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Thursday, February 10, 2005

End of an Era


, originally uploaded by slowchildrenatplay.

"Dad, can you help me with my math homework?"

"Sure honey.....let me see."



And that's where it ended. I figured I'd be able to at least feign math assistance for my daughter through 9th grade, but it appears that I made it through mid-6th grade. It was good run while it lasted, being helpful.

posted by Shaun at 11:01 PM
link | 1 comments

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

Now You Know Why

My parents photocopied me in 1969. I don't mean they invented cloning, and I don't mean I have an identical twin out there. I mean they placed infant Shaun on a big-ass 1969 sedan-sized copy machine and took the first pictures of their squished bundle of joy. At first I thought this was some family version of an urban legend, only other people either gasped or laughed when it came up. It wasn't until my parents eventually produced the old copy that I realized that the hospital had actually released me to these monsters. No baby had eyes this size. The combination of radioactive waves and 60's copier toner obviously affected these peepers. I just thank the Lord that automatic document feeders were a few decades away from being invented or they'd still be pulling bits of diaper from that Oakland copier.

After bravely dealing with that childhood tragedy, I inquired about following abuses. As courageous laughing relatives came forward, I was shown a photo of me at a mere 9 months old (same age as this sexy bathtub photo). In the photo, Baby Shaun is sitting in a baby swing, only there appears to be some fabric obstructing my facial area. When confronted with the photgraphic evidence, my mom laughs and tells me that I would always spit out my pacifier, so she and my dad would plug it in my mouth, then secure it by wrapping a baby blanket around my lower face. How in THE FUCK I even made it to my 'terrible two's' is beyond me. Anyhow, the tremendous pressure placed on my lips by the binky and blanky took its toll, causing abnormally large lips for a child descendant of Caucasia.

I'm sure these flagrant abuses had as much to do with forming my appearance as any genes or DNA did. But aside from the radiation poisoning and attempted suffocations, my childhood was relatively relaxed. My parents are actually wonderful people. I'll have to write more about them, especially as they get older and I have to take care of them....because revenge is coming, and it will be sweet.

So when you go into a Northern California retirement home one day and see an old woman tied to a rocking chair with an old, tattered baby blanket holding in her false teeth as she watches a deranged wide-eyed, big-lipped maniac make photocopy after photocopy of her elderly husband, just walk by and give me an approving smile, knowing that the next day's blog is going to kick some ass!!

posted by Shaun at 11:32 PM
link | 3 comments

Sunday, February 06, 2005


, originally uploaded by slowchildrenatplay.

I'm fairly sure every town has a day or weekend set aside to promote its cultural, historical, and scientific attractions. Sacramento's Free Museum Day was this past Saturday. Now, Sacramento and culture go together like Sacramento and culture, but free is free, and when you've got kids, you jump at these opportunities. Kristine's blog will entertain you with the kids' escapades, cute comments, and pictures of me making orangutan faces, so don't expect it here.

Kristine and I loaded the car with kids, met my sister and niece, and together we headed to the zoo and Fairytale Town/Funderland, which is like a smaller Disneyland...only without rides, attractions, characters, food, and general cleanliness. Parking's pretty much the same, though.

The day WAS educational and entertaining though. Not because I learned about the natural habitat of the lemur or the migration of the flamingo. No, some lame zoo volunteer may have been talking about that, but my group was hypnotized by the hockey-puck mole on the neck of the guy in front of us in line for the reptile house. I didn't know whether to push it or play Plinko, but it was not to be ignored. It was captivatingly disgusting.

At Fairytale Town, we entered the gates under a scary Humpy Dumpty, emphasis on Dump. White Trash Heaven....people kicked out of Nascar events have season tickets for this place. Fairytale Town's lavish grounds are protected by a aqua-blue moat a good 3/4 of an inch deep, with the occasional leaf and cigarette box floating in the mosquito-laden standing water for good measure and ambiance. The kids enjoyed playing on the slides and playgrounds as we enjoyed the culture of what appeared to be Ye Olde Kentucky(circa 1979). We didn't stay long, but I was able to get a King Arthur collectible bottle opener and a crown with mullet attached (like the ones used in the movie about King Jethro III).

The pony rides were a-callin, so we forked over the $3 per kid. As the line apprached the stable, we noticed the "ponies" (might have just been homeless guys covered in bath rugs, but I can't prove it)were actually not thrilled about their roles in the Sacramento entertainment community. Shea took the white pony named Harley(the noose-marks on it's neck were less noticeable), and walked pony through its grueling oval mud track. I can't be sure, but I thought I heard "Dead pony walking" from the distance a few times. Through the pony's sobs of hopelessness and piles of symbolic droppings, we trekked the lap and moved on. The attendant helped Shea off the pony the "cowgirl way", which apparently was the way cowgirls dismounted their manic-depressive animals in the olden days. The attendant made sure the pony was leashed (to reduce the catastrophic risk of the slowest stampede ever) and checked the pony's mouth for hidden cyanide pills.

Wolf-Boy(in the picture above) was just a kid at the park that screamed like a drunk Raider fan but looked like step three of the evolutionary chart. Don't know if more explanation is needed here, but Mach 3 Jr finally has a customer base.

All in all, we all had fun...obviously for different reasons. Mine lead me straight to hell, where White Trash walk me around in ovals while a wolf boy picks at the mole on my neck.

I can pretty much guarantee that that last sentence has never been blogged before.

posted by Shaun at 10:36 PM
link | 2 comments

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