Daddy Geek Boy

Morning Sanctuary

daddygeekboy@gmail.com (Daddy Geek Boy) — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 13:00:00 +0000

Every single morning I peel myself out of bed and quickly stumble towards the bathroom looking like Peter Boyle in Young Frankenstein. The bed's gravity is strong and if I don't get out of it's pull quickly, I will snap back to the mattress and return to slumber, thus shirking my parental responsibilities, rendering myself late for work and my son late for school and pissing off my wife, who already has enough to do without me doubling her workload. Still every single morning waking up is a fight. This has been especially true lately since WonderWife™ cajoled me into waking up earlier.

Working late as I do, I don't get to spend enough quality time with my kids. For a while, my time with them seemed to consist entirely of me barking orders at them like a drill sergeant: Brush your teeth! Get dressed! Flush the toilet! Put on your pajamas! For the love of jeebus flush the toilet! This began to take its toll on my relationship with my kids. So WonderWife™ kindly suggested that I get my ass out of bed a little earlier to allow for some playtime in the mornings. Of course she was right, she's always right. But that doesn't make waking up any easier.

In the morning, the bathroom becomes my sanctuary where I transform from sleepy zombie into a human being. I focus my thoughts and get ready for the day. Because once I step through the bedroom door, it's showtime. Daddy must be "on" for two kids who wake up filled with enthusiasm and energy reserved only for the young. But in the bathroom, I can ease into the day like a car warming up on a cold winter morning. I don't have to talk. I don't have to think. I can just let the warm shower force me awake.

Yet lately my solitude has been disrupted. While I'm in the shower the bathroom door will slowly creek open followed by one or two sets of feet. One or both of my kids will pad in and greet me with a big, bright, "Hi Daddy!" Rack up another concession to parenting. My serene morning has dissolved and showtime has begun early.

View From the Back

daddygeekboy@gmail.com (Daddy Geek Boy) — Fri, 06 Nov 2009 13:00:00 +0000

Today at Hot Dads:

An open letter to my digital camera, who like it or not, shows me my many sides.

Click on over there and check it out.

An Experiment

daddygeekboy@gmail.com (Daddy Geek Boy) — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 13:00:00 +0000

I have to be honest with you, this writing thing is hard. Coming up with two or three posts a week about my boring life is challenging. My kids are hilarious, but not all of the time. New food products only come out every so often and we're still a year and a half away from Michael Bay's next movie, so I have very little to complain about there. I sometimes think about taking a sabbatical when the creative juices start to run dry. But honestly, I love writing too much to stop.

So with that said, I need your help with an experiment. I would love for you, my awesome readers, to provide some grist for the writing mill and interview me. Ask me some questions and I will work to turn the answers into what I hope are entertaining posts for you. Is there anything you want to know about me? Are there topics you'd like me to write about? My philosophies about parenting? Music? Movies? Are there things you hate that I write about? Who would win in a fight, a Wookie or an Orc?

If you're interested in playing, leave a question in the comments or send me an email.

This is either going to be great or a total disaster. Either way, I thank you guys for continuing to read.

Baby Ruth Crisp

daddygeekboy@gmail.com (Daddy Geek Boy) — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 13:00:00 +0000

I know it's post-Halloween and you're all candied out, but lookit what I found on the shelves of the 'Sev!:

I'm a big fan of the "Crisp" bars. Kit Kats are great. Reeses Sticks are divine and Butterfinger Crisp just might be better than the original. I dig the way Crisp bars manage to keep the flavor of the bar they emulate while providing a completely different texture.

Baby Ruth Crisp offers the chocolate, peanuts and caramel of the original but adds layers of wafer and creme. As WonderWife™ and I dug into our Crisps, she told me that Baby Ruth just might be one of her favorite candy bars. While I like Baby Ruth, it's never placed in my top 5. But the Crisp is really good. Like the ones that have come before it, the signature Baby Ruth flavor is totally intact, but with a light crunchy texture from the wafers. The hit of salt from the peanuts seemed more prominent and the creme between the wafers is sweet, but compliments the chocolate well.

WonderWife™ and I both wished the peanuts had been more finely chopped and I thought that the layer of caramel was too heavy and chewy compared to the more delicate wafers. But these are minor complaints. The verdict on BRC was unanimous that it was not only tasty, but a total buy-again.

Fruit Salad

daddygeekboy@gmail.com (Daddy Geek Boy) — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 12:00:00 +0000

Like Babe Ruth calling out his shot, the Bean decided in June what he wanted to be for Halloween this year. Apropos of nothing one day he declared, “I want to be a banana for Halloween.”

I had my doubts. Halloween was four months away and I figured that he would decide to be a character from Cars or learn that a from a friend at school was going to be Batman or something and he'd change his mind. However, WonderWife™ was confident in his decision. She recalled how last year the Bean got it in his head very early that he wanted to be a cat, even though at 2 ½, he barely had any idea of what Halloween was all about.

WW™ was right (of course) and sure enough the Bean is going to be a Banana. More than that, he’s also dictated what costumes Sprout and I are to wear. Last year I went as the patient from the game Operation. This year, I have been instructed that I am to be an apple. Sprout is going to be a blueberry. Since the Bean did not chose a costume for WW™, to complete the picture she is dressing as Carmen Miranda.

So if you see a bunch of fruit and a foxy woman in a colorful dress out trick-or-treating this year, you’ll know it’s the Geek Boy clan.

Happy Halloween!

Ghost Story

daddygeekboy@gmail.com (Daddy Geek Boy) — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 12:00:00 +0000

It's Halloween week over at the Venus vs. Mars blog and I'm there today to share a story. Here's a peek:

To this day I can’t explain what actually happened that night, but not a Halloween has gone by since that I haven’t thought about it.

Click over there to check it out. Happy (early) Halloween.

Oh...Dolores!

daddygeekboy@gmail.com (Daddy Geek Boy) — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 12:00:00 +0000

I crawled into bed with the Bean for his bedtime story. He picked out his current flavor of the week, Horace and Morris, But Mostly Dolores. I started reading and as soon as we got to the first mention of Dolores, the Bean said, "No, it's Mulva."

Did he just...? I thought. "Say that again," I said to him.

"Mulva," he said matter of factly.

I lost my shit. I started laughing uncontrollably. Tears formed in my eyes.

The Bean recognized the trigger for my hysterics and said it again, "Mulva."

I tried to read the book, but couldn't compose myself.

"Daddy, stop laughing and read the book."

"I...can't," I said and started another fit of hysterics.

Interactivity

daddygeekboy@gmail.com (Daddy Geek Boy) — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 12:00:00 +0000

During the Bean's infant and toddler years, I waited for the day that he would become truly interactive. Cause let's face it at those ages, you don't really play with them as much as watch them play. The Bean would always ask me to play trains. This meant we would sit on opposite sides of the train table. I would push a train around the track to his side until I couldn't reach anymore and he would gladly pick it up and continue it on its journey. But when it came back to me, he would get upset that I was "taking away" his toy.

I've spent more time than I care to admit trying to stay awake while he plays.

But now he's at the age where interactivity is starting. And with that comes Candyland--the most boring game in the history of all board games. It's a game brilliantly designed to be easy enough for a kid who can barely count to play, but hard enough that they cannot play it by themselves. Not only is it dull, but the Bean likes to cheat. He'll pick two cards or skip spaces or dig through the pile for Princess Frostine. He doesn't care about winning, or losing. When he's a space away from the end and the game will finally be over, he'll move his piece back to the beginning because he likes the gumdrop space.

For a while there, we were in the thick of Candyland. Thankfully we seem to be getting out of this phase. For a while the only thing that was really interactive was that game. If you're over 4, Candyland gets old really fast. However, like being thrown up on, I've come to learn that suffering through it is a parental right of passage.

I always want to be enthusiastic about playing with my son, but sometimes turning on the fake excitement is exhausting. This doesn't make me a bad parent, does it?

1Up

daddygeekboy@gmail.com (Daddy Geek Boy) — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 12:00:00 +0000

I had grown tired of being the only one in house who played video games. I was sad at the layer of dust that was collecting on the second Wii remote. So I made a decision that it was time to broaden my son’s horizons and introduce him to the video game.

The Bean’s prior game experience has been limited mainly to driving simulators at Chuck E. Cheese’s. He didn’t really “play” those games as much as sat there turning the steering wheel. It didn’t seem to matter to him if I’d even put a token in the machine or not. Complicating maters is that as a rule, the Bean isn’t much for instruction. Try to tell the kid how to do something, even if it’s something he’s struggling with, and he’ll howl “noooo!” and quit. I knew that I would have to tread lightly if this plan was going to work.

I lured him in with the so-classic-it’s-almost-a-cliché, “Wanna see something cool?” The Bean watched intently as I set up the game. Until now, he had only known the TV as something that played a movie or a TV show and the idea that it had another function intrigued him.

We started with bowling—an easy game with a very high action to reward ratio. He liked it well enough and although there were a few close calls when he either came close to crashing into the TV or throwing the controller through the window behind him, he got fairly decent at it.

Next, I took it up a notch and brought out the balance board to get him skiing. The game, We Ski is a skiing simulator that gives the player free range of a replica of a 9 run mountain, complete with chairlifts, annoying music and announcements from the loudspeaker and other skiers who sometimes get in your way. I had nearly returned the game after growing bored with it the first night, but because of it’s ease I decided to keep it for exactly this occasion.

I set the kid up on the board, placed the controllers in his hand and ran him through the controls. I was amazed that he was listening intently to the instructions, but I figured that his appetite was whet from bowling and he was now properly motivated. In a matter of minutes, he was “skiing.”

It didn’t surprise me that he loved it, but it did surprise me how quickly it all clicked for him. He was pressing buttons and navigating menus. Catching air on jumps and slaloming through moguls. I sat on the couch behind him with a goofy grin, watching the surreal image of an avatar of my son being controlled by my son. It was like when you aim a video camera which is plugged into a TV at the screen.

It took less than a half-hour for him to be completely hooked, making the experiment a rousing success. Though we’re a long way away from playing Rock Band together, or even any of the Lego games, all journeys begin with a single step. And as a bonus, the Bean now talks about wanting to go skiing—for real. My evil plot to get him to love all of the things that I love to do, but WonderWife™ does not, is coming into fruition!

Wimpy Activity

daddygeekboy@gmail.com (Daddy Geek Boy) — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 12:00:00 +0000

I am a huge wimp.

Let me rephrase that. I am a huge wimp when it comes to all things scary. Growing up, this was especially true of horror movies. This phobia was particularly difficult seeing as I came of age in the 80s, the decade that birthed the modern horror flick. My friends saw just about every one. So naturally, despite me never having seen any of them, I knew all of the grizzly details.

I was 10 years old when I saw Poltergeist on cable. Even though I knew in advance nearly every scare, and even though it was a sunny Saturday morning when it was on, that movie had a profound effect on me. I tied a rope around the doorknobs of my closet for over a year after.

During horror movie nights at summer camp, I would be forced to spend the evening hanging out with the kids who were “docked”—a suspension of sorts for campers who had gotten in trouble that day and were not allowed to participate in that evening’s activity. When my bunkmates returned I was subjected to mockery while they spent the rest of the evening talking about all the gruesome scenes they had earlier witnessed in The Thing or Creepshow.

Only a handful of my closest friends knew of my fears and I tried very hard to keep it that way. This was not always easy to do. One weekend night in junior high there was a screening of Aliens at the house of a girl I kind of liked. As we gathered around the TV, I purposely positioned myself in a corner that had an obstructed view of the screen. I sat there trying not to listen and wishing for time to accelerate when somebody popped up behind the couch and screamed “boo.” Weather or not, this was actually intended for me will forever remain a mystery. Instinct took over and before I knew it I had leapt over the couch. My next memory is that the lights were turned on and I was sitting on top a guy whose head I had pushed through the drywall. To call the aftermath mortifying is an injustice to that word.

Now that I’m an adult, and a movie geek, I’ve shed a lot of my fears about horror movies. I’ve seen a handful of them and for the most part, have emerged unscathed. I can openly and honestly admit my wimpish tendencies.

There is a movie out right now called Paranormal Activity. Over the past few weeks, it has been shown to sold out audiences at midnight screenings. It is fast becoming a phenomenon, similar to The Blair Witch Project of a decade ago. I don’t usually listen to platitudes, but Paranormal Activity is being called one of the scariest movies ever. Like Poltergeist, it takes place in a regular suburban home. I have heard it’s the kind of flick that creeps the skin and haunts you long after you’ve left the theater.

As a fanboy, I am compelled to see it. But as a wimp, I’m afraid. Most of the time, I go to movies by myself. Nearly all of the time, I see them at night. After the movie is over, I would have to walk alone through a subterranean parking garage to my car and arrive at a darkened house where everyone is sleeping.

Total. Wimp.

I am not the type to miss out on a pop culture phenomenon, but in this case I’m afraid that I may have to make an exception.

Everyone Needs a Little Redirection in Life

daddygeekboy@gmail.com (Daddy Geek Boy) — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 13:00:00 +0000

Wow...I've been busy and have really spread myself around the internet today. Check me out at the following locations:

At Venus Vs. Mars I have a post about romance, my dad and my wife. (No, it's not as scandalous as it sounds. What do you think, my life is like Gossip Girl?)

Over at Offsprung, I'm running a contest sponsored by the movie The Vampire's Assistant.

And at Hot Dads, we have another awesome installment of our award winning feature* "Ask Hot Dads."

*Do imaginary awards count?

Flashback Friday: Metaphors For...Whatever

daddygeekboy@gmail.com (Daddy Geek Boy) — Fri, 09 Oct 2009 12:00:00 +0000

This post was originally written on December 11, 2006 for my now defunct Movie Geek Boy blog.

Stream of conscious observations from the Trey Anastasio show at the Wiltern last night:

I noticed that the crowd seemed older and more polished than the usual Trey Anastasio/Phish crowd. Maybe it's because it was an LA crowd. Or maybe we're all just grown up now. I usually have trouble wrangling anyone to go with me to a show, so I'm there by myself. It can be a cool experience going to a concert by yourself. It's pretty easy to meet people and strike up conversation at these kinds of shows. If not, the people-watching is always fascinating. Sure enough, I start talking to a vaguely Winona Ryder-ish woman, whom I immediately pegged as an aspiring actress even before she told me so, and a graying man who was none so subtle in his attempts to pick up this woman. They proved to be a constant source of entertainment for me. At one point, she leans over to me and says, "The music is, like, a metaphor for...whatever" in a way that suggested that she really, really meant it.

The show was killer. One of the best I've seen in a long time. It ended when each member of the band grabbed a cowbell and along with the horn section, began to march and play their way up the aisle through the theater. I was standing on the aisle and soon enough, Trey and the band marched up beside me. When they passed, we followed the band through the lobby of the theater, outside into the street and up the block where they finally disappeared into their tour bus. They never stopped playing the whole time. For a minute it reminded me of a musical like Fame, where everyone pours out into the streets, dancing together. It was a very cool thing to be a part of.

A Young Man's Game

daddygeekboy@gmail.com (Daddy Geek Boy) — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 12:00:00 +0000

Check on over at Hot Dads today where I talk about the mind being willing, but the body being old.

Here's a peek:

I am not a 24 year old, though I often wish that I was. I want to indulge in the lifestyle of my youth but I cannot. I feel like Tom Hanks in Big, a young man trapped in the body of somebody who's much older with much more responsibility than I should.

Halloween Comes Early

daddygeekboy@gmail.com (Daddy Geek Boy) — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 12:00:00 +0000

“Look a ghost!” said the Bean.

It was the first of October and the Bean had seen his first Halloween decoration, a small ghost on the front of a house in our neighborhood.

“Daddy, we need to put our ghost in front of the garage,” the Bean said later that day. “The one that says ‘woooo’.”

I was kind of impressed that a year later, the Bean had remembered that decoration. It was one of those $19.99 specials they sell at Target that makes a "spooky" howl through a tinny speaker. Last Halloween, it completely captivated the Bean. It looked like this year was to be no exception.

Last year was the year that Halloween really clicked for the Bean. He picked out what he wanted to be (a cat) and was exciting to wear his costume. He also fully understood the glory that is trick-or-treating, and ventured up to doorways alone, while I watched from the sidewalk.

So even though Halloween was four weeks away, and even though it was 85 degrees outside (stupid global warming), the Bean and I went outside to the shed, dug out the box of decorations and set up the house. Well in a more accurate way, I decorated while he watched, the whole time asking me dozens of questions that I could not answer. (“Why does the skeleton have green eyes? Why is that [severed] foot all red? Where did the guy with the red foot's body go?”) Afterward, the Bean inspected my work and deemed it spooky enough. He especially liked the ghost that went “woooo”.

We are now officially the first house on the street, probably in the whole neighborhood, to have our decorations up. It’s as if my front yard is a giant neon sign that says a little boy lives here and he is very excited about Halloween.

Look At the Big Flames on Dad

daddygeekboy@gmail.com (Daddy Geek Boy) — Sat, 03 Oct 2009 16:44:00 +0000

If you haven't been over there recently, check out the awesome new look of the Hot Dads site. I've been a slacker and haven't posted anything there for a while, but that doesn't mean you should pop over and peep at all of the hotness.

I've got some new Hot Dads post coming soon, including one on an old frenemy of mine and a discussion about showing affection.

Cure JM Day

daddygeekboy@gmail.com (Daddy Geek Boy) — Fri, 02 Oct 2009 07:01:00 +0000

My fellow Hot Dad Kevin of the awesome blog Always Home and Uncool has written this and asked me to post it as part of his effort to raise awareness of juvenile myositis, a rare autoimmune disease his daughter was diagnosed with on this day seven years ago.

I am donating my blog today to his cause.

____________________________

Our pediatrician admitted it early on.

The rash on our 2-year-old daughter's cheeks, joints and legs was something he'd never seen before.

The next doctor wouldn't admit to not knowing.

He rattled off the names of several skins conditions -- none of them seemingly worth his time or bedside manner -- then quickly prescribed antibiotics and showed us the door.

The third doctor admitted she didn't know much.

The biopsy of the chunk of skin she had removed from our daughter's knee showed signs of an "allergic reaction" even though we had ruled out every allergy source -- obvious and otherwise -- that we could.

The fourth doctor had barely closed the door behind her when, looking at the limp blonde cherub in my lap, she admitted she had seen this before. At least one too many times before.

She brought in a gaggle of med students. She pointed out each of the physical symptoms in our daughter:

The rash across her face and temples resembling the silhouette of a butterfly.

The purple-brown spots and smears, called heliotrope, on her eyelids.

The reddish alligator-like skin, known as Gottron papules, covering the knuckles of her hands.

The onset of crippling muscle weakness in her legs and upper body.

She then had an assistant bring in a handful of pages photocopied from an old medical textbook. She handed them to my wife, whose birthday it happened to be that day.

This was her gift -- a diagnosis for her little girl.

That was seven years ago -- Oct. 2, 2002 -- the day our daughter was found to have juvenile dermatomyositis, one of a family of rare autoimmune diseases that can have debilitating and even fatal consequences when not treated quickly and effectively.

Our daughter's first year with the disease consisted of surgical procedures, intravenous infusions, staph infections, pulmonary treatments and worry. Her muscles were too weak for her to walk or swallow solid food for several months. When not in the hospital, she sat on our living room couch, propped up by pillows so she wouldn't tip over, as medicine or nourishment dripped from a bag into her body.

Our daughter, Thing 1, Megan, now age 9, remembers little of that today when she dances or sings or plays soccer. All that remain with her are scars, six to be exact, and the array of pills she takes twice a day to help keep the disease at bay.

What would have happened if it took us more than two months and four doctors before we lucked into someone who could piece all the symptoms together? I don't know.

I do know that the fourth doctor, the one who brought in others to see our daughter's condition so they could easily recognize it if they ever had the misfortune to be presented with it again, was a step toward making sure other parents also never have to find out.

That, too, is my purpose today.

It is also my birthday gift to my wife, My Love, Rhonda, for all you have done these past seven years to make others aware of juvenile myositis diseases and help find a cure for them once and for all.

To read more about children and families affected by juvenile myositis diseases, visit Cure JM Foundation at www.curejm.org.

To make a tax-deductible donation toward JM research, go to www.firstgiving.com/rhondaandkevinmckeever or www.curejm.com/team/donations.htm.

The Gastronomy of Marriage: A Review of Sorts

daddygeekboy@gmail.com (Daddy Geek Boy) — Wed, 30 Sep 2009 12:00:00 +0000

I have a great admiration for writers. Real writers—people who know how to shape words to form beautiful, descriptive sentences and those who tell captivating stories with rich characters that transport a reader to specific places and times.

Every once in a while I get asked if I am a writer. I struggle with my answer because while technically by the act of putting words together in a specific order as to transmit a precise thought I am writing, I do not think of myself as a writer. Not a true writer anyway. I write as a hobby. I string together a few paragraphs about some amusing stuff my kids did and hit the “publish” button. To me, a real writer uses words the way a sculpture uses clay. They have a far greater command of the English language than I and they have far more creative minds. I also have special reverence for those who have had a book published. The act of composing a work that is not only coherent but also riveting for a few hundred pages is to me an impressive accomplishment. I am in awe of their talent and, frankly, a little jealous of their ability to earn a living from crafting the written word.

I don’t know many people who have written a book, let alone had one published. However, my friend Michelle did just that. She recently came to town on her book tour and even though I’ve known her for years, after reading her book I couldn’t help but look at her with a certain degree of celebrity. Michelle told me about her endeavor over a year ago, and not only was I intrigued by the idea that she was writing a book, but I was enthralled with the topic.

Michelle Maisto’s new book is called The Gastronomy of Marriage. It’s a memoir about a young woman, her fiancé and their relationship to food as they begin to build a life together. Michelle is Italian and her husband to be, Rich, is Chinese. Michelle is vegetarian. Rich is a carnivore. To them, food is more than just sustenance. As told through Michelle’s point of view, the act of choosing, preparing and consuming a meal is a ritual that unites them as a family.

Michelle is an evocative writer who paints lush pictures with her words that allows the reader to practically see and smell the food about which she writes. She is honest and open, letting her life and her passion for all things culinary spill onto the page. It is impossible to read this book without getting hungry. Thankfully, the chapters are punctuated with recipes of the food contained within.

I truly enjoyed this book, not only because I am proud of my friend who wrote it, and not only because it was about a subject that I also love, but because it’s the kind of eloquently written book that inspires me.

If you like to read and you like to eat, I wholeheartedly recommend The Gastronomy of Marriage.

I Continue To Be Digusting

daddygeekboy@gmail.com (Daddy Geek Boy) — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 04:49:00 +0000

I love the gluttonous marathon of eating that comes along with Fair Day. The amount of food consumed by the attendees at a state our county fair is staggering. And I am right there with them, eating everything in my path.

In what's becoming an annual tradition (click here for 2007, here for 2008), here is a rundown of everything I ate at the fair this year:

Brownie
Beer
Deep Fried Bacon Cheeseburger
Deep Fried Frog Legs
Deep Fried Oreo
Garlic Parmesan Indian Fry Bread
Beer
Roasted corn
ChocolateCovered Bacon
Deep Fried Reeses Whipp
Beer
Pulled Pork Sammich
Curly Fries
Deep Fried Twinkie
Deep Fries Smores
Zucchini Weeni
Apple Fries

As you can see, there are number of favorites that repeat year after year. (I am a creature of habit.) Though I do like to try new things, which is why you'll see deep fried frog legs on the list this year. They had both a bland flavor and a rubbery texture of fish that's been overcooked. Don't expect them to show up again in the future.

Out of the new stuff the stand outs were the deep fried bacon cheeseburger. The patty itself contained the bacon and was then deep fried, giving it a crunchy outer layer. The added texture was a deliciously interesting addition to the burger eating experience.

Chocolate covered bacon was also highly memorable. The Bacon Bar didn't quite live up to my expectations, but this treat was bacon and chocolate the way I had been waiting for. A crispy piece of bacon was dipped in deep, dark chocolate and served chilled. The chocolate had a nice snap and the bacon had crunch. Sweet and salty. My only complaint was that some of the pieces chocolate to bacon ratio was tipped a little bit too much in the chocolate direction. But this is minor. Bacon covered chocolate is good stuff.

As my friends following me on Twitter learned, we decided against sampling the soy sauce ice cream. It's a decision I stand behind.

I'm now off to down a bottle of Pepto, turn on an episode of The Simpsons and curl up into a nice little food coma on the couch.

Food For Thought

daddygeekboy@gmail.com (Daddy Geek Boy) — Fri, 25 Sep 2009 12:00:00 +0000

Hey gang. I'm camping out at Venus vs. Mars today. Normally I talk about the differences between WonderWife™ and me, but today I'm talking about our similarities. Check it out.

The Plan for Meatballs

daddygeekboy@gmail.com (Daddy Geek Boy) — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 12:00:00 +0000

I’m overjoyed that my son is old enough for a movie theater and can now be my movie buddy. However, it’s a gamble taking him to a flick because his track record for sitting through an entire movie is spotty at best. Now it’s one thing if we leave halfway through Hotel For Dogs or G-Force. But you want to leave in the middle of a Pixar movie and you and me got problems, mister. (Halfway through Up, we had problems.)

I’m not one who feels like he’s being forced into sitting through the latest cartoon flick. I have been going to animated movies long before I had kids. When I first saw the trailer for Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs months ago, I knew I wanted to see it. I also wanted to share it with the Bean. But I didn’t want to have to bail on it before it was over. So I began working on a plan to insure against such a thing.

I first obtained a copy of the classic book on which the movie is based. The Bean was pretty much hooked from the moment the pancake landed on the boy’s head until the kids went outside to play with their grandfather in the snow. Along the way, I also rediscovered my own memories of the book, buried under each page. When it was finished, he asked me to read it again. And again. And yet again.

Next, I plopped him on my lap in front of my computer and downloaded the trailer. He giggled softly as the glorious HD picture flickered in his eyes. It wasn’t long before he was reciting one of the lines from the trailer. It became his most requested video, for a while replacing the elephant jumping on a trampoline.

My plan was working. The Bean soon began asking to see the movie. Because he lives in an on-demand world of Tivo’d shows and DVDs, he couldn’t wrap his little mind around the fact that we still had to wait a month before we could see it. A few weeks later, when we drove past a billboard for the flick, the Bean pointed it out and I knew he was ready.

Opening weekend finally arrived. WonderWife™ had never taken the Bean to a movie, and she knew that her taking him instead of me wasn’t an option, so with Sprout being looked after by a babysitter, the three of us went to a matinee.

An hour and a half later, the credits rolled and we were all still in our seats.

I’m not sure I could tell you who enjoyed the movie the most. It had been a while since I had seen a movie in the theater with WW™ and I had forgotten how wonderfully boisterous her laugh could be. True to form, the Bean loved all of the broad physical comedy. I appreciated how sly and subversive it was. The movie never pandered. It didn’t force pop culture references down our throats. It merely entertained each of us, thoroughly.

For the past few days, in between talking like a pirate and tormenting the cats, the Bean will reference a scene from the movie. Every time, I’m more than happy to indulge my movie buddy and talk about it with him.

Under Your Spell

daddygeekboy@gmail.com (Daddy Geek Boy) — Mon, 21 Sep 2009 12:00:00 +0000

Dear Sprout,

I shouldn’t be telling you this, but you have me completely under your spell. I don’t know exactly when it happened, but lately all you have to do is look at me the right way and I’m a puddle. It’s like something out of a sci-fi movie. I am no longer in control.

I had always heard that dads have a special relationship with their daughters, but up till now you have been clinging to your mom’s side so much that I wasn’t even sure if you knew I was in the room. Now that you’re walking and talking, you’ve been less reliant on your mother. You’ve even taken some time out of your busy brother-worshiping schedule to build a relationship with me.

It started with our first private joke. I looked over at you one morning during breakfast, shook my arms and make an “oooo” sound. It cracked you decidedly up. You started asking for it again and again by waving your arms at me. Every time, I was happy to oblige. Maybe it was at that point that you realized that I could make you laugh. You also realized you can make me laugh too. That’s when the devilish grins started, along with the sweet “innocent” smile you use to try to cover up the fact that you’re about to do something naughty. I love it when I’m working in the study and you poke your head around the corner and say “hi” until you get my attention. After you pull away coyly, only to pop back up with another “hi” and blow me a kiss. See? Melting, I am.

Of course you know that I eat all of this up as if it were made of bacon. You’re smart enough to understand that you’ve got me hooked and I am at your beck and call. But that’s okay. You keep charming me and I’ll keep lavishing attention on you. It’s what daddy/daughter relationships are all about.

So much love,
Daddy

Arrggh. I Don't Know What I'm Doin'.

daddygeekboy@gmail.com (Daddy Geek Boy) — Fri, 18 Sep 2009 12:00:00 +0000

September 19th is International Talk Like a Pirate Day and we're celebratin' early. Arrggh! So now I present ta yah, a rare treat...audio. Here is tha Bean:

So Very Tired

daddygeekboy@gmail.com (Daddy Geek Boy) — Tue, 15 Sep 2009 13:00:00 +0000

I am tired all of the time. It doesn't take a sciencetician to figure out why. I work. A lot. I sleep. But not enough. I eat. Not always healthy. After 4 ever day, I'm constantly yawning. I'm lethargic when we hang around the house on weekends. I want to crash, but there are always things to do. My job gives me homework. When the kids nap, it's work time. If I nap when they are awake, I'm making WonderWife™ "work" as she needs to take care of the kids. That's unfair. She works longer and harder than I do. But trudging around the house like a Romero zombie isn't doing anyone any good. I'm not engaged. I'm not being a good dad.

It doesn't help that the Bean has yet to really learn how to play with others. When he asks me to play, he's really asking me to sit beside him while he pushes his cars around. It can be boring sometimes. The other day, I lay on his bed while he played. It wasn't long before I passed out. I'm fairly confident that I was snoring because I woke up to find the Bean staring at me, with a look that asked why I was disturbing his play time by sawing logs. I responded by putting my head back down and going back to sleep.

The solutions are right in front of me. Working out is a simple one. But honestly, I don't know where to find the time. Eating right demands will power that I am having trouble finding. I could go to sleep earlier, but this cuts into my precious quality time, where for a little while each day I get to write, watch some TV, have a conversation with WW™ or see some friends. There are times when my life feels overstuffed and squeezed, like a sausage in its casing.

I know that I need to make changes. For me. For my family. For my sanity. But it's really hard. I'm exhausted.

The Wit and Wisdom of the Bean, Volume 2

daddygeekboy@gmail.com (Daddy Geek Boy) — Fri, 11 Sep 2009 05:16:00 +0000

My son knows a great many things. Sometimes he likes to share his wisdom with us. Far be it for me to keep this information all to myself. And so once again, I share it with you...

“I have ribs cause I ate ribs. My mouth ate ribs and turned them into bone.”

“You’re pudgy because you’ve got a baby inside of you.” (Said to me)

“Look I have a Woody.” (Pointing to his crotch adorned with Toy Story underwear).

“Mommy you need to take the hair off your arms before it grows so long that ot goes up to the sky and hits the clouds and the rain will come out of the clouds.”

“Boys don’t wear rings!”
“So what do you call these?” I ask holding up my ring-adorned fingers.
“Tires.”

"I want to be a grownup so I can drive so I can go do Disneyland.”

"Your penis looks fun to play with."

“You have to put on gloves so you won't get snow in your veins.”

Getting Your Butt in the Seat

daddygeekboy@gmail.com (Daddy Geek Boy) — Tue, 08 Sep 2009 12:05:00 +0000

Over the summer, a TV commercial for Harry Potter 6 boasted that the movie had the “biggest worldwide opening ever!” I found this interesting, as this is not the kind of claim that would have been made 10 years ago. However these days, the business of the entertainment business is more transparent. Add this to the fact that the landscape of movies has gotten more crowded and competitive, and this means that Hollywood is now trying to hype their movies by any means necessary—which is why you might hear that the latest blockbuster has just had the biggest opening for a movie on a non-holiday weekend in a month that begins with a vowel. But does the average moviegoer even care?

Harry Potter is one of the biggest franchises in the world. Six movies in, I think that people have largely made up their minds if they’re going to see it or not. So I’m not sure what the tactic was with this ad. Is somebody who is on the fence about the franchise at this point going to be swayed by learning it had the biggest worldwide opening? I can’t help but feel like the bragging in these ads is really for Hollywood insiders, who are patting each other on the back, than for Mr. and Mrs. Multiplex.

Building buzz has become a big thing in movies. Studios spend $35 to $50 million to publicize their movies—more if it's a huge blockbuster. They are working harder than ever to connect with potential audiences and lure them away from their HD TVs, the internet and video games.

One of the biggest examples of the ever-growing importance of marketing is Hollywood's hijacking of the annual San Diego Comic Con. In the last few years, movies have pushed aside the actual comic books for a weekend packed to the rafters with preview screenings and panels—all designed to whip fanboys up into enough of a frenzy so that they will take to their laptops and extol the virtues of the next big blockbuster.

Fox recently tried a different approach. For the highly anticipated James Cameron 3-D movie, Avatar, they held free countrywide screenings of 16 minutes of footage. Those few who have seen it are raving. But again I ask, is this enough to get butts in the seats when the movie opens in 4 months?

How about you? What drives you to want to see a particular movie? Is it the trailer? The poster? Do you care if a movie is number one at the box office? Or has the biggest holiday opening? Or if people in Japan consider it great? Are they doing a good job of wooing audiences? Because Hollywood is working really hard to impress you.