Fatherhood the Blog - Week 18

I know there's a messed up paragraph near a picture. I tried 15 ways to fix it but this is the best I could do. I'm sure your eyes can adjust to a different size text for a paragraph. My apologies.           

      Well life is much different now that we know that our child is a boy. Although, to be honest, I flubbed that one pretty bad today. While at Wal-mart, you know, doing my thang, someone asked me, "Did you post a blog about whether it's a boy or a girl yet?" (yeah, I'm super rich and famous). "It's a girl," I told him. "Wait, I mean boy!" I don't know where that came from. After returning from vacation I was talking to a close friend and said something about my son-to-be, and he said, "Wait, it's a boy? I thought it was a girl."

"No," I told him. "It's a boy."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure it's a boy."

"Oh...well I get those two things confused a lot."

            Now that Mag knows exactly what her little hatchling is going to be, it's time for mama bird to kick into over drive in the nesting department. We've recently realized that we're like...I don't know...halfway? almost halfway? through this pregnancy and haven't done a ton besides daydream and talk about this child incessantly. It's time to get things DONE. We actually already have some baby equipment (which is all huge and takes up more room than my things) - we have something called an, "exersaucer" which is a dumb name for something a kid sits in and hits buttons on or flips levers or looks in a mirror or whatever; we have a baby swing - which is probably the best piece of baby equipment ever. I famously used to pinch Clayton's pink little toes when he slept as a baby in his swing, and then run away to escape punishment when he awoke screaming (I still do this to him whenever we sleep under the same roof); we have a walker -  basically an exersaucer with wheels, so the child can roll around with impunity; and we have one of those amazing three wheeled running strollers so we can look fit and sexy running our boy up and down the sidewalks in front of the giant houses on our street, pretending to be a rich young couple.

Mag sent me this while I was writing. Drawer knobs
for the baby!

              These four pieces of equipment would barely fit into our guest room so we quickly realized that we're going to have to move out the guest bed in order to make room for all the things one little tiny child will need. Now that we know, as I said before, that this alien is a male, Mag has begun picking out patterns for fabric and a design motif for the room. She mentioned sports to begin with, and I went along half-heartedly but to be honest wasn't really into it. I don't know, it just seems so old-school and semi-sexist. I want my son to be into sports, but I want my daughter to be into sports too. More importantly, I want them to be

into whatever they're into. I played soccer when I was a boy, but that's the only sport I've ever played. A sport theme just seems so... I don't know, lame. Her second idea, however, was old-school airplanes. I like that a lot. Her father is a pilot, and used to be in the Air Force. My brother is in the Air Force Special Forces. Her grandfather was a fighter pilot during WWII. On top of all of that, I love history. If I could make a living being a history student for the rest of my life, that would be my job. Also, aren't bi-planes just the coolest looking? So anyway, she's down in Columbus today, going to a few fabric stores and looking for some fabric with airplane patterns. There's a ton online (evidently this isn't a super original idea) so hopefully she'll be able to find some. In the mean time I'm here at home supposed to be sanding down the boy's chest-of-drawers so we can repaint them. I'm going to stencil some plane designs on each drawer afterwards and paint them. I'm thinking of a motif where the top drawer is the sun, the second drawer a plane, the third drawer a paratrooper, and the fourth drawer the ground. I don't know though, I'm going to play around with it and see. However, some rain started falling and some thunder kicked up so I'm doing this instead while watching Breaking Bad.

This is, by far, my favorite picture of my son. He looks like
a super chill evil alien with a mohawk.

           Another thing we can now discuss is a name for our kid. We had like four full (as in first and middle) female names picked out but had trouble coming up with male names. Of course, the child had to be a boy. Mag had liked, "Brooks Cameron" but as soon as it was announced that the He was a He she told me, "He doesn't seem anything like a Brooks Cameron to me." In the two weeks since we've found out we've gone over about 50 names, and I don't like barely any of them. There are about four that we have on our, "Eh, Maybe" list, which isn't very many at all. Mag has abruptly fallen in love with the name, "Andrew" which I find just bizarre. I've never really liked my name. I don't hate it, or anything, but it probably isn't the name I would have chosen. It doesn't help that (probably in honor of me) shortly after I was born there was a rash of everyone naming their sons Andrew so I've met about eighteen thousand Andrews all between two and five years younger than me. And all incredibly annoying. Mag has never made a habit of telling me how much she likes my name or anything, but suddenly she wants to name our son after me. It's flattering really. However, I am not a vain man. Far from it. In fact, I am a selfless man. I try to think about my son when it comes to naming him. What name will he like? More importantly, what name will girls be attracted to in the year 2028? While, let's face it, he is my son, and he is an O'Dell, he shouldn't really have a problem attracting the ladies, I still don't want to burden him with anything that might get in the way.

              And now, a brief story to cap off our week in child-rearing:

    On Monday, while we were at a doctors appointment (everything is fine by the way) Mag pointed at a carved Willow Tree statuette on a shelf and said, "That's the kind I want." It was, of course, of a pregnant wooden woman holding her pregnant wooden belly. Now, Mag pointing out something she likes is the closest that she ever comes to actually asking for something. I have to beg her for months in advance in order to get any ideas for her birthday or Christmas. So, since she wants it (and since she's being a nice little sweetheart lately) I decided to go buy her one of these figurines while she was out shopping today. I drove over to the local drugstore, where they have this whole section labelled (I assume), "Things Only Women Would Want (But Never Need)." I went inside and wandered around for a moment, for only for a short one, as I was accosted by a too tan, too blonde, to friendly woman who worked there. She asked if I needed any help and I instantly decided to play one of my favorite games. A game called, "Pretend To Be A Dumbass."

              A brief history on Pretending To Be A Dumbass: I do this quite often, and it really is a ton of fun. I first started doing it as a child, when I'd hang out with friends. We'd be talking about something from a time we had hung out before and they'd get all the details wrong, or not remember who was there, or not remember what we did, and I would remember every detail in stark clarity. I'd pretend, however, that I didn't remember either - if I did then I felt I'd just look needy, or clingy, or like I put more importance on our time together than they did. Since I'm all grown up now I still play this game aW lot. When I'm around rednecks I change the way I talk, using, "I reckon" a lot and purposefully messing up my grammar. It's great fun, completely pointless, and a fascinating way to waste time.

            "Yeah," I told the lady. "Somebody told me you sold those wooden people here."

            "Wooden people?" she asked.

            "Yeah...you know like those people...that are wooden?"

            "Oh!" she laughs. "Those wooden people! They're right over here!" She takes me to the Willow Tree display. "Is there one you're looking for in particular?"

            "One that's pregnant. Do they have those?"

            "Oh yes! We definitely have those!" She jumps down and sorts through them all and then goes and gets an older lady and they eventually tell me that no, they don't have any of those.

            "Have you tried Hallmark?" they ask. "Do you know where Hallmark is?"

            "No," I tell them. "I don't even know what Hallmark is."

            They explain to me where, and what, Hallmark is and tell me that they sell Willow Tree there and they probably have a pregnant one.

            "Well when are you reordering?" I ask the older lady.

            "Oh I'll order one when I reorder, and that'll probably be in the next few weeks. I just didn't know how soon you needed it. When were you hoping to get it?"

            "I don't know."

            "You don't?"

            "No. I mean...It's no rush. She's still pregnant."

            "Will she be pregnant for awhile?"

            "At least until November, they tell me." (I'm skating on thin ice now, going so dumb that I run a risk of the ladies growing suspicious. It's time to leave). I tell the ladies that I'll check Hallmark, and if they don't have it I'll be back down to visit them in a few weeks. They bid me good day (good day I tell you!) and I meander out of the store, already noticing them smiling and whispering back and forth to one another. I hope it's a good story to tell their husbands when they get home tonight - the story of a sweet, dull-witted, dashingly handsome young man who was trying to buy a gift for his wife. "Why can't you be more like that honey?" they'll ask. "He may be dumb as a sack of bricks, but at least he was getting her a present."

            This, my son, is the legacy I leave for you.

Addendum: 

             After writing this I realized I couldn't post it because Mag would know I was buying her this Willow Tree thing. Therefore I packed up and went to Hallmark, determined not to be stupid. Some things, however, are unavoidable. I walk in, ask about Willow Tree, and the girl points me to the rack of displays. 

"So, do I just take what I want off the rack?"

"No, you tell me what you want and I'll go get it from the back."

"I want the pregnant chick."

"The pregnant chick?"

"The pregnant girl."

"The pregnant girl?"

"The pregnant WOMAN. The pregnant MARRIED woman. The woman pregnant with MY legitimate child. My WIFE."  

This is, obviously, the funniest thing uttered in a Hallmark store in the past seven years (based solely on reaction) but, long story short, I got that voodoo doll, along with a big magnet that says, "It's A Boy!" waiting on the kitchen table for when Mag get's home.  

Andrew's H8LV 6/8/11

      I was on the beach for nine days, and sick all day yesterday. I feel that explains my absence nicely.




H8#3: "You always think you're right..."
          I have a couple of maxims, aphorisms, witticisms, or just plain quotes on my list today. One thing that bothers me quite often is the way people use, or mis-use really, language. I'm not talking about punctuation, or ending sentences in prepositions, or even using, "their" instead of, "there." All those things are annoying, and we should strive to use whichever language we speak and write to the best of our ability, but let's face it, that battle was lost long ago. Still, as a fan of both logic and language, I can find many things to hate on a daily basis (especially by reading Facebook statuses). One thing that particularly bothers me is when (and this has happened to me quite often over the course of my life), during an argument, the person I'm arguing with tells me, "You always think you're right." This is meant to be some sort of insult, I suppose, or something that I am to feel guilty about. OF COURSE I THINK I'M RIGHT. Think this through - if I didn't think I was right, but was arguing with you anyway, I would be some sort of psychopath, creating drama and dissent merely for the sake of drama and dissent. No, the entire reason we're arguing is because I think that I'm right, and you think that you're right.
            Let's address the, "always" thing. No, I don't think I'm always right. I usually am, if we're talking about batting averages, but no, not always. But you know what? If I'm not right I have no problem in admitting it. I don't expect myself to be right all the time, so it's not a point of pride for me to claim I am when I'm not. Therefore I don't normally take strong stands on an issue or subject unless I'm sure I'm right (this greatly improves my aforementioned batting average). However, it bears repeating, of course I think I'm right when I think I'm right. You're merely stating the obvious, not making my argument somehow more illegitimate because you're pointing out the fact that I believe in the strengths of my argument.

H8#2: "This isn't goodbye, this is..."
  Oh God, this one really annoys me. I've heard this a thousand times (LITERALLY) on television, movies, tearful farewells at the end of summer camp (did any of these girls/people honestly think we were going to keep in touch more than 48 hours after we left camp?), and various other places. You can finish the sentence with a variety of words - "This isn't goodbye, this is see you later/ until we meet again/ so long/ hasta la vista baby/ good riddance." Oprah was the latest offender, who ended her unparalleled 25 years in daytime talk show television with this trite unoriginal saying (this is a great opportunity for an Oprah joke, but really, I don't hate Oprah herself. She annoys me incredibly, but I get it, women like her and she probably has done more good than bad). Let's review the concept of this sign off - what does it even mean? The logic hinges on the assumption that, "goodbye" actually means, "We will never see one another again." So the sayer, taking the brave step of refusing to make that claim, replaces it with, "until we meet again." The problem with this, obviously, is that goodbye means nothing of the sort. If it did, we would never use the term. The word wouldn't even exist, except as the ending of eulogies. If that's what goodbye meant, I wouldn't say goodbye every single time I got off the phone - informing the person on the other end I have no intention of ever speaking to them again.
            For this saying to work we have to take a perfectly good word, assign it a completely different meaning, and then boldly reject that meaning in favor of another term (such as, "see you later") that means what the original word meant before we changed the meaning. Who doesn't hate that?

H8#1: Hunting

This is more like hunting than deer stand hunting is.

          I have no moral problem with hunting. I mean, of course I have a problem with some sorts of hunting, like going to Africa and killing elephants and lions to prove how tiny your penis is, but I don't mind the normal, every day, country folk hunting of deer, or pigs, or turkey, or whatever it is people shoot. I understand we have somewhat of a problem with deer overpopulation, as we've killed out all of their natural predators, and I also understand the appeal and efficiency of killing and processing your own meat. I own a gun, and after I bought it I went out in the country to a friend's house (who was out of town) and walked through the fields and woods shooting everything I could see. Once you're holding a gun in your hands you want to shoot things. You want to shoot glass and watch it break, you want to shoot cans and watch them fall, and you want to shoot live things and watch them die (for the record however, I've only ever shot two live things (besides my brother in the head with a .BB gun) - a spider and a bumblebee). So, I can understand the appeal and the need for hunting. Here's what I don't understand: why it's called hunting.
           You see! This does fit in with my other hatreds in regards to the misuse of language. Just think of the word hunting, in regards to anything besides human beings, and what do you think about? How does a lionness hunt a gazelle? How does a pack of wolves hunt a mountain goat? They go out and proactively run down the prey and kill it. They don't sit in a tree, spraying themselves with urine, and hope that a gazelle wanders by not paying attention. When we (and by we I mean you, because I don't do such things) lose our car keys, how do we hunt for them? Do we sit on the couch and wait for our keys to jingle jangle on past? Or do we go and look in every possible place they could be? Imagine, if you will, a movie called, "THE HUNTERS FROM OUTER SPACE," with the tagline, "This time humans are the prey!" That's all the information you have, now create the movie in your head. Would it involve aliens descending on Earth and hiding in water towers hoping that the particular human beings they were hunting would happen to stroll by? I don't mind people hunting, but let's call it, "trapping" or something like that. When you paint your body, wear nothing but a loincloth, and dash through the woods with a spear chasing an animal then we can call it hunting.

LV: Elizabeth Taylor

             Well everyone knows Elizabeth Taylor died recently, and I really knew nothing about her except the fact that she was some creepy old lady who sold awful tacky perfume. The only movie I had ever seen starring her was National Velvet, and I remember absolutely nothing about that movie except that it featured a horse. I used to get her confused with Liza Minnelli. After she died I decided to watch a few of her movies to see what all the fuss was about - I knew she was some larger than life personality from the Camelot era but was she actually a good actress? In short, yes. She's amazing. I've only seen a few of her movies (next on the list are Cleopatra, and Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?) but she's seriously like my favorite person in the entire history of the world. This lady sizzles. I don't remember who played Scarlett in Gone With the Wind but Elizabeth Taylor is the way more awesome version of a real-life Scarlett. I watched A Cat on a Hot Tin Roof where she's married to Paul Newman (who no longer finds himself sexually attracted to her. Obviously the movie has to be fiction) and that seriously has to be the most good looking couple in the history of movies. I defy you to name another pair of actors who play a couple in a film that are better looking than these two.
             Liz Taylor is a huge legend - in the order of Marilyn Monroe and Katherine Hepburn, and I usually hold myself to be disappointed when I compare the legend to reality. Ms. Hilton-Wilding-Todd-Fisher-Burton-Warner-Fortensky-Taylor did nothing of the sort. I'm rapidly growing more and more obsessed with ancient movies, like those from the 50s and 60s and can find none better than she. Elizabeth Taylor, I love you.

X-Men: A First Class Review

 by Clayton


 The fifth movie in the X-Men film franchise was released this weekend, to mostly positive reviews and a fresh excitement from fans that wasn't present for the last two (awful) incarnations. The first film was released back in 2000, which makes this film franchise the longest-running modern comic book film series, a franchise that's made nearly $800 million domestically and featured such diverse actors as Patrick Stewart, Ian McKellen, Halle Berry, James Marsden, Hugh Jackman, Anna Paquin, Brian Cox, Dominic Monaghan, Will.I.Am (seriously), Ryan Reynolds, and now, James McAvoy, Jennifer Lawrence, Kevin Bacon, Rose Byrne, and January Jones (*fans self*). It's undeniably a huge franchise, but even after all this time First Class proves that what's broken can be fixed and the wheel can be reinvented.

What's that on the ground?? Oh, just a conveniently-placed camera

 The Story: First Class takes a bit of a spin on the traditional comic book series by placing it in 1962, at the height of nuclear fear and tension between the US and the Soviet Union. As opposed to the social commentary on minorities that the comics originally began as, or the straight action of later comics and the first few films, First Class attempts to up the ante by placing it in a new timeframe and with a history that most of us who graduated from highschool know the relevance of. The time and history is, of course, only as a supplement to the action and character development, but it serves as a interesting take on the hyper-modern action we've grown used to.

 The story is new, but is Phantom Menace-esque in its heavyhanded foreshadowing. This film doesn't set up the later films and story - it blatantly tells you why each event happens, why every relationship is the way it is. I'd much rather have seen a bit of mystery, or even room left for a prequel sequel, but instead we've been hand-fed each detail. I get that the modern American audience isn't all that smart, and the action movie crowd even less so, but it'd nice when filmmakers have some sort of faith in audiences. That isn't present here.

Even before paralysis, Professor X was more of a
sit-down on the job kind of guy

 The Good: The film may be mundane in its approach and not fully original in its setting, but it is more than adequate in giving us depth. We get to know the characters because there are few enough to be manageable, and we see the relationships that we've grown used to develop and augment in a natural, albeit rushed manner. I thought that the characters were far and away the best part of this film. Almost every single one was cast perfectly, and throughout the training sessions we got to see a telescoped growing up of each character and see them deal with mutation as more than just a convenient power but also as a social disorder. That dynamic is one of the strongest in X-Men's history, and I was glad to see it on display in the film (again, even if it became a bit heavyhanded).

 Technically the film was appropriate. I have a big problem with close-cropped, over-paced, poorly-choreographed action scenes, but for the most the action was diverse and filmed well. I'm overjoyed that First Class declined the temptation of going for 3D, because the action stood on its own without it. The CGI was mostly effective, and from an aesthetic standpoint I had no major problems with the film. The training montage was one of the best scenes because of the block editing done in it, which kept a great pace and gave it a unique feel. Technically I had no problems with the film, and I think its technical merit will ultimately help place it in the top slot so far as the franchise is concerned. I don't think there was a single overbearing slow motion scene if there were any, and we all know I am a FIRM BELIEVER IN NO SLOW MOTION, so I was ecstatic to see that laziness done away with in the film.

*drools*

 The Bad: Kevin Bacon. He was like a 70's-style porn star with a ridiculous power and hilarious scenes of melodrama. He was a terrible villain because he was hackneyed, but not even in a fun way. You want to hate him, but he's so simultaneously pathetic and overpowered that it's impossible to. In a mostly strong cast, Bacon was a shining beacon of mediocrity, at best.

 And again, I hated how overplayed and *bing word* heavyhanded the setup was. This film was both a reinvention and a prequel, but it played out in 90 minutes what could've easily been done in a trilogy of its own. Was it necessary to end the film on the note it did? Possibly, because it ties up in a neat little CGI-laden package everything we need to know before X-Men 1, but it could've been drawn out and done in a more natural manner. I'm rarely one to clamor for a sequel, but in this case it's something I'd be more than happy to sit through.

 ... and the Sexy! JANUARY JONES AKA EMMA FROST ALERT GOES HERE. I think January Jones is a beautiful g.oddess, but she played Frost to perfection. She's an excellent James Bond-style villainess sidekick, but I lament the rise of CGI because it seemed that each time I was beginning to faint from seeing her beauty on screen for longer than thirty seconds she'd turn into a ridiculous asymmetrical diamond chip thingie that was.not.hot. One of her high points, though, was her always-white fashion sense. She was a glamorous villain made even better by her 60's style fashion... which brings me to one of the biggest things I saw in the film.

NOT from a old-school pornography

 THE FASHION OF FIRST CLASS. I love looking at old fashion styles. Shows like Mad Men (ft. January Jones), movies like Girl, Interrupted, or even old Hitchcock films. I love to see how people used to dress and compare it to the plagiarized and watered-down styles of today, and seeing modern films try to emulate older fashion is exciting to me. There were some scenes and outfits in First Class that seemed spot-on, that made me fan myself. And then there would be Rose Byrne tramping around in a CIA mini skirt that was barely low enough to cover her belt, throwing me into a double-take. As time wore on though, I began to see how perfectly the period-piece of 1960's fashion merged with the sex-craze of action film to create this fun, appropriate costume style that flowed with the film. I honestly would watch this film again simply to watch costumes. For my birthday I need an Art of X-Men: First Class book, if such a thing exists. I need taaa examine daaa fashion!!!


 The Verdict: Go see it. This isn't a film that'll change your life, but it's a film that is fast-paced enough to be fun, intelligent enough not to be a drag, and engaging enough to be memorable. It's a good date movie, a good afternoon alone movie, or something just to pass the time. If you've seen any of the other X-Men films, this is a must-see. It rises above the other four in form, and the story is something recognizable enough to be nostalgic. Not necessarily this week, or even while it's in theaters, but make an effort to see this film. And that's the verdict.