Friday, April 29, 2005

The Wet Bandits

Friday night. 9ish. Santa Monica, California. My phone rings (my ringtone is Good Enough from The Goonies by Cyndi Lauper...just to set the scene). It's Dave. He's calling from the Family Guy live event in NYC. He's ripped out of his mind.

Dave: Dude! I'm so fucking drunk. And I just got my picture taken with Macauly Culkin.

Me: What?!? Are you still in New York?

Dave: I'm posting it. Check it now.

I run to the computer. Nothing on his site. Nothing on Flickr. I call back.

Me: Yeah, it didn't post, you drunk bastard.

Dave: Hahaha. I'm doing it now.

And just like that, history was made.

New! Bike!

Now that I've reinvented myself as a super athlete, I convinced Sarah to let me get a new bike (the blue/silver color scheme). So let's examine the list:

1) Bikes to work with a laptop bag.
2) Listens to an iPod along the way.
3) Arrives, then gets a "Venti" coffee downstairs.

Yep, my transformation into an uber-douche is finally complete.

Tuesday, April 26, 2005

Bitchslapping Hitchcock

This has to be one of the worst ideas ever. Michael Bay?!?!?

Monday, April 18, 2005

Animate This

I don't know how many more times I can see FOX's "Animation Domination" promos before I lose it. Why?

1) There's a fucking live action show (Malcolm in the Middle) in the lineup.

2) They insist on "branding" Sunday night. 2005's calling. Pick up the line.

3) "FoFuSu" and "LOL Sundays" didn't exactly take the world by storm.

3) I can actually visualize the marketing execs high-fiving each other for "really getting into the 18-34 mindset."

Kudos all around.

Saturday, April 16, 2005

Big Boy Swing

Big Boy Swing

Stew Rage

Stew Rage

Monday, April 11, 2005

Owen's New Ride

Owen's New Ride
For the record, I always wanted one of these cars when I was a kid, but it wasn't meant to be. Not that I'm bitter.

Saturday, April 09, 2005

Ride the Escalator, Daya

Ride the Escalator, Daya
Every Saturday, If Owen has been a good boy and stayed in his room until at least 6am each morning that week (instead of making noise and waking his parents and brother up), he gets to ride the Linens 'N Things escalator with "Daya" (formerly "Daddy"). This is on par with Disneyland to him. We initially offered to buy him a little toy for one week of good morning behavior, but his love for the escalator can't be bought. Understandable.

Friday, April 08, 2005

Nicole Who?

To anyone with young children, this is in no way surprising. Painful, yes, but not surprising.

Thursday, April 07, 2005


This is sacrilege. Flat out.

Wednesday, April 06, 2005

New House Rules

New House Rules

Damn You, Naber

That son of a bitch scored a Wired quote :)

Sunday, April 03, 2005

Some People Wait a Lifetime for a Moment Like This...

A plague has hit the Ford household. Sarah, Owen and Stew have pink eye. Owen and Stew have ear infections. All of us have a wicked respiratory infection. It was this chain of events that led me to Sav-On Drugs to pick up a prescription for the boys.

Let’s take the trip together...take my hand...we're switching to present tense!

I pay for the drugs, head for the exit, then remember that I also need to grab a bouquet of flowers (for a little girl’s recital). I enter the main checkout line. Suddenly I realize that I’ve made a fatal mistake.

I’m standing behind an awesome-looking homeless guy. He’s probably 300 years old, with a giant beard. He’s pushing some wheeled contraption and wearing a trenchcoat that hasn’t encountered soap and water since the Kennedy/Nixon debate.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m a sympathetic guy, but living in Los Angeles for five years has taught me that homeless guys and retail transactions go together like oil and water.

He starts to unload his basket. One enormous can of cheap beer. Check. Another enormous can of cheap beer. Done. A huge bottle of the shittiest vodka money can buy. Locked and loaded. A plastic sports bottle (what type of liquid will it contain?!?). Good to go.

He throws down a pair of cheap prescription reading glasses, then takes off another pair that he’s been wearing. The clerk looks a little baffled, but starts tallying up the items. As soon as she scans the “pre-worn” glasses, he snaps, barking for her to give them back. He quickly puts the pair on, giant vision-obscuring price tag still in place.

At this point I’ll switch to script format...

CASHIER: So how would you like to pay for this?

(HG silently hands her a credit card.)

(Editor's Note: a credit card?!?)

CASHIER: Is this debit or credit?

HG: Wha? Huh? Credit, debit, it don’t matter. That card will work.

CASHIER: Uh ok, I’ll run it as credit.

(She runs the card.)

CASHIER: Ummm, it says it’s declined.

HG: Declined?!?!? Wha?? There is money in there. There is money in there.

(After a five-second awkward pause, he starts reaching into his pockets, looking for alternate forms of payment.)

CASHIER: Um, I could run it as debit, maybe that’d work?

HG (who thinks this is one hell of an idea); Yeah! Debit! Run that debit! There’s money in there.

(Cashier runs it as debit, and much to her relief it goes through)

CASHIER: Ok, that worked! Just enter your PIN and you’ll be ready to go.

HG: Ha! I told you there was money in there. Told you there was money in there.

(The cashier wants to bolt.)

(HG takes his cargo and heads for the exit.)

(The alarm goes off. It’s blatantly obvious that he has stuffed more items into the pockets of his ultra-trenchoat.)

(Should the cashier do something? This guy is...he’s...ah, fuck it. It’s really not worth the confrontation.)


At this point I was furious. I could’ve switched to another line a loooong time ago, but I stayed true. I went the distance. And to be robbed of an ending?!?

All was not lost, however. As I walked out of the store, I was left with one final, triumphant image. There was the homeless guy, opening all of his booze and throwing the wrappers to the wind. As the litter blew across the crowded parking lot, I heard him faintly mutter:



My hat is off, sir.

Sunday Morning Doctor Visit

Sunday Morning Doctor Visit

Saturday, April 02, 2005

Mr. O Turns Three

Mr. O Turns Three