Gee, I'm doing great with this....

In the December 20th issue of Sports Illustrated Steve Rushin wrote an article about a company called Statsheet, that "operates 345 college basketball websites" and publishes "game stories." Game stories- you know what I mean, like: "Last night the New Jersey Nets tipped off against the Buffalo Sabres....and so-and-so had a triple-double and (this Bozo) netted a hat-trick in front of a crowd of 30,000 breathlessly heaving yaks."

Apparently, this outfit's game stories are all promulgated by a computer program. That's right, the machines are coming. I saw the first couple Terminator movies (in fact, I've seen 'em all, which is a damned shame and complete waste of about 8 hours of my life), and I know that the machines - in the final analysis - don't like us humans that much.

Sadly, there's no program for blogs like mine. If so, it'd read something like: "Hi, I'm a stay-at-home-dad of 4 and today I woke up and ate my breakfast and did many other mundane and uninteresting things just like almost all of the rest of you who are reading this."

Well, hell, that practically writes itself!

The unfortunate side-effect of the nonexistence of the aforementioned program is that I've got to fill this thing in myself - simply because no one else will. And I've not really had the time or inclination.

Why?

Snow. The dreaded four-letter word is snow. It means days off from school. It means I've been pretty much cooped up with my kids since.....oh.....January 14th or 15th. Yeah. That's about correct, today being the 31st means it's been 16 straight days in the thrall of living most of every single day with at least one child to entertain, correct, and not murder yet.

What's that you say? Sledding? Yup, did that. "It's cold outside, dad." TV? "There nothing on." All those stupid video games? "Meh. I want new ones."

OR .....

"He won't play what I want!" "She hit me!" "I hate that show, change the channel!" "DAAAA-aaaaaaaaaaDDDDDDD!!!!"

The worst question that I hear in this house is not really a question at all, it's simply the word "dad" posed as a one-word question. "Dad?" "Da---aaaad?" Hear the word and tremble.

And they always always ALWAYS do this when I'm trying to use the bathroom. Never fails. Ever.

Or blogging, like now. As this is not a visual medium, I can't illustrate this properly. But - as I'm typing these very words - a 4-yr old is perched on the table like a tabby cat asking to type out his own name into this blog.......as I tend to be either overly strict or overly indulgent (never a happy medium, I'm a mix of Irish and Italian so I vascillate wildly and thus age those around me terribly), here's Jack in his own letters: jack wopertyo[tp]pyi[u8.

Wasn't that great? It took about 60 seconds. And now he's talking about what a great job he did. Who am I to argue with the child who just "killed Iron Man?"

I have gotten to see some movies though. "The Other Guys" was stupid, Will Ferrell --- meh. "Revolutionary Road" was well-done but depressing as all hell. "The Kids are Alright" got a ton of press last summer as a comedy that rang true, but I don't recall finding many laughs in it. Good movie, but not a laugh-riot. "Black Swan" was a good flick to watch, and Natalie Portman should get an Oscar for her role.

All of these movies have been my escape from Kid-World into Grown-up world. It's hard to explain to working folks - who mostly seem to think that those of us who stay-at-home live on the easiest of streets.....but it's tough to immerse myself into Kid-World and be really happy about it. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy that my kids enjoy the latest cartoon movie or game or TV show - whatever it is. But I look forward to those moments when I can leave the adventures of Spongebob (a sometimes funny show) or Thomas the Tank Engine (ugh) for things of a more intellectual or "grownup" nature.

There's books, too. I finished Keith Richards' "Life", and don't really recommend it much. It's OK, not anything earth-shattering. Working on "Cleopatra" and "The Emperor of all Maladies" simultaneously, but finding quiet moments around here to read hasn't been easy, lately.

Leaving all that aside, it was fun to see my 4 kids digging through the pile of cartoon DVDs and pulling out "Ren and Stimpy" last week. 5 of us laughed, and 1 of us (she shall remain nameless yet she is nearly 40 and sometimes a stick-in-the-mud about cartoons like "Ren & Stimpy") criticized the rest of us for laughing with a shake of the head. Sorry, they're all eediots like their dad.