?  Is he wasting his time writing at work?"

Not quite, readers.  I'm at home.  I took the day off.

Because it's Valentine's Day.  The Shittiest Day of the School Year.

Do I exaggerate?  Not even a smidge.  When it comes to Middle School, there is no greater Hell on Earth than Valentine's Day.  The stuffed animals, the candy, the balloons, the drama, the break-ups, the fist-fights, the groping, the crying, the not working.  Yes, Valentine's has it all:  it is the Perfect Storm of teenage hormones, and provides the setting for the least productive day of the whole frickin' school year.

Plus, it's a total Hallmark Holiday.

Just sayin'.

So what am I up to today, seeing how I have a whole day off with the house to myself?  Well, for starters, I'm working on the infamous Plan B - a side-project/future career move that has occupied much of my time lately.  The project has been coming along quite well over the course of the last few weeks, and hopefully by this time next month we'll be wrapped up with it (our scheduled deadline is currently slated for March 15th, but it may or may not be bumped back to the following weekend - I'll keep you posted).

It's no Ocarina of Time, but it's still awesome. . .

Creativity aside, I've also logged away some time playing The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword - the latest Nintendo Wii game at which I've been hacking away.  Generally I don't get to do things around the house like 'play videogames,' what with our kids hogging the Wii in order to stream crappy TV shows off of Netflix.  With them out of the house, and my wife occupied with work, there's no one about to hassle Yours Truly, and that means I can do 'single guy' stuff like indulge in a couple hours worth of Master Sword-weilding.

Booya.

Speaking of which, I have a realm to save.  I'll talk to you working stiffs later.

- Brian

Grandma! (Part II)

Meanwhile, back at the ranch. . .

Debbie's pissed.

Here's some more pictures and video from Grandma Summer Visit 2012.  The second half of her visit turned out to be a little bit more eventful, as it were - with the good sunny weather, we were content hanging around our pool and backyard, going for strolls, hitting up local parks, stuff like that.  But, as I mentioned before, a tropical storm - Tropical Storm Debbie - was closing in on us, and a few days ago, it hit.

Now, we Houghs are no rookie gumshoes when it comes to dealing with storms down here - granted, we've never been dealt a serious hurricane since moving to Florida in 2007 (the last bad one was Charlie in 2004), but Tropical Storm Fay in 2008 was pretty bad, if not for the winds for the constant rain and severe flooding.

Just like Fay, good ol' Debbie had a crap-load of rain for us.  It started raining a few days ago, and didn't stop for three days.  Sometimes the rain was little more than a drizzle, other times a torrential downpour, but it never stopped.  Fortunately our house wasn't damaged in the slightest, nor was our pool (it's inflatable, we were worried).  Parts of the backyard flooded, but nothing near the house fortunately.  Taking all this rain into consideration, we had no choice but to get creative with the kids, who get cabin fever and turn into demon-children at the drop of a hat.

Behold:

Mom and Kris took the kids to Puzzles, the autistic bounce house joint I've told you all about before.  Admission is cheap and it burns the kids' energy, but it's musty as hell in there and my allergies flare up whenever I set foot in that place. . . so I got to stay home and write.  Booya.

This is what I imagine Alayna would like as a vampire.  Maybe more pale.

Abby joy ridin' with some dude. . .

Yes, Alayna got Grandma to go down some of these slides, too. . .

Dodge ball pit - not nearly as fast-paced and/or cool with a mere two kids.

Still dreading the day these two can actually drive on their own. . .

During a short lull in the rains, we risked the weather and whisked the kids off to Disney's Animal Kingdom Lodge resort for an afternoon of animal-viewing and marshmallow-roasting.  Basically, this place is just another one of Disney's many high-end, elaborately-themed resorts, and it definitely lives up to its name.  It's also expensive as all hell, hence why we never stay there.  Instead, we simply tell the security guards at the front gate that we're going in 'to go to the restaurant.'  Kris has done this before a few times for other kids' birthday parties and social outings, and has her lie down to an art. . .

Entrance to Disney's Animal Kingdom Lodge and Resort

Mom strolls through the resort's gigantor lobby. . .

The ladies en route to the animal exhibits. . .

As could be expected, Abby required constant supervision and assistance while viewing animals. . .

Prowling for more animals. . .

Pointing out giraffes. . .

"Okay kids, let's try and get a picture with Grandma. . ."

Back of the Lodge

Alayna trying out one of the lodge's patio Hobbit chairs

Across from the swimming pools and outdoor bars, there's a playground we decided to take the girls to in order to kill time before the marshmallow roasting. . .  fortunately the rain was still holding off.

 

 

The fire pit where hotel guests can come and roast marshmallows with Disney staff.

With our two, this was nerve-racking to say the least, as both are big fans of sugar and fire. . .

Alayna seemed to get a handle on it, but Abby didn't waste time putting the Marshmallow on a stick - she just ate it once they gave it to her.  Four times.

MORE SUGAR

Giraffes seemed to be the most common animal wandering around the exhibit, though there were a lot of African bulls, zebras, gazelles and crap like that, too.  Didn't see elephants or carnivores, though - probably too dangerous for tourists at such close-quarters, who knows. . .

Abby was obsessed with the Zebras. . .

Leaving the lodge. . .

That old guy with the camcorder isn't a part of our family.  Just in case you were curious.

Leaving the Lobby took a while, seeing how our kids are so fond of running off and hiding when they don't want to leave some place. . .

Eventually, the rains came back and we were stuck indoors for a couple days.  There was plenty of house work that still needed to be done, so there was definitely always something to work on.  Keeping the girls entertained, however, was a trial in itself. . .

With two girls, I'm going to be a certified hair stylist by the time my kids hit middle school. . .

This summer I decided to finally get around to reading George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series.  If I can hack through the first three books - they're ridiculously thick - I'll be happy.

Braving the weather to take the kids to Menchies - a low-fat yogurt joint set up like a buffet table.  They give you a bowl and you can select from about two dozen flavors and countless toppings, and they just weigh your bowl at the end. . .

Abby, as you can see, is a big fan of this place.  Hence the two spoons.

Alayna's bowls are nothing but chocolate - different flavors of chocolate yogurt, chocolate syrup, chocolate sprinkles, and different types of chocolate candy toppings.  She takes after her mom.

Grandma teaching Abby how to flash a West Coast gang sign. . .

Trying on hats in a neighboring Books-a-Million.  Why they have costumes and toys in a book store is beyond me. . .

The Hough girls get their nails done. . .

Hooker Pink

The girls' Twilight Turtle - definitely worth the $30 if you have kids.  Turns the kids' room into a planetarium, and automatically shuts off after a half-hour (thereabouts), so you don't risk draining batteries. . .

Flashlights, too, are a big hit at bedtime. . .

Netflix in the evening, after the kids go to sleep and the house is quiet, is arguably my favorite time of the day.

Making bead bracelets and necklaces with Grandma - yet another activity to keep our kids from killing each other (and us)

. . . and now we're on to painting.

The girls' room, freshly painted.  Now we just need to figure out how we're going to be decorating their walls. . .

"Mommy doesn't feel good."

After a couple days of rain, it started to clear up again, and I was desperately wanting to work out in my backyard again.  We decided to hack apart a few more of the trees that were cluttering up the backyard, and while I cut them to shreds with a hacksaw and hedge trimmer, Mom and Kris broke down the branches and hauled them away. . .

The girls pose with that bird's nest I pulled from the tree. . .

"No birds!"

This homeboy would not move from this cactus.

Lumberjack.

Grandma and the Cannonball dig away support poles around some of the trees. . .

The previous seller, in his infinite wisdom, deemed it necessary to cement these PVC pipes into concrete cinder blocks in the ground.  Why?  Who knows.  I believe the man was insane.

Digging holes in the backyard.  Anything to keep them busy.

The night before Mom flew back to Michigan, she was good enough to whip up some of her famous Taco Pie, which was always one of my favorite meals growing up.  Not necessarily the healthiest of meals, so it's probably for the best that we only eat it when she comes to town to prepare it for us. . .

. . . and that was Grandma's Summer 2012 visit.

- Brian