Highbrow Entertainment

Well, it took a while but Kiki has finally discovered the television.  Yep, our claims of "she doesn't even notice it" and "we don't even need to limit the TV" has all become, much like her diapers, a pile of shit.  Nope, she, like all good Americans, will happily watch the television for, well, at least 15 minutes or so (alright, so, sadly, not like all Americans).


But she won't watch just anything, no no no, she's quite particular.  The only shows that will hold her attention are Elmo related, Yo Gabba Gabba, and Little Bear.  For those of you without children (wait, why are you reading this?  Go out and do something, get drunk, go on a date, get laid, don't just sit and read the internets!), I'll make a simple analogy to understand these shows:


Elmo = Weed.
Yo Gabba Gabba = LSD.
Little Bear = Heroin. 


Now, before I get into this, just in defense of my clean drug tests I must say all this information is via hearsay and internet research.  I'm sure that will hold up in court.  Moving on.  


Elmo is fairly inoffensive, the shows are relatively short, they're enjoyed by most everyone, they're legal in California, and they're easily enjoyed throughout the day, as long as you don't have much to do.


Yo Gabba Gabba is more immersive, quite a bit more entertaining, but may convince you that dressing in a skin tight orange jumpsuit is perfectly acceptable behavior.  


Little Bear will pull you in, suck your will to live, and leave you wondering where the last four weeks, and, for that matter, your money, car, and family went.  


Now, given these choices we, as smart, resourceful parents, turned to that bastion of all parenting guidance.  The internet.  Well, more specifically, Youtube.  But not for a video primer on TV usage by children.  Nah, that's boring.  Nope, we just tried to find a substitute drug.  Behold, our methadone:

As it's known in out household; Dancing Zebra.  Entertaining but short lived, allowing you to continue your life and function in society.


You're welcome.

Package From Japan

So about once a month a care package arrives from my mother-in-law in Japan.  Filled with unusual foods and insanely cute toys for Kiki, it's a monthly little celebration in our household.  However this month things went, well, let's just take a look, shall we?


First we found these...

So, they're little fork-like utensils, you know, for kids.  Pretty damn cute too, right?  And useful for those still developing the dexterity required for chopsticks.  And yes, I am counting myself in that group.


Well, at least these two are cute, but then they started to get a little, well, weirder...

Still cute, but I must say the seal is slightly disturbing, and from the way the elephant is crouched I can't really figure out where that spike is emanating from, but from the look on his face I'm guessing I don't really want to eat off it.  


Then, well, they frankly just got inappropriate...

Seriously?  I mean, I know your pornography is all pixelated or animated or somehow just fucked up, but do you really need to sexualize these super cute little forks?  Really, from the county that invented the used panty vending machine I just expected more from you, Japan.  


Although, as far as plastic koala's with massive erection forks go, it is still pretty damn cute.


Oh, damn you Japan, I can't stay mad at you!

We Could Have A Problem Here...

So, you may have gathered from this blog that I enjoy riding my bicycle.  So much so that whenever I am getting ready to leave the house Kiki guesses either "Dada Bike?" or "Dada Work?" with pretty much even odds.  


But I always figured my biking was, as far as obsessive compulsions go, not too bad.  I mean, I get some exercise, get out in the fresh air, and relieve stress, seemed like a win win, but well, recently something happened that is making me rethink how harmless it all is.  


First let me provide a little background for those of you who don't ride.  Now, you probably know that most cyclists wear padded shorts when they ride, to protect their nether regions.  But you may not have known that some of us who get really into it discover that the shorts aren't that great, and turn to bibs.  Bibs are, well, they're a lot like a wrestling singlet, but, if possible, even creepier.  Let me illustrate:


A wrestling singlet:

Which for some reason I keep mistyping as "sniglet".  Just seems better to me I guess.  Anyway, for comparison, here are cycling bibs:

They're like a skimpier sniglet.  With a padded ass.  And yes, you have to strike such awesome poses when you wear them.  Oh, and for the women (and perverts), don't think you're left out:

Something about that photo just totally creeps me out.  Anyway, back to our problem.  See, Kiki grabbed a pair of my wife's underwear out of the clean laundry and pulled them on.  Harmless enough, and maybe even a good sign that our potty training efforts are gaining traction.  

But then she proceeded to pull the waistband up over her shoulders, like suspenders, and run around saying "Kiki bike!  Kiki bike!".  Needless to say my wife was concerned.  Needless to say I've never been prouder of my little girl.  

We Are Mobile!!!

Well, it took far too long, but we finally installed a carseat for my daughter in my car.  Now, back when she was in the infant carseat (in the misty times of long long ago... you know, a year ago) I had "a base" in my car, which allowed her to dock in my vehicle.  Kind of like a small crying pooping starship.  


Just to be safe we would monitor the weather carefully and often had to abort dockings due to upcoming solar storms.  Hey, with a newborn you just can't be too careful.  Anyway, like all good astronauts, Kiki eventually outgrew her shuttle (I know, I'm lost in this analogy myself), and moved up a size to the toddler (a.k.a. tweenie) carseat, which does not have a docking apparatus.  Therefore, our days of radio communiques between base (me) and shuttle (kiki) were over, along with rides in my car with my child.  


Now, according to those who have ridden with me, that may be for the best.  According to my passengers I am a "dangerous," "psychotic," and "batshit crazy" driver.  I just think they're small minded, restricting their vehicular usage to the "laws" of the "road" but they may have a point.  


But now, once again, Kiki and I can enjoy some quality time together in my vehicle, which means she will be exposed to better music (sorry honey, I mean, your music taste is awesome too), higher g-forces (always good for developing neck muscles, right?), and, most importantly for her further development, more quality time with her dad.  


Yep, I'm seeing many weekends of bike stores, book stores, and, well, probably bike stores, really.  Should be good for her overall development... as a cyclist at least.  And really, we can't be perfect, so as a parent I just try to focus on those things I can control.

Tenting

Being that my daughter has turned two, we've begun the first steps towards potty training.  So far, they consist of:


Step One - buy a potty.  Buy a few.  Heck, buy every one they have.
Step Two - ....
Step Three - Kiki pees on the floor.


I think we've got a disconnect somewhere here.  I'm no expert, but I think it might be step 2.  But, the good news is soon she will be going to Japan for almost a month.  In case you didn't know, in Japan children are typically potty trained relatively early.  You know, 3 to 4 days after birth.  


In fact, by their second birthday most Japanese children have built their own robotic toilet that follows them around, playing a fun song and dispensing cute but confusing stickers of cats dressed like other animals.  I figure Kiki will at least learn to, you know, not poop in her pants.  


So we're living in a household littered with potties of all shapes and colors... but not sizes, they're all pretty much the same size.  I guess if you have a child with a tiny ass they're just out of luck... although sadly something tells me there is a walmart somewhere in Alabama selling bariatric potties.  Despite the plethora of pooping options, Kiki is still holding onto the ol' reliable in the pants method.  Well, with one new twist.


See, in addition to the smorgasbord of toilets, she received a massive influx of toys recently for her birthday.  Among them, she received a princess tent.  Well, technically it's a Princess Play Tent Hut, which just seems unnecessarily repetitive, but I know better than to argue with the Disney corporation, so a tent hut it is.  In case you aren't familiar with such a thing, behold!

Not recommended for actual camping.  Or actual princesses.

Pretty sweet, right?  


So, Kiki likes to, well, poop in the tent.  In her diaper, thankfully.  But basically it's the only place she'll poop now.  We'll be upstairs playing and she will just say "I wanna poop in the tent."  She'll then toddle off to find it, wherever it may be in the house.  See, she also carries it around the house.  But really, who doesn't want a periodic change of pace for their pooing? Speaking of which, I've got to go contact the Disney corporation to see if they manufacture an adult sized Tent Hut.   

Leaping!

I know lots of people seem to enjoy celebrating ordinary, annual, regular holidays.  You know, like Christmas and New Years, oh, or Thanksgiving or Easter, crap, also July 4th and St. Patrick's.  Damn, there's a lot of them.  My point being, if you want to be boring and normal then go right ahead.  But, if you would rather be slightly unusual and you know, weird, which odds are you probably do since you're reading this, then have I got a holiday for you...

LEAP DAY!!!!

I know, just take it in.  Breathe.  Awesome, right?  

But, you might say, I grew up with all those other holidays.  I don't even know what to do for leap day.  I don't even have any decorations.  Well, no worry.  Nope, the celebration of leap day couldn't be simpler.  

First, take off work. If your boss complains just tell him (or her) to fuck off and die.  Hey, it's leap day, you can worry about your future employment on March 1st.  Alright, so looks like someone's schedule is suddenly wide open.  Now, go to your neighborhood megamart for supplies and decorations.  You're going to need three things for a true leap day celebration.  

1) A Trampoline.  The bigger the better here.  A small "exercise" model will work, but it's your first leap day celebration, go for the 20 foot monster that violates your local zoning ordinances and will guarantee at least two broken bones.

2) Pop Rocks.  Just take all they have.  See if they have more in the back too.  You're going to want a shit-ton of them.  

3) Booze.  Hey, it's a celebration, right?  Now, the traditional Leap Day cocktail consists of equal parts tequila, vodka, beer, purple kool-aid, and sprite.   But, you're a rookie, just pickup your personal choice of intoxicants.

Now we get to the optional items.  A few things you may want to grab in addition: paper towels, first aid kit, ice, crutches, full body splint, life-flight helicopter.  Let's just say leap day often gets messy.  

Now, get out there, jump like mad, discover the unforgettable feeling when you fall off the trampoline and accidentally aspirate pop-rocks (it's called a leap-spasm), and just enjoy the shit out of this day.  Now, you may be sad that it only occurs once every four years, but if you do it right you need that time to recuperate.  Well, and find a new job too.  

Enjoy!

The Things We Do...

Apparently, since having our daughter, my wife and I have become mild idiots.  Well, she became a mild idiot and I went from mild to full on raging moron.  Now, I know this is not shocking news to most of you who know me, but let me elaborate.  Prior to having a child we would hear about something, say an event or a festival, and our typical response was skepticism and disinterest, figuring it would be crowded, underwhelming, and generally filled with other people, who tend to be, you know, annoying.  But now, well, let's just look at some of our recent weekends:


Pumpkin Festival?  SURE!!!  


Taco Truck Rally and Spelling Bee?  We are THERE!!! 


Hay Ride and Petting Zoo?  Why don't we go twice!


Trick or Treating at the local mall?  Hell YES!!!


The worst thing is these events have ended up being crowded, underwhelming, and absolutely stuffed to the proverbial gills with the annoying general public.  So much so that we actually sat in traffic for 2 hours to travel 2 miles to get into the pumpkin festival.  I still can't believe my head didn't explode during that.  


What's caused this sudden eagerness to take on the world in all it's stupid glory?  You could blame hormonal changes.  Or make an argument that we're putting our daughter's happiness and enjoyment of the world at large ahead of our own happiness.  But, knowing myself, I think it's a byproduct of toxic outgassing from a house full of plastic toys.  I'd analyze it some more, but we've got to run so don't miss the Sesame Street Ice Extravaganza!  I hear Elmo's being played by Kristy Yamaguchi's second cousin!

Happy Birthday Doodle

Happy 2nd Birthday, Kiki!!! Love you doodle.

Christmas Flipbook

Well, our Christmas was... interesting this year.  After our Christmas Eve festivities with my family (nothing says family holiday like caviar and vodka), and the Christmas morning extravaganza of Santa followed by more gifting and eating with family, we finally arrived back home in the late afternoon to celebrate our little family's Christmas.  It started off normal enough, almost Rockwellian in fact, with matching pajamas for father and daughter:

Then, well, it went weird.  Okay, to explain, my wife has always wanted a strawberry house for her dogs.  It's a dog bed.  Shaped like a giant strawberry.  Obviously.  They sell them in Japan.  Anyway, I finally relented and bought her one, and Kiki quickly became stuck inside it:

Soon thereafter she decided that she was going to get the party started by taking her top off (yeah, I'm looking forward to her high school years too): 

Then, well, things went downhill.  After being rescued about 14 times from the jaws of the strawberry house, Kiki threw a shit-fit because we didn't want her getting stuck in it again.  I know, worst parents ever:

Then, well, this happened:

But in the end, though it may not be everyone's idea of a perfect Christmas (or anyone's), we all enjoyed it (yeah, she's still totally naked):

Here's hoping your holidays were as joyous (and nudity filled) as ours.

Santai is Coming

Well, amidst the furor of the move and the extensive preparations for my post-Christmas birthday (I got a card!), we also had to make plans for Santa Claus.  Last year Kiki was not visited by Santa, because, frankly, she has terrible parents.  But this year, well, she still has terrible parents (okay, fine, just her father is terrible), but at least Santa did come.  


Well, Santai, as she calls him.  Though there is some debate, my wife thinks it's Santai, while I believe it's Santae.  Maybe because she's half-Japanese while I took latin and think Kiki's just pluralized it, or maybe it's because my wife is smart and I, well, I think the blog speaks to my mental facilities (ooooh, poop cake!).  Anyway, Santai/ae visited and brought Kiki a kitchen.  

Which, should be noted, she was annoyed with because the sink doesn't work and the microwave also does not actually heat things up.  Anyway, "Santai", after slaving away for 3 hours to build the kitchen (why send 13 pieces when you can send 3,744) just didn't have the energy to wrap it.  Thus, Kiki's first experience of the magic of Santai was an old sheet covering her big gift.  I think when she's older we'll explain that Santai does some more unusual things for her since she is an only child and he knows she's appreciate it, while most families have several kids to keep happy to Santai just sticks with the old reliable for them.  I know, I'm trying to figure out other lies we can tell her to cover up our laziness.  


But in the end, I think her first experience with Santai was a success.  I mean, just look how excited she was to thank him:

Simplify Simplify Simplify

Well you may have noticed a significant lull in the frequency of posts the past month.  Oh, you didn't?  You don't pay that much attention to this mindless diversion you say?  Well, fair enough, but no matter, I do apologize.  We were somewhat otherwise engaged in the process of moving.  We built a new house this year and the time finally came for the big move.  


Well, we didn't really build it, thankfully, if that were case it would still be a pile of ill cut lumber and mud (though Kiki does seem like she may have some useful carpentry skills).  No, someone else built it and we would just show up periodically (and typically ask stupid questions like "Instead of carpet can we install velcro?" or "Oh, it's going to be built out of wood, huh?").  It worked out much better that way for all involved.  But, being as we had to move, we went through the lengthy process of eliminating all unnecessary shit from our lives.  Well, physical items, not needy friends or emotional baggage, sadly.  


It seemed a simple process, but we found ourselves considering the utility and necessity of everything in our lives.  Do we really need two corkscrews?  How many shoes do you honestly need, we only wear one pair at a time (well, two if you wear hand shoes, and who doesn't)?  Why even have underwear at all, I mean, really, it just seems like an extravagance. 


So, basically, we moved a bowl and a robe each.  Although I'm thinking about ditching my robe altogether, figuring I can just use the bowl to hide my shame.  Hmm, dinner parties might be a little uncomfortable for our guests though.  But then our friends do kind of know what to expect from us.  Well, me.  Okay, we don't actually have any friends, I made up that bit about dinner parties.  But I can still make my wife and Kiki uncomfortable.  And by god, I'm damn good at it.


Whenever our commitment wavered and we considered holding onto something unnecessary, like an extra toaster, or an old tennis racquet, or our wedding rings (mindless sentimentality!), we found a brief watching of one of the hoarding reality shows (Hoarders, Hoarders: Buried Alive,and Hoarders: Messy Crap House Stuff Show) quickly reinvigorated our zest for simplification.  Something about seeing a man almost crushed to death by his collection of used bandages makes you much more open to parting with the clothes you haven't worn since college.  I mean, I don't want my last breath to be smothered by a worn Spring Break '99 tee.  I always envisioned my death as somewhat more dignified, maybe involving something classy, you know, like a Led Zeppelin reunion tour shirt.  

Happiest of Holidays to You and Yours

From all of us at Tulibo Incorporated, we wish you a Happy Hanukkah, Merry Christmas, Kickass Kwanza, Festive Festivus, Happy New Year, and, if the case may be, a Happy Birthday as well.  Keep smiling, and enjoy the holidays! 

A Splendiferous Thanksgiving

All of us at Tulibo Creative Enterprises & International Heavy Industry Companies wish you and yours a Happy Turkey Day.

Note, no turkeys were harmed in the creation of this blog post.

Vegematarian

So the other day, being bored, I decided to go vegetarian.  Why?  Well, my wife has been a long time ovolactopescatarian since before we started dating.  For those of you who didn't take Latin in high school (Loser!  No, wait, I'm the loser.  Damn!) an ovolactopescatarian eats eggs, milk products, and fish.  Well, in addition to a vegetarian diet too, otherwise it would make for some odd meals of shrimp and cottage cheese or tuna and eggs.  Mmmm, delicious!  


Anyway, my wife finally decided to follow through on a promise she made herself a long time ago to stop eating "things with faces."  Seriously, that's her diet.  So scallops and mussels are okay, but chicken and salmon aren't.  I haven't explored if she would eat Mike the Headless Chicken, but I assume the answer is yes.  


Anyway, Em decided to stop eating faces and I figured I'd go along, you know, for a day or two, just for shits and grins.  Now, two months later, I find myself in the bizarre position of actually, kind of sort of, in a way, being a vegetarian.  Well, maybe not totally.  I had salmon at one dinner, and had some leftover calamari from my mother-in-law, both acts which I think can land you in vegetarian jail.  Which I picture to be rather laid back, easy to escape, and filled with Phish music and weed smoke.  Actually, I wouldn't mind spending a few nights there, just to catch up on my sleep.  


But, being someone who has ordered bone marrow, pork cheeks, and sweetbreads previously, one time all in the same delicious meal, I feel like I don't even know myself anymore.  Telling someone that I'm vegetarian feels as foreign as admitting I have found Jesus (he was hiding in vegetarian jail).  Maybe it's just the connotations that go along with the term "vegetarian".  I could use ovolactopescatarian, but something tells me that would just lead to stranger looks.  Well, at the end of the day I already dress in spandex and periodically shave my legs, I guess I should just accept that my dietary choices are the least of the things people judge me for.  

The Public Has Spoken

Being as this is a fairly useless diversion, you may have noticed I don't put much effort into the search engine optimization, design, or even content of this blog (seriously, an entire post about adult onesies?).  That being the case, I'm always interested to see the analytical tools that google provides to track the sources and numbers of visitors to my little corner of the internet.  For those of you who don't have your own website (mom, I'm looking in your direction), you can discover a surprising amount about visitors to your website.  Like where in the world they are located, what internet browser and connection speed they are using, even what terms they searched in google that led them to you.  That was a surprising list.  Let's take a look at the top ten, shall we?


10. Tulibo Blog


Okay, so no great surprise there.  Let's continue. 


9.  Legoman


Hmmm, oh yes, a post about how Kiki's hair looked like a lego man.  Probably not many satisfied web searchers there.


8.  Poop Cake


Okay, I did mention a poop cake in a blog post, but are that many people interested?  Really?


7.  Shit Cake


Well, okay, so apparently that many people are interested.


6.  Care Bear Pictures


I think I did mention Care Bears once in a post.  Right?


5.  Carebears


I guess I must have.


4.  Care Bears Pictures


Apparently with a picture too.


3.  Care Bear


Wow, okay, so Care Bears are apparently pretty popular on the net.


2. Tulibo


There we go, that's more expected.  Thank god we're done with the Care Bears.


1. Care Bears


Well shit.


In case you think I'm exaggerating this, there were 81 searches for "Tulibo" that led to this site.  For "Care Bears" alone there were 1,076! Yeah, so I'm going to change the focus of this blog from, well, whatever the hell it is right now, to Care Bears.  Nothing but Care Bears, Care Bears, Care Bears!  

You're welcome, internet.

All Hallow's Eve

I know, I know, you're all wondering why my annual poll for Kiki's costume has not appeared.  I do apologize, but let me explain.  Em and I did discuss many ideas for Kiki this year: ninja, pirate, superhero, maybe, you know, ninja pirate hero.  And yes, we do realize she is a girl.  


Anyway, maybe because they knew us and could predict that we would come up with a terrible idea, both her Aunt and her Godfather gave us costumes.  Thus, already having two awesome costumes, we thought it would be excessive to have a poll for a third costume, especially since our ideas were so crap compared to the gifted costumes.  So, this year Kiki's costume will not be subject to the democratic process.  But do not worry dear reader, next year the poll will come again, and yes, pirate ninja hero is going to be on there!  Unless, you know, Kiki has other ideas, but I'm sure she'd like to give over control of her outfit to the general internet populace, right?

Talk is Cheap

Well, Kiki has been talking for a while now and is entering that wonderful "sponge" stage, where she will oftentimes repeat a word after only hearing it once or twice, especially useful words like "aubergine" and "phospholipid bilayer."  However, it has required my wife and I to severely curtain our cursing, which has been more of a fucking problem than I ever expected.  Unfortunately, Kiki's mispronunciation of many words already sound like cursing, for example "Sit" becomes "Shit," "Gray" becomes "Gay," and "Milk" becomes "Dickface"... alright, so maybe we can't blame all of it on her poor diction.  But fucking hell, it's goddamn hard to control this shit.  But hey, she's cute enough I figure she can get away with cursing like a drunken sailor.  I mean, that's a good parenting approach, right?

No?  Well, fuck.

Terrible... Twenty-One Months?

Well, our darling daughter, being a prodigy, decided to get a head start on the "terrible twos." She has become a master of tantrums, pouting, and general insanity.  Yeah, we couldn't be more proud.  


Particularly when she decides to exert her newfound independence in public.  Like when she absolutely refuses to be put in her car seat, mainly by going alternately rigid and limp, thereby jackknifing her body out of the seat and into the footwell.  Or when she runs off in the grocery, grabbing things and then flipping out if you take it away, because obviously she HAD to have the pickled onions she happened to pull off the shelf.  And of course she complements all these fits of pique with wailing, crying, and her new favorite, stomping around.  If it wasn't so damn funny it could be annoying.  Of course, our laughing only makes matters worse.  


But seriously, when you watch your daughter slide into the footwell for the third time in a row, screaming in a pitch and volume last experienced in a Guns N' Roses concert and blowing snot bubbles from her nose, what else can you do but laugh?  Well, that and call to schedule your vasectomy.

The Secret To Happiness

Well, I've discovered it.  A fail-safe, simple, cheap, and easy guide to happiness.  Yes, with $3.00 and three easy steps you too can enjoy total joy on a daily basis.  


Step 1) Come home.  Okay, for this step you need a home.  But really, if you're reading this chances are you have a computer (unless you are reading this psychically, in which case nice work), and if you have a computer then you should have a home.  Thus, by my accounting, this step costs nothing.  If, however, you are homeless than I am sorry for you, I wish you the best of luck, but think it is going to take more than three steps to fix your situation.  Probably more like six or seven steps, and that's just beyond the scope of this simple little blog.


Step 2) Have your wife and 18 month old daughter waiting outside for you.  Okay, maybe you don't have a wife, but a girlfriend, husband, boyfriend, platonic life partner, or even friendly stranger should work.  Ah, now you say you don't have an 18 month old daughter.  How about a son?  No?  Hmmm, what about a very personable dog?  Nope, not that either?  A cat?  Even a very vivacious fish?  Nothing?  Hmm, alright, steal a kid.  Look, it's totally worth it, this is going to work out for you.  But I don't mean steal in a terrible abduction/ kidnapping kind of way, just borrow them for an hour or so, you know, like a library book... that talks.


Step 3) Have them blowing bubbles.  Then, join them.  It's amazing, all your stress and worries will be born away on the eddies of air along with those little soap bubbles.  It's helpful if your stolen child can say "bubbuls" continuously, ideally with a slight lifting in tone at the end.  It's kind of awesome.  Oh, and for the record, buy your $3.00 worth of bubbles from Gymboree, they are made of some sort of NASA engineered polymer, we've found them literally two days later still intact.  

How Quickly They Turn

Growing up, my wife was constantly told she resembled Lucy Liu.  Mainly because both she and Lucy are asian.  Hey, we grew up in the midwest, it doesn't take much.  Anyway, she grew to resent this statement, partly because Lucy is Taiwanese and my wife is half-Japanese, but mainly because she felt she didn't look much like her, other than they were both of asian descent.  And women.  And had hair.  Okay, they're obviously identical. 


I know what you're saying, poor girl, right?  First of all, your sarcasm is noted and appreciated.  And for me it is hard to muster too much sympathy when I was just told I resembled that fat kid from that show.  You know... Fat Albert.  But less attractive.  And white.  And less attractive.  And not funny.  And also less attractive.  I would have loved to be told I resembled anyone who wasn't a morbidly obese cartoon.  Like, say, Wilford Brimley.  Oh, to dream!  


Anyway, I've learned to tiptoe around her sensitivity.  Mainly by pointing out every mildly asian woman on television and saying "Look honey, it's you!"  Or, if it is a man, "Look honey, it's your brother!"  Yes, I assume my husband of the year award is in the mail.  Needless to say my wife is less than entertained by my shenanigans.  However, yesterday, while waiting in the checkout line in the grocery, our darling daughter pointed to the cover of a magazine featuring, you guessed it, Lucy Liu, and said "Mama."  Awesome!  Well, now we know who's sense of humor she inherited.  Though I hope she grows up to look more like Lucy than Albert.  Although some sort of Fat Lucy Albert Liu mashup could be kind of awesome, right?