Lovin' Hot Moms at the Monster Truck Rally

I have to give all credit to Kelly on this one. Recently, she saw an advertisement on TV for an upcoming "Monster Jam" show at the Verizon Center (where the Wizards play basketball). She told me about it because she knew Luke would LOVE it -- and best of all, it said kid's tickets were only $10. So, I looked into it and... well... the kids tickets were, indeed, only $10. But that meant you had to sit in the nosebleeds and after paying for the adult ticket and all the fees, I was looking at about $70 to go to the Monster Truck show. Needless to say, with my sole experience of monster trucks coming from numerous ESPN shows in the 80's, I thought that was a bit steep.

Now, I was completely willing to pay that... however, I thought I would wait until the last minute and see if I could pick up some tickets on craigslist and save a buck or two and hopefully get better seats. However, one magical night shortly thereafter, I was watching Fox News and a commercial came on for Monster Jam that said: "Go to fox5 news website and register for your Monster Jam Party Pack".... except they said it in that monster truck voice (you know: SUNDAY, SUNDAY, SUNDAY!!!!!). Well, needless to say I registered immediately... and, lo and behold, about a week later I got an email saying that I was the big winner! That's right, I was the winner of the prestigious Monster Jam prize pack. Now, let me own up here.... I was SOOOO excited -- I had WON tickets... how cool is that? And, best of all, it included 4 tickets so I invited my friend Matt and his son Grant who is also 4 years old like Luke. Matt originally had a date night planned with his wife that night (in fact, we were babysitting for them). But Matt is a man that knows his priorities and knows that date night can always be bumped back a day or two because "serious heart pounding Monster Truck action" does not come to town every day. So, after getting his bride's permission (uhh... I said he "knows his priorities" not that he was "stupid"), Matt was in on the fun.

Now, again... my entire exposure to Monster Trucks was from numerous airings of the "sport" on ESPN during the 80's (before ESPN was "ESPN") and I wanted to really have some fun with my wardrobe. So naturally I head to Walmart looking for some sweet John Deere gear so that I can be ironically trendy. Unfortunately, Walmart does not carry any John Deere t-shirts. Who knew? In my minds eye, I pictured Walmart having rows and rows of the green stuff. No such luck. Anyway, I gave serious consideration to purchasing a Mountain Dew t-shirt (made famous by Ricky Bobby's son, Texas Ranger... you know: "Chip... I'm all jacked up on Mountain Dew!"). However, I concluded that the $7.96 price tag was just too steep. Instead, I decided to wear the most obnoxious t-shirt I owned. That's right... I decided to unveil my "I love hot moms" t-shirt for the first time since "the incident." It seemed like a perfect fit for such an event... and besides... I'll keep my jacket on most of the time and it might, hopefully, make a few people chuckle.

So, with my "I love hot moms" t-shirt stylishly adorned over a long sleeve white t-shirt, we arrive at the Verizon Center and the first thing we notice is that our seats are AWESOME!!!! Seriously, they were the best seats in the house. Apparently, the winner of the Fox5 News prize pack gets treated really, really well. Here's a picture of Luke and I in our seats.... but they don't really do them justice... they were front row, center section, aisle seats... they just don't get any better than that. It's the kind of seats you'd sell a kidney to have to watch your favorite team.

Alright... now here is where the story gets really good. We weren't in our seats 10 minutes before a real official looking lady (in the "monster truck" sense) asks us if we want to be judges for the "freestyle" competition. And, well... duh... is the pope Catholic? Does a one-legged duck swim in circles????.... OF COURSE WE WANT TO BE JUDGES!

First we undergo an extensive tutorial and orientation on how to judge. Here is a picture of her as she begins the teaching:


You're probably thinking this orientation lasted... what.. a half hour? No... not so much ... it lasted about 15 seconds and her only rule was "Don't give out 10's" and handed us the flip chart with numbers on it. As you can see in this picture of Matt holding his flip chart, he is beside himself with pure, unadulterated, testosterone fueled excitement (and I shared that same sense of "somebody pinch me... this is the fulfillment of a lifelong dream"):

Thankfully, there was a set of judging rules printed on the front of the flip chart. Here they are:

The girl next to me (who was the third judge.... no doubt playing the encouraging/slightly coked out "Paula Abdul" role) asks "What is a Sky Wheelie?" Great question... I was wondering the same thing myself. I told her: "It's whatever we want it to be." Surprisingly, she accepts this answer (she was only about 12 years old... so, she was probably overwhelmed by my advanced intellect... or perhaps my "I love hot moms" t-shirt... I'm not sure which).

Well, we caught on pretty quickly and were adhering strictly to the extensive list of rules... quite possibly doing the best judging job they have ever seen (we may have, in fact, made ourselves eligible for their hall of fame). We do this judging thing for about 1/2 the show... the entire beginning and the entire ending (footnote: we reserved giving out a "10" until the very end when we bestowed upon "Grave Digger" with a perfect score.... after all, I loved his Cyclone Donut to Sky Wheelie combination). Needless to say, it is not lost on us that we are getting some serious face time on the Verizon Center's Jumbotron. I even snap a picture. Here's the money shot:

That's me (notice the t-shirt and camera in hand), Matt to my right, and our boys (Luke and Grant) in the middle. Then... at some point it hits me. I'm wearing my obnoxious "I love hot moms" t-shirt and, thanks for an awesome turn of events and the technology of the Jumbotron, every one of the 18,000 spectators knows it.

Classic. Absolutely Classic.

Supa Dupa Babee

I cannot disclose the details of where I first came across the "Supa Dupa Babee"... let's just say that a friend of mine... possibly related to me... is in the military and volunteers his time at Christmas for a major charity (that may or may not rhyme with Boys for Cots). Anyway... someone donated a couple of these dolls and it was decided that they were not suitable to hand out to kids.... Hmmm... wonder why. Let's go through this step-by-step. Here's the beloved and world-renowned Supa Dupa Babee in the box:

OK... other than the cheesy graphics and "Chucky"-esque quality about this doll... nothing really too terribly odd. Now, let's check out the back of the box... and this is where things start getting a bit weird:

"He can blast the evil crackin' cocaine outta sight!"..... Huh? I'm all about teaching my kids about the ills of illegal pharmaceuticals.... but must they be so specific? And why cocaine? Why not meth or marijuana or Ox or Heroin? The specificity and obsession on coke is a bit concerning. Are 2 year olds really in jeopardy of taking a ride on the white horse? Do I need to start warning my own kids to stay away from the booger sugar? Apparently, the makers of this fine product think it's about time we parents start doing so... and that's why they've created the Supa Dupa Babee to empower us in this worthy endeavor. Now we move on to the side of the box:

"Kindegarten and school-aged children imitate his unique space-age look" screams the side of the box. Umm... I'm no expert here... but I'm pretty certain that if I sent my kid to school looking like a sateen version of Mork from Ork.... he's going to get his ass kicked... so... I'll pass... thanks. Though, I must admit.... the boy on the box seems very satisfied with his Supa Dupa Babee (and no doubt is well-prepared to steer clear of cocaine). Time to turn to the other side of the box... and here's what we get:

The master marketers that assembled this product now tell us that the Supa Dupa Babee will tell your children (again with even greater specificity... they are actually warning you about a specific formulation of cocaine this time): "YOU GOTTA FIGHT BACK! SAY NO TO DRUGS! SAY NO TO CRACK!" And... well... I'm happy to report, this is quite true.... press the Supa Dupa Babee and he quite literally says those very words... along with some other Jibber Jabber (I thought the term "Jibber Jabber"... popularized, of course, by Mr. T was somehow the best choice of words to convey 'nonsense' in this situation). OK... lastly.... I could barely contain my excitement as I extracted Supa Dupa Babee from his box.... and here he is:

The only thing I can think is that they originally were going to create a line of "Space Pimp" dolls and ordered a bunch from China... only to discover they weren't selling and would have limited appeal to kindegarteners. Then some genius came up with the concept to have the Space Pimp be an anti-drug superhero named, of course, Supa Dupa Babee.

Anyway... if anyone wants to order these dolls... you could probably get them pretty cheap... I think someone is running around town trying to pawn these off on the "less-fortunate" (no doubt with the sole altruistic purpose in mind of keeping kids off crack.... because CRACK is WHACK!).

There are no words...

This weekend we went to Virginia Beach to visit my parents (and sister and brother-in-law who were visiting from Georgia). One of the things I have always enjoyed doing there is sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper. Not sure why I do... I just always have. It's nearly impossible to do now with three kids... but, I still steal a few moments and quickly scan the paper... and that's what I did on Thursday morning.

As I was scanning the paper... something caught my eye. It was an obituary. Not sure why I was in that section... other than frantically trying to find something of interest to read before I got sidetracked by something more worthy of my time. Well... anyway... take a look at the following obituary and see if it catches your eye too:



Uhh.... did you scratch your head, too? Out of respect for this person, I'm not even going to write her name here (and I don't wan't the google hits from pervs who can't even spell correctly)... but... seriously? Who names their kid that?

I tried to give them the benefit of the doubt and assume that it was a 'real' name of some historical origin... but no such luck. The best I could find was that it was possibly an English name. But, then I came to my senses and realized that if "Penis" was a legitimate name of some historical origin... I'm still not naming my kid that.... even if I took an alternate spelling of Peenis or Pinis?

Anyway... I just had to share.