Election 2012! What a year. As if anyone out there isn’t fed up with election talk. Why the three plus week wait? Well, I had planned and prepared to post a few days after Nov. 6, but I’m the sort who sees a lot of pros in crastination. As usual, the same sexist rhetoric will filter, staying true to the idea that women are superior, and us men have a chip on our shoulder and are pissed.
Pot Legalized in Washington, Hostess Out of Business: Washington state and Colorado became the first two states to legalize marijuana, coinciding with a Hostess brouhaha with the union. Just when Hostess sales would skyrocket with the increase of “stoners with munchies,” the union and company couldn’t come to terms and the junk food behemoth is heading out of business.
At Grandpa’s House
GAY MARRIAGE R-74: And Washington doubled down by passing R-74 (see this article). My wife voted for it because: “I want homosexuals to be as miserable as me.” (Not the first time this joke has been used.)
Justified Sexism: If anyone out there doubts whether women are superior, look no further than the FBI Top Ten List, it’s 100% Men. If the FBI had a Top Thousand List there might be ten or twenty women, max.
At Eva’s 4th Birthday
Joke of the Month – PamelaAnderson: Okay, despite female superiority, there are exceptions. Look no further than green enthusiast and PETA nut Pamela Anderson, who has riddled herself with synthetics to beautify. She’s what I’d call a botoxymoron…Ba-Boom! Thank you thank you thank you…
Tracy Seizes the Day! Tracy recently wrecked her car, a dubious story the details of which will remain secret. Thus she needed a new car, insurance benevolently came to the rescue, but she kept on hedging and debating on what to buy. When I asked her why she said, “Because I’m not sure if I want to ‘Car Pay Dumb!'”
The Elderess at Work!
Beatrice Wilson the Elderess: I have a serious blog where I tackle issues and release my angry side, and now and then I pit my mother against various schlock artists. She kicked their asses. And then she had to face a master, Pieter Bruegel the Elder, and the Elder in turn wiped her butt. However, my mother told me later, “Sorry, Caleb, but I’m better than Elder.” Not sure I agree, but I like the ‘tude. Here’s the tally:
Notes of a Sexist Working Mother: My wife recently made a comment/objection about my blog, and I told her she ought to start her own. Terry and I don’t have a lot in common, but we make it work. And quite well, I’ll add. One thing we both agree upon, however, is the superiority of the female sex, yet somehow she refuses to counterblog and put me in my place. Go figure. Anyone out there think my wife could out-blog me? Please inspire her.
Father & Daughter
What Kids Hear: And, in another take on what kids hear, the other day Tracy & I were talking about language, and Tracy said, “I tell Elliot about ‘consequences’ and he nods his head and says he understands, and then I realize he doesn’t know what I’m talking about.”
What Tracy says: “Elliot, if you do that again their will be consequences! Serious consequences!
What Elliot hears: “Elliot, if you do that again their will be ooga-booga! Serious ooga-booga!
BOWLING AT EBEY BOWL on WHIDBEY ISLAND (with Gia rolling and Sarah, Stig, Nikolai, Ava, Kaya, and Terry looking on):
Uncle San-J, Gia & Elliot
Uncle San-J & Aunt Tra-C & Ava
THE END of DIAPERS: Like billions of parents, my wife & I have reached a milestone. Third daughter Kaya (Kaya on the Pot) is potty trained. Which means, after six and a half years of diapers, we’re done. After a couple of weeks of cold butt, namely, clothes off and icy shower for every accident, Kaya learned. Cruel? No. Effective? You bet.
Grandy, Ava, San-J & Tra-C
THE MONROE STATE FAIR YANG-YANG: This year my wife talked me into going to the Monroe State Fair. Usually she takes sister Tracy and the kids, giving me a win-win, or in the Daoist tradition, a yin-yin, as I escape the Fair and get a day to myself. But not this year. So what’s the Monroe State Fair like? Think Disneyland but shorter. That’s a yang-yang. Nevertheless, in the end, the kids loved it, so what can I say?
Cousins, Three Sisters + Nikolai and Baby Gemma
FATHERMUCKER: I contribute to The Nervous Breakdown, a literary site, and TNB editor Greg Olear will release Fathermucker this October from Harper, a novel up my alley about a stay-at-home father. I wrote an article for the Fathermucker blog, in the spirit of gender inequities, “The Double Standard Makes Sense.” The point? You think men and women are equal? Hell no. I use circumcision, penitentiaries, and other examples to hammer down.
A Visit From the Tessaro Family: Cora, Cleo, and Eva
The Ferry to Whidbey Island
THE DOUBLE STANDARD: “I am married, the stay-at-home father of three daughters, and a proud sexist. Two sexes deserve equal rights, but not equal treatment. Why? Because men and women are not equal. Duh…” (Read essay here)
Uncle Somjait and Cousins Orion, Damien, & Satori taking Ava & Gia to their first day of school
Poker Night! Andy, Uncle Somjait, Me, Uncle Sanjay
MY SISTERS FLY HOME: This summer, as usual, my two younger sisters visited from afar (referenced in my Fathermucker piece) with their families. Always nice to have them, as they make our family seem relatively normal (examples may come in later blogs). My youngest sister Min and husband Somjait and three kids live in Hawaii, and Sarah with husband Stig and son live in Saudi Arabia. Hectic but very nice to spend time together as a family.
FAMILY TIME at GRANDY’s house w/her offspring Terry, Tracy, & Danny
September 11, 2011, the last 80 degree+ day of summer?
“…women don’t need to be funny. Most men, if they can’t make women laugh, they’re out of the evolutionary contest.” – Christopher Hitchens (Video below)
GENDER WARS: Men and women have different funny bones. Women need to laugh, and men need to make women laugh. Do you think I married my wife because she’s a hoot? Let’s observe natural selection at work through the prism of my sis-in-law Tracy and her future groom, Sanjay. In most marriages, the woman laughs at and with the man, and the man makes her laugh. Look at Sanjay, look at Tracy, the eyes don’t lie, who would you put your money on if they both entered Last Comic Standing? (Exceptions that don’t disprove the rule: In my mother-in-law Jan’s marriage, Jan is probably funnier than Pops. Pops, though incredibly cool, wouldn’t go far doing standup. And my father, though I love him dearly, may be the most boring guy on earth. For that matter, most inanimate objects floating in outer space are funnier than my dad.)
TRA-C’s GETTING MARRIED, BUT IS SAN-J REALLY A MAN? This spring my sister-in-law, Tracy, will marry Sanjay. Here’s a little love story.
Who’s making who laugh?
Kaya ain’t funny, but she’s cute!
BLACK FRIDAY: San-J’s a big talker about his B-ball game. When he found out I like to hoop he was all, “Yeah, I love to hoop. Let’s hoop, man, anytime, man.” He invites me to meet and play with his homeys. Somehow, I start playing regularly with them, sans Sanjay. He always has a reason, his knee, or he’s sick, or he has to work…B.S. or not? Turns out he had to see a doctor about his knee. Finally, he’s A-OK, and tells me, “My knee’s good, next time I’m free I’m in!”
Wife & Kaya, notice how they’re not being funny.
Sanjay trying to be “cool”…he just looks funny.
Thanksgiving weekend rolls around, Friday he’s not working…and he tells me he’ll go play with my morning crew at the club (as long as he’s not hungover from the Thanksgiving bash). Thanksgiving at our house that evening, Tra-C & San-J crash, next morning at 7 a.m. my wife wakes me to inform that they’re going shopping…it’s Black Friday, the post-Thanksgiving “Shopper’s Holiday.” Go girls go! Cool…but, to my astonishment, Sanjay is also going! Obviously, he’s not hungover. I jolt upright, confront him in the hall, and say, “What the f**k! You’re going shopping with the ladies? What about ball?” He says, “(Mumble mumble mumble)” I say, “Shopping?” He says, “Yeah, I’m doing if for love.” Now, I know what you’re thinking, that I’m exaggerating, that a “man” really didn’t choose shopping over ball, but this is no fiction. What did I say? – “Sanjay, you are a hermaphrodite.” Sanjay’s humor, evidently, his only masculine trait. And love’s great, yeah yeah yeah, but we’ll see who’s shopping on Black Friday after five years of marriage.
My wife and daughters know how to laugh, they have to, I guess!
SANJAY “GUPTA DEEPAK” CHOPRA: Sanjay was at Safeway, he paid with credit, the checker looked at the ID, and said, “Hey, Sanjay Chopra, I’ve heard that name…that famous surgeon?” Sanjay said, “Nope, that’s Sanjay Gupta.” The checker said, “Then I must be thinking of that Buddha yoga writer.” Sanjay said, “Deepak Chopra.” Sanjay says, “Sh*t like this happens all the time.”
“SHOPPING IS HELL” – JUST A MAN’s OPINION? My wife, Tracy, and Jan went shopping for Tracy’s wedding dress. San-J and I stayed home, looked after the kids, and watched football (San-J’s one of those hermaphrodites that likes football). Hours later my wife called. “Aaaaaarghhhhh!” She cried, “We’ve been here for hours! Tracy keeps saying, ‘I have to try on one more dress!'” I thought, Ah ah!…It’s sort of nice, for once, that my wife sees what I have to endure.
HOT DUDE FUNNY WOMAN: So, one last salvo to the theme of this month’s blog, forgive the redundancy….when was the last time you saw a hunk hooked up with an ordinary woman because of her rip-snorting sense of humor? Men…we may be shallow, but we’re funny.
HITCHENS FAILS TO ADDRESS MONEY & PERSONALITY: A man’s wallet size can compensate for lack of humor. Also, to women’s credit, many are attracted to personality and intelligence. Personality + Intelligence = Funny man. Women may not be funnier, but they’re not as shallow. Check out the Hitchens video below, despite what my sister, Sarah, thinks…it’s funny!
EMPTY SPACES: Our daughters, Ava and Gia, like to help dad find a parking space. While circling outside a store, as I pass an open space in front of the entrance, Ava and Gia will start shouting, “There! There! Daddy, I see one!” They don’t understand the concept of handicap spots. I drive by and they get amazingly agitated, shouting, “Daddy, daddy…why didn’t you park there?” When I explain, they seem perplexed. They’ll learn.
PETTY AND FIBE: I recently discovered our neighbor’s name is Petty. Pronounced like “Patty”, but spelled “Petty”. She happens to be Taiwanese, and I have lived and taught English in Taiwan. I know English is a difficult language to learn, and phonetics are not that simple, but c’mon. Why call yourself a word that signifies “mean and trivial”? But that’s how it is with second language learners. Petty is not the only misnamed Taiwanese. In Taiwan I read role call in one of my classes, and saw a name listed as “Fibe”. So I rhymed it with “vibe”, and shouted the name. Silence. Then I spelled it on the board and asked who it was. The class pointed to the girl in question, and shouted, “That’s Phoebe.” So I crossed out her name, spelled correctly, and told her that her name should be this way. The little girl started bawling. Thus I let it be Fibe. Those nutty Taiwanese.
¡Feliz cumpleaños!
MORE FASHION COMMENTS: As clueless husband, my grooming is a target for my wife. I often receive darts like these: “Your clothes are beginning to walk on their own.” “You’re not wearing that shirt, it’s wearing you.” “The 1980’s are calling, they want their T-shirt back.” Since I’ve been married my wife has bought or chosen all my clothes, and so whenever I look presentable it’s due to her, but somehow I still ain’t doin’ it right.
COMMUNICATION & RHETORICAL QUESTIONS: My wife is one of those women who communicates with rhetorical questions and statements. Usually they are directed towards our daughters, or other people, but meant for me. For example, she’ll tell Ava and Gia (and sometimes baby Kaya), “Wow, what a mess, the living room sure needs vacuuming, Ava, do you think you can take care of it?” “Gia, will you please mow the lawn?” Then there’s the rhetorical questions directed my way: “Are these dishes dirty?” “Are you drinking a beer?” “Is tomorrow garbage?” Or the famous and all too common query that happens every time I’m sitting on the pot, “Caleb, are you taking a sh*t?” My response is always: “Are you asking a rhetorical question?”
POO BY A HAIR: As much as I think poo stories are cliché for a parenting blog, my wife’s cousin Susy had some poop that scored high on the gross factor, and thus, what the heck, here goes. Evidently, when Aunt Susy’s daughter was in diapers she’d often eat hair, and somehow, in mid-change, the poo would cling by a proverbial thread. Susy would often fold up the diaper, and discover, as she pulled it away, that the poo would still be hanging on by a snake-like strand out of the ol’ behind, and she’d watch it out spaghetti out of the you know what. You get the drift.
GIA TURNS FOUR! Gia turned four in June. Happy Birthday Gia!
Ava's fifth birthday fell on Chinese New Year (The Year of the Tiger). Happy birthday Ava!
Ava at one!
Ava turned five this month. Gia will turn four in June. I told Gia her birthday is in June and she disagreed: “No. My birthday is four!” I said, “No, your age is four. Your birthday is in June.” She repeated, “My birthday is not June, it’s four.” Me: “How old are you?” Gia: “I’m three!” Me: “When’s your birthday?” Gia: “Four!” Me: “No, your birthday is in June…when you turn four.” Gia: “My birthday not June, it’s four!” She can get spitfire angry…geez, women! Gia’s already onto the “right-happy” dichotomy (see Pillow Wars for more on “happy vs. right”). I used every word in our mutual vocabulary to explain the difference, but to no avail…her birthday is four…until the day her birthday is five.
QUESTION of the MONTH: How come it’s called ‘menstruation’ and not ‘womenstruation’? ‘Cause men sure don’t ‘struate’. (More than one woman has told me about MENtal illness and MENopause and how ALL women’s problems begin with MEN.)
What has cute little Kaya done now? The little ball-of-chub has her hand in a drawer and is stuck. Adorable? Not according to my wife: "Caaaay-leb! What's this?" Me: "She's fine." Wife: "No she isn't. Not in a hot pink top and light pink bottom." Seriously. (It's the evil of pink...see post of 1/12/2010 - Pink! The New Evil!)
NO HONEY IN OUR HOUSE: I almost made a major error by giving 11-month old Kaya a bit of honey. My wife charged screaming out of the bathroom when I told her of my insidious breakfast plans: ‘Absolutely no honey until she’s one years old! She could die! You didn’t give her any, did you?’ Instant change of plans. If I’m not supposed to give Kaya honey…by damn, I won’t (see above Pillow Wars), it’s not a battle I’m going to pick, but c’mon…die? Kaya is practically one, literally 0.92 years of age. I cannot fathom how in just one month she will, all of a sudden, be able to consume honey. I’m no authority… the conventional wisdom of dieticians, nutritionists, and doctors trumps mine…but are concerns misplaced? Should a two-month premature baby wait two extra months to eat honey? Can the baby born two weeks late eat honey two weeks earlier?
Anyone for a tasty measuring cup of water and Cheerios? (Gia loves that hat)
BEER vs. WINE: Thanks to my wife I now recognize that a hot dog w/chips is inferior to, say – pork tenderloin, rutebega & turnip gratin, and pernod sauce. Far from becoming a “foodie” (Has anyone else heard this term…I hadn’t before marriage, but I’ve learned a “foodie” is someone who, for example, has at least one Ina Garten cookbook), my tastes and sensitivities toward cuisine have somewhat improved. However, I remain a beer drinker, and thus play the role of unsophisticated dork drinking a PBR while everyone else at the table is sipping syrah or merlot…one of my many strange culinary habits (according to my wife and her family) that also include antipathy toward salad dressing, condiments, and all cruciferous vegetables (the latter pure evil…pink is child’s play compared to cruciferous).
Is Kaya hungry? Wet diaper? Does she want a nap? No. The reason for her misery comes from an unexpected source.
Far away from those vile pillows, Kaya's mood has changed considerably.
THE UNKNOWN WAR: Why is baby Kaya crying? Does it have anything to do with her proximity to those pillows? Are those pillows toxic? Do they smell? No! They’re elite pillows, and are at the center of one of the lesser known modern conflicts, the Pillow War.
Though my beloved wife is always right, after six plus years of marriage I am still not used to the so-called ‘Decorative Pillow’. What is that? It’s a pillow that is to be looked at and not used. Unbelievable? I thought so. Check this out…You place it at the head of the bed or on the sofa and the fancy little flowers must point to the ceiling and the cutesy little stems must point toward the floor. And at night you throw the pillows on the floor. I’m not joking.
My in-laws often tell me, ‘Would you rather be happy or right?’ Since I’m never right, I’ve decided to shoot for happiness, part of this is making a better than half-ass effort to lose pillow-tude and obey the pillow regulations. Also, I figured this was just a peculiar quirk of my wife, but then I found out she is not the only person in the world who thinks pillows have an intrinsic aesthetic value. Most women (and even a few men…the wimpy metrosexuals!) ascribe to this sort of CHAOS (Cleanliness, Health, Appearance, Order, and Safety).
My lovely wife, cozy and fast asleep, secure in the fact the pillows are on the floor and far removed from my hairy sweaty body.
Girls! You are in BIG BIG trouble!
SEXISM IN CAKE’S LYRICS: Is the hit ‘Short Skirt Long Jacket’ sexist? (See the Cake Video) Or does it just point out a double standard that exists? Namely, that even a high-powered and successful woman has to deal with being a sex symbol. And just what would a feminist think?
KAYA SAVES 34 YEAR-OLD WOMAN: And now a feel-good story. We received word from Swedish Hospital that the stem cells harvested from Kaya during her birth last spring (at the equinox, no less), will be used in a potentially life-saving procedure.
My wife with 3-month-old Kaya.
Aunt Tracy with Ava & her son Elliot
THE VAJINGO MONOLOGUES: Because I’m around women so often they forget I’m there. And thus I get to be the proverbial ‘fly on the wall’. My wife and sister-in-law freely talk, and one word that makes a common appearance is ‘vajingo’. Example, “I still can’t believe a baby ever came out of my vajingo.” (I stopped calling my penis ‘Bob’ after I graduated from high school…unfortunately, it was ten years after)
Notes of a Sexist Stay-at-home Father 
