Help me, Dr. Jones!

I tried to be subtle, you know? First, I tried carrying my hat everywhere I went. That didn't work. OK. So, I began snatching the hat from behind the door just the second before it'd smash my hand. Still nothing. So, I began screaming at a mere sight of my toy snake, riding a stuffed elephant, and eating my Lamaze monkey's head. And? Nothing. And it's been a week now. I don't know if my parents are just playing dumb or if they really don't get it (and I'm not sure what's worse) but they don't respond, at all. How do they want to teach me a sign language when they ignore such basic signs? I mean, come on: elephants, monkey's brain, snakes, and a hat, hat, HAT! Who doesn't get that?!

Frak! I guess I'll have to wait till it gets out on a DVD or I can talk, whichever comes first.

Jail-time 101

I don't want to lose my dad. It'd mean no more balloon races, no more dog riding stunts, no more GTA hang-out time… how would I cope? Just so that you see where it's coming from… my dad might go to prison. At least that's my understanding. He's going to a court tonight and then, if it goes bad and mommy doesn't get enough bail money… who knows what might happen. I just hope that they wouldn't send him away for long. I mean, I know he's guilty. He knew the license plate fell off and he didn't put it back on in time… but I really hope that the judge will take into consideration that he has an innocent baby boy who really needs him in order to experience a healthy and well-balanced emotional development. Well, there's nothing more we can do than hope for the best Metuchen public attorney... we sure can't afford Richard Gere.

One-oh-oh

Yeah, it's here. The one and only thing I was ever scared of: the big one-oh-oh. Yeah, it's sad but true. The childhood is gone. I'm officially old. 100 days! I've always wondered how the world'll look like when I become this old. It seemed so far in the future that I was kind-a hoping for transporters, warp drives, or at least some landspeeder-strollers… instead, I still have to drive backwards in that gray Graco carriage of mine, and the hottest thing in a neighborhood is our Sonata. Let me tell you, it's pretty pathetic. I guess I had my expectations way too high but that's what you get when your parents take you to the Star Wars exhibition as soon as you can hold your head up, read you Wired and books about Androids before you go to bed, let you play with rattles that look like Enterprise A and Klingon battle cruisers, and call their dog after a dog-like-creature from a tiny planet in the Delta Quadrant… let me ask you just one question and then I'm outta here… is it normal for a family to be so messed up?

Houston, we got a problem

I guess that different folks have different expectations from their children. Some want them to grow up and be good parents (kind-a no-imagination-left-in-us, if you ask me), others want them to be surgeons or famous artists (or whoever, who has a lot of recognition and even more dough)... my parents are much more flexible, they say I can be whatever I want as far as it is a cosmonaut. I sincerely hope they're just being funny. But I've heard my dad talking about some mission to Mars stuff, so I'm not sure anymore. He even mentioned something about owning a part of that darn thing and how cool it would be if I could actually see it. But if you ask me, I won't go anywhere near that thing… no wonder they got it so cheap on the Internet, there's a huge active volcano just behind it… no person in his right mind would ever go there (not to mention move there)… but then, the right mind does seem a little irrelevant these days, don't it?

But if I really had to go there one day, I really hope to land in something awesomer than the Phoenix Lander that just arrived over there a little while ago. Just look at it… I mean, I get the "looks are not everything" and "the important thing is what's inside" theory… but honestly, NASA needs some serious design help.

Some like it hot, some like it not

Sorry I haven't written anything in a couple of days (in case anybody but my dad really reads this) but I felt pretty darn bad. Mom had this really wonderful [insert ironic grin here] idea of buying some spicy Chinese food from unidentified source and, no wonder, I got sick. In all the fairness of the world [insert ironic double smirk here] she was fine, dad was fine, dog was fine… and I could not eat nor sleep for almost three days. But it seems that I am, finally, feeling a little better today. I don't really know what was the problem since I'm no wimp when it comes to spicy stuff... just ask my buddy Albert (from the Indian restaurant near our place), he served me my first masalas and dals and alu gobis long before I was born and the smell of curry and coriander always soothes me, even now. I know my grandma says that this stuff is not good for my European body, but I think there are much worse things on this world that could happen to it - like Czech knedlo-vepro-zelo or exercise.

Weekends suck!

What do you, folks, see so special about weekends anyway? I just don't get it. Why would anyone actually look forward to those obnoxious days? It means less rest and more of everything else; and by everything else I mostly mean unnecessarily sarcastic behavior on my parents' side. A hairdresser? Are you kidding me? It's not like I need anybody reminding me of my receding hairline and criticizing my cradle cap. Grocery shopping and cooking? Yeah, yeah, very funny… especially since I am stuck with the milk for another 3 months, at least. Roller-blading? Actually that wasn't so terrible since I was able to listen to Lust for Life from Trainspotting the whole ride and it would have been even better if those damn holes haven't kept waking me up every five seconds. What can I say? I may be the first one to say it and actually mean it but I really love Mondays!

Oh, Julie…

Would you believe that today was the first day I finally realized that older chicks dig me? I mean, the grannies in the grocery stores and nurses at the doctor's office always fell for me, there was no doubt about that… they usually flipped as soon as I walked in the door… but Julie was just about a year old and if her mom would not stop her, she would be all over me today. We were hanging out at our weekly storytime as usual, totally cas, and she came crawling towards me, gave me a gorgeous smile and stole my nametag. I tried to play it cool and it would have worked just fine if her mom didn't intervene. What is it with those people anyway? So unreasonably protective… don't they realize that it's never too early to learn this stuff? I mean, come on… haven't they read Brave new world?!