This week in I Sure Fooled Them: The terribly funny and hysterically witty husband and wife team at Are We There Yet? have asked little ol’ me to join them on their podcast this evening. Apparently, they think I’m insiteful or funny or somethin’. I’ll show them. 10pm Eastern. You can call in here, I think. Or read it here. Be there or be watching Lost on TiVo.

This week in Shameless Plugs: StarkRavingDads is really fun, and we really like doing it, and we’re running out of questions. The floor is open to moms. Pay us a visit, would ya? We try to post every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Help a sista out.

This week in A Trip Down Amnesia Lane: Ever heard of x365? You write something once a day about people you’ve met. I’m doing a photo/haiku study. It’s wickedly awesome, and I am participating at my Cre8Buzz Blog.

This week in Is It September Yet?: If that wasn’t the best, most fucking up, least informative yet most informative Lost the world has ever known, I don’t know what is. Screw summer; I need answers, dammit. (I’ve got it DVR’d if you need a copy.)

This week in Well, THAT paid off nicely: The hell that is Little League is still going strong (2 weeks left, yo) but 1of3′s team won the Rookie Championship this weekend. By 10-1 in the final game. I don’t think I have ever been so proud.

This week in Still Not Sure it Was Worth It: The sunburn I got while watching my kid crush the competition? The good news is, I no longer look exactly like a tomato. The bad news? I now look like a tomato with leprosy. Peeling sucks.

This week in See? TOLD YOU SO: There’s all this hubub about BPA leaching into baby bottles, and yes, I am as concerned as the next mom, but I’m not, really. Even though Canada is recalling Avent bottles, even though that dreaded Cancer word is getting thrown about, I never got my panties in a ruffle. I’ve had kids for 10 years, yo. I’ve been through my share of Doomsday Fads. First it was the Nasty Chemicals in Johnson’s Shampoo. Then it was Soy Formula Destroying Sperm Counts. Then it was Anti-Bacterial Everything (and don’t even get me started on THAT bullshit.) This struck me as one of them. Turns out, that BPA that evil, naughty Zeut Avent has been shoving down our precious kids’ throats has been present for a LONG time in, well, a shitton of other stuff. Click the chart to enlarge. Your chicken noodle soup is doing a lot more damage than your bottles. Tomato sauce? THE ANTI-CHRIST. Read the CTV article here. And then draw your own conclusions.

This week in gas: My toddler has learned a fun new trick. The Fake Burp. Ah, the joys of having older brothers. I have a video, but it really didn’t turn out. Trust me, it’s the funniest shit you’d ever see. Arrrrrrrrgh! Eh-sscuse Me!

This week in ridiculous wastes of money: We bought a new couch this week, which should arrive sometime today. After a few years of 5 people and one 3 seater couch, we bit the bullet and got a sectional. It’s leather. And CREAM. I give it 10 minutes before the kids completely ruin it.

This week in Missing: Reward for Information Leading to the Safe Return Of: This week, I also bought a dress. A sundress. A hot pink sundress. And I really LIKE it. Who are you and what have you done with Mr Lady?

This week in straight up brain poison: Richard Marx songs have been stuck in my head all week. I blame NukeDad, who started my whole chain of crappy 80′s music obsessing with this little nugget. Again, click to enlarge. And spit coffee all over your monitor.

A tangling of limbs in a dark, secluded corner of the world between two strangers turned into a child growing around my vital organs which turned into a little man pushing through an unwilling cervix that became soft pink skin warmed by mine in a hospital room that grew into cuddles after owwies which evolved into hasty kisses on my cheek at school doors and subtle snuggles when no one was looking which will change into handshakes at college dorms one day. For now, forever, I hold fast to the memory of my soft, sweet, perfect creation pressed against me.

100 words: Against. See the others here.

Let’s hope you can see the picture now. Also, there’s some more terrible advice over at Stark Raving Dads
today. Go, and be amazed. At our mediocrity.

MommyTime, my, like, just about all-time favorite blogging chic, wants to know your prom story.

I don’t have a picture of me in my dress, but I did manage to dig up this little gem.

Prom. Huh. I didn’t go to one school dance until my junior year of HS. My Junior homecoming was my first school dance, ever, and I was the (dateless) photographer. My senior prom however…. I was crazy-stalker in L.O.V.E. with some guy from high school. I wanted him to ask me to prom *this* bad, and made that quite clear, but yeah, he thought I was a crazy stalker.

Bygones.

My BFF, whom we shall call Ditto, asked me to go in the very nonchalant way he did everything. I accepted, in the very nonchalant way I did (almost) everything.

I picked him up about 30 minutes before the gig started, and he was still in a t-shirt, playing video games. I had to help get his tie straight while his mother found his Doc’s. While I was wearing THAT monstrosity. That my boobies looked so good in, you don’t even know.

Anyway, he hadn’t eaten yet, so we hit the Burger King Drive-Thru and then off to prom we went.

Our prom was held in a (remarkable spacious) hallway of the Denver Museum of Nature and Science, giving us a lovely view all night of <—this.

My English teacher spent the evening from the balcony heckling all the girls who dared hoist there boobies up in the middle of the dance floor. I spent most of the night waiting for Mas Younon to ask me to dance, and Ditto more than likely spent most of the night waiting for me to stop waiting for Mas Younon. Whatever.

We did our thing, hit the stupid after-prom, and then I drove him home. I was admittedly nervous, so I also offered the German foreign exchange student and some girl I can’t remember the name of but I seem to associate with food stuck in braces a ride home. I dropped Ditto off first. No hanky panky, no making out, nothing.

That? I TOTALLY regret.

2 years later, a friend asked me to go with his little 10th grade brother to his prom, and that I totally did. And that? Was, like, the funniest night EVER. We danced the Time Warp. In kilts. I was WAY older and cooler than every girl there. And that little 10th grader was suddenly the coolest boy in school. And my dress was LEAGUES better. Just sayin.’

That, friends, is my very boring ass prom story. Please don’t make me ever tell it again. But now that I’ve shared mine, you HAVE to share yours. Let MommyTime know if you do.

Updated: You all need to read this. Goddamnit, I wish this had been MY prom story. Matt, you are officially the comment of the week.

I am a little late on this one, but my prom story is pretty good. My plan was to go to the prom with my girlfriend at the High School, five minutes at the after-party, then to some hotel rooms we’d reserved with a group of friends.

On the way to pick her up I stopped at a Quick Trip for a fountain soda. As I was paying, I saw a shady guy in a fishing hat and a Union Jack T-shirt eyeing my van (I had painted it black and red like the A-Team one) suspiciously. When I questioned him about it, he handed me five hundred dollars in American express Travelers Checks and told me to follow him to the alley behind the gas station, where he peeled back the corner of an old tarp that was covering the bed of his maroon El Camino. There were 4 or five Hefty bags in it. He said the money was mine if I drove them in my van to a trailer park in Missouri and dropped them in a dumpster that had the phrase “pemmican rules” written on it in green spray paint.

Being young and stupid, I took the money. There were no cell phones back then, so I hoped my date wouldn’t be too pissed…Missouri was about an hour away.

Sure enough, as I was crossing the Martin Luther King Bridge, a cop going the other way turned on his lights. I watched, horrified, in the rearview as he pulled a sharp U-turn. Damn! I jerked the van to the side, ran to the back, ripped open the bags and started dumping the contents over the guard rail. I couldn’t believe what was inside. Cat heads. Perfectly preserved. Hundreds of them. Some of them seemed to look at me angrily as they fell, growing smaller and smaller until they splashed into the Mississippi, making soft plopping noises. The cop pulled up behind me, his brakes squealing. To make matters worse, a local Channel 7 news team happened to be passing by and got the whole thing on film. I was all over the evening news on prom night as “The Cat Head Kid”. Needless to say, I spent the whole night in jail and missed my prom. My girlfriend left me and I was the laughing stock of the town for a while. I did manage to keep one of the heads though. It sits on a shelf in my bathroom next to my back scratcher and a bottle of Brut aftershave.

Pretty boring night, actually. Sorry for the long comment.

1. Have a child. Make sure she has almost no pigment in her skin. A 75% Scotch/Irish and 25% Ukrainian mix should do nicely.

2. Don’t forget that she’ll need to be trampy enough to have 3 kids.

3. Put a couple of those kids in Little League.

4. Get one of those kids into a really kick-ass team who advances all the way to the Championship game.

5. But make sure they spend two FULL bright, sunny hot days at the ballpark before they get through.

6. And sign her up to work the barbecue grill for three hours.

7. And make sure the other kids distract her just enough that she totally forgets about sunscreen.

8. While she’s wearing a wife-beater.

8. Enjoy.

Shamelessly cut and pasted from Zombyboy, who is a significantly better blogger and Bash Host than I…

The Corner Office at the Curtis Hotel
7 June 2007, 6:30 PM

More details will follow (with the potential for some pretty fun stuff thrown into the mix).

You can RSVP on this post (or mine, either way) if you have an aversion to Flash based sites or giving your information to a third party to help us coordinate the events (and no one will think less of you). However…

The site that will keep track of this and the big event at the end of the DNC will also be a fun tool for keeping Rocky Mountain Bloggers in touch with each other. We’ll use it to send invitations, updates, and news, make more announcements, and generally bug each other about things like when we think Andy will return to blogging. (Just kidding, Andy.) (Not really.) A number of people have requested that we send out email notifications when the Bashes are coming up–our group on ViewMyLife.com will allow us to take that step, and I think it will really raise the level of our inebriation professionalism.

No pressure, though. Feel free to leave comments, suggestions, complaints, and requests here–and I’ll (David will) keep track of the most important bits both here and on ViewMyLife.com.

For those wanting to take part, here are the instructions:

Steps to becoming a better person:

1. Sign-up on ViewMyLife.com. (Free and easy. Which works well for me.)
2. From the drop-down menu in the upper left corner (the blue, circle, logo thing), choose Groups.
3. Search for Rocky Mountain Blogger Bash and request to join the group. I’ll (David will) be approving people for now, although both Shannon (me, Mr Lady) and Andy (WWR) will be taking administrative rolls as well.
4. Update your contact information in ViewMyLife, so we can more easily bug you when the next Bash is coming up.

One of the reasons we chose to work with the ViewMyLife.com folks when they approached Andy was that they were a Colorado company and we like to support home-town geeks. The other reason was quite simply that they seemed like good people–and they’re devoted to the idea of giving back to the community. In the next few days I’ll be posting information about their charitable work. You’ll want to pay attention in particular if you’re personally involved with a charity.

Lastly–and before we start in on the linkfest of RSVPs–please help us spread the word. We would like to bring a lot of new faces around this time and I know that many of you are far nicer, more charismatic, and better known than I am. Which means you have a better chance of bringing in some new folks to buy me (David) shots (so David can buy ME some.)

And you know how much I (David, though I do too) appreciate the shots.

Attendees:
Andy will be there. Because he misses blogging. I can tell.
Wheels will be there. I think. Not sure. Could happen.
Mr. Lady won’t be there, but she deserves a link because she’s doing the lion’s share of the work on these upcoming blogger bashes.
Doug S. might be there. If we offer him enough cash.
Jed will be there. And I plan to buy him a few drinks. Which is nice of me.
Billlllllll willllll be there. And he’ll probably (rightly) harass me for failing to put his blog on my blogroll. I should fix that problem.
Off Colfax will be there. Mostly because he secretly wants to be part of the secret cabal that makes up the Vast Right Wing Conspiracy. Sick puppy, that.
Darren will be there. Although I could be wrong.
Liz will be there. She’ll be there with other representatives from ViewMyLife.
Bob’ll be there if he can convince his wife that the rest of us are harmless. Which we are. No. Really.

Have I missed anyone yet? Let me know and I’ll get you in the mix.