Precocious Girl is Precocious
Yesterday the 5 year old girl barged into the bathroom while my husband was taking a shower. He tells her to leave, because he’s naked.
“Whatever. I’ve already SEEN your penis.”
That’s Skippy’s daughter.
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An Interview with Skippy
Hi Everyone! Mrs. Skippy here. I interviewed Skippy for my business blog, and to help his Kickstarter campaign. Wanna learn more about Skippy and about making games? Then you’re gonna love this post!
Enjoy!
The Miracles of Modern Medicine
So today my wife woke up to a nasty bug on her birthday. A close friend of ours suggested medicinal hot toddies.
Our friend neglected to mention that hot toddies can have debilitating side effects.
Side effects include:
Wearing a pirate hat all day.
Getting stuck in the bathtub multiple times despite the fact that you never once set out to enter the bathtub in the first place.
Removing Christmas decorations with your whole body.
Loud descriptions of lesbian sex at inopportune moments.
Headbutting exercise equipment.
Mystery injuries to your hand that have probably have nothing to do with the fact that this is the second time your husband has had to haul you out of the bathtub.
Children using your unconscious body as playground equipment/musical instrument.
Pirate hats stuck in weird places.
Don’t Read This Post If You Are Related to Me
Mom, Dad seriously don’t read this. You have been warned.
One upon a time I was a teenager. And like most teenagers I developed a fascination with the opposite sex. Eventually this fascination led to meeting a nice young lady who then became my girlfriend.
She was smart, fun to be around, pretty and most importantly willing to let me see her naked. Like most young men I considered these to be wonderful qualities in a woman, especially that last one.
Eventually things moved in the direction that they frequently do in the back seat of an ’88 Ford Bronco after watching Stop or My Mom Will Shoot at the dollar theater while listening to Guns and Roses’ Get in the Ring. I have always been a hopeless romantic. Also to my mother, father and two sisters I TOLD YOU NOT TO READ THIS! This is what you get for ignoring me. I can actually feel Thanksgiving getting more awkward by the second.
So clearly the subject of protection became somewhat urgent to me. When we started dating I had a small stash of applicable devices due to a poorly thought out attempt by my mother to be the “cool parent”. Because if there is one thing that strengthens the maternal bonds its a box of lubricated rubber tubes and a rather unfortunate cucumber.
Note to parents: If you feel compelled to be the “cool parent” choose a smaller vegetable. Otherwise you are setting your kids up for some serious insecurity/disappointment depending on their gender and/or orientation.
Of course we eventually ran out of supplies and found ourselves in need of more. Now I am not 100% how things work for teenagers now. I imagine picking up a box of condoms is probably not all that big of a deal anymore. Heck I imagine that kids these days are picking up the giant Costco sized boxes and wearing them strapped across their torso like an ammo belt in a WWII movie.
But when I was a kid the idea of buying condoms was embarrassing. Because you were basically telling everybody in the store what you were planning to be up to in the near future. Or worse they might think that you were wasting your money in a misguided fit of optimism. Strangers judging you is a serious concern at that age.
Being a responsible young man, I set out to restock the cache. Also, my girlfriend was too embarrassed to do it for me.
And thus I found myself going to the condom store. It wasn’t actually a store for condoms, it was a mom and pop gas station with a well stocked convenience store. They pretty much had everything from slurpees to oven cleaner to charcoal briquettes. Most importantly it was nowhere near my house or school.
And so I girded my loins for battle and strode in. And by strode I mean nervously skulked.
Now as a nervous adolescent boy I couldn’t just walk up to the condoms and grab a pack. That would make me look like some sort of perverted sex freak. The best method, I determined, was to sneak up on them. I started perusing the oven cleaner, as if to imply “Hmmm, I do need some oven cleaner, but I’m not sure if this is the brand for me.” I then casually slid closer to my goal. “Oh maybe instead of oven cleaner I need some canned stew.” And closer still “Perhaps a set of toe-nails clippers or maybe this roll of Tums.” Finally the moment of truth. I was standing in front of a display, which contained more options than I had anticipated. Panicking I just grabbed the yellow box. Red-faced, I approached the counter, put some money down, and vaguely mumbled something about the weather.
The clerk gave me a small smile and rang up my purchase, and I emerged victorious.
A few weeks later I repeated the process, but this time my girlfriend came with me. I went in and stalked my prey, while my girlfriend pretended to be deeply interested in charcoal briquettes.
The clerk, who was in fact the same clerk as before looked at the both of us and looked me in the eye. He gave me a wink. Victorious again.
But victory had an unanticipated side affect. My girlfriend talked to her friends. And now I was the brave guy who was not afraid to buy condoms. I had basically become a drug dealer, except for prophylactics.
And thus the day after purchasing a box of condoms I found myself back in the store with my girlfriend’s best buddy. I’m pretty sure she was expressing interest in a 12 pack of Coke while I went about my task. I received a very considering look from the clerk that day.
A few days later, yet another associate of my girlfriend wanted help. Back to the store, she was brave enough to sneak up on the condoms with me, but not brave enough to actually handle the merchandise. There was a look of incredulity that time.
The next week found me, my girlfriend and yet another friend of hers returning to the store. This new friend wasn’t afraid of buying the product in question, she just needed a ride. Also she was a bit of an attention whore. She simply marched up, grabbed what she wanted and went to the counter. “I want to purchase these condoms!” The clerk looked at the girls. And then at me. And then at the girls again. He grinned and gave me a thumbs up as I was walking out.
The next week I went in with my friend Dan. The man behind the counter never made eye contact again.
Apollo Con
So I am going to ApolloCon 2014 in Houston next month. I’ll be demoing and selling my game (Redshirts, for those who missed out on that.)
But the best part is that I get to go for free. Because I am Skippy. I don’t get it either, but if I can turn my name into free stuff, as well as a free chance to earn money I sure as heck ain’t gonna turn it down.
So some days it isn’t good to be me, but this isn’t one of them.
If You Don’t Discriminate Against the Same People I Discriminate Against Then You Are Discriminating Against Me
The title is pretty much literally what the American Family Association is claiming right now.
So its not enough to have a state allow discrimination under the guise of religious freedom. You have to actively support it or you are trying to limit somebody’s religious freedom.
If we were talking about fruit instead of, y’know fruits, the entire dialogue would go something like this:
AFA:”I like apples.”
Gay People:”Well I like oranges.”
AFA: “Oranges are not as good as apples. They’re disgusting and you shouldn’t eat them.”
Gay People “I don’t see how its any of your business what I eat.”
AFA: “NO! Oranges are WRONG, and you shouldn’t be allowed to eat them! We’ll make laws against it!”
Federal Courts: “Oh FFS guys, it’s really none of your business what anybody puts in their mouth or any other part of their body for that matter.”
AFA: “But if they can eat oranges, it makes apples less delicious!”
Federal Courts: “Sounds like a whole bunch of your problem.”
Gay People: “You seems suspiciously obsessed with oranges for people that hate them so much. Are you sure you’re not just mad because you would really like to try an orange?”
AFA: “Noooooooo. And the fact that anti-orange…I mean PRO-APPLE people keep getting caught with oranges, and occasionally tangerines, by no means suggests that we are curious about your juicy and tangy citrus fruit. For reals.”
Gay People: “If you say so.”
AFA: “Shut up! We’re just going to make it okay to deny basic services to people who like oranges.”
Gay People: “That’s not very nice.”
If You’re Buying: “We’ll sell any kind of fruit you want. Apples, oranges, pears, even tomatoes. We’re fucking crazy!”
AFA: “Tomatoes aren’t a fruit, they’re a vegetable!”
If You’re Buying: “Will you please shut up and read a goddamn book for once?”
AFA: ” Why do you hate apples? STOP OPPRESSING ME!”
Adventures in Daddyhood
Evidently some doctor I have never met has told my children that they are allergic to lima beans.
The same doctor also told them they needed to eat lots and lots of candy. Sounds legit.
My daughter got a couple of shots, which she loudly did not approve of. When her brother was being prepped for his, she marched up to the doctor, leaned into his face and said “Don’t. You. Hurt. My. Brother.”
Me to child: Hold your horses.
Child: I’m not holding horses daddy. I’m holding Chewbacca!
One day I was prepping to take my kids to the grocery store. I was informed with no small amount of gusto that everybody needed to wear superhero capes. So the three of us all put on capes, and headed out to do some shopping. I got a weird mixture of encouragement and evil looks. Strangely all of the evil looks came from mothers who were there with their own children. As I was wondering why, I heard a little girl say “Mommy, why can’t we do that.”
According to my daughter there are little people who live in my attic. They have told her that there is a birthday party with cake. And we should open up the attic and climb inside now. To ratchet up the creepy, she told me this in a whisper the day after I watched Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark.
Speaking of creepy, do you know how disturbing it looks when a toddler eats holes in a tortilla and wears it like a mask? Well I do.
