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You keep using that word
Conversation with the little guy on the way home today:
LITTLE E: I want to go home and eat pizza.
ME: I think Mom’s already got dinner planned.
LITTLE E: But I don’t like dinner. I don’t like it!
ME: Dinner isn’t pizza or green beans. Dinner is what time you eat at night. You like dinner just fine.
LITTLE E: I don’t like dinner.
ME: Do you like to eat food?
LITTLE E: Yes.
ME: Then trust me, you like dinner. At dinnertime, you get to eat food.
[pause]
LITTLE E: I don’t like to eat food.
ME: Great – that’ll save us a lot out of our budget. Thanks, buddy!
Me and Little E, solving the world’s problems together since 2007. We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.… Read more
Amazing true tales from OVGE 2010, a candidate for the dumbest prime-time TV promo ever, Pac-Man as a spectator sport, and lots of incoherent mumbling!
The true (but necessarily vague) tale of the time I had to sue someone for stealing from theLogBook.com. 😯 Also included: more weird radio stories, waterproof droids and… a cat on crack.
A couple of my Facebook friends recently posted some personality and intelligence test results courtesy of an app there. I’ve taken those same tests before, but it’s been a while; I went directly to the site for the tests rather than do the Facebook app (even before the recent revelations, I just don’t do Facebook apps) under a silly pseudonym. But what the heck, I’ll post the results here, even if I don’t want them to have my info. … 
War stories from the end of locally-owned radio. The goofiest radio commercials you’ve ever heard. Highly unprofessional and inadvisable behavior. Plus special appearances by little E and the Devil. 😯
Dear Sonic, since when does “no pickles” translate to “take the entire number of pickles existing in our universe, multiply that number by sixteen, and put that many pickles in a junior double cheeseburger”?
… 
So, Xena has given up on her career of chasing bunnies out of our yard. She used to keep us awake all hours with her quest of vengeance to keep dastardly bunnies away from the house, but evidently our guard-dog has moved into semi-retirement. Or she’s got union-guaranteed bark breaks or something. Whatever. The point is: we suddenly have a healthy population of big brown bunnies roaming our yard.