Forbidden cookies...

I love cookies. Specifically, I love chocolate chip cookies. Declaritively, I love homemade chocolate chip cookies. They both are fantastic and delicious, and I enjoy them when they are hot out of the oven.

I got home from grocery shopping, and my wife was baking some. The smell was fantastic.

I was then informed that we were not to eat any of them, as they were for my stepson's first grade class tomorrow, and she wasn't sure if there would be enough.

I still can't figure out why she didn't just make more... but I know if I offer that question out to her, I'll only get a response that I won't understand either.

Now I can smell mouth-watering goodness throughout the house, and I cannot access the source to endulge myself.

That's just plain mean.

Sweet Home Mama Jamma...

Tonight, I got to thinking (and no, it didn't really hurt that bad.)

This weekend my wife, stepson and I were going to go back to Detroit to visit my parents. Plans fell through, so now we're going next weekend. But it got me thinking, as we discussed the plans to go to my parents' house.

Not too long ago, when going back there, I referred to it as "going home" for the weekend. As a side effect of getting older, I realize now that it is "going to my parents' house."

They still live in the house I grew up in from the age of about two until about nineteen, when I went away to college. After that time, it was just my summer residence, but it was still - for the most part - "home."

After my third year at college, I stopped going home for the summers, and my habitation became the college town I was in, living in apartments with various interesting roommates, and eventually on my own. Throughout this time period, however, going back to Detroit was still "going home."

I think part of the reason was that I still had my room there. I had stuff in that room (which was essentially a free storage facility that contained a lot of old comic books, and remains of clothes that only functioned as nostalgia.) A few years ago, I bought a house, got married, and now have my own family. In the past year specifically, I was finally encouraged to take all of my stuff out of my old room at my parents' house... and by "encouraged," I mean they showed up one weekend with an SUV full of my things.

My old room has now been converted into a baby lodge. This last summer, my sister gave birth to twins, and they now have a wonderful place to stay with Grandma and Grandpa. It has been suggested that this room will also serve as a guest room for other infant lodgers... and by "suggested," I mean that it has been stated that it is now my turn to generate future guests.

My room, one emblazoned with racecar wallpaper and hundreds of G.I. Joe figures and accessories, is now yellow with two cribs in it.

My room, which once was my cave full of dirty clothes and comic books, now houses a diaper genie and a stockpile of burp cloths.

Standing in it at Christmas, I realized it didn't really look like my room any more... because it wasn't.

Home is where your heart is, they say. A lame cliche I know, and not completely accurate. Home is where your heart, and all of your shit, is.

It's weird growing up sometimes...

I think I got it...

Ok... this is it for now. I think I have it laid out how I want for the most part. I may tweak it again in the future, but I'm ok with this for now.

I changed, I published, I messed stuff up...

Ok... still monkeying around with this thing. I did some serious goofery,and totally messed this thing up for a short bit. I ended up reverting and starting over. It's still funky, but I'm sick of messing with it for tonight. At least I got my footer back... it was buried behind my main content DIV for a while. CSS is fun, but it sure can be touchy.

So yeah, I know things don't look right.

As soon as I get this little world all sorted out, I'll be back to posting. I'm gonna mess with it over the next few days.

It's not like I'm interrupting anyone's experience here. Not many people read this thing. Deal with it.

Skin me baby one more time...

Notice anything different? I'm going to be tweaking this thing a little bit more...

Things may look a little screwy off and on while I play around with some stuff.

Bear with me...

Guns Don't Kill People, Chuck Norris Does.

Ok, stop me if you've heard this one...

...I just received a forwarded email that I actually hadn't received before, and it was HILARIOUS. In fact, it inflicted upon me one of the best laughs I've had in a long time.

It is rare that I get one of these type of emails that I either haven't gotten several dozen times before, or are more than mildly humorous. For these reasons, I share this with you now.



Here are some of facts about Chuck Norris that you might not have known:

• Chuck Norris' tears cure cancer. But he is so badass, he has never cried. Ever.
• Chuck Norris invented cancer because he was tired of killing people.
• Chuck Norris does not sleep. He waits.
• Chuck Norris is currently suing NBC, claiming Law and Order are trademarked names for his left and right legs.
• The chief export of Chuck Norris is pain.
• If you can see Chuck Norris, he can see you. If you can't see Chuck Norris, you may be only seconds away from death.
• Chuck Norris has counted to infinity. Twice.
• Chuck Norris does not hunt because the word hunting infers the probability of failure. Chuck Norris goes killing.
• Chuck Norris doesn’t wash his clothes, he disembowels them.
• Chuck Norris is 1/8th Cherokee. This has nothing to do with ancestry, the man ate a fucking Indian.
• In fine print on the last page of the Guinness Book of World Records it notes that all world records are held by Chuck Norris, and those listed in the book are simply the closest anyone else has ever gotten.
• There is no chin behind Chuck Norris' beard. There is only another fist.
• There are no disabled people. Only people who have met Chuck Norris.
• There is no theory of evolution, just a list of creatures Chuck Norris allows to live.
• In an average living room there are 1,242 objects Chuck Norris could use to kill you, including the room itself.
• Chuck Norris is the only man to ever defeat a brick wall in a game of tennis.
• Chuck Norris doesnt shave; he kicks himself in the face. The only thing that can cut Chuck Norris is Chuck Norris.
• Chuck Norris built a time machine and went back in time to stop the JFK assassination. As Oswald shot, Chuck met all three bullets with his beard, deflecting them. JFK’s head exploded out of sheer amazement.
• Chuck Norris is not hung like a horse… horses are hung like Chuck Norris.
• Chuck Norris doesn’t read books. He stares them down until he gets the information he wants.
• Rather than being birthed like a normal child, Chuck Norris instead decided to punch his way out of his mother’s womb.
• When Chuck Norris sends in his taxes, he sends blank forms and includes only a picture of himself, crouched and ready to attack. Chuck Norris has not had to pay taxes ever.
• Chuck Norris can make a woman climax by simply pointing at her and saying “Booya.”
• Chuck Norris once ate three 72 oz. steaks in one hour. He spent the first 45 minutes having sex with his waitress.
• Chuck Norris once shot a German plane down with his finger, by yelling, “Bang!”
• One of the greatest cover-ups of the last century was the fact that Hitler did not commit suicide in his bunker, but was in fact tea-bagged to death by Chuck Norris.