Fake Samuel

Not surprisingly, people are surprised and disappointed at my recent absence from the blog. Do not worry people, I assure you, I am alive and well. I liken my plight to that of a missionary working under an oppressive regime. News flows in and out of the country, but at times the goverment cracks down. And they occasionally beat their citizens. And the citizens occasionally pee in places they're not supposed to. And go on hunger strikes. And stage protests and sit-ins. Etcetera. You get it. But fear not, "we will overcome." They cannot hold me back with their bedtimes and naptimes, their imposed restrictions on my SuperWhy watching or blueberry consumption, their insistence on "respect" and "listening to mama" and "be gentle with the X*", their "are you poopy?" or "I smell poopies" or "want to go on the potty?", their complete lack of trust in me as a person to be able to regulate my own bodily functions, time ma...

For those of you who haven't heard, apparently the guy that The Folks found over the weekend is coming to stay with us. At my house. I know what some of you are thinking. What biting piece of sarcasm is he gonna pull out this time? How is here gonna react to this new and different situation? How will he in his seventeen-month-old, intellectually sound but emotionally immature state hand this nearly overwhelming situation, coping with the demands of new found brotherhood while still coming to grips with his own independence in a new world full of rocky shore, and precipitous mountain peaks? You would think that. On the contrary, I'm opening my life to him-who-till-recently-resided-in-mamas-tummy. Since through this blog, I have found a strong outlet for my thoughts and feelings, a place to come to grips with the world around me and the battles within me, a respite from the stressors of daily living, a place where everyone knows my name not because I have to remind them of ...

Apparently there is a baby in the Mother's tummy. I've been researching the whole thing, trying to see it from all angles and this is what I've come up with so far: 1-mama has the baby 2-no baby in daddy 3-the baby is in mama 4-daddy has no baby 5-baby 6-no baby 7-baby 8-nobaby 9-i have a belly button I'll keep you updated on what all this might mean. I'm still putting it all together.

I have my people looking into this - we're pursuing possible legal action.

Its hard enough trying to convince the folks that I'm "learning" how to walk (when I want to take off and head over to Buffalo Wild Wings like I did last night after "bed time") but this whole blogging thing is just a pain in the butt. Everytime I get near the computer the Folks are on me. They haven't figured out that I leave the house most nights, but they have a 6th sense to know that I'm 5 feet from the keyboard. And from what I hear they're going to move it into their bedroom, to make room for who knows what. Probably to do another crappy home improvement job.

Sorry its been a while. I've been in rehab and you know how they're all no-outside-contact-until-we -remake-who-you-are. Whatever. I went to their classes, I meditated on the new swiffer-sniffer free me, I met with the addiction specialists, I went to the group sessions. I got through it all. What a waste. I think The Folks read my last post and saw a good way to get rid of me for a few weeks. They like to play Wii at the Grandparent's house. I'm happy to let them do it too, but they feel the need to police me 24/7. I've been working on standing alone and walking (haven't shown 'em that yet), and as so as I get it down I'm so out of here. On the other hand, Christmas was good. So far I got a few more books to read, a ton of cars to push around and a big truck thingie that makes a ton of noise - it really bugs The Folks. And I still have another Grandparent to go. She's good for something noisy I'll wager. I hope it can go in my crib...

So apparently The Father has been uploading videos on his blog and only now finding out that a majority of them are so dark it looks like a couple of blobs dancing to kid's music. Serves him right - trying to exploit me for profit on the Internet. And the yahoos reading his blog didn't have the sense to say "hey these videos BLOW do something about it dorko." Idiots. UPDATE: I've just been informed that this same problem *might* have afflicted my previous posting of the horror mini-series that I'm acting in. That this problem could be a generalized error and not something simply limited to the stupidity of The Father is a small chance to be sure, but rest assured I will find the people responsible and have them shot.

I've been doing a little acting on the side recently. Here is the first installment in my most recent work.

Its incredibly difficult to come up with witty banter when your brain has not yet fully developed. And this keyboard was bigger than me about 4 months ago. I have to pound the mouse button with my fist. What a chore. But I think the worst part is the fear of reprisal. Its not easy when you're such a public figure, saying whatever comes to mind. I live in the constant knowledge that there is always somebody watching, possibly with a camera, just waiting for me to mess up. Or say something that goes too far. Have I received death threats? No. But I'm pretty sure thats only because I don't check my email. Someday, someday, I'm gonna be old enough to defend myself. I anticipate they'll attack before then. Let them try.

especially when he's just repeating the same thing over and over again like "push the orange button, push the orange button, the orange button, push it in and make the music go, push the orange button" or "can you say ball, ball ball ball ball ball ball." sheesh. or "no we don't touch the plants, no don't touch the plants, no thats a no-touch." blah blah blah. whatever. he flaps his gums alot. i do throw him a bone once in a while. I'll touch the orange button - but pressing it not quite hard enough to trip the mechanism inside. Or I'll pretend to think better about touching the plant (while really I sneak in multiple touches when they're not looking). Or I'll say something close to ball. Like "baa." or "all." I practice my words at night. I sneak out of my crib and watch reruns of "Happy Days" and random infomercials to work on my language skills. Someday I'll just throw a fricken ...

I know it was kinda cold when I came out, but no one told me this temperature would return. No wonder the Father is obsessed with making fires - living every day of his life not knowing if he would be warm or not.

...to eat. well quarter of a cow. i've seen it, touched it. its cold. and they're eating t-bone steaks the other night, and i'm stuck with peas. peas! unbelievable. and i'm reaching for it, like hey i want some, and they're like here have some more peas. and I'm like um, ok and i take a few more bites and then i remember i wanted their steaks so i'm ticked again. so the other night the mother gives me some chicken mixed in with my carrots. first of all - thats disgusting. who grinds up chicken? second, hey you've got a cow in the freezer why am i stuck with poultry? anyhoo i expressed my disgust with the situation.

If you don't know what I'm saying, quit trying to fill in the gaps with your own thoughts ok? Number one, I'm not you, I don't think like you. Number two, I need nothing from you, apart from food and cleanliness, and a place to nap. Number three, I don't know who your friends are, but they kinda wig me out sometimes. Number four, how am I supposed to learn to wipe myself if you keep doing it? Can't you see I'm trying to help Sheesh. Number five, why don't we have Tivo, I heard about it in nursery the other day. I need it. Number six, whats with sticking me in nursery all of the sudden like you're too good to try and hold on to me while I make noise and try to eat the notes you're taking in Sunday school. Number eight, when are you going to teach me to count, sheesh, I'm like 8 months here. Well, almost. Number nine, I just want you to know that whenever your back is turned, I eat EVERYTHING I can get into my mouth. Grass, hair, fu...

on the mother's phone and she's like here talk to daddy and she hands me the phone and I listen and he's all like hello, hello, hello can you say hi to dady and I'm like NO i can't I'm 7 months old and I haven't yet mastered the art of talking on the cell phone would you just give me a break and because I'm so upset I decide to eat the phone and then the mother's like no don't eat the phone and I'm like how else am I to voice my frustration with my limited abilities, other peoples expectations and society in general. Then she gets back on the phone and its all oh he's trying to eat the phone again. Someday.

I like to just sit, mini basketball in one hand, butterfly rattle in the other and just kinda yell. Then I open up a 4 ounce and sit and watch the fish music thingie before dozing. This is the life.

And I'm just sorta toolin' around the house, bored again, looking for entertainment, when I realize I'm totally lost. We have this enormous house and its not that hard to do. I have no idea where I am, I've never been here before, no one will ever find me, in this huge house I'm like a baby in a haystack full of other babies who all look like me, I'm gonna die of starvation and diaper rash before I'm found. Anyway turns out I was just facing the back wall in the living room. Kinda freaked me out.

Why don't I have one of these ? Am I not dropping enough hints? So I'm talking with the folks the other day and I'm like hey when do I get my iPhone and they're like just as soon as we get one and you are old enough to buy one for yourself and you're out of our house, etc. And I'm like thats totally unfair and they're like, hey you pooped your pants, nobody else in this house poops their pants, maybe you should worry about that instead of getting a cell phone. I was so mad couldn't speak. Well, babble. You know what I mean.

So the governor lifted the burning ban for everyone but the UP and the daddy is out there again, playing with fire. I'm out there occasionally when he's doing this and I'm like hey daddy, that looks like fun, you smell terrific, and I can foresee no possible bad outcomes from me helping you out, what do you say? And he's like, uh, no. And I'm like, you never let me do anything around here, this blows. Anyhoo. I'll show him someday.

To insinuate that I'm a Dell boy is a pretty low blow, even coming from the father. I don't get that guy sometimes. You know, I'm like hey get this Dell catalog out of my face and he's like no wait a minute its a cute picture, i'll put it on the blog everyone will think its super funny and I'm like forget that i'm sick of your constant exploitation. And then he does that thing, where he pretends to sneeze, and I'm laughing because, well, its just hilarious.

Dork. Went out and killed a few patches of grass with the stuff later that night. Unbelievable.