100 Days of Blogging

One hundred and two days ago, this blog did not exist. It was created so I could participate with my wife in NaBloPoMo. Since its creation at the beginning of November, I have written a blog post almost every day with one exception, which I followed up with two posts in one day. Yesterday's post was my hundredth.

It may please some to know that I have been thinking for the past day of how to form an English word meaning "100 days." Something in the category of 'centennial' but for days instead of years. The closest I've been able to figure is 'hekatemeral' (from the Greek 'hekaton' meaning "hundred" and 'hemera' meaning "day").

Apparently I shall have to coin that word.

As I performed a hekatemeral review, I found that my favorite humorous posts were probably the first seven posts I made. Apparently I'm just funnier when talking about my health, my wife, and my niblings, particularly when it has to do with how my wife or my niblings will ruin my health.

Mocking me as they do so.

Frozen Feminine Hygiene Follies

I will start this post by saying something that's going to please my friend, the Simple Lemming. Today I found myself looking in my fridge for feminine hygiene products.

Look for it in your frozen food section.

This is what my life has become.

People-Free Day

Santa has the right idea: only visit people once a year.

Except I like coffee. And I'm male.

Yesterday while out to lunch with a bunch of friends from church, I learned that my ex-girlfriend's mother takes people-free days.

Best. Idea. Ever.

The Hills Have Diapers (Conclusion)

Saturday morning, I awoke before dawn.

Have I mentioned how creepy trees are?

The Hills Have Diapers (Part 4)

Friday was a much less manic day than Thursday had been, even though it was my day to prepare dinner. That meant significantly fewer cooks in the kitchen.

Even if my mother was being too helpful.

Strangely, a real book.

The Hills Have Diapers (Part 3)

Thanksgiving morning, I began the day as I always do when in child-infested territory.

By dragging my heels.

My wife can attest to the difficulties of dragging me out of bed when I don't want to be out of bed (like before noon on a Saturday or anytime she wants to go outside). Strangely, though, most of my heel dragging did not involve our bed while there.

Because it was killing us.

The Hills Have Diapers (Part 2)

We arrived at our location in West Virginia shortly after 10 a.m. Once there, we were greeted by my brother-in-law (the husband of Cain's wife) and a terrifying hound of hell.

And he was monstrous.

My father-in-law, his two single sons, and the Cains (x5) had come up the previous night. I must explain to you how inspirational this was.

My Niece is Gangsta

Cause she's a unicorn.

In this picture: Una, Primus and Cain's Wife.

Brain-Eating Toddlers

I confess, I've got nothing today. Greek must take something out of me.

Or perhaps it's something more sinister.

Why Toddlers are Terrorists

I shall preface this by saying that I do actually love all my drooly little disease-bearing relations niblings.

Before she began defaming my character, the Space Monkey posted about the day we babysat the niblings.

In general, her account is accurate from what she experienced. Hindsight reminds me that I am still so glad I slept through 6 of those paragraphs. I just thought I would supplement it with my recurring nightmares account.