...watched The Iron Giant last night...

Ava wanted to draw him, so we collaborated on it...

Apropos of Something...

Her: "Silly question - does Mary's signature look like a bunch of bubbles in a way? I got a gift package and I think it's from her but I am only 90% sure".

Me: "Yes...to put in mildly, it's messy. It looks like an octopus with dyslexia and in the throes of a violent Grand Mal seizure is trying to write its name for the first time while underwater...and on fire at the same time".

Her: "Ah ah! Given that description and what I am looking at I am now 100% sure its from her. It makes me wonder if she was a cheerleader in high school....all the cheerleaders in my school signed their name that way".

Me: "a cheerleader? Hmmm...only if there's a high school in Hell".

I'm a Man...I Heed No Warning Label.

Amazon.com 
Veet Hair Removal Creme Reviews from the UK…

After having been told my danglies looked like an elderly rastafarian I decided to take the plunge and buy some of this as previous shaving attempts had only been mildly succesful and I nearly put my back out trying to reach the more difficult bits. Being a bit of a romantic I thought I would do the deed on the missus's birthday as a bit of a treat.

I ordered it well in advance and working in the North sea I considered myself a bit above some of the characters writing the previous reviews and wrote them off as soft office types...oh my fellow sufferers how wrong I was. I waited until the other half was tucked up in bed and after giving some vague hints about a special surprise I went down to the bathroom. Initially all went well and I applied the gel and stood waiting for something to happen. I didn't have long to wait.

At first there was a gentle warmth which in a matter of seconds was replaced by an intense burning and a feeling I can only describe as like being given a barbed wire wedgie by two people intent on hitting the ceiling with my head. Religion hadn't featured much in my life until that night but I suddenly became willing to convert to any religion to stop the violent burning around the turd tunnel and what seemed like the destruction of the meat and two veg. Struggling to not bite through my bottom lip I tried to wash the gel of in the sink and only succeeded in blocking the plughole with a mat of hair. 

Through the haze of tears I struggled out of the bathroom across the hall into the kitchen by this time walking was not really possible and I crawled the final yard to the fridge in the hope of some form of cold relief. I yanked the freezer drawer out and found a tub of ice cream, tore the lid of and positioned it under me. The relief was fantastic but only temporary as it melted fairly quickly and the fiery stabbing soon returned .

Due to the shape of the ice cream tub I hadn't managed to give the starfish any treatment and I groped around in the drawer for something else as I was sure my vision was going to fail fairly soon.I grabbed a bag of what I later found out was frozen sprouts and tore it open trying to be quiet as I did so.I took a handful of them and tried in vain to clench some between the cheeks of my arse. This was not doing the trick as some of the gel had found it's way up the chutney channel and it felt like the space shuttle was running it's engines behind me.

This was probably and hopefully the only time in my life I was going to wish there was a gay snowman in the kitchen which should give you some idea of the depths I was willing to sink to in order to ease the pain. The only solution my pain crazed mind could come up with was to gently ease one of the sprouts where no veg had gone before.

Unfortunately, alerted by the strange grunts coming from the kitchen the other half chose that moment to come and investigate and was greeted by the sight of me, arse in the air, strawberry ice cream dripping from my bell end pushing a sprout up my arse while muttering..." Ooooh that feels good ". 

Understandably this was a shock to her and she let out a scream and as I hadn't heard her come in it caused an involutary spasm of shock in myself which resulted in the sprout being ejected at quite some speed in her direction. I can understand that having a sprout farted against your leg at 11 at night in the kitchen probably wasn't the special surprise she was expecting and having to explain to the kids the next day what the strange hollow in the ice cream was didn't improve my status...So to sum it up Veet removes hair, dignity and self respect...:)

Check, please!

The Spoon.

Last week, we took some friends to a new restaurant and noticed that the waiter who took our order carried a spoon in his shirt pocket.  It seemed a little strange.

When the busboy brought our water and utensils, I observed that he also had a spoon in his shirt pocket.  Then I looked around and saw that all the staff had spoons in their pockets. When the waiter came back to serve our soup I inquired, 'Why the spoon?'

“Well,” he explained, “the restaurant's owner hired Andersen Consulting to revamp all of our processes.  After several months of analysis, they concluded that the spoon was the most frequently dropped utensil.  

It represents a drop frequency of approximately 3 spoons per table per hour.  If our personnel are better prepared, we can reduce the number of trips back to the kitchen and save 15 man-hours per shift.”

As luck would have it, I dropped my spoon and he replaced it with his spare. “I'll get another spoon next time I go to the kitchen instead of making an extra trip to get it right now.”  I was impressed.

I also noticed that there was a string hanging out of the waiter's fly.

Looking around, I saw that all of the waiters had the same string hanging from their flies. So, before he walked off, I asked the waiter, “Excuse me, but can you tell me why you have that string right there?”

"Oh, certainly!”  Then he lowered his voice. “Not everyone is so observant. That consulting firm I mentioned also learned that we could save time in the restroom.  By tying this string to the tip of our you-know-what, we can pull it out without touching it and eliminate the need to wash our hands, shortening the time spent in the restroom by 76.39%.”

I asked quietly, “After you get it out, how do you put it back?”

'Well,' he whispered, 'I don't know about the others, but I use the spoon.'       

Wait... is this a sales call?

Me: Ava... put on your shoes, we are going to be late.

Ava: I can't right now, I have to dress my Barbies…and Ken.

Me: Just do what I say, Im your father.

Ava: Fine.

Me: And listen, I recognize that you have a choice when you talk to your parents, and I thank you for choosing your father. Please think of me again when you need to talk to your parents.

Ava: What?

Do you hear that?

More Human Than Human is our motto...

Im sitting at my desk answering email.

Ava walks over and places a very sticky strip of tape on my arm.
Just as suddenly, she rips it off.

Me: "Ow! What did you do that for?"

Ava: "I need a sample of your DNA."

Me: "Wait…why? What are you going to do with it?"

Ava: "Hair Robots"

Me: "Hairy Robots?"

Ava: *she looks at me as if Im stupid*  "No…Robots powered by your hair."

Me: "Of course they are."