Happy Boy!

That would be me. The happy boy. Boy, I'm happy. Happity happity hoo! Why, you ask?


That's why! Isn't she a beauty? I've had this li'l puppy for a week and have no idea how I ever lived without it.

"Oh, Z, you're being so silly! You lived just fine without an ipod! Stop being silly! I mean it! STOP! CUT IT OUT!!!!!!"

Calm down, calm down. There is no act of silliness happening over here, Forest. I lived just fine did I?

Know what that is? That's every CD I own. Still not convinced I needed an ipod?


Those suckers are heavy! What?! You still think I'm being vain? Well, you've left me no choice. You force me to resort to my last.......resort (in the dictionary under "redundant" it says "see redundant"). A music video. WHY MUST IT ALWAYS COME TO THIS????




So you see, not only does a lack of ipod ownership pose the issue of inconvenience, but it is also a threat to one's well being! I simply had to take myself out of harms way. Who know's? What if the floor had not been there to break my fall? Then what? Yeah, I'd rather not think about it too much either!

Now to shift gears a bit.......



Couldn't resist. I got another voice comment a couple of days ago. Not quite sure what to make of this.



Huh. Well, I guess I can just go ahead and answer that right here and now. No, I'm afraid your dad is not here. If you're worried about him, I would suggest that you obtain assistance from the proper authorities (Yes, I am, indeed, an authority, but in no way shape or form am I "proper"). Let this be a lesson to the rest of you. Your father is not here. Unless your name is Colin or Jaxon Zastrow, I have no idea where your dad is (within the context of this blog). Maybe the time has come to ask yourself the age old question: Who's your daddy?

A couple of things disturb me here.

1. This person actually listened to my voice on the "outgoing message" and then proceeded to ask if there dad was, in fact, here.

Maybe I haven't convinced you how strange this is yet. Maybe a little spoilage of how the magic of these "voice comments" works will explain things a bit. You see, there is actually a phone number that is dialed from your computer if (and please please please WHEN) you decided to click on that little "call me" button. If I were to simply to tell you that phone number, you could just call it from your phone (however, long distance charges are eliminated when using the button.....hint hint). So, whether you push the button or dial the number you hear my voice say.....

"You're leaving a comment for Z on his blog. Just be nice. That's all I ask."

So, someone (assumingly) dialed the number that corresponds with the button in error (again, assumingly), listened to my voice saying those exact words, and proceeded to leave a message asking if their dad was here. Do you get it now?

Now, if that isn't disturbing enough......

2. Where, in fact, is "here" (or "there", depending on the perspective from which you choose to look at this conundrum)? Is the caller asking if their paternal caregiver is currently somewhere within the vicinity of yours truly? Or, is he or she (I couldn't quite determine the gender of the troubled youth by his/her voice) inquiring as to whether their father is making their dwelling in the pages of this blog? Quite possibly I am not giving this question the philosophical attention that it so truly deserves. The very fabric of the universe could very well be in jeopardy (I'll take "swords" for 500, Alex) and I have no idea how to respond.

The point I'm making is this......I love my ipod!

America's Favorite Special Needs Mom

I seem to recall a period in American culture that included Jenny McCarthy posing for playboy. Not only that, but she went on to have her own show on MTV that featured her expelling intestinal gas in the hopes of getting some laughs (it worked).

So, now we're all supposed to take her seriously because she her son has autism. We're supposed to forget the fact that she starred in "Baseketball" because her son happens to have special needs. Hmmmmmm.

"Hey isn't that Jenny McCarthy?'

"Sure is!"

"Wow! I saw her naked in Playboy when I was in high school!"

"HOW DARE YOU! Her son is autistic!"

"Oh! How foolish of me! I can't believe I would remember such a thing when she now struggles with being a special needs parent!"

Yeah, that 's a pretty far-fetched conversation, but can you see where I'm coming from? Now, I won't discount the fact that she's had a hard road to travel with her son. However, I have to draw the line when her celebrity status causes her to be the "supreme authority" on autism.

My oldest son has autism. And right now my least favorite phrase is, "....well, Jenny McCarthy says that...(insert stupid way of dealing with autism that only works for her child here)"

If going by the logic that we should suddenly take her seriously, then all of you must simply forget the fact that I wrote and performed "I Love to Fart" (please don't forget). It just doesn't make sense.

Now enough of this ranting. On with the fun!