The King and I

I have learned that some people don't believe my tales of woe. To suggest that I exaggerate my stories and take some sort of artistic license is ridiculous. So, to prove my point, I have indisputable photographic evidence of my childhood. It started young.






This is the First time of many that my mother tried to discard me at sea.






















To this day I am convinced that the only reason Tony got these horrible glasses is because he knew that I would think it was cool. Diabolical!


















Even at Christmas, all I wanted was a ducky. Bud I didn't get it... NO! Tony did. All I could do was dream. Notice the distain in my eye, the sad hopelessness in my face. Then look at Tony, happy, care free... has shoes. He had it all!

The thing I love about this picture is it really sums up my life up to this point. Yes, that is me. The sad little hobo in the bottom right. notice the white shirt, patches in the jeans, dirty socks, and what appears to be an extension cord as a belt. When you consider that I am far to young in this photo to pick my own costume, you have to wonder, who would put me in to a hobo costume? What kind of a sick individual would dress up one child as a drifter, and the other as the only known survivor of the planet Krypton.

All i know is Superman wasn't a Mexican, and he didn't wear gym shorts.

Mikesican of Mexizona

I am tired of all this Mexican racism going on in our fair state. When did it become okay to bad mouth my brethren!? Okay, I know what you are thinking... I look white. Which is why a lot of people think it is okay to bad mouth my people when I'm around. Unfortunately, my anglo mother cursed me with this blasted white skin, no one asked me about it! You can take a look at my brother above, hes my proof. Now, as much as I curse my skin, being half white half Mexican really opens up the amount of jokes I can tell, which is fantastic.

What is all this hatred of my people though? People actually seem to be offended by Mexican pride! Now, I understand, my ancestors didn't come to this country because they thought it would be fun to leave the lights and pizazz of Mexico to come slum it in America. They came here because America is great! That being said, who is it hurting that I am proud of where I came from? You know what the only difference is between Mexicans and Americans? When a Mexican is having trouble providing for his family, he risks his life to sneak in to another country and send money home. Little respect? Or maybe they should adopt the American method of running out on your family, making a cardboard sign that says "down on my luck, need handout" and standing on the side of the freeway waiting for a freebie! And yet people complain about my people standing on the side of the road looking for WORK. But if there is one thing America is great at is band wagon racism. Slavery, Japanese after WW2, Muslims after 9/11, and now Mexicans. Who is going to be next? My best friend Sam is a Bask. I fear for his future... sigh...

Viva Mexico!

So its official. From now on, I would like to be referred to as Mikesican the Middle Child.

Why I support the Swine Flu...

Maybe if wasn't called Swine Flu! Anyone think of that? What if it was called something cute like "the itchy sneezies" or "baconitus." At any rate, I decided to try to put a happy face on the swine flu so when it does come to Arizona, people wont be so worried about it. Knowing that my own artistic talents leave something to be desired, I have decided to turn to my brother.
But, with any good logo, comes the responsibility of an even better slogan. Something like, "Swine Flu, Not just for Mexico!" or "Swine Flu, when pigs cry..."

Any Ideas?!

Stay tuned for sweet Swine Flu Logos.

Parenting, and how to do it well...

Who decided it was a good idea to have fathers in the actual delivery room? I didn't vote for that! I mean come on now! Never have I appreciated so much an era when the men would smoke cigars in the waiting room over a glass of Johnny Walker, (red, I'm not made of money you know...) and wait for your wife to pretty herself up for you. Join the family after the baby is no longer covered in that white film of yogurty weirdness. My account of that day is as follows...

We arrived to the hospital at about 7am. I brought everything my father told me I would need. A pair of new shoelaces, a hollowed out avocado, and about 60ft of fishing line.


We were introduced to our doctor who was an older man who smelt of cheap champagne and women's perfume. His hands were cold to the touch... I felt bad for my baby's head. He led us to our first room. It was small, cramped, and I sensed it had seen its fair share of placenta. An eerie feeling to say the least.

"Where to the men wait?" I asked the nurse. She stared blankly at me for a few moments. " You know, cigar smoking, whiskey drinking... man room."

"Sir, there is no smoking the the hospital."


I chuckled to myself as I left to find the man room... "I can tell we will get along! no man room... ha! Let me know when its over!"

My wife said something as the door shut behind me. I think. I met my brother in the "waiting room." It would have to do for now. About an hour later a nurse came suddenly in to the room Kramer style and made us both jump.

"Mr. MiddleChild?"

"yes that's right"

"Your wife is starting to push!"


"Gross" I thought to myself... This cant be good. "I don't want the play by play, just a highlights sum up when its over!"

"I don't know, she seems pretty mad that your not in there!"


"Of course shes mad, I hear the whole ordeal is quite painful. Poor girl... and to have to do it all on her own. I told her to call a friend but she wouldn't listen."

Eventually, I decided to work my way back to the delivery room. The ground shook with the fury of a thousand Russian winters. I opened the door to my destiny slowly, trying to prepare myself for babestrosity (monstrosity + baby) I was about to see. My wife was obviously not enjoying herself or the miracle of afterbirth. I tried to explain to my wife that the crying isn't going to help anything and no one feels bad for her. Unfortunately my pep talk didn't help and I started to miss the uncomfortable chair in the waiting room.

Eventually, it was over. All my fears and concerns quickly dissipated when I looked in to the eyes of my little girl. I realized my life would never be the same.

So, I did the only thing I could do. I started to parent. And I have done such an amazing job, I have put together the following list as I have a number of friends who are about to have kids. This will help, trust me.

1. Set the child on the floor, and unwrap it from whatever blanket the nurses put it in. Make sure to expose the neck to establish your role as the dominant male figure. This is key, you need to instill fear. the kind of fear that says, "Most humans don't eat their young, but don't give me a reason."

2. Strategically set a bottle of formula and the aforementioned blanket on the other side of the room adjacent to the baby. Do not be an enabler. If they want to eat, they can do it themselves. If a cow can figure it out so fast, why not humans? You give them a freebie now they will be on you for the rest of your life.

3. Don't take no back talk.

4. Your wife's natural reaction will be to "baby" the baby. Do not allow this. Your right as a parent is to mess up your kid in your own special way. But don't take this responsibility lightly.



I hope this helps. My parents didn't have a lot of direction in their parenting (obviously), and look what happened to me.

Salutations!

Hello everyone,
I feel i should apologize for the long delay in between updates. I assure you that the only reason I haven't posted is only because I don't like any of you very much.
Excuse me if I seem a little bit bitter, I have been recently betrayed. Betrayed in the harshest of ways. A bank that I once risked my life for... (see 12/18/08 post) decided to lay me off. Although I cannot say that it didn't hurt my pride, I can say that the supply of paper clips I took should last me at least 8-10 years, given my current paperclip usage.

What does life hold for me now? I don't make as much money as you would think off of these hilarious musings.

My top career options are as follows.

1. Marty McFly impersonator

2. Dance Critic

3. Experimentally mixed fruits juice tester (starting with banana plumb)

4. Foot model

5. Live Manikin

6. Word Inventor

Any other Ideas? Help!

Another Mike "The Middle Child" quote to live by...

"Where does life get all them lemons? And if they are so great, why is he always giving them away?"
- Mike "The Middle Child"

I died just a little inside...

First I want to apologize to Adora, who was kind enough to respond to my 01/02/08 post, regarding Peeves. I want to apologize because I must not have been very clear. I am a fan of "sticker stacking" as it were... I myself have been known to sticker stack on occasion, and it is not a sign of stupidity, simply a sign of laziness, which I fully support. Just to clarify, I did found a perfect example of the type of licence plate that does drive me nuts.

(see pictured picture)

I don't even know where to start. It pains me to think that this person qualifies for a drivers licence. There are even sticky marks where the stickers of old have since faded away! Do they make historic plates to be placed on really old licence plates? Who thinks its a good idea to actually cover up the numbers of your licence plate with the little stickers other then bank robbers hooligans? I will tell you... Someone who I just cannot be friends with, that's who. I am sorry shopper of Tempe Toyota. Its just not going to work out between us. This brief love affair we have shared as my wife snapped photos of your licence plate while driving down the road has come to an end.