Wyatt's First Blog (and Photo Montage)!

Although I have now figured out how to solve Fermat's Last Theorem, I can't be like Dad all the time. So I am going for the 'best dressed kid' award, already informally awarded to me by my Mom and her friends. But I am a loyal consumer, and so here is my Gap photo montage. Enjoy!




Special thanks goes to my Mom, my Uncle Davy, my Uncle Derek, and esp. my Auntie JoAnn, all of whom are keeping GapKids afloat on their very own. [Legal Disclaimer: Monkey hat and green socks are model's own, and not provided by Gap, Inc.]

One Nation Underdog!!!

Coming soon...to a theater near you (or not so near you if you live in France, Auntie Amy)...the...best...movie...ever...with, if I don't say so myself, the most gorgeous star in it!!!

UNDERDOG!!!

But what I bet you didn't know was that Underdog is a BEAGLE!!! Well, neither did I, but you can't deny it! Look closely at the at the long ears, the beautiful jowl line, the solid frame, the strong forward gaze looking, seeking, searching for trouble (or peanut butter cookies). Hot diggity dog! Underdog, my personal hero, a beagle!!!

This must be why when Joe walked me this evening (pee, but no poop), a bunch of women across the street started cat-calling (how ironic to use the word 'cat'...sigh) "beagle! beagle! beagle!" Joe got scared and ran away (after all, who wouldn't be scared of a bunch of women trying to get near you because your dog is so cute -- Dina, by the way, rewarded Joe with a biscuit when he got home for "leaving it."). Beagle...dog of steel, the first dog of Krypton, dog of tomorrow! Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane, it's Underdog!!!

Damn, I look good in spandex

Don't forget to check Underdog out, coming Summer 2007!

P.S. Like father, like dog. Dad loves Superman, I love Underdog. Go figure.

C*ckblockers

WARNING: This blog may not be age appropriate for those under 17, or in dog age, 2. Or really, anyone else who doesn't want to "go there."

In case you don't know, a c*ckblocker is typically known as a guy that interferes with another guy's attempt to hook up with a woman. You know, let's say GuyA is eyeing Girl1 and has been chatting her up the whole night (what do you like to do, where are you from, what did you study, did you like "The Notebook" better than "Terms of Endearment," and all that kind of junk that guys don't really want to hear, but are willing to forge through if there's a chance of hooking up). Well, even after putting all that QT into Girl1 and as GuyA is really about to close the deal, GuyB rolls in, makes a move, and leaves with the girl -- effectively, as they say, c*ckblocking.

But I started thinking about this, and c*ckblocking doesn't just apply to guys, there are all forms of c*ckblocks, and here are just a few:

* Dina and Joe finally return from their trip to Laguna Beach, and I'm as excited as hell to see them. I've been staying with Auntie Di and Uncle Ken, sleeping in the kitchen with Kona. Well, Dina and Joe roll in, I run up (to do my usual lickfest on their faces), and Kona jumps in the mix, and c*ckblocks me from them!!! Not only can't I lick their faces, but I'm also getting whipped in the face with Kona's 20 foot long tail!!! That's lick-blocking, and here's the lick-blocker herself.* Dina goes to the buffet at the Wynn Hotel & Casino in Vegas. Now, we all know we shouldn't get between Dina and an unlimited amount of food. But did you ever notice that there's always that one guy, that one jerk (or jerkette) that is always in your way? Walking too slowly towards the food, but meandering in such a way that you can't get around him. Or, you turn around to get in line, and whoa! Who slides in before you and then can't make up their mind on whether they want their prime rib cut medium rare or medium? Same guy! And then, you move towards the frozen yogurt dispenser, and voila! Same dude blocking the machine, and to boot, the chocolate jimmies and crushed oreos. That's buffet-blocking.

* Or you're Joe at a conference, and you're trying to get into the tent. And there's some dude on his bluetooth in front of you that keeps speeding up and then slowing down, in a pace rhythmic with his conversation, but not rhythmic with walking forward. And as you try to dodge around him, he raises his hands in emphasis, and not only are you still behind him, but your face is now meeting his hand. That's tent-blocking.

* Or like an old friend of Dina used to point out, what about the guy at McDonald's waiting in line to order. And when he finally reaches the front, he's wondering out loud "hmmm...what do I want?" Uh dude? You've been waiting in line, a perfect time to figure out what you want. Oh, and by the way, we're still at McDonald's, where the menu is the same, has been the same, and will be the same for eons! That's burger-blocking.

So I'm just sayin', that c*ckblocking is an awfully good word with lots of applications. Just think about it. And don't get me wrong, I'm not a hater. Heck, I'm a c*ckblocker myself. You have to remember, I sleep in Dina and Joe's bed.

Guest Blog from Dina: A Sad Statement

I thought it was hard turning 35. You know, feeling much closer to 40 and kissing 30 goodbye. But that wasn't hard. What was hard was tonight.

Tonight, I went to a dinner/concert hosted by some investment banking joint throwing a big conference in Laguna Beach. Dinner was fine -- In N' Out burger trucks outside, plus the usual seafood spread and lots of free booze. The theme of the night? Moulin Roth (Roth being the name of the investment bank). Okay, sort of cheesy.

So why did I go? Well, of course because the food was free (I am Chinese, people). But also because Ludacris was the concert portion of the night. And at first I was excited. But after I entered the tent, a little part of high school Dina died.

Important Statistics:
Number of near naked go-go dancers: 12
Number of beer stations: 4
Number of dessert options: 6
Number of times I visited the buffet: 3
Number of times I visited the dessert buffet: 2 (plus I made Joe go once more)

Even More Important Statistics:
Average age of attendees: 48
Percentage of white male attendees: 89%
Percentage of people who have actually heard of Ludacris, or for that matter, rap music: 7%
Percentage of old white people trying to dance to Ludacris: Oh, I can't even go there. But let's just say it was enough to ruin one of my former favorite songs "What's your fantasy"

Yet despite all of this, I moved up towards the concert stage to get a glimpse of Ludacris. And wouldn't you know it? I got stuck behind the one and only rice rocket Asian guy with a pound of gel in his stick straight hair (and I'm sure, some souped up Honda with a spoiler in the parking lot). Then, to my left was a 50 year old white woman dancing (and I use that word liberally because usually dancing implies rhythm) throwing her hands up in the air (and waving them like she just didn't care). And to my right? Some 20-something year old couple grinding on each other and making out.

At one point in the concert, I could swear that Ludacris and I met eyes. And I couldn't help but convey my disappointment to him -- 'Really Lud?' I besought. 'Was the 100 grand really worth this?!' And when he began singing "Shake Your Moneymaker" as some Investor Relations cougars grinded up against him on stage, I think I saw a little tear roll down from his eye and I knew my answer.

All I could think was "How did this happen? and "Where the hell am I?" So I squeezed my eyes shut, clicked my shoes, and said "There's no place like home, there's no place like home."

Call Me TicTac Tso

Once again, we go down to L.A. and visit the family to celebrate Dina's 35th (that's right folks, our girl has entered the mid-30's and she's not going down without a fight). But we're really in L.A. because Joe has a conference in Laguna Beach (also home to the show Laguna Beach, and a testament to Dina's sad, pathetic attempt to recapture her youth -- although she was never that skinny, never that rich, and certainly never, ever that white). And while those yanks stay at some ritzy hotel, they leave me with my Uncle Ken, Auntie Di, Cousins Alyssa, Aaron and Kona, collectively known as "The Tso's" (pronounced "So"). In other words, I've morphed from TicTac To into TicTac Tso.

By the by, Joe and Dina also visited Derek while they were in L.A., and even watched the most recent episode of The Apprentice at his house (which coincidentally, is across the street from Dina's high school and no, no, she swears it wasn't that 'hood' when she went there). Anyway, when Derek brought out the Ben and Jerry's ice cream for the boardroom scene, they thought he was doomed. But thanks to his excellent Spanish ("Vamos hacer un 'how do you say drawing?'") and his Priceline enthusiasm, his butt got saved.

Oh, and no, Dina was not able to finagle any information that would have been in violation of the severely expensive non-disclosure that Derek signed, although she can say with certainty that Wyatt is not Derek's lovechild.

Wyatt's First Hot Tub

A couple of things to note here, folks:

One: Notice how Wyatt is now a sufficient size such that in the future, Dina can use him to effectively block out her stomach in any bathing-suit-type photo?

Two: Notice how oddly dark Joe is compared to his wife and son, which has led some to say to Joe "hey, do you know you're son is white?".

And three: Notice how I am not in the picture?! C'mon people, this is my friggin' blog, after all!!!

My Brush with Fame

If I were hobnobbing in L.A. like my cousins, then I'd expect to, of course, have famous friends -- or at least know Cesar Millan (Okay, I'm not a "red alert" case, but I do still shit on the carpet from time to time).

But I'm not in L.A., I'm in San Francisco, where our mayor is checking into rehab after having an affair with his campaign director's wife (who wasn't as hot as Kimberly Guilfoyle Newsom, but I bet this chick wasn't pigeon-toed like ol' Kimberly -- oh wait, I bet you didn't know that! You never see her feet on CourtTV and by the way, maybe that's why she was a catalog model as opposed to a runway model...).

Anywho, much to my surprise, one day Derek Arteta comes walking into my house! MY HOUSE! Oh c'mon people, Derek? Current star of The Apprentice(masterminded Aimee's attack of that dog-eyed kid Aaron from Harvard?), previous star of $10,000 Pyramid (and he won because unlike most game show contestants, he's SMART), laywer sidekick to Jimmy and Adam, AND the key to Dina passing Federal Courts in law school (hey, that class sounds hard because it IS hard!).

Well people, he's just as nice as can be. Fame has not gone to his head (yet). And he tasted good...real good...like honey.