saturday agenda

We were going to go to the gym after lunch to work off some steam, but gosh, I’m pooped. I just want to take a four-day nap on the couch with mini lazy pup, even though he thinks I’m a moron.

EDIT: Busy daddy decided to go to the gym, while the boy and I stayed at home. Since busy daddy is out of the house, let me just say this: I am so lucky to have a guy who is as compassionate and level-headed as busy daddy. I don’t say it often enough, but the dude is the bee’s knees. He is the sugar in my cream. He is the cherry on my sundae. He is the light that never goes out. I’m one lucky guy.


Newly purple underneath hair!

And an update:
Saturday agenda

make breakfast - we had to go out so we just got Bojangle’s biscuits

feed chickens & dog - done

hook up tattoo machines to new power supply & note what frequency each machine runs at - done

trip to Walmart
 - done
make 2 adult bibs for Wolf’s dad
> - just have to hand-sew neck binding down
do a load or two of laundry & go dry it
 - washed, Artemas is gonna go dry it
 - about to happen
color purple part of my hair & shower - done

• pack small cooler & change of clothes for short road trip to Memphis


With everyone’s super-busy schedules, it’s been a while since we’ve hung out with designing daddy, business papa, and the kids. So it was nice that designing daddy and business papa invited us over for a lovely dinner-slash-kiddie playdate at the Château!

Designing daddy whipped up some super-yum veggie and sausage pasta for dinner, as well as some super-duper-yum brownies à la mode for dessert. It’s possible that I might have had too much to eat cuz my food baby is about to be born.

After dinner, while the boys played with their iPads and the girls watched a movie, us guurrls chatted and caught up on all of the drama and shizz in our lives cuz it’s been, like, 5evah since we’ve seen each other IRL. Turns out one of us may or may not be a latent-slash-closeted heterosexual, and his name may or may not rhyme with resigning faddy. It’s funny the kinds of things you learn about your friends when you’re, you know, drinking lukewarm water and chatting and stuff. Who knew?

Remember that one time when I went to Staples to make some copies and I spied that “nice old lady” who was making, like, a bajillion copies for her ginorous scrapbooking project and how she totes wouldn’t share her sour gummie rings with me? This afternoon when the boy and I went to Staples to, um, make some copies, guess who I ran into again? None other than that nice old lady, who turns out to be a Completely Crazy Old Hag!

After a busy afternoon of running all over most of northern New Jersey, the boy was understandably pooped out, so while we were waiting for my copies to be made, the boy asked if he could sit down and play with his iPad. I said, Sure, but as soon as the boy sat down on a stool, that nice old lady Completely Crazy Old Hag said to me, “Your boy better not touch any of my papers!!!” And I was all, My son is nowhere near your papers, they will be fine.

And then Completely Crazy Old Hag was all, “I know what little boys are like with their touching!!!” And I was all, Listen, you decrepit simpleton, I don’t give a shizz what kind of experience you’ve had in the past with the imbecile children that you have clearly been surrounded by, but my son isn’t going to disturb your precious paperwork, so kindly piss off.

Then Completely Crazy Old Hag was all, “These are very important papers!!!” And I was all, We are sitting four-feet away from your precious Dead Sea Scrolls, you moron, so STFU before I duct tape your face hole shut.

Apparently I was being “rude” and “disrespectful,” but I say Completely Crazy Old Hag was being “belligerent” and “clearly senile,” so whatevs. Also, I totes want to rescind my offer to help with designing her scrapbook using InDesign instead of Scotch Tape.

Gosh, sometimes I just hate really strongly totally dislike crazy old people.

Turns out taking an hourlong nap on the couch before the boy’s nanny dropped him off at home was a legitimate life choice. Don’t judge. 

Pretty much as soon as the boy walked through the door, he plugged in his computer and started playing Minecraft. I asked him what he did for the past few days and the boy said, “Good.” And I was all, I didn’t ask how your past few days were, I asked what you did for the past few days. And the boy was all, “Minecraft.” And I was all, Maybe we could do something fun this afternoon, like go to the store to buy toys? And the boy was all, “Nah, I just wanna stay at home. And play Minecraft.”

Thirty minutes later, while I was dozing off again minding my own beeswax, the boy asked me out of the blue, “Dad, what does N-I-G-G-A-S spell?” And I was all, Um, it spells a very bad word that you’re not supposed to say, like, ever. And the boy was all, “Um, OK. Is it a badder word than the m-word?” And I was all, Yeah, pretty much. 

I asked the boy, Where did you see that word? And the boy was all, “On Minecraft.” Then I was all, Maybe you should take a break from Minecraft. And the boy was all, “I’m never going to say the m-word n-word, Dad!”

Girl Talk

I know it’s probably politically incorrect to say that boys and girls are different, but when it comes to playdates, boys and girls are totally different. For the past few weeks, the boy has asked me to arrange a playdate with his friend who happens to be a girl, and today was the big day.

Keep reading

As we were headed out for a quik-e bite for dinner, the boy looked up at the night sky and pointed. The boy said, “Hey, dad! Look at the half moon! It’s so cool!” And I said, Yeah, it’s cool. Then the boy said, “Take a picture of it.” And I said, I don’t think I can get a very good picture of the moon with my iPhone. And the boy said, “Just try.” So I did.

The pic of the half moon that I took with my iPhone looked like a white blob against a black backdrop. I showed the boy. The boy said, “You need to work on your picture taking.” And I said, Well, if I had a real camera, I could probably get a better picture, sheesh! The boy said, “Sure, dad.”

At dinner, the boy asked me if I knew what a half moon meant. And I said, I don’t think it means anything, it’s just a phase of the moon. And the boy said, “I think it means something.” And I asked the boy, What do you think it means? And the boy said, “It means something is about to happen.” And I said, What do you think is about to happen? And the boy shrugged and said, “I dunno, I’m just a kid." 

Sometimes living with my kid is like living with a sphinx. I never quite know what’s going on in his mind, but it’s either inspiring or scary. When we got home from dinner, I grabbed my real camera and snapped a pic of the half moon.

I wonder what the half moon means?

Designing daddy was nice enough to host an all-day playdate with the boy and Eddie K, so busy daddy and I spent the day running errands sans kid.

First, we went to the gym, which was sort of a bust for me since my hip has been making a weird clicking sound lately. Then we ran into the city to drop off some stuff at busy daddy’s studio. Then we had a tres romantique lunch at the Japanese market lunch counter, which I’ll show later, before doing some grocery shopping there.

So you know how I say that busy daddy and I are actually two separate people, but it’s hard to believe since we’re rarely seen together in public? Well, we’re two different people. It’s been a nice, productive day so far.

After my morning workout with Fake Chris, I shuttled the boy and his pal Quinn to their friend Benjamin’s birthday shindig. In the car, Quinn asked if I could turn on some music.

I said, What do you want to listen to? And Quinn asked me, “Do you have Spotify?” And I said, Um, no. Then Quinn asked, “Do you have Adele?” And I said, Um, no.

Then Quinn was all, “You don’t have Spotify and you don’t have Adele, what do you have?” And I said, Do you like Madonna? And Quinn said, “What’s a Madonna?”

I practically spilled my entire post-workout soy smoothie in my lap. I said, Well, Madonna is only one of the most important and influential music artists of the last 30 years. And Quinn was all, “She sounds old.”

And I was all, Oh snap-slash-oh no you didn’t!!! Then Quinn was all, “I guess we can listen to your old music.”

Sometimes I wonder about the wisdom of straight peeps raising kids. I’m kidding! Madonna is totes old but bitch is still fierce. Werk.


The Busy-Lazy boys (uncharacteristically) slept in this morning, me until 6:00 AM, while busy daddy and the boy woke up around 8:00 AM. Actually, I first woke up at 3:00 AM, but it’s admittedly weird to be awake that early, so I puttered around the house for a bit, then half-slept on the couch until 6:00 AM, which is, frankly, a more reasonable hour to be up on a Saturday.

Busy daddy went to morning yoga, so I took the boy to the gym, dropped him off at the childcare center, played squash for a while, then threw in a quik-e workout for shits and giggles.

Before lunch, the boy and I had a swim in the pool, where busy daddy made a surprise guest appearance before he headed off to noontime yoga. It was overcast and the clouds threatened to rain during our entire swim. Luckily, though, it didn’t rain and the pool was pretty empty, so the boy and I had a nice leisurely splash around in the pool. 

Late in the afternoon, I took the Busy-Lazy mobile to the car wash for its semi-monthly occasional wash. Seriously, my life can be so painfully glamorous sometimes. Did I mention that I was wearing a diamond tiara while I was out running errands? I didn’t? Well I was. Only it was a diamond tiara in my mind’s eye. Jealous, much?

The good news: my dog didn’t murder me in my sleep last night.

The bad news: the banana that I was saving to make my pre-workout smoothie looks pretty wrecked. Sad face.

Plot twist: I made an album cover to memorialize the banana instead.

Gosh, I’m gonna be late for my workout with Fake Chris!

Just a lazy, rainy Saturday afternoon at the Busy-Lazy Shack. Busy daddy is doing some homework for his yoga intensive class, the boy is playing Minecraft and watching Minecraft vids on YouTube, and I’m cleaning house-slash-cooking something for dinner.

Seriously, it’s super-glamorous.

The lazy pups weren’t thrilled when I told them that we were going to Brooklyn for an early Thanksgiving dinner at one of busy daddy’s business colleague’s house.

Mini-lazy pup was all, “Can we come with?” And I was all, No dogs allowed. And regular lazy pup was all, “Whatevs.” And mini-lazy pup was all, “WE NEVER GET TO GO ANYWHERE!!!” And regular lazy pup was all, “Drama queen.”