St. Valentine must have owned Hallmark stock

So I've been sick with the flu this week and bat-shit busy last week, so I haven't blogged for a month of Sundays. (thanks Grandma) I can only imagine you've been depressed and borderline suicidal without my unique, entertaining perspective.

Emily and I are only about seven weeks away from Child Launch 2008, when Sparky will enter the world with a list of demands: Diapers, boobs and naps. I can help him with the diapers and naps, but my nipples tend to chap like a bitch.



At any rate, the baby's room is nearly ready! Ahead of schedule, I might add... the paint is on, a wallpaper border added. Furniture is assembled and in place, and we have somewhere around 1,200 diapers standing by to catch all the Sparky colon jetsam.

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We paid our annual Valentine's visit to The Melting Pot last night. Do you have any idea what that much freakin' cheese does to your system?

Fondue is always fun, but I wouldn't want to do it more than once a year. First, it would give me flashbacks to the 70's and way too much evil shit went on in my life back then; but moreover, I would gain about two hundred pounds.

Anyway, we had fun despite the waiter's very dry, almost mumbly persona.

Hey, somebody got Em roses!

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There's a city in the St. Louis area that has banned baggy pants. Pine Lawn has decided that it would legislate dignity and self respect.

Now, I understand that some people hate those baggy pants with legs that drag the ground (not to mention the occasional showing-of-the-ass-crack) but what's next? You going to tell me what color lederhosen I can wear?

And what about plumbers? Are you willing to crack down on that crack?

I'll bet they haven't found a solution to their crime problems, but damned if they are going to let these ingracious little mall-monkeys wear loose pants.

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When you're having a baby, you tend to plan his/her future even prior to birth. Such is the case with Sparky, who will attend UCLA and major in biochemistry with minors in psychology and history.

But occasionally Emily and I will stumble across something we don't agree on. For instance, will Sparky be allowed to have a kitchen set?

You're probably thinking, "gee, I wonder which side Dave's on..."

I'm not much into sexual stereotypes, and many (if not most) great chefs are male. (except the lovelies, Em, Paula and Blogarita) I have no problem with the Sparkster being the next Wolfgang Puck, but what does it say to your friends when they peek into a boy's room and instead of a Tonka road grader and one of those orange Matchbox car tracks with the loop-de-loop, they see an Easy Bake Oven?

"Hey Sparky, put away the football because it's time to whip up a nice quiche!"

I'm afraid if we get him a kitchen set, he'll never make quarterback at UCLA. Thoughts?