(Read in a French accent -- which only seems to occur when she really gets into a story.)

"There were these two girls, there. Peter, I don't think they liked me very much. When Sarah brought the ball down, they just did this. (She stuck out her foot.) But, when I came down, they pushed me, there. I said, 'You wanna see how [name of her school] does it?' That's what I said to them. So, they came down and one girl had the ball, as she passed it to another girl, I knocked her down. (Mimes it.) Then I pushed the other girl down. Then the ball was just sitting there, so I kicked it away. But, it went to the other team. I dove for it, but fell down. The girl held it between her feet and jumped over me. Then she shot it and scored. (Pauses.) But, I had fun pushing people down!"

Labels: The Monkey

My adorable niece and I have a lot in common. We are both tall. We both have unruly hair. We both tend to be a bit scampish. And we are both super cute.

I thought I could sneak the last one by you.

One thing we don't have in common is that she doesn't like TV. For almost seven years, she wouldn't watch anything. Well, she would occasionally watch kids shows with (our little cousin) The Monkey. But, she would only agree to that if The Monkey brushed her hair the entire time, and if they kept the door closed to keep me away. (The nerve!)

A few months back, she discovered one show that she would watch...

Rachael Ray's "30 Minute Meals."

And she will watch the crap out of it.

She wants us to park chair-y in front of the TV and leave her alone. I found her two sets of DVDs of the show on ebay and have 15 or so episodes on my dvr. She even watches the DVDs in her car whenever she goes anywhere.

LOVES it.

If she is watching the recorded episodes, she yells as soon as Rachael Ray says, "Now we are going to take a quick break." That is my notice to fast forward.

She also says "Unc!" to me when an episode is ending on DVD, and she wants a new one started. She sees the meal being plated and knows it is time.

She even makes her Mommy pull over on the side of the highway to change DVDs for her.

She has The Monkey watching it now. The Monkey is enjoying. Though at one point, she mentioned, matter of factly, "Rachael Ray talks a lot."

My niece doesn't like Rachael Ray's talk show. The guests take too much time away from the star, she feels.

The other night on the phone, she made me read every item for sale on Rachael Ray's website. And she told me she wanted every one of them for Xmas.

"Crock po--"
"YEAH!"

Little twerp has also decided that she wants to be called "Isaboo" now. (That is the name of Rachael Ray's dog.)

She's informed my sister that she wants Rachael Ray to be her new mommy.

AND she wants to go to NY to meet her. So, my sister told me, "Figure out how to make that happen." Since I live on the corner of Cocky Ave and Naive Blvd, I assume that I can.

Ooops. I gotta run, Isaboo is not happy that she is having to watch a commercial.

Labels: ACN, The Monkey

So, The Monkey showed up at my house last night at 8:30. In her jammies.

I was in my room watching Canadian Idol. (Beatles night and all 5 dudes were very good -- even my cousin Mitch.)

She marched into my room, eating a cookies and cream chocolate bar, said, "Hey, dude" and hopped on the foot of my bed.

She wanted to watch the season finale of The Mole that I had recorded. We had watched every episode this season together. I told her that I wanted to watch Canadian Idol, but she could watch The Mole in the living room.

She made sadface.

She said, "No. I am going to go home then."

I said, "You don't need me."

"No." Another sad face.

"I don't mind."

"It's no fun without you, Peter."

I said, "Fiiiiine." And got off of my bed.

She started walking out of the room in front of me and mumbled, "I triiicked you."

**********

Edit to add: The Monkey said, "I don't care if Mitch is your cousin, I am voting for Mookie."

Edit to add AGAIN: I am still protesting a little over the painful ouster of my man Oliver Pigott.

Labels: The Monkey

The Monkey and her folks had been away for the weekend at an inn/lodge/resort type deal. Yesterday afternoon, I went to visit my uncle (her grandfather) and found her sitting by the pool. She was leaning back in her chair, looking world-weary. I walked up the stairs towards her.

"Hi, goof."

She turned her head towards me slightly and gave a "This guy again?" look.

I sat down on a deck chair opposite her. She thought for a minute and then let out a loud "I suppose I'll have to tell him the story at some point anyway" exhale.

"Well, we took a boat cruise on the river. The river was black and foamy. It was a pontoon boat. It was fun. It lasted an hour. It was called... something. We went kayaking. Me and Daddy. Everyone was over on the other side. So, we turned around and got a paddle boat. They were all kayaking (mimes it) and we were paddling up next to them (mimes that too.) We were all, like, 'Hello there.' Haha. It was hot there. And the horseflies. No flies. Just horseflies. (She instinctively swats at the memory of said insects.) There was a dance. Ages 5-15. They called it a 'sock hop?" I have no idea why. It was a dance. They had themes or something. So, I went to the dance."

"Did you talk to boys?!?!"

(Ignoring me) "They also had a spa night for kids 5-15. I didn't go. But, they had a volleyball tournament. You know, two people against... well, two people. And they... play volleyball. We were going to put in a team, but then we didn't put in a team. I put my hands in paint and then put them on the wall of the recreation centre. That's what you were supposed to do. Put your hands in paint and then put them on the wall. So, I did it. I'm, like, putting my hands in paint and then putting them on the wall. (Shrugs.) I met three friends. Joanie, Janey and Princess Anastacia Beaverhausen. (Those may not have been the names.) They were 11, 12 and 10. I have no idea where they were from. Janey didn't like me."

"Is it because you talk to much?"

(Ignoring.) "Princess Anastacia just went with the flow. (She somehow managed to mime that too.) And me and Janie were like that. I mean, we were like THAT. (Puts two fingers together.) When we divided into teams to do stuff, it was always me and Joanie against the other two. And now I want to go to [local take-out restaurant.]"

"It's that way," I said, helpfully pointing west.

"I want a friend to come over and I want to walk there. I called two friends and they weren't home. My daddy said he didn't want any friends over. So, I am going to ask my mom when she gets home. I wonder if Mommy and Aunt [her aunt's name] have a cell phone with them... Did you record last week's episode of "The Mole? I saw half of it. Well, I saw a quarter of it. We should go watch it. Let's go watch it."

"Ok..."

We both stand up. I am talking to her grandmother for a second when The Monkey punches me on the arm. I stop talking and look at her.

"He stopped talking! I got him to stop talking! I should get a prize. Yay me! Hahahaha. Haaaaaaaaaa. (Beat.) OK, let's go."

Labels: The Monkey

Me and the twerp had a fun long weekend.

Lots of cuddles. Lots of silliness. Some looking for bunnies in the park.

The weather didn't co-operate, so we couldn't do much outside. We had to be creative coming up with fun things to do.

One afternoon she spent an hour with my Dad, learning about his new drill set. He'd explain what one set of bits were used for. She'd watch him closely. He'd ask, "Are you getting all of this?" She'd say, "Yeah."

Very cute.

They also spent three hours in my Dad's shed one afternoon -- oh, she has now claimed it as her own -- checking out all of his tools. She made him lock the door from the inside, and it was their clubhouse. Anyone who went to visit had to knock on the door and state their name. They called me three times from grandpa's cell to go knock on the door.

We played some Webkinz online. She now has 43 of the furry little buggers. We checked to make sure all of them were well-fed. "Doodle the Poodle" was hungry, so we went through the food we had, and decided to give her something called "McBone Burger and fries." Sounds perfect for a dog, right? Not so. Doodle ate it and said, "Um, have you actually tried this? ICK."

I was mad. I referred to Doodle as an "ungrateful ingrate!" while The ACN giggled.

Doodle doesn't know how good she has it. It could be worse, she could be Zoe the unicorn. We have her sleeping in something called "a banana hammock."

This morning she told me she was excited that her mommy was coming today. I asked if she was excited for Mommy hugs. She said. "Yeah." I said, "But, Uncle Pete hugs are pretty good, right" She shook her head "No." Vigorously. I said, "You are going to make Unc cry. Is that what you want?" She got all excited, "Yeah!!"

I get no credit for inventing the "The Webkinz French Toast Breakfast Party" apparently.

Both yesterday and the day before, we took a break in the afternoon and she stretched out on the couch with a pillow and blanket and I gave her footrubs. Because, as you well know, it is super tiring being a professional cutie pie.

And now the munchkin is on her way home. For the next couple days I'll be missing the cuddles and all :( faced.

Here is a pic of The ACN and The Monkey and their two new Webkinz Samoyeds:

Labels: ACN, The Monkey

I was told that I wasn't allowed to erase "Camp Rock." But, The Monkey eventually eased up on her stance and said that I could delete it "when it comes out on DVD."

"Is it coming out anytime soon?"

"Uh, no!"

In the first 48 hours after I recorded it, she watched it three times. The third time she arrived with the lyrics for all the songs, that she had printed off the internet.

We got into an argument about just how loud my TV had to be while she watched it. I gave her the evil eye and she smiled and said, "You love me."

Then she turned the volume up a little bit more.

Labels: The Monkey

Friday evening
Casa de Pete

The Monkey (my 11 year old cousin, for you newcomers) is watching TV. She sees an ad for something and completely loses her mind.

"Oh my God... OH MY GOD! Camp Rock!!!!!"

I stare at her blankly.

"It's on tomorrow night, Peter! Oh no... I am going away for the weekend. I will miss it."

"I can record it for you."

Her mouth dropped open. "You are AWESOME."

"It's not a big deal."

"It's the Jonas brothers. Nick is sooooo awesome... and cute!"

[A couple of things... Firstly, I am not really prepared for her thinking boys are cute. Wasn't it just last week that she was 3 years old and making me carry her everywhere? Secondly, I was telling my folks this story and couldn't remember which of the brothers she finds cute. My dad answered way too quickly, "It must be Nick." I don't know what to do with that at all. And, frankly, I don't want to think about it anymore.]

Sunday morning
Casa de Pete (Casa del Pete? Whatever.)

The phone rings. It is The Monkey, rambling on in French to whoever is in the room with her. She is still out of town.

"Did you record my movie?"

And because I am not above taking money from children. "Yes. And how are you going to pay for it?"

"With my presence."

If there had been any doubt about whether or not we are related...

Labels: The Monkey

Ball goes whizzing by The Monkey.

Peter: You could have gotten that one!

The Monkey: You could have a girlfriend. (Beat.) But, ya don't.

Labels: The Monkey

I posted last week about playing soccer with The Monkey. We've been playing a lot. Even when I don't really want to.

Especially, it seems, when I don't want to.

My phone rings.

Me: Hello.
Monkey: Hee hee hee
Me: Yes?
Monkey: ...
Me: Speak or I am going to hang up.
Monkey: It is your worst nightmare.
Me: Probably.
Monkey: Do you know what I want?
Me: Nope. (Lies.)
Monkey: Do you want to play soccer with meee?
Me: No. Not really.
Monkey: Oh pleeeeeease.
Me: I'm busy.
Monkey: When will you not be busy?
Me: Later.
[Ten minute philosophical debate about just how long an hour really is.]
Monkey: Pleeeease.
Me: Pain in the butt. *grumble grumble*
Monkey: But, Peeeeeeter. I am in my shorts and have my soccer ball... right... here...
[I can hear sadface over the phone.]
Me: Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine.
Monkey: Yay!

We've been repeating this process every day for the past two weeks. Sometimes more than once a day.

Now, lest you all think, "Wow. Peter is soooo sweet for playing soccer with the urchin." That is not the full story.

I'm also tall and charming.

But, that's not what this post is about. (You can read more about that in my forthcoming autobiography, "I Am Also Tall And Charming.")

The point is, that sometimes I can be a bit of a poop when we are playing soccer. Take yesterday for instance...

We played THREE different times. She tried for four when she showed up at 8 pm in her pajamas to get me to play again. But, I was watching soccer on TV and threw her out.

Sometimes our soccer outings are fun and silly. Other times one or both of us are a bit cranky. (Mostly her. I am always delightful.) Sometimes they involve me telling her that a giant spider is crawling into her ear as she screams and runs around batting at her own head.

So, yes, yesterday during our third game of the day, she kept kicking the ball away from where I was and making me chase it. Since I am selective about my energy outputs, I was not in favour of this. And grrrrrrrr'ed frequently. She said, "But, Peter I can't really control where it goes." Which, frankly, would have been more believable if she hadn't giggled immediately after.

So, I replied, "Oh yeah?"

She said, "Yeah. WhatareYOUgonnado?" And then tossed her head, did a little hmmph, and strutted around.

"Reallllllllllly? I said.

And then I kicked the ball. Hard.

It is important to note that I always use my left foot when playing with her. Mostly because my right foot is like a rocket. A ROCKET, I tells ya. The downside of this is that I don't have nearly the accuracy with old lefty. So, a ball that was going to miss her by a good ten feet, and sail down the field, suddenly started doing the Beckham bend.

She froze. I was watching it in slow motion. The ball was heading right at her. I was thinking. "Move... put up your hands.. something."

Finally she lifted her hands and stopped it from hitting her squarely in the stomach. As soon as it hit, she grabbed her left hand with her right. "Owwwwww." She tried to tough it out. She took a couple of steps forward, but then the tears started. And then she fell down like she had been shot.

Oh, stop tsk tsking me.

I ran over to see how she was. I helped her up. I checked out her fingers.

I didn't even offer to hurt the other hand so that she'd have a matching set. I did that Thursday night when she dove for a ball and jammed her wrist a little. What? She was milking it.

I offered to get her ice for her fingers. But, she sniffled that she was OK. And she tried to solider on. But, she wasn't as into the game after that. A ball ended up in the bushes next to a neighbour's shed. She went halfway in to get it and came running back out. "You go get it! There's a grave in there!"

This, obviously, confused me. So, I ventured into the bushes. I found the ball sitting in the middle of a little patch of dirt where my neighbour will be planting his cucumbers.

I walked back out. "That is a cucumber patch. Grave... Who did you think we had buried there?"

She shrugged, "I dunno. Your great grandmother or somethin'."

I cracked up. I knew the game was over at that point.

So, we walked back together. I asked her if she needed ice for her fingers. I told her how if she made the basketball team next year, that could happen a lot. We walked. We talked. We laughed. I dare say we bonded.

And then she told everyone in the neighbourhood how I had just made her cry.

Labels: The Monkey

Little twerp wants to try out for the school team next year, so she's been asking me to practice with her lately.

As we walked out to the side lawn, I commented on the mosquitoes. She replied, "Oh, there aren't that many. Don't get your panties in a knot."

At one point, she saved one of my shots into the bushes. She slowly crept in to get it, saying, "Araignée! Araignée! Uhm... Peter, how do you say snake in French?"

"Serpent?"

"Araignée! Araignée! Serpent! Serpent!"

There was a natural obstacle that we were playing around...

Nipper poop.

Because I was using my left foot, The Monkey decided to use hers too. So, the ball went out of control and, of course, right into the Nipper poop. So I, of course, kicked the ball up high so she'd catch it. Then I yelled "Nipper poop on your hands!" Which eventually led to her trying to wipe the ball on my shirt while she said, "Ewwww. And then if you bite on your shirt, it would be like eating Nipper poop."

"Why would I bite on my shirt?"

"Oh, everyone does it. It's the new thing."

She then said, "I want to show my goalie skillz. [I could tell from her tone that it was spelled with a Z.] But, don't kick it too far. I want to dive a little. And DON'T kick it too hard and make me run to go get it."

So, I kicked it off to the side a little and she blocked it. But, she didn't block it quietly. "Oh yeah!! Look at my goalie skillz. I am da master. [She then started bowing dramatically.] That is what you should be doing. Bow to me."

We kept playing and I kicked one and she missed the save. I asked, "Where are your goalie skillz now?" She quickly replied, "Oh, they are still here. I just don't want to make you feel bad when I stop all of your shots." Then she performed what I can only describe as a "Woot! Woot! Dance."

She told me that when we were done playing, she was going to meet her friend at the playground down the street. Then she mentioned calling a couple of other friends to meet them there too. However, twenty minutes later, her dad showed up and said, "You realize that you have tap dancing in ten minutes?" She replied, "Yeah, yeah." I asked, "Uhm, I thought you were going to the playground. Did you know you had to go to dancing?" She looked at me like I was nuts and said, "Sure." And then waved off the whole topic as if the passage of time only mattered to mere mortals.

And then she proceeded to stay and play soccer for another fifteen minutes.

Before we finished, an old truck drove down a nearby lane. If it had a muffler, it wasn't muffling all that well. I said, "Buddy, you might wanna get that looked at."

She said, "What did you say?"

"I said that dude should get his muffler checked."

She watched it drive down the road and then stop for a minute and sound like it was going to blow up. She looked at me and said, "Muffler? He should get his head checked. Driving that..."

Labels: It means spider, The Monkey

The Monkey: I want something to eat.

Peter: You get NOTHING.

The Monkey: I'm huuungry.

Peter (looking in freezer): Pizza?

The Monkey: Ah ha. Yeah, Rihanna. Ah ha. Good girl gone bad. Ah ha. Take three... Action. Ah ha.

Peter: Are you going to answer me?

The Monkey: You had my heart. And we'll never be worlds apart. Maybe in magazines, but you'll still be my star...

Peter goes back to watch hockey.

Labels: The Monkey

There was an hour long gap on Tuesday afternoon where The Monkey wasn't going to have any adult supervision. And when they couldn't find that, her mom called me (Monday night) and asked me to hang out with the twerp.

Tuesday morning, around 8ish, my phone rang. It was The Monkey.

In one breath...

"Hi. Can I ask you a question? Peter, you know how I am going to your house when I get off the bus? Right? Wellll when I tell the bus driver that I want to go to your place he tries to make me go on another bus. I don't know anyone on the other bus. I don't want to go on the other bus. So can you pick me up at Nanny and Poppy's house? [Switches to favour-asking voice.] They'll leave the front door unlocked so you can go right in."

I replied," Ye *yawn* ssss"

3 o'clock came and I was standing in her grandparent's living room watching Much Music. I heard the bus stop out front. A while later, she came strutting out the door. She had a backpack, the size of which I haven't seen since I watched a documentary about climbing Everest. Her lunch bag thing swung from her arm. And she had her jacket hanging over one shoulder.

In Canada. In early February.

She sauntered up to the front door.

The Monkey: Yo.

Peter: Why aren't you wearing your jacket, goof?

The Monkey: Oh, Larry gets pissed off.

Peter: What? Who?

The Monkey: The bus driver. He doesn't like waiting. He closes the door and pretends he is going to leave if I take too long.

And dude has a point. She does not rush. EVER. She is on her own schedule. I can remember putting her on the bus occasionally when she first started grade primary (kindergarten, Yankees) -- her parents left very early for work -- and she took her time even then. She'd walk on the bus. She'd stop at three or four different seats to say "Hi" to people, before finally choosing a seat. Then she'd slowly take her backpack off and ease her way into the seat -- as the bus driver stared in the mirror and wondered why he didn't become a plumber.

Her getting home from school was even worse. She'd always be sitting at the back of the bus. Her bags and jacket were always on another seat. Sometimes more than one seat. She always dropped something. And she was ALWAYS dancing and singing along to whatever song was currently in her head.

Nothing has changed.

Then I made a rookie mistake.

Peter: Uhm. You have a pretty long bus ride. When you were getting close to home, why didn't you put on your jacket?

The Monkey: Well...

We were already in my house when she finished the explanation.

It involved differential algebra, global warming stats, and what I can only assume was a little bit of elementary Swahili.

I set her up at the kitchen table to do her homework. I went to my computer. 4 minutes later she walked in carrying her scribbler. (Note book?)

The Monkey: So, I am doing my English homework.

Peter: You don't say.

The Monkey: I do! Listen to what I have for an answer...

Then she read me the answer to the question. Then the question. Then two more questions and two more answers. Then a one page note that her teacher wrote on her book report.

And then her book report.

Peter: You're not actually reading me your book report are you?

The Monkey: What?

Peter: You are not reading me your entire book report.

She ignored this and started reading it.

When she finished, I told her that she had done a good job. She smiled and started singing that annoying "Lollipop" song from the 60s.

Including the *pop* parts.

She went back to the kitchen table for another twenty minutes or so.

Her mom called and asked how she was doing. I gave her the update. The Monkey wanted to talk on the phone. Of course. So, she started gabbing with her mom. And then she started squealing.

She hung up the phone and started clapping and jumping.

The Monkey: She got me Hannah Montana: One in a Million!! Yay me!!!!!!! Whoooo! Peter, can you get me something to eat?

Peter: What would you like?

She looked around a bit, then in the fridge.

"OK...." She clasped hands together and broke into a big evil smile. "I have FOUR ideas."


I am featured on IndieBloggers today. It's something I wrote ages ago, but is one of my favourites. And it marked the beginning of my love affair with my "enter" key.

Labels: Indie Bloggers, The Monkey

The Monkey and her parents were visiting earlier.

The Monkey told me about her starting Tae Kwon Do classes tomorrow.

Then she demonstrated her pre-existing maddish skillz. This involved her walking back and forth in the living room, throwing punches and saying "Wichita! Wichita!"

Then, "I'll use my nunchuks. And then... Wichita! Wichita!"

Her Dad and I discussed KARATE KID, which, of course, led to her dancing around saying, "Wax on. Wax off. Wax on. Wax off."

A few moments later...

Monkey's Dad: This is for SELF-DEFENSE.

Monkey: Uh huh. Yeah. Wichita! Wichita!

As they were leaving...

Monkey (threateningly): Wait until after my class tomorrow.

Peter: You better take more than one class, you little turd."

Monkey: I'll only need one class to beat ya! You'll be my practice dummy!

Peter: You're my every day dummy. (Not my best work. I was tired!)

Monkey: Well, you're my every HOUR dummy and --

Then her parents pulled her out the door with them as they left.

Labels: The Monkey, Wichita

I think that I'm going to start dating Mandy Moore.

Now, don't for a minute think that this is a decision that I arrived at easily. You see, Mandy, as it turns out, is a couple of years younger than I realized.

It gave me pause. It did.

But, at the end of the day, or any time really, it just isn't fair for me to deny her the chance to date me just because of when she was born.

I can't be that guy.

I can't.

I won't.

Nobody knows better than I, that love has it's ups and downs. Well, actually, I am sure that lots of people know better than I do. Possibly most people. Either way...

Love has its ups and downs. It has its sideways drunken stumbles. It has its confused turns. It has its hesitant back steps. It has its "I stubbed my damn toe because some jerkass moved that chair" one foot hops. I think you get the idea.

So, I'm going to date Mandy Moore. But, until I get to know her better, I am not sure how seriously I'll date her, you know?

Plus, I'll need The ACN and The Monkey to check her out first.

If The ACN is willing to give her cheek kissies, I'll know she's OK.

The Monkey will probably want a little extra time. She'll want to sing songs with Mandy. They'll likely have conversations like this one:

The Monkey: I'll never smoke weed with Willie again.

Mandy: Uhm... what are you singing?

The Monkey: It is my Daddy's cellphone ring tone.

Mandy: Oh my...

The Monkey: My party's all over before it begins.
You can pour me some Old Whiskey River my friend.
But I'll never smoke weed with Willie again.

[Yes. This conversation did actually happen, with me playing the Mandy Moore role.]

So, if both little chicks agree, Mandy is in.

I'm pretty excited about this.

Now, I haven't seen all of Mandy's movies. But, I did love SAVED. And the one where she is the president's daughter and running around someplace with a young secret service agent dude was kind of cute. (It was!) And it shouldn't be confused with the movie where Katie Holmes is the president's daughter and running around someplace... with a young secret service agent dude.

And I don't really know Mandy's music. (Though I like this cover.) I'll make sure to bone up on her other songs.

Yes, I said "bone up." Grow up.

SO immature.

"Bone up."

Tee hee.

Because I am the least shallow guy ever (in this room... right now... typing) this shouldn't matter to me, but...

Girl is 5'10".

5'10"!!!!

I haven't really figured out how to meet Mandy Moore yet. So, if she is in your book club, or is your Facebook friend, help a dude out?

I just need an intro.

I figure all I need is about 20-25 minutes of talking to her and I am golden.

I'd ask you to wish me luck, but... Come on.

If she and I got trapped in an elevator for a couple hours, we'd come out engaged.

Awww. It's adorable that you think I'm kidding.

Also...

5'10"!!!!

Labels: ACN, Mandy Moore, The Monkey

This photo was taken, like, two minutes after The Monkey and I finished brawling.

It all began when she took the remote control out of my hand.

No. SERIOUSLY.

Peter: Gimme that!

Monkey: I want to see what's on.

Peter: I am watching football.

Monkey: I just want to check.

Peter: I don't care if you find a show starring you. You're not watching it. Give me the remote.

Monkey: No!

I decided that I was taking the remote back. And, I'm not gonna lie to you, it took more effort than it should have. She's a scrappy little shit.

But, I wrestled it away from her, and got back into a comfy seat.

I should have known that wouldn't have been the end of it.

I should have known.

She flew across the couch and was grabbing for the remote. I held it away and told her to get lost.

Then she realized that bugging me was more fun than the remote itself. So she started hitting me. Pinching me.

I threatened to kick her in the ass.

"Ooooooooh, Peter. I am sooooo scaaaaaared."

At one point I was holding her two wrists in my hand.

She growled, "Let... me... GO."

I said, "Truce?"

"Let.. me.. GO!!!"

I let her go and went back to my comfy seat.

The ACN howled with laughter, wearing her Tinker Bell jammies, and sitting in Chairy nearby.

And then The Monkey remembered that I am not big on people invading my personal space. So, she skooched up right against me.

"Hiii Peter. I looooooooooooooooove you." And tried to kiss my cheek.

"Get off me, you little loon" I replied as I moved her down the couch away from me.

I tried to draw a "border" down the centre of the couch. She just looked at me. The ACN giggled some more.

I went back to my side. And she jumped up against me again.

I tossed her back down the couch.

I should mention that The Monkey has an uncle too. He is my size, but meaner than me. And they actually fight. He hits her back. She LOVES it. But, it means that she is not at all intimidated by me.

I picked her up and put her back on her side of the couch. Seconds later, she was back.

Finally I gave up.

She put her legs over my legs, put her head on my shoulder and giggled.

I got to watch the end of the Packers game though.

Two minutes after this picture was taken, The ACN joined us on the couch. Her head on The Monkey's Shoulder. The Monkey's head on mine. All three of us sat on the same side of the border!!

But, it was pretty cute.

Labels: ACN, The Monkey

Little Chick Claus



and Nipper Claus



both hope that you are having the happiest of holidays!

Labels: ACN, Christmas, Nipper, The Monkey

I'm gonna mess with the chronology of this post a little. It's going to be like a Tarantino film. Except, if it was a Tarantino film, it might involve Kirk Cameron's comeback performance as a mob accountant with a guilty conscience.

**********

The Monkey arrived at the door this morning. She was wearing pajama pants and a sweat shirt. No jacket. It was 0 degrees Canadian. (Like 32 of your dirty American degrees.)

She went straight to The ACN.

The Monkey: Snowflake, do you like my nails? Aren't they pretty?

The ACN shook her head "No."

**********

Yesterday afternoon, The Monkey was cuddling with my mom on a couch, under a blanket. The Monkey sneakily stole the remote and changed the channel to "The Suite Life of Zack and Cody."

Peter's Mom: I am not watching that crap.

The Monkey: Oh no you di'int!!!

**********

This morning, The Monkey was trying to teach The ACN how to say "Garcon!" whenever she wanted me to get her something to eat.

**********

This morning, The Monkey turned to The ACN and asked, "Is Uncle Pete a poopface?"

I had my back to them, as I was making them some toast.

The Monkey said, "She said 'Yes!!'"

I turned and The ACN was smiling. So, I walked over and put my nose to her nose and said, "Did you say Unc was a poopface?"

She shook her head "No."

I went back to toast prep.

The monkey asked her again. Again I didn't hear a reply. Again The Monkey yelled, "She said 'yes!!'"

I turned around and The ACN denied it. Though while smiling.

This went on for another few minutes.

Then The Monkey asked The ACN, "Are you afraid of Unc?"

The ACN, said "Yeeeah."

The Monkey laughed and said, "He's all talk, no action."

The ACN giggled.

The Monkey asked again, "Is Unc a poopface?"

The ACN yelled "YEAH!!!!!"

Hours later, I decided to check if I was, in fact, still a poopface.

Unc: Hasn't Unc been very good to you all day?

ACN: Yeah.

Unc: Hasn't Unc been feeding you all day?

ACN: Yeah.

Unc: So, is Unc realllly still a poopface?

ACN: YEAH!

**********
Yesterday afternoon the two goofs made cookies:

Labels: ACN, The Monkey

After a visit last night that included her telling The ACN the following joke on the phone: "Snowflake, why is Tigger stinky? Because he sits next to Pooh." The Monkey was getting ready to go home.

She put on her giant school bag and we walked to the door. She spun around in circles a few times, looking for her shoes and pretending that the school bag was weighing her down.

She suddenly and inexplicably started talking in an old lady voice:

"Where are my shooooes, sonny? Oh... there they are. Ohhhh. Sore back. My spine doesn't work like it used to. Did you know, that in 1986... in 1986 I was in the World War II. It was a good time. Ohhh. One of these times I am going to break in two, there. (As I held the door open for her.) You're pretty tall for a young fella."

Labels: The Monkey

The Monkey was getting ready for her Xmas concert and needed help with her tie.

Me: Cute outfit. Have you given any thought to, I don't know, maybe brushing your hair?

Monkey: My mom asked if I was going to. I told her to get me a brush. She didn't. She's kind of clueless.

A little while later, she did some unladylike outfit adjusting.

Peter's Dad: That's not a very... good move to be doing.

Monkey: I know! But, my tights are right down to here. (Points) Just a little above the bottom of my skirt. They are too small. I told my mom, "I can go with neutral." She said, "No, your shoes are black." AND she told me to go get my flats. And I said, "My what?" They have a heel on them this (shows us) big. I'm not the brightest light bulb in the package, but I know they aren't flats."

Labels: The Monkey

Hi, sweetie.

How's things?

I know, I know. It's been a while. I'm sorry.

Been busy, you know?

No, not too busy for you. That's not what I meant.

ANYWAY, the reason I am writing is because I've been seeing something popping up on posts by various female bloggers that I read. Essentially it--

What's that?

They are just friends. I swear.

Honestly!

Yes, you told me that your ex-boyfriend is sniffing around again. But, you also told me that dude couldn't even find your g-spot if he used Mapquest. So, forgive me if I don't feel threatened.

Where did this jealous streak come from? And why do I put up with it?

Because you are cute and sweet?

Well, that's a good point.

So, the idea of these posts is the classic "list." You know, 5 celebs that if you got the chance, you could...

Yes, I know yours would all be George Clooney.

What? Jude Law?

I'm going to pretend that you didn't say that.

Now, you know me, Future Wife, I don't really care about celebrities. Sure I like cute female celebs, but no more than I'd like a cute female receptionist at an insurance agency.

That being said, here is my list:

1) Anna Friel -- Did you see the episode of "Pushing Daisies" where she mimes being a bear? COME on. The cuteness!

2) Blake Lively -- I know that she is, like, twenty. And, yes, I feel ever so lecherous. But, I think that when Lance Armstrong started dating the creepy little Olsen twin, it flung the doors wide open for lechers everywhere. Other than pissing off the French, this is my favourite thing he's ever done.

3) Sarah Evans -- I know nothing about country music. I do loves me some of your Johnny Cashes, Kris Kristoffersons and Waylon Jenningseseses, and I have been singing "She's a good hearted woman, in love with a good-timing man" all day, but I have no idea what's going on in country music right now. However, I was at my aunt's house on Saturday, and she was watching the country music station. They showed a video by this chica. Je suis intrigued.

4) Lindsey Deluce -- So, The Monkey danced on a telethon yesterday. (And it was available on satellite across Canada!) One of the hosts was this woman. From what I can gather, she is a reporter for the local news -- which, beginning yesterday, I've started watching regularly. She's delightful. (Also, she was wearing a shirt much like the cowl neck one that Caitlyn mentions in this post about how I beat her at Scrabulous.)

5) Lauren Graham -- I've been good about not blogging about the lovely Lauren Graham. Lately. But, there WAS a time.

Just missing my list was Claire Coffee -- who was adorable on two old episodes of "The West Wing" that I watched last week. (Now I am thinking I may want to replace Sarah Evans with her. Curses!)

And, yes, Rachel Bilson used to ALWAYS be on my list. However, since Hollywood RUINED her by making her all scrawnified... Curves are good, people!!!!!! That goes for you too, Ali Larter. Eat a damn hamburger.

Sorry...

So, yeah, that is my list.

While we're on the subject, any chance I can create a list of my top five female bloggers too?

Yeah, see, I knew that I went too far with that one.

Take care.

Love,
Peter

Labels: future wife, Seemed MUCH funnier in my head, The Monkey

I woke up this morning with absolutely no ideas for a blog topic.

Well, I had some ideas. But, none of them began writing themselves in my head. Which would have meant that I would have actually had to do some of the work.

Pffft. Sucks to that.

I got an early morning IM from HRC. It mostly consisted of her talking about Canadian chocolate bars. Which was followed by me complaining, "I have nothing to blog about!"

She said that I should blog about how pretty she is. Or about the time when she looked the prettiest.

I rolled my eyes like a 15 year old girl.

You can do that while IM'ing and not get punched.

Score!

So, I said something nice to her. (It was early.)

And she MOCKED me.

!!!!!!

And THEN blamed me because she claims that she learned how to pick on people by watching me.

Which reminded me of the voting I got you folks to do the other day.

The winner was...

"Terrible thing... I have a wife, yet I have to do all the housework. She can't figure out how to start the broom. She is still looking for the pull cord."

I know! I'm as shocked as you.

The masturbation one jumped out to an immediate lead -- not surprising as the history of the democratic process has taught us that pervs vote early -- but, the terrible wife ended up squeezing out a slim victory.

The quote was actually something my uncle said to me last weekend. Then he giggled. Then his wife swatted him.

And then he giggled some more.

You see, I come from a family of pickers.

He is my mom's brother. And he is legendary for his picking.

And for being an outlaw in his youth. He and his friends would frequently tear around in his car -- sometimes with a friend sitting on a wooden chair on the hood. Old people in neighbouring towns would refuse to leave their houses on Sunday afternoons. (For some reason, that was when he raised his biggest ruckuses.)

He got his picking honestly. My grandfather was a picker too. It was great.

Plus, my grandfather would tell people the craziest stories. And then get angry if you doubted him.

He'd convince people that he was his own twin and that his "brother" had died. And then let them give condolences.

An old lady once told him that she hadn't seen him in twenty years. She asked where he'd been. He told her "jail." She asked what for. "Rape and murder."

I know, right? This is my DNA, people.

My uncle has a son.

Yes, also a picker.

It's the family business.

My cousin is very dry. And many people have never heard him speak. He's the kind of person that, if he doesn't like you, he isn't talking to you. AT ALL. Don't bother asking questions.

One of my favourite moments with him was at a party many moons ago. A buddy of mine was trying to get my cousin to drink some sissy drink. All my cousin would say was...

"I like beer and I like rum."

My friend kept trying.

"It tastes great!"

"I like beer and I like rum."

"One sip?"

"I like beer and I like rum."

"Honestly. You are going to love it."

"I like beer and I like rum."

Finally he talked my cousin into taking a swig. My cousin held it in his mouth for about ten seconds. Swallowed. Then looked straight ahead...

"I like beer and I like rum."

It is good to see that the next generation in the family is also good at picking.

You may remember two little chicks called The ACN and The Monkey.

What about me?

Well, I asked HRC for some examples of my picking. She struggled to find any. And when she mentioned things, they just made me sound delightful.

I guess I am the exception in a family of pickers.

And, yay!, I wrote a post.

I even thanked HRC for starting the ball rolling with her "pretty" comments.

Peter: your raging ego and constant need for validation came in handy!

HRC: fists!

Mocking and threats. That is what I get.

Terrible, right?

But, don't feel TOO bad for me.

I told her, "Now that you are engaged, people don't see you as a woman anymore." (As I giggled.)

And then warned her that her itchy eye could be "tiny spider eggs."

I guess she probably shouldn't have mocked me.

Labels: ACN, HRC, NaBloPoMo, The Monkey

I finally got around to getting the pics off my camera. One reminded me of a little story from a couple of months (and teeth) ago.

One morning...

Unc: Tonight you are going to sleep in your own bed.

The ACN shakes her head "No."

Unc: Unc's bed?

The ACN shakes her head "No."

Unc: With your mommy and daddy?

The ACN shakes her head "No."

Unc: At [The Monkey's] house?

The ACN shakes her head "No."

Unc: In the back of the truck?

The ACN: Yeah.

Unc: No. You can't sleep in the back of the truck.

The ACN: Yeah!

Unc: No!

The ACN: YEAH!

Two minutes later...

Labels: ACN, The Monkey

Because my birthday is Sunday, The ACN came back down to celebrate it with me. This time she brought her mommy and daddy and Nipper.

You may remember that the last time Nipper came down, we got into a tiny bit of trouble... when we destroyed my mother's living room.

This time my sister decided not to bring the toy that we used for our campaign of destruction. Something called a "Kong."

However, when my sister unpacked when she got here, she opened a bag with the dog food and leash and found the...

KONG.

Apparently Nipper took it and dropped it into the bag before they left.

You gotta respect that kind of dedication to causing trouble.

I think that Nipper has developed a crush on me. She follows me around, carrying toys for us to play with. If I am busy, she gives me indignant little barks. And if that doesn't work, she puts her head down and gives me a puppy pout.

She's clearly been well coached.

[The Monkey JUST called from her grandparents' house.

Monkey: Were you up?

Peter: I've been up for hours.

Monkey: (in one breath) You probably haven't been up for hours but you've been up for a while I guess Is [The ACN] there I only saw the car this morning I was walking back to my house the door was locked and my dad was trying to get sleep so I came back here and was going to call him but they all told me that he'd be mad if I woke him up but I'm not afraid of my dad I want to go visit [The ACN] before I go to the craft show is she going to the craft show? My aunt is calling in I gotta go.

*click*]

Speaking of my birthday (we were, scroll back!) where are my damn cards and gifts?

You suck.

Because it is crazy to have to blog on my birthday, I have a special guest poster lined up for tomorrow. It is the ex formerly (and currently, really) known as HRC.

Her birthday is in a couple of days, so, to return the favour, I'll be guest posting for her.

Which, let's face it, is some pretty good incentive for her to say nice things about me tomorrow.

**********

Edit to add: A little pre-craft show cuddling.

Labels: ACN, NaBloPoMo, The Monkey

There is something you should know about Uncle Pete...

He's a bit of a messy feeder.

So, after breakfast, when he was getting the ACN changed, some food fell out of her jammie pants.

His reaction of, "Dude... butt toast?" made her laugh.

A LOT.

*************

The Monkey's family went to a funeral Saturday morning, so she came over to hang out with The ACN.

At first this involved a lot of playing Webkinz online and making fun of Uncle Pete.