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This is normally a comic-book related site.  Not right now, though.

I decided to build a house.  That doesn’t mean I’m shopping around for real estate.  I’m going to design, contract, and build a house all on my own.  This means I have to study building codes and learn about permits and do a lot of research on furnace efficiency and r-value and carpet fiber and refrigerators and wind direction and toilet height and backsplashes… I simply won’t have time for Tiny Life any time soon.

So, probably through 2015, the majority of these posts will be about building a house.  And possibly about living with the In-Laws while the house is built.


A Conversation

Lemon: “I’m nervous about halloween.”

Me: “Why?”

Lemon: “I’m scared that boys won’t think my costume is scary enough.”

Me: “Boys are dumb.”

Lemon: “Not all boys.  There’s a boy in my class that’s really smart.  He can eat his apple sauce faster than anybody!”

Useless Utilitarianism

About 12 years ago, when I lived in Eleven-Miles-from-the-Middle-of-Nowhere, I built a cabinet.  At first I thought it was the best idea – it held all my video game systems in one place and I could play any one whenever I wanted.  I hooked up my Atari 2600, Nintendo, Super Nintendo, Sega, Game Cube, Dreamcast, N64, PS1, and eventually Wii in one place and hooked up to a (then) hi-def projector.  Admittedly, it was a childish endeavor.

I’ve done it again at my new house.  I’d like to say I’ve grown up, but there are a glaring number of similarities between creating a place to hold a bunch of video games and a place to hold a bunch of tools.


This is where I go when I need to feel manly.  It’s also where I cry.

With the game cabinet: I am by no means a “gamer”.  I’ll play Dr. Mario or Zelda for about a half hour, but I’ve never played a God or War; I only know that a “MMOG” exists, I don’t know what it is.  Yet, I spent hours creating a cabinet, buying the parts, and figuring the logistics of connecting all those wires so that I had the option to play video games should I choose.  I rarely chose.

With the workbench: I am by no means a “wrencher”.  I’ll get an idea once in a while and spend an hour making a box or fixing a My Little Pony toy; I know that a “fuel pump” exists, but I have no idea what it looks like.  Yet I spent hours creating this bench, buying the parts, and figuring the logistics of what tools go where so that I can tinker with things quickly and efficiently.  I rarely tink.

I spent hours on the game cabinet knowing that I would never play an actual Nintendo game – you have to put the game in just right, you have to push it down, just far enough, and if that doesn’t work, you have to blow it in (put don’t spit in it, because that make it worse) – I just wanted to fulfill a childhood dream of playing tons of video games in the basement where no one can bother me.  Cuz no one understands me.  And Alice in Chains rules.

I spent hours on the workbench knowing that I would never build anything worthwhile – there’s way too much measuring, cutting, sanding, and staining to make it worth it; I can buy the same thing at Ikea for $59 (and it has a cool name like GRÖNKULLA) – I just wanted to fulfill an adult dream of fixing things in the garage where no one can bother me.  Cuz these kids today.  And Muse rules.

People don’t really change that much.

Breakfast is a Liar


My mom came over to watch the kids earlier this week and was appalled that I don’t cook the kids breakfast everyday.  She said that breakfast is the most important meal of the day.  Then I started to think: it can’t be.  Like a Nobel-prize winning novel, dinner is a big deal with numerous sides containing lots of importance; lunch is something small and light that’ll get you through the day, like Mila Kunis.  But let’s take a look at typical breakfast food:

  • Cereal = a bowl full of carbs
  • Toast = a rectangle of burnt carbs
  • Granola bar = a candy bar with granola in it
  • Bacon = strips of fat fried in its own grease
  • Sausage = strips of fat, stuffed into an esophagus, fried in its own grease
  • Hash browns, tater tots = round french fries
  • Donuts, muffins, bagels = round cake
  • Pancakes, waffles, french toast = fried cake, served with liquid sugar

The only remotely healthy thing breakfast offers is eggs (which was neutral, then unhealthy, then healthy, then unhealthy again, then healthy if you only eat the whites, then unhealthy, then a super-food, then cruel, now healthy-ish) and coffee.

My kids don’t need coffee; the world doesn’t horrify/bore them yet.

What to Do with an Old iPhone

I first bought a cell phone in 2002.  It was a blue Nokia.  I got it because I was constantly on the road – my band, The Rachels, was starting to hit it big after “Alicia Silverstone Should Be a Homophone” got some serious airplay.


That’s me on the left.  I used to be swole.

Once we broke up (there was some in-fighting about whether or not the Chevy Chase Show was going to be the best late-night talk show of all time or just the best currently airing), I got a good job and was making some serious five-figure cash.  I could afford a credit card and bought an iPod with that credit.  This meant that at any given time I had a cell phone, an iPod, keys to a sweet 2001 Eagle Summit, a digital camera, and a money clip with a credit card tied around it.  It was around this time that I started wearing many-pocketed pants and gave up the leather trousers (I had a hard time giving up the lifestyle of the Joe Millionaires (we changed the name of the band a few times; it went from “Hobie’s Gotta Run” to “The Rachels” to “Felicity Grow Your Hair”, to “NOmorosa”, to “The Joe Millionaires”)).

Then the iPhone came out and I could finally put all this in one place.  Then I had kids.  Then Apple made it so I didn’t need to sync my phone to my computer, so I bought a new iPhone.  But I can’t give the old one away, it’s a tiny computer. There’s gotta be a thousand things you can do with a tiny computer.

I tried loading it up with kids games and letting them play with it every once in a while, but for some reason it always made them angry (it might have been my choice of games; The Wife and I were legally separated over level 70 of Candy Crush).  So then I thought about a jukebox or a TV remote or a tiny picture frame or a Netflix viewer for destroying my vision or some sort of smart-house hub system, but that all seemed way more trouble than it was worth.  Plus, as the apps advance and as the internet speeds up, my little iPhone isn’t going to be able to keep up with much of anything anymore.

So I made a clock.  Or, rather, a clock dock.  Or rather, my Unlocked Mock Clock Dock Block.


I’ve taken everything off it except three apps:


1. It tells the time, date, and weather.  None of which are internet-heavy apps.


2. Pandora, so I can soothe my inner-rage with “A Pocket Full of Kryptonite”


3. A picture viewer, in case I need the thunderdome of my home-life to encroach on the thunderdome of my work-life


(I also have the “Find My iPhone” app, in case anyone wants to steal a phone that only works when plugged in and that contains no apps built after 2009)

The only other thing I could think of, since I can’t trade it in for a 7s, would be to sell it on eBay.  But I need shrink-wrap:



I got this in the mail. Someone explain. 

Minor League 

I’m at a minor league baseball game. Read carefully:

Why I Hate Home Depot: The Movie

I know I’ve said that Home Depot is the worst (the staples aren’t by the staple guns, they’re next to carpet), but sometimes I go there simply because it’s closest.  Today I wanted to check out a vent cover: