Well, he’s killed another one. Junior’s unending passion for Eggos has cost me a second toaster. I don’t know what the average life expectancy of the oft overlooked countertop appliance is, but I figure mine cooked about 1200 waffles prior to giving up the NiChrome ghost. For those in the mood for a little math, this equates to over 46 pounds of Eggos a year going into a kid who doesn’t weigh 64 pounds soaking wet. And these are just the waffles he eats here.

It’s obviously time to bring in the heavy armor. So yesterday I purchased Robo-Toaster. It’s a heavy duty chrome plated Eggo thawing machine replete with lots of pointless indicator lights and extra settings I’m sure I’ll never use. But it does look damn impressive on the counter. However, I doubt it’s any match for the Eggo-maniac.

Shaken, Not Stirred

I took advantage of the holiday “Bondathon” to introduce my boys to “Bond, James Bond” tonight. Spies, cool gadgets, great stunts, lots of explosions, what’s not to like? But following one of the kiss-the-girl and fade-to-black scenes, it reopens with 007 and the dame-du-jour chatting in bed.

So Doug asks, “Why are they sleeping together?”

I answer authoritatively, “Ummmmm…”

And he jumps back in, “I suppose it would be less expensive than paying for two rooms.”

“Yeah,” I agree, “That could be it.” Meanwhile, his older brother is just shaking his head.

Perhaps There’s Intelligent Life in Kansas After All

Alert reader Chuck knows how to get my attention:

Creationism and intelligent design are going to be studied at the University of Kansas, but not in the way advocated by opponents of the theory of evolution.

A course being offered next semester by the university religious studies department is titled “Special Topics in Religion: Intelligent Design, Creationism and other Religious Mythologies.”

It’s Not Easy Being Green

A lady I work with was going on the other day about how she had lapsed into full Martha Stewart mode in preparation for the upcoming holiday. Joe and I were grateful as she neared the end of the story about how she had hand made festive napkin rings from old bread wrappers and corn starch (or some such thing). When we were jerked back from the edge of a coma by her assertion that she had told her new hubby not to say anything to his family about this. She did not want them to make a fuss about all the little homey touches when they arrived on Thursday.

I explained that she had now put her husband in a difficult position, and she looked at me like I had sprouted an ear of corn from my left ear. So I elaborated. The translated message she had delivered was that hubby’s family had damn well better notice all the effort she had put in, but that she had better not get wind of the fact that he had tipped them off. Suddenly, his life just got a little more complicated. As she was denying the truth of my statement, I noted aloud that being a guy was not as easy as it looked. Joe nodded.

The following day, Joe had the good sense to be on vacation. This left me alone in the office area with the aspiring domestic diva. I was busy and focused on work when from behind me she blurts out, “Isn’t anyone going to notice?” I scanned the lab quickly and dammit it was still just me. I turned and did the panicked guy scan. Her hair looked the same, no obvious new protruding jewelry in sight, I got nothin’. So I poised my sword to fall on it and said, “I’m sorry?”

“The area! I cleaned it all up.” And sure enough, where yesterday the tables had been littered with stray notes and candy wrappers, today they were all gone. Except for a centerpiece candy bowl. I confessed that I hadn’t noticed, but told her how nice it all looked. Meanwhile I was scanning through my mental video library trying to recall if Dr. X had a centerpiece on his lab table.

Her husband is sooooo dead tomorrow.