Little Ear Drummer Boy............

While Keith and I were at a baby shower (FYI, First and last time I start a sentence off that way), I found out that Cole busted his ear drum. Crazy, right? Well, I'll get to Cole's ear in a minute, but let me attempt to justify my involvement in the baby shower first:

A) It was a couple's shower, and there were actually more guys than girls there.

2) I helped plan the event, and we came up with games such as a baby toss, baby pictionary, a grab bag jar of baby food race, and a baby-bottle beer chugging race. (A race in which I came in a dismal 4th place out of 4 people. If you would've told me ten years ago that I'd finish dead last in a drinking contest at a baby shower, I would've punched you in the face. And I wasn't even a close 4th. It took me an awkwardly long time. I haven't felt that inadequate and pitied since I was a fat kid playing basketball, and everyone would cheer for me when I scored. Not just our team's parents would cheer, but the other team's parents, the other team, the janitors, everyone would stand up and clap. Thanks for the gesture everybody, but I'm just fat; I'm not retarded.)

D) Deviled Eggs!!

So after about 7 hours of baby showering ('baby showering' looks a little strange as a verb, no?), Keith and I were sitting there, watching a UFC fight (yes, I'm still trying to boost the perceived manliness of the baby shower), and Rach calls me. Now at this point, to my knowledge, Rach and a friend were taking the kids to the movies at around 7pm, although that was not what the tone of the following conversation led me to believe.

Rach: Where are you at? (Not the time to point out that she ended her sentence with a preposition.)

Me: We're still at the---

Rach: What?@! Yall better get your @sses home, right now! I just left the hospital! Cole's got a busted ear drum, and I'm at Walgreens getting his prescription!!

Me: Wait. What happened? Is he---??

Rach: (Click)

So Keith and I ran out of there faster than you could say, "I'm scared to death of my wife."

So what happened to Cole, you ask? We still really have no idea. They were all in the theater watching the movie, and Cole started complaining that his ear hurt. It started hurting so bad that he went to the bathroom and threw up. The doctor said it looked like his ear drum had been busted for quite some time, but there was no way to tell when or why it happened. Cole hadn't complained of any ear pain, and said he didn't remember doing anything that would've caused it. (This is why I need to become a doctor. For situations like this. I think med school will pay for itself with the money we save on ER visits alone.)

Apparently, Rach's distress stemmed from the fact that Cole had just puked all over the floor in Walgreens, and she'd be damned if I was going to have any fun while she was cleaning up half digested popcorn and JuJuBees.

So the next day (Cole was fine, by the way.), Keith and I were joking around with Cole about his puking episode:

Keith: So you just puked right in the middle of the aisle?

Cole: (Kind of sullenly) Yeah.

Me: Did they come over the loudspeaker and say, "(Squawk) We need a cleanup on aisle 2, cleanup on aisle 2."

Cole: (still somber) No, it was aisle 9.

--------------------------------------------------

On Sunday, in order to get back at me for having fun the night before, Rach made me watch A Walk To Remember. Quite possibly, the girliest, most depressing movie ever made. Nicholas Sparks, you have no soul. And I hate you. The thing that really confuses me, though, is why on earth Rach would even want to see this movie. She had already read the book, and admitted to barely being able to see the pages through her tears. So she basically knew that she was going to cry for about two hours. I mean, can you just kick me in the groin right now and get it over with? In a 24 hour period, I went to a baby shower and watched a Nicholas Sparks movie. Monday morning I forced to myself to eat shards of broken glass while I hit myself in the stomach with a sledgehammer just to be able to call myself a man again.

I know my wife is crazy, and you know my wife is crazy, and hell, even she knows that she's crazy. But damn it if I don't love that crazy broad. Her crazy is never boring, always makes me laugh, and keeps me constantly on my toes. It's the kind of crazy that I'm going to grow old with. Or it's the kind of crazy that's gonna kill me in my sleep. Either way, should be fun.

--------------------------------------------------

A couple of quick notes:

Cole got a 100 on his --I mean our -- Leif Ericsson project. I haven't been that happy to get a grade on a project since, well, um, never.

I don't care what you say,
this is going on my freakin resume

--------------------------------------------------

Jaxon has come home with all smiley faces for two consecutive days. In my opinion, this streak makes Cal Ripken look like Carl Pavano. (For all you non-baseball fans......Ahhhh, screw it. Just laugh. I don't feel like explaining it.)

I mean, how can you give him
anything BUT smiley faces......
Oh, wait, I forgot; he's a demon.

--------------------------------------------------

Tori danced in a Veteran's Day program at her school. I got some video, but couldn't get close enough to be able to really see what was going on. It was really good though. But I REALLY should've gotten video of her teaching me the dance later that night. Twinkle Toes, I am not. I guess there was bound to be something that I'm not good at.