Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Luke is the second coming of Weird Al

After watching a performance of Sara Bareilles' "Love Song" on "American Idol," my 2-year-old song made up a parody called "Butt Song." It was only one line and change long, repeated over and over ("Butt song... Butt song... Need one... Butt Song...") but the kernel was certainly there. Well done, young man.

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Showdown at Applebee's

Here's how it went down. Two years ago my friend Tyler and I went to the restaurant after watching Arizona get beat down against Washington State at home. I just wanted to go home but Tyler wanted to get something to eat and he was my ride so it was out of my hands.

We were seated at a corner table and Tyler ordered some wings. The waiter asked what sort of sauce he'd like, and Tyler ordered mild, which spurred the waiter to comment that mild wings are for girls.

I laughed, but insulting the person who's eating and obviously paying just to get a laugh out of the idiot who's just along for the ride is not a smart pathway to a great tip. Things only got worse from there.

The wings didn't come for a long time, and our drinks sat empty while the waiter stood in the corner trying to flirt with his coworkers.

Tyler gave up on waiter No. 1 and flagged some other guy down to refill the drinks. Eventually waiter No. 1 circled back around to check on things, and he said he'd get us refills, seizing both of our half-full glasses and never returning with replacements. Tyler flagged yet another waiter to get us our drinks, and at long last waiter No. 1 returned with the check.

Tyler asked if he should tip the guy and I told him of course not. So he marked a zero on the tip line and below that wrote "Here's your tip: Stop flirting with girls and actually bring your customers drinks."

We left the restaurant and walked toward Tyler's car, when the waiter popped out from the back entrance like 21 Jump Street and stood between us and the vehicle.

"There was no need to be a dick about it," he said.

Then the three of us got into a shouting match that came to nothing. The next day I called the manager and told on him.

Two weeks later I went to Chili's with my wife and kid, and the waiter was standing outside as the hostess. He either didn't recognize me or pretended that was the case.

Monday, February 23, 2009

This one time at IHOP

I ordered an omelette, which was supposed to come with pancakes but arrived solo. I asked the waiter for the pancakes four times, and four times I was told they were on the way yet they did not come.

I sat there and waited, no longer interested in the pancakes themselves but determined to win a battle of wills. Eventually, after maybe 90 minutes, the pancakes came. I left them there at the table and wrote a little note that told the waiter the pancakes were his tip.

I write this both to brag about how stubborn I am and to warn IHOP waiters that I mean business when I'm waiting for my pancakes.

Tomorrow I will tell you about the time my friend and I were chased into the parking lot by an Applebee's waiter.

As for Wednesday, nobody knows what the topic will be as of yet.

Sunday, February 22, 2009


Jessica: You're my angel.

Luke: No, Mommy. I'm a boy.

Jessica: Are you my little boy?

Luke: No, Mommy. I'm not little. I'm a big boy. I'm heavy.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Eight Seconds

Was the length of Emma's spectacular bout of flatulence a few minutes ago. Luke Perry, who so memorably played Lane Frost in that 1994 rodeo classic of the same title, would have been proud, for her fart matched the length of his greatest bull ride.

I've foolishly volunteered to stay up with her throughout the night to prove my boastful, highly disputed theory that she's ready to sleep in the bassinet rather than on her mom's chest. So far she's given me 90 minutes' sleep and I hope to collect more than three times that amount over the next eight hours. Let's do this, Emma.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009


Whenever I watch "Juno" I'm amused by the scene in which Juno takes pity on Jason Bateman's character because his wife allows him to decorate only one room in the house. I think "Wow, that guy gets an entire room? Lucky bastard." I'm relegated to one wall of the garage.

Monday, February 16, 2009

Raising babies

Is war, make no mistake about that. Your kids are beautiful, inspiring and life-affirming, but they are also your nemeses.

No one on the planet gets to know you better than your children do. They discover weaknesses you never even knew you had. There's no hiding anything from them, and they see through all the facades you put up for society, and even your closest friends, and call you out for what you really are. Raising children puts you on the battlefield and it's you and - if you're lucky enough to have a spouse around - and your significant other against the underage enemy. Survival and success depend on your ability to strategize, execute and out-think your unpredictable opponents. Teamwork is absolutely crucial, as is outright luck. You're a bird on a wire with baby hatchlings stacked on your shoulders, unwittingly attempting to tip you over and send you hurtling toward disaster.

I'm told things only get more trying as they age. Newborn Emma keeps me up all hours of the night because she won't sleep unless she's in my arms or Jessica's, and she'll make me just as much of an insomniac once she's a teenager. 2-year-old Luke already knows how to turn me into a speechless idiot, by snidely muttering "eh?" when I ask a question he doesn't like. By next year the kid will have figured out how to steal my credit card to go on online shopping binges.

One thing I've grown fairly certain of over the past week is those who have more than two kids are either certifiably insane or callous enough to hire outside agents to raise them.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

25 things about me

1. My ultimate goal is to travel to another planet and conquer it, rectally probing most of the planet’s residents, enslaving the others and stealing all their water for my personal use.

2. Censored.

3. I used to think that people who liked 30 Rock better than The Office were morons. I am now also a moron.

4. I am a whore in public but a churchgirl in the bedroom.

5. One of my more depressing shortcomings is that I am 11 wives short of attaining a quorum in the Celestial Kingdom.

6. I didn’t land on Plymouth Rock, but Plymouth Rock landed on me.

7. I would have been able to play in the NBA if I hadn’t been discriminated against back in high school for my lack of size, speed and intelligence.

8. I try to work the phrase “You dun smoke yourself retarded” into one conversation per day.

9. I don’t understand the fashion concept of “matching.”

10. Abraham Lincoln was actually a reincarnation of me. The explanation for how this happened is too long to get into here, but bear in mind it includes a time-traveling DeLorean as well as several voodoo rituals.

11. I was Time Magazine’s 2006 person of the year. Look it up.

12. I believe all country love songs by dudes are sung with farm animals in mind.

13. My greatest fear is being buried alive.

14. I believe golf columnists are the most fetishistic and pathetically stalker-like of all sportswriters.

15. I feel sorry for dolphins that live in the wild because they don’t get the chance to jump through flaming hoops.

16. I still own every baseball, football and basketball card, as well as comic book, I ever purchased and keep them stored in shoeboxes in a closet for no reason.

17. I am too lazy to write 25 things about myself, so I must stop at

18. And yet I persevere anyway, deciding that it’s better to half-ass eight more to conform to the demands of the format rather than cut myself off in the name of artistic integrity.

19. When I was a kid I had an imaginary rival named Jacques Jejajeun. I’d play him in paddle ball, Nerf basketball and Rad Racer.

20. When I was in fifth grade I convinced myself that if me and my friends played recess basketball well enough we’d get a chance to play against UNLV in a nationally broadcast exhibition game.

21. I hate yet am in inspired by people with no talent who have lucked into successful careers. (i.e. Matt Leinart, Katy Perry and Ryan Seacrest).

22. I have no sense of direction. This affects me the most when I play first-person shooters.

23. I like reading about video games more than playing them.

24. When I was a freshman in college I would recycle my excess cereal milk and use it the next day. Yep, I went green before it was cool.

25. I’m not even trying anymore and haven’t been after the first seven in all honesty. But I still count this as one so now it’s over.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Goodbye sleep

I see how things will be now for the next couple months. I am the father of a vampire baby who lacks the ability to sleep at night. It's fine because Luke was the same way, and apparently I survived his early days, even though I've blocked most of the sleep-deprived weeks from my memory. At least I'll be able to accomplish a few things, such as re-watching "The Prisoner" and checking Facebook at 3:30 in the morning for several consecutive days.

Bring it on, Emma. I'm ready for round three tonight.

1/40th-life crisis

My 2-year-old son, Luke, is going through some issues accepting his new role as big brother. He made his introductions to newborn Emma by attempting to shove her car seat off a chair. A few minutes later he punched her, earning himself an expenses-paid trip trip to time out.

Today he seems to have made a little bit of progress. He's kissed her several times and although he's often come close to hurting her, every one of today's attempts has been unintentional.

Sunday, February 08, 2009

Pleased to meet you

Thanks to the miracles of modern labor induction my baby girl is entering this world tomorrow - at least I hope she is, because I don't know how well I'd hold up after a 14-hour labor that pushed her birthdate to 2/10/09. Hopefully I'll hold up and deliver this baby safely. Women can complain all they want, but when you get down to it childbirth is tougher for the husband (just as war is tougher on the spouses left behind at home than the soldiers who fight) because it's one thing to endure unimaginable pain for several hours on end but it's just as horrifying to stand by powerless watching your wife go through the torture, as two loves of your life hang in the balance.

Wednesday, February 04, 2009

Book deal!

After 6 years and 7 manuscripts, I've finally managed to get one sold. I can't reveal details just yet, but don't worry because I'll be hitting you over the head with it so much you'll get sick of it soon enough. This is the accomplishment of a lifelong dream and I've never been happier in my life.

Tuesday, February 03, 2009

My Super Bowl porn complaint to Comcast

Dear Comcast,

I'm writing to express my outrage over the interrupted broadcast Sunday evening. I was sitting at home with my family and friends, taking part in that great American tradition known as porn watching, when suddenly a 30-second clip of the Super Bowl flashed onscreen.

It's difficult to express how offended I was at this - I hesitate to even utter the abhorrent word - football. I mean, there were children and old people in the room! And there we were, attempting to enjoy some honest, wholesome sexual entertainment when we were bombarded with footage of grotesque, chemically-enhanced behemoths throwing one another around and committing acts of grotesque violence on one another.

At first I thought it some sort of plot twist or narrative flourish. After all, beloved porn movies are known for their unpredictability as much as their subversive, ironic and oh-so-erotic humor. I expected the helmets and shoulder pads to be shed in due course for some lovemaking.

After all, it started out innocently enough, with a man approaching a group of fellows who were bent over with their butts in the air. He chose his favorite, stuck his hands onto the gentleman's erogenous zone and and began yelling out orgasmically as all the others remained frozen in rapt attention. But then the players commenced with a revolting display of what lowlifes refer to as "athletics." I watched, waited, and came to realize that as the disgusting display continued it became all too obvious what was really going on.

We were innocent victims of some horrendous, purile prank, and I don't know that we will ever fully be able to recover. We put our trust in you, Comcast, and you violated it as Debbie did Dallas. Who do you take us for? We are not the slobbering, perverse cro-magnons who would put up with such drivel.

I demand a full refund of my last seven years' cable bills and am highly considering a switch to Direct TV or Dish Network, which to my knowledge never let their porn feeds become polluted with such abominations.

Good day, sirs.

Phil Villarreal

Tucson, AZ

Monday, February 02, 2009

Strollers are a fraud

They're not necessary. When babies are tiny and light, you just carry them along without any trouble. When they're too heavy to hold, they're big enough to walk on their own. Furthermore, they are all possessed by the minions of the ancient demon Unfold, who is said to curse plastic devices, rendering them unfoldable.

So for anyone out there who has ever purchase a stroller, you're wrong and have failed at life.

(Jessica, if you're reading this please don't murder me in my sleep. I was just kidding! Sorta.)

Sunday, February 01, 2009

Pittsburgh Steelers World champions?

I don't know that the Pittsburgh Steelers are truly world champions. I'll bet there's a team in Azerbaijan, Turkey or North Korea that WOULDN'T THROW THEM 100-YARD PICK SIXES OR ALLOW THEM TO GO UP THE FIELD FOR EASY TOUCHDOWNS WITH LESS THAN A MINUTE LEFT IN THE GAME.

So let's just call them NFL champs, OK?