2.18.2007

I hope you're sitting down because you're about to throw up

Here it is. The blog you've all been waiting for. You knew this was coming, right? (You ARE all prophets from the Fertile Crescent aka the South & Middle Western portion of the United States, right?)

Well whether you are predicting my next blog while fundamentally breeding yet another 4-H member or not, you should have seen this coming anyway. I mean, it's just so obvious! This blog's thrown back 3 cosmos, has undone 2 more buttons, and has thrown itself all over you. And you are just drunk enough right now to know you want it.

So let's get right to it, shall we? THE blog. You know, THAT one. The one that has fallen out of the sky, landed on your face, and now is screaming frantically because it has landed on your face in a compromising position right in front of your nose.

So here it is. (Drum roll please...........)

.....uuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhh....what was I talking about? You would know, right? I hope?

2.02.2007

Welcome to the greatest website EVER! Maybe.

Welcome to Staby's new blog playground! Isn't it sexy?

Perhaps you've heard of me from the Interweb's own MySpace or you sat next to me in study hall junior year of high school or you are drunk on AquaNet and NyQuil. Whatever the reason, I am so very glad you are here!

I used to dribble words all over MySpace but I was replaced by an electric monkey mid-season so I am now dribbling all over here and doing fabric softener ads. I will try to update this page regularly, so please subscribe. It's so much fun to validate my existence! Woo hoo!

I will leave you now with an oldie but goodie blog I posted about a year ago about the power of family love. Get out your tissues...

(Originally posted to MySpace in January 2006)

Adventures in Babysitting

So this morning, when I got home from the gym my sister is at my house with this little person--a boy, some would say--that she has always claimed to be her son and my nephew. She also maintains that I had promised to take care of her “boy” while she worked this weekend. I do not remember making this commitment, but I feared refusing her request as for years I’ve had reason to believe she is a powerful warlord sent from the planet Nebulilliput, and everyone knows what happens when you piss off a Nebulilliputian warlord.

After listening to some disturbing advice regarding things like “bedtime” and “teeth brushing” and “extra underwear” I am left alone with the child. After about an hour of staring at each other in silence, I decided to break the ice by offering him some of my usual post-workout drink: a delightful concoction of raw eggs, a Snickers bar, and scotch which he thoroughly enjoyed until he puked it up all over my brand new running shoes. After I made him clean it all up with Q-Tips, I decided it’s probably not a good idea to give him anything else to eat or drink while he’s here.

Then to my surprise, the child begins speaking in English. He asks if I can take him to the movies to see a picture called “Hoodwinked.” I thought this was a wonderful idea, so off we went to the cinema at the Moorestown Mall. Five hours, a pedicure, and a fabulous sale at Banana Republic later, I pick him up at the mall security center where I listened to some uniform babble on about “child abandonment” and “hysterical crying” whatever that all means. We head back to my place where he is now trying to follow a souffle recipe I left out for him. Finally, this kid is doing something useful around here. Tomorrow morning I think I’ll ask him to make blueberry pancakes and groom the dogs.

I finally feel like I’m getting the hang of this “babysitting” thing. It’s actually kind of fun bossing around someone younger, smaller, and with less bladder control than you. I’m free next weekend if anyone needs me to watch their kid. I’ve got plenty of Q-Tips.

It's all a little bit mostly true sometimes but not really.