Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Yuletide Greetings!

It's time for the Fourth Annual Electronic Weed Christmas Letter!

We started to feel a little frantic today because it's December 31st and we never get our card out this late. To calm ourselves and get centered into writing this year's letter we decided to take action, so we've been sitting here looking at past letters. It was then that we realized that we are very, very predictable people. Not only have we gotten this letter out precisely on the 31st two out of the past three years, but--and I'm embarrassed for us both to admit this--we were seriously both wearing clothes in this moment that were featured in some of the pictures on those posts. Lest you think it was some special Christmas outfit that we only bust out for the season, nope--Lolly's wearing a brown t-shirt that she was wearing four years ago, and I am wearing some random Old Navy t-shirt that has made more appearances on this blog than some of my kids.

It's time for a new wardrobe, Weeds.

Anyway, without further ado, here is our fancy-pants letter!

Tessa (3)

It was difficult to narrow in on just one quirky thing that Tessa has done this year, so we decided to broaden it out and make a list of various items. Our Tessa--bless her heart--is a very strange duck. A strange duck that we love with all our hearts. For example, she has made up her own theme song which she sings upon entering the room. It's not complex. It goes something like this: "Da doo deeeeeeeeeeeeeee--here's TESSA!" It's pretty funny, and she'll do it on command, but it's much more meaningful when she spontaneously sings her theme-song as she enters a room. We love it.

Other quirks: She quotes shows ("Good thinkin', Toots. Toots!?? *laughs maniacally*"), loves to take baths, adores using public restrooms (but we have put the kibosh on urinals), and she insists on wearing pajamas every single day. She loves jammies, okay? Don't judge. She also calls herself by all the nicknames we call her. We know this because whenever she pretends that she's on the Disney Channel doing a "The Time I..." segment, she says something like "Hi, my name is (T-Bone/Tessboast/Tesla/T-nickel) and I'm going to tell you about the time I..." and so forth.

We love the quirks that Tessa has developed this year, and we are sure that she will be able to develop many more in the year to come.

Viva (5)

Viva's dedication to fashion continues to grow each year. She still loves wearing her hair in ponytails (though she has advanced to the side-pony), she absolutely adores headbands, sassy boots and skirts, and she continues to assemble her own clothing creations every day--ones that surprise us with how much they don't suck.

Her new obsession, though, is make-up. She wears it any chance she gets, and is constantly trying to sneak into our bedroom to put some on. I fear we may be the only household in the world where the motto "Kindergarteners don't wear make-up!" is repeated every morning before school.

While Viva is very focused on make-up and fashion, she is also very observant of those around her and gives compliments freely. Because of Viva's critical fashion eye, a compliment from her has become quite coveted among even our adult friends. (Seriously, when one of Lolly's friends gets a new haircut, they are sometimes more worried about Viva's reaction than Lolly's.)

Anna (7)

Anna has impressed us this year with her incessant desire to eavesdrop. You can scarcely have a conversation in this house without Anna chiming in from about five feet behind you asking things like "Who? What? What happened? What? What Daddy? What did the girl do? What happened to that baby? Who was he? What does 'obnoxious nagging questions' mean? Just tell me! What?"

She is very, very curious and likes to know every detail of every story about every person spoken of in her presence. A case in point: The following conversation ensued today:

Lolly: What should we say about Anna this year?

Josh: Oh, man. I don't know. Should we talk about how when picking nightgowns at the store, Viva chose one with a picture of One Direction, but Anna chose one featuring a unicorn?

Lolly: That is funny, but I'm not sure if it really captures her this year. I was thinking we might talk about how she loves to eavesdrop...

Anna (from the back of the van): What does it mean that you say I eavesdrop? What does eavesdrop mean?

Lolly: It means that you like to listen to other people's conversations.

Anna: Oh. Yeah. I do like to eavesdrop.

Lolly: Yes. We know.

Yes. That conversation actually happened.

We do love our little eavesdropper, and hope that her deep curiosity into the lives of others might mean that she will follow the footsteps of her father and become a consummate gossip psychotherapist someday.

Lolly and Josh 

Geez guys. What can we say that hasn't already been said right here in this blog, amiright?

For starters, two of our three pets died this year, which is why we now refer to ourselves as Pet Murderers. Josh is especially horrible in that he heard the sound of our parakeet Felix die in the night, thought "oh, I think one of the birds died" and, instead of checking on the bird, snuggled up in his pillows and went back to sleep. Lolly woke up the next morning to find Felix had face-planted into the bottom of the cage and exclaimed "Oh no! Josh, Felix died in the night!" To which Josh replied "Yeah. I know. I heard the thump." The other victim of our carnage is our good friend Sameer the Muslim betta fish. He fought a good fight with depression (seriously people, this fish was noticeably depressed, and we tried to help him by buying him a new bowl and colorful sea plants to spruce up his life) but in the end his sadness overtook him and he went home to Allah.

Rest in peace Felix and Sameer. You will be missed.

Other than that, we've spent our time raising these freaking demanding humans, and Josh has built up his private therapy practice. Both endeavors are going well.

At this time of year, we wish all of you the best.

With love,

The Weeds

Sunday, December 29, 2013

Dear Norovirus

I don't really write open letters, but this year, you have earned one.

I didn't really know what you were when we first met this year. My family and I had enjoyed a delicious Thanksgiving with good friends. The food was delicious--the most tender turkey I had ever eaten. Little did I know, though, that you were there, nesting in the folds of turkey-flesh, swimming in the vat of tepid gravy, or perhaps it was the cheesecake, waiting to invade my body, and then my home.

I thought you were popcorn! I really did. The day after Thanksgiving, Lolly and I took the girls to see a movie and all three girls had insisted on the nasty theater popcorn, and had all eaten so much of it that when Tessa started puking in the middle of the night right at her bedroom door, I thought "blast it! That theater popcorn does it every time!" Within minutes, Viva was vomiting as well, and I rued the moment I allowed them to buy that greasy, nasty popcorn. It wasn't until the next day, when Anna (the last of the girls) started puking--many hours after the other two--that I realized something else was afoot. Maybe this wasn't about the theater popcorn after all? Maybe this was something else?

And then we heard that other attendees of that dinner were sick as well.

And then I started feeling nauseous myself. And I have you to thank for this.

I have thrown up exactly one time in the last twenty years, and it was the lamest excuse for vomit in recorded history about four years ago. Barely worth noting. Vomiting is not something I do. I have been called phobic about it, in fact. But later that day--after all three girls were sick and vomiting, and moaning in discomfort--I grew up. I learned that, at the age of 33, I can now call myself a man. I threw up, you see, all by myself, into the toilet like a big boy. I felt so proud of myself! And relieved too. I was so glad to have that over with.

But then, several hours later, you really got me.

Saturday, December 21, 2013

Toothbrush disaster! Also, come to my concert on Christmas Eve!

I'm here to write about the fact that yesterday 23 people arrived at our house for Christmas. And to herald that occasion, our toilet stopped working.


Here's how it went down. (Do you see what I did there?)

It was a busy morning as we prepared to receive 4,334 house guests, and as you could imagine, things were getting chaotic as we cleaned and got things ready. At one point, in a freaky cosmic mash-up the likes of which makes things like sporks and platypuses and Lady Gaga, Anna was flushing the toilet at the precise moment that Tessa recklessly threw a toothbrush into the sink. What happened next was like slow-motion. The toothbrush ricocheted, and we all watched as it landed in the toilet in the precise moment the water went down, down, down.


Not sure if you've met me, but I'm not much of a handyman, you see. Here's a post about when I "fixed" my garbaged disposal. And here's another about when "I changed a tire."

So, as you can imagine, my first reaction was to panic needlessly and wonder why life had to be so cruel.

Second, we bribed Viva to reach her hand into the the toilet. As far as possible. Her reward? A piece of candy. (CPS should probably be notified.)

This was unsuccessful.

Then we remembered: Scott is coming.

Scott is Lolly's brother who is currently getting a PhD in engineering because he's in love with crazy things like transportation and math and "being all boy" and roller coaster construction and building things and stuff. He is The Chosen One when it comes to things like this in my wife's family, and now, having married me, he is apparently The Chosen One for the Weed clan as well.

Well either him, or anyone I hire.

Anyway, Scott arrived and got down to business.

His first order of business? Removing the toilet from the floor. I didn't even know this was a thing that could happen. 

Um, I don't know about you, but this makes me nervous. Are houses supposed to even be able to do this?

Then he fished out the culprit. He reached his hand up into the toilet and said "All right, I got it!" but turns out, it was actual feces. 

Ooops. I often mistake toothbrushes for feces myself when I'm dismantling homesteads.

And then, he found it!


The moral of this story: 

toilets are disgusting


when you have a brother-in-law like Scott, it's okay to be gay have no handyman skills whatsoever


houses are not as solid and impenetrable as you think they are if toilets can just be removed at the drop of a hat


Beware little pink penguin toothbrushes. You never know the havoc they can wreak.

Evil, thy name is Pink Penguin Toothbrush

All in all, we're just glad that the four million people at this house have our toilet back in order, because that could have been very, very interesting otherwise. A Christmas miracle!

And, finally, are you doing anything on Christmas Eve?


Perfect! You should come see me play the violin. 

Here are the details. 

I would be tickled if you came. And I'd be even more tickled if you introduced yourself.

All right folks. It's time for me to go be with family and such. 

Oh, yes, and coming soon: our fourth annual electronic holiday card!!!

Laterz, y'all.

Tuesday, December 17, 2013

I have the luck of St. Nick. (Well, technically Lolly does.)

Not even sure what that title means exactly, but what I'm trying to tell you is that I'm really, really good at getting the best, most awkward white elephant gifts at this annual Christmas party we go to every year. It's like an art-form. An art-form made of luck and other people's ingenuity and packages of random junk.

So, here's the run down:

In 2011, my blog was young, fresh and new. I had just started writing humor posts and I knew that one way people try to garner attention for their blogs is with giveaways. Some people suggested I do one, but I was really resistant to doing a giveaway because LAME and srslywhocares? and like that's what people go to blogs for, amiright? It just didn't feel good to me. It felt inauthentic to be like "My blog is a humor blog filled with humor posts. And you know what that means... time for a self-promotional giveaway!!!"

But then a something happened. I went to the annual Christmas party we go to every year with tons of our good friends, and that year I got perhaps the most awkward white elephant gift every received by a closeted gay man in the history of Yuletide:

Yes, this is a vibrator called "The Little Thumper." And yes, I got it for Christmas. 

We had a special relationship. A special relationship that involved it never being removed from its packaging.

It was at this moment that I knew. I knew the time had come. It was time to do a Giveaway, The Weed style.

So, I did. And it was glorious.

Then, the next  year at this same party, I got another amazing gift for a gay man.

Anyone remember?

 A Santa thong! Of course.

It's not Christmas until there is a G-string dangling from your tree.

I thought my luck had probably run out at this point, but then only a few months after our Club Unicorn post, guess what gift we randomly selected at this same party?

Unicorn Meat for a Unicorn.

So after such an amazing streak of incredible gifts, this year I went to the party with low, low expectations. After all, how can you top a vibrator, followed by a Santa banana-hammock, followed by Unicorn Meat? You can't.

Or so I thought.

There we were, number 15 (of about 4 million) on the list of gift-pickers, nervously waiting to see what horrible, boring piece of garbage we would be forced to regift next year. When our turn finally arrived, I looked at Lolly. "You're the one with luck," I said. And I meant it. I knew if we had any chance at all at a decent gift this year, Lolly would be the one to sniff it out from the pile of nicely wrapped utter crap in front of us. 

She went over to the pile and raised her hand, feeling the ora of each gift, lifting one for weight, cocking her head to the side as she contemplated... is this our gift? Is this the piece of trash that we are destined to own?

And then she chose.

Here is what this gift contained. It was a sequence of items that got better and better:

Okay. Innocuous enough. Thanks for making us smell nice.

Okay. Now this is getting interesting.

Is this about what I think this is about???

It totally is!!!! 

And then, the piece de resistance:

I never knew a white elephant gift could be this perfect. 

Short of throwing actual ganja into a cheery, holiday bag and labeling it a "green" elephant gift, this is about as awesome a gift as you could get for a guy whose blind eye is never not dilated and whose last name is actually Weed.

My Holiday Drug Paraphernalia wishes you a very merry Christmas!!! 

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

When potty training goes terribly, terribly wrong

Recently we were getting ready to go home after church, and Tessa did what she tries to do every single week as we're about to leave the chapel: she escaped my grasp and started full-fledge running around the entire building like a wild, ferocious wildebeest.

I made the mistake of trying to chase her. This resulted in the two of us running around the entire building, she like a wild, ferocious wildebeest, and I like a lame, biped lion stumbling around hoping to accidentally fall on her to make her stop running.

Before long I realized something ominous. She had completely disappeared. I got Lolly in on the hunt, and we sent Anna around to look for Tessa too.

We searched, but to no avail. Eventually, as we regrouped, we were relieved when Anna showed up with Tessa in tow. But there was a problem. Tessa wasn't wearing pants.

The following conversation ensued:

Lolly: Tessa, where are your pants?