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...

So most of the time when you ask me a question, I respond with a "no." Sometimes I respond with a long, higher pitched "yeeeaass." You may wonder why this should be so. First let me rephrase that first sentence: So most of the time when you ask me a stupid question that utterly insults my intelligence, I occasionally respond with a long, high pitched, coming-down-to-your-level "yeeeaaas." As in "yeeeaaasss of course I want to go outside bozo, Where else?" Or "yeeaaasss I like to zoom the truck. Do you like to rattle off stupid comments to everyone who happens to pass by or am I just lucky today?" Or "yeeeaasss I think you should put me on your shoulders- I've only been asking for that for the last half-hour." You see, its my way of letting your know that I'm on to your little talk-down-to-the-20-month-old-cause-he's-still-a-baby game and I'm not gonna take it anymore. And, no, I'm not gonna give yo...

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've been catching up on past issues of "Medical Economics," a journal that the Father gets and throws away after coloring on all the pages. I figure I'm gonna need it someday, to get him out of some royal financial mess he's gotten himself into.

Listen, about that pineapple video , I know my speech is kinda slurred, my responses are a little delayed, and it probably would come out at some point in the futures so let me just get it out in the open- yes: I was drunk when that video was made. Trust me - If you had to listen to stupid questions all day from The Folks you'd be hitting the sauce pretty hard too. "What are you eating?" "Are you poopy?" "What letter is this?" Sheesh its annoying. Anyhoo.

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.

You know, the face that makes The Folks think I'm pooping. I just make it so they'll pick me up and sniff my butt. Then when they pick me up, turn me around, and put their noses up to my diaper, I just look out at those around and smile. I may be forced to take naps when they say, eat what they say, do what they want, go where they want, but hey. I can make them smell my butt. Heh.

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.

So I'm on another death march with The Father and I'm like hey if you let me out of the stroller maybe my limbs will have a chance at avoiding frostbite, and he's like whoa whoa there tiger, you can't walk yet, and I'm like well I can crawl and at least it'll keep me from turning into a babesicle and he's like I'm not going to slowly plod along behind you while you crawl on the pavement picking up stones and dog poop and rotten leaves every few feet and I'm like whatever I can't feel my fingers anymore anyway and he's like whatever I'm gonna go back to my ipod. Unbelievable.

He's right - they're nasty. Penguins that is. Not people in St. Louis. Mostly. How they can stand to swim around in their own filth and then just watch as someone else cleans it all up, I just don't understand. I feel like I've been lied to by the media, books and The Folks. I thought penguins were these cute little birds, always doing cute things, being cute and all. They're not. Not cute. Smelly. Quite smelly. And they poop. Did I mention that? Oh, yea I did. Anyhoo.

I'm back at home. Its nice to be able to sleep in my own crib again. The Father is all geeked about getting to post pictures of me online. Whatever. He's stretching out the post into a few separate posts instead of just putting all the pictures in one post and making it easy for the rest of us. Its because of those ads. He's trying to make a buck. He's made like $2.34 since starting the website and he's somehow convinced that the money will keep coming in. Like $2.15 of that was made the week after I was born. Back when people actually went to his site. Anyhoo . You may be saying, hey hypocrite you've got ads on your site too. To you I say: I will completely remove the ads when you start sending cash, 'cause at this point I've got about zippo for income and even poorer prospects. Do you know how hard it is to hold a job when you can't keep your mind focused on something for longer than 30 seconds?

...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.

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.

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.

So I'm on my tummy the other day and I'm fine but you know I'm making a fuss like I do, just to throw off The Folks and they just keep throwing toys in front of my face, like I want them to do. Then I get picked up. Anyhoo, so I have a swing now.