Category: Journal

I would like to take a walk. They say scorpio is a water sign. I’ve no idea what that means. “They” say alot of things. But I do enjoy being near the ocean. I doubt this is proof that scorpio is a water sign because I find it hard to believe the other signs wouldn’t like being near the ocean as well. I’m on the cusp of Sagittarius. Cusp. That means I was born on the last day of scorpio…just a few measly hours from my life being predetermined by Sag instead of the scorpion king. Sagittarius is a fire sign. And although I do love the fire, I don’t like the ocean any less because of it. Speaking of fire…

Thanksgiving morning we loaded the creature into the car-seat and journeyed to Calabasas where we broke Turkey with the Lorey clan. That night we built a fire…well Dean did. Last summer they built a fireplace near their pool. And yeah, I like fire. Guess there must be some truth to that whole zodiac thing. Or not. But give me a fire and the ocean and I’m happy. Build me a fire on the beach and I may well climax. However, that ain’t about to happen as it is currently raining in Pacific Grove. And although the Bugaboo comes equipped with ample rain protection gear, Mel and I, sadly, do not. So in a bid to procrastinate from writing for money I am instead writing for posterity.

The turkey was tasty and loaded with triptamakeyousleep thus when young Izzie Rain later took part in the boob, it knocked her out quite completely.

Having missed our big-to-do baby-shower in Kentucky our friends have been tossing us small showers spread across the great overly priced state of California and the Lorey clan was no exception. Christopher and Jules took a timeout from their assorted spy missions while Dean’s Father took over watch duty on the creature and we had us a shower.

Thus we see Mel holding the Izzie Rain shower cake just before she tore into a pile of presents.

We ended the evening near the fire. With wine. I was literally falling asleep on my feet. I only had an hour the night before and I can’t recall why. I was writing most likely. Something that was brilliant I expect and as a result will never sell.

Izzie was cradled and fast asleep. Wearing a Santa hat sent by the Handmans.

And Alex glowed in the light of the embers.

We crashed at the Loreys that night and the following morning Dean and Mel prepared a breakfast of pancakes and turkey bacon.

It’s supposed to rain tomorrow too. I always loved rain. Never at all minded just walking in it without an umbrella. In fact, we gave the title to our first born. Of course, I never had access to a massive body of water before. But then, Izzie Ocean sounds silly.

After we were stuffed on sweet bread and bird we said our goodbyes.

I thought this was a wonderfully sweet photo…

…which was totally defiled once me and mini-me jumped in.

It was a long drive back to PG, made less painful by Jim Dale’s reading of the “Order of the Phoenix”. Once back we made up for our lost walks. Friday we jogged by the ocean. Saturday we walked there with Elliot. Today, we are shut ins due to the rain. Guess I get some writing done. Or maybe I’ll just Warcraft some. Sweet dreams.

So, we’ve adjusted to life with the stupid kid.

I don’t much like her.

I’m sure she’s great and all but I’m pretty set in my ways. You know, heart of stone, stubborn as a mule, balls of steel. Okay, nix that last one, it don’t fit.

We took the creature to Tom and Patricia’s for a Day of the Dead party. We parked the Bugaboo on the front porch and little Izzie slept in the crook of my left arm most of the night, cept when Nicole (my agent) got some practice in as she’s three months knocked up. Needless to say she was a big hit. Izzie Rain, not Nicole. Well, maybe Nicole too. But certainly Izzie Rain’s hair was a big hit.

Evidently, not only are most babies smaller than 11.10 when they climb out but they tend to be bald. Izzie Rain is far from bald. Luke Perry came over to compliment the creature’s mullet and a hair dresser to the stars gave us juicy gossip about celebrity babies who get hair coloring and extensions for the photo shoots. Writers, agents, directors, actors, artists, musicians. It was the usual eclectic crowd. Hollywood types I guess you could say but not what I’d call a Hollywood party. Just so happens that these are just their friends. Our friends too. So, this time I left the camera in my pocket.

With one exception. Of course the house was decorated all out for the Day of the Dead. We put up a little shrine to Dean Riesner. We left around midnight and crashed at a hotel. Next morning we stopped by Susan’s to show off the creature and open unexpected presents. On the way out of town the Lorey’s returned from Disney so we dropped by for a quick introduction.

Then it was back to PG. We walk the ocean every day. Tomorrow will be our first miss in several weeks and that’s only because we are hours away from jumping on the road so that we can celebrate the birth of baby Turkey with the Lorey ,osfots…(by the way “,osfots” translates to “misfits” and tends to happen when your right hand shifts to the right one character on the keyboard).

Truth is, she’s a pretty great kid. Oh she’ll throw a daily tantrum for one reason or another but we don’t really mind. However we know that evil does, in fact, seep in. And one day we know she’ll stray.
We know that one day she will betray us.
So, in anticipation of that coming day….here’s some embarrassing pics.

Billy Jean is not my Love-er…

Please. You’d be upset too if you were sitting in your own poop.

We call this one, “Drunk on Boob”.

Who farted?

I know I’m biased but I think my little one is growing into a beautuful little girl.

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.