Butterflies and Baby Poo

So, them Butterflies are back in town. I’ve told the story before. So the short, sweet, ready for PBS version is…they fly to Alaska every year to squz out their babies then they fly back down here to fornicate in our woods.

Anyway, they are back. So we decided to take the creature to the butterfly celebration. A grand parade the likes few have ever seen.
But first we figured we’d wash the baby. Not because we’re smashingly great parents. We simply worried that if someone saw her dirty or caught a woof of the aroma what wafts from her florescent orange pooh filled with creepy crawly little dead maggots, that they might think we weren’t smashingly great parents.

So we strolled out the front door and up the hill.
And look, I know this whole baby thing is getting old. And eventually I will actually do get back to basics and do a journal entry with like writing and stuff, discussing career and how-to sex like I used to. But for now just scan the pics and be patient. The key is ignoring the words cuz daddy not only loses sleep for daughter but he’s writing just about every waking moment as well.

So, now that we’re no longer Puh-Gean Newbs, we found the perfect spot.

We parked my former Audi and gloried in the wonder of Jr. High School band. Mozart wrote his first composition at 5. Our standards have lowered slightly. We’re just overjoyed these guys can walk and blow at the same time. Hey don’t get me wrong. I ain’t knocking the kids. I’m knocking the adults for letting programs like band and music slip through the system.

So the kids in wings showed up.

Of course, the whole experience is different for us this year cuz now all other kids look amazingly unattractive to us. And we eye these kids the way we size up anyone with whom we are in competition. They are now the enemy and our daughter must WIN! Win at what you say? It DOESN’T MATTER! WIN WIN WIN!

So the plan, of course, is to design Izzie Rain’s costume now.

So what’s up in the working world? Finished a script early this morning. I’ll sit on it for a day and let it simmer then give it a read and decide whether or not it’s time to go back to driving nails…or since we live on the Bay, I might take up shrimpin’.

Mel’s perty. Been through alot she has. Never complains. We even played Warcraft with Dean last night. We played until the creature arose. Arose demanding boob.

Now with High School bands you start hearing some actual music. Still. Mozart was five.

I know we look tired. You would too. It’s hard to raise a child while boozing and hitting the strip clubs every night. But let it be known that Mel and I have never been slackers. Nobody can stuff a dollar in a thong with one hand while breast feeding the creature with the other…like my girl.

That’s her. The creature. Don’t be fooled by her mutant charm.

She has powers.