Our Daughter’s Unique Name
When we named our daughter Juniper, we thought we had found something cute and unique. That is until the nurse said, "Oh, that's the third Juniper since Monday!"
My wife and I tried to move forward and enjoy being new parents, but something about it got under our skin. So, we went to the Social Security office to change Juniper's name to Manitoga, which in Algonquin means "Place of the Great Spirit." Well, wouldn't you know it? The couple ahead of us was changing their daughter's name to Manitoga.
We slumped away dejected. What did it say about us as parents that we couldn't find an adorable, unique name for our daughter that could also double as the name of a boutique eyewear shop?
Colleen was the first to snap out of it. She said we could always come up with the perfect nickname for little Juniper. How 'bout Button? No—too obvious. Begonia? No. Buckingham? We settled on Piggly-puggly-doo-dah.
"Piggly-puggly-doo-dah?!"
That's a quote, by the way. You might think it was shouted by Juniper's grandmother when she heard the awesome, unique nickname. Nope. It was a lady at the playground calling out for her son. Same exact nickname. Hearing that was literally the worst moment of my life.
I wanted to give up, lick my wounds, and drift into life as some average, uninteresting father. Someone doesn't take their baby into ironic dive bars. A father who doesn't buy onesies with tattoo iconography. A dad who doesn't even use the word "iconography" at all.
That's when I thought of it. Baby costumes. Yes, Juniper might have a boring name. Yes, her Piggly-puggly-doo-dah sobriquet might have been taken. But, could anyone else say they had a daughter named Juniper Ross, a.k.a. Piggly-puggly-doo-dah, who also only wears space cat costumes?
Turns out a guy on the Internet can. He has a Tumblr devoted to it. Every day he posts a picture of his baby daughter, Juniper "Piggly-puggly-doo-dah" Ross, holding up a drawing of that day's Internet meme while wearing a space cat outfit. Yesterday's meme was Lego ukuleles.
The world is a cruel and unforgiving place devoid of meaning or hope.
Also, Lego ukuleles? That's genius. I wish I had thought of that.
Halloween Costume Ideas
I’ve spent all year hand-crafting my intricate Halloween costume, but I understand that some of you wait until the last minute/month. Listen, it’s not my place to judge. I leave that to the costume contest judges. But, if you are going to half-ass Halloween, at least make sure the ass is half full.
What do I mean by that? I don’t know. I just woke up groggy from an all-nighter at my sewing machine. The important thing is that my costume is going to be amazing. Yours should be, too.
Here are a few ideas for your Halloween costumes:
A Centaur Lady Gaga. Obvious, right? Well, here’s the twist: The front half is a horse, and only the butt and legs are Lady Gaga. It’ll be totally Lady Gaga of you to flip things around like that.
Vanpire. It’s a sexy minivan that sucks blood. Ooh, it’s so brooding.
Evil Smothers Brothers. In this version, Tom has the moustache and Dick doesn’t. That’s how you know they come from an alternate, evil Smothers Brothers dimension.
Pre-viz Avatar. Glue ping pong balls to a unitard and walk around giving constant exposition.
KGB Agents. Dress like a normal suburban couple, except clenching microfilm somewhere secret.
Snooooooki Crisps. The breakfast cereal version of the Jersey Shore cast member. I’m not sure how you’d pull off the cereal part. That’s not my problem. I’m not the one who waited until the last minute. Goddammit, show some initiative!
Vehement, Speech-Giving Charlie Chaplin. Careful with this one.
Iron Man. This is where you show up in a white t-shirt holding a steam iron. That way, everyone has to ask you what your costume is, and you get to remain ironically aloof while still receiving the attention you so desperately crave.
The Madhatter. I didn’t see this remake, but I’m betting you can just recycle your old Willy Wonka costume.
Steampunk/Lonely Dude. This is just a steampunk costume, but the subtext is that you’ve got too much time on your hands from a complete lack of social obligations.
Blood-Drenched Clown. Go ahead, be that guy at the party.
Flight Attendant Who Stays at His Job Because He Has a Solid Work Ethic. Won’t get as many laughs as the alternative, but at least it’s not super gross.
Slutty Bumblebee. It’s a classic.
That’s it. I hope those were helpful suggestions. I’d love to give you more, but I have to get back to carefully crafting my steampunk costume.
My Handsomeness
Wait, am I going to keep getting handsomer and handsomer? Really? That doesn't seem right. Yet, every morning in the mirror, there's the proof staring back at my handsome face.
My laugh lines are getting laughier. And, my chiseled jawline has become more chiseled. I swear my smile twinkles with even more rakish charm than just last week. It has to level out at some point. Right? I mean … right?
Yet, I can't see any signs of my handsomeness slowing down. Here, look at this chart:
See? There's a definite upturn in the last few years.
What happens if I never stop getting handsomer? At some point, my handsomeness might reach dangerous levels. Will these piercing blue eyes become too piercing? My lips too kissable? Will my nose become too noble, too regal? I worry … But, darn it, even these worried wrinkles make me look more pensively attractive!
Damn you, Fate, for making me your culminating masterpiece! DAMN YOU!!! The burden is too much to bear, even on these naturally broad shoulders—shoulders at once both masculine and comforting.
I’ve tried to slow the process of handsome-ifying. I changed my facial moisturizing regimen to every other day. I’ve bought store brand beard conditioner. I’ve allowed people to see me wearing my reading glasses. Nothing seems to work. The only thing that’s happened is that my handsomeness has morphed into rugged handsomeness.
Sigh.
I’m sorry. It seems there’s nothing I can do to stave off the inevitable. If you see me walking down the street, please avert you eyes. I don’t need your pity. Nor your wolf whistles.
A Murderer Sits Amongst You
Someone at this table is not who they say they are. Indeed, someone here is a murderer.
Is it the young ingénue? Did she tire of the attention from her adoring public? Did she long for a thrill greater than the glare of the footlights? Could it be she who planted the blood-stained gloves in the grandfather clock?
Or, was it the gardener? He had access to the library where the victim was found strangled. Just hours before, he was heard arguing with Lord Whimple about the size of begonias. Was that enough to incite murder?
Or, could it be the escaped lunatic, on the loose from the nearby mental institution? He had the motive of already being a serial murderer. After the crime, he was found outside the library wearing the earl’s cracked glasses. What did he stand to gain, besides sating his unending bloodlust?
Could it have been the handsome tennis pro? Rumor has it, he had been seen spooning young Honoria, the earl’s sole heir. Did he plan to hasten her inheritance? Or, could the tennis pro have gotten a taste for blood when the escaped lunatic stabbed him in the leg with a serving fork?
What about Lady Whimple? She’d often argued with the earl over his refusal hire a new cook. Also, she had killed and eaten all of the family pets. No wait, that was the escaped lunatic who did that. Sorry, my notes are a shambles.
Could the murderer be Rupert Pepper, the earl’s personal secretary? He certainly knew his way around the castle library. He had every opportunity to commit murder, what with the entire household searching the grounds for the escaped lunatic.
Speaking of the escaped lunatic, can someone please tighten the ropes binding him to his chair? He’s tried to bite me several times during my speech. Thank you.
Could the murderer have been the bishop? Bishop Dunsberry was no fan of…
Get Rich Scheme
When I get rich, I'm gonna buy the biggest, lime greenest stretch limousine ever. Just the longest green limousine money can buy. People will see me and say, "Wow, look at that classy guy driving that long car! He must be a gazillionaire."
I'm gonna drive that limousine straight to the swimming pool store and buy the biggest, most expensive swimming pool they have. And, you know what it'll be shaped like? My lime green stretch limo, that's what. I already have the shape I want drawn out on the back of this pizza box.
Then, I'm gonna go out and get some business cards that have "Andy Ross: Zillionaire (but I bet you thought gazillionaire because of my limo)" printed on them. And, on each of my business cards? An embossed, lime green limousine.
"Why so much limo?" you ask. Well, it's all about creating a brand for yourself. Here, I'll give you an example:
I was watching Entertainment Tonight, waiting to see the world's fattest man get married, when I saw this rich lady on there. Everything in her house was cheetah stuff. The curtains were cheetah, the carpet was cheetah, the napkins were cheetah. Everything was cheetah. She had even gotten surgery to make her face look like a cheetah. It was gross. But, it was great branding!
Look at Donald Trump. Everything he owns is gold. Gold toilets, gold watches, gold other stuff. He knows that you're not truly rich until you're also famous. And, you need something to be famous for. He's famous for having gold stuff and firing people. I'm gonna be famous for my huge, lime green limousine.
I can’t wait to drive around in my limousine wearing a big fur coat and a top hat. And a monocle. They say to do what you love.
So, it's a four-step plan: Get rich, buy a limo, become famous, one day appear on Entertainment Tonight between segments about the celebrity colonics and a thing about kids born with no ears.
I think it's a pretty foolproof plan. I already own the monocle.