New Motivation

So, I'm still holding steady at 7 pounds lost since SlimFast. In the past two weeks, my weight has stayed the same. I guess the strategy of eating whatever the hell I want on weekends is balancing out the rest of the week.

Yesterday, I worked a night shift at work because of a personnel shortage. I saw a guy that I haven't seen in a few months. He used to be 400 pounds, and then he had the stomach stapling thing. Well, he officially weighs less than me now. I guess I'll try to pass him again.

The other idea I got from looking at him, is that I'm going to tell people I've lost 170 pounds and I have just 15 more to go. That should help.

i see drunk people...

If I had Bruce Willis' corpse following me around all the time, I'd drink too.

Oh my...

In related news, we've just been given several boxes of baby clothes, courtesy of Mrs. U's sister. This is very generous and I'm glad our child will have one outfit for every day of his first year (with no repeats).

However, there are 3 or 4 Florida Gators outfits in the mix. That's nice, because my wife is a Florida Gator, but I need to give the child a chance to be a Mountaineer. No doubt, he'll become a bigger fan of WVU than Florida someday (because Daddy's in a much better mood when the Mountaineers win).

So, if you see any awesome Mountaineer baby gear, send me an email. I've scoured the internet and have found some stuff, but I'm not blown away by anything just yet.

Would the Nurses Even Allow This?

These are exciting times. I forget what it was like before we were talking baby all the time. Between trips to the nursery to paint the latest layer on my Seuss project, I like to engage my wife in some healthy conversation about the birth of our child. Some conversations go better than others. This is one of the "others".

"Mrs. Undaground, I think it will be great to have both of our Mom's here when the baby's born."

"Me too."

"My mom can cook us food. Your Mom can help clean. You and I can really focus on taking care of the baby, feeding the baby, changing the baby, me watching you change the baby, staring at the baby, and teaching him how to hit a curveball."

"Right."

"Seriously, our Moms here will be great for us, because you and I are both going to be very tired and sore after going through childbirth."

"YOU are going to be sore???"

"Well, you saw the chairs that new Dads have to sleep in. They're tiny. I'm a large man."

"So you're gonna be sore?"

"Well, not necessarily."

"That's what I thought."

"I could probably get through it a lot easier. Here's my idea. Are you ready for it?"

"Go ahead. I'm listening."

"After the baby's born, and we're in the post-partum recovery room, and everything calms down... Maybe you should take the chair and I'll take the hospital bed. You know, so we're not both sore."

That was the end of this particular conversation.

Sneak Peek

Hop on Pop is done (good riddance). I'm now moving on to Cat in the Hat. If you look closely on the left side of the photo below, you can see the outline for where it will be.

After all this painting, if this kid ever puts me in a nursing home I'll be pissed.

(click photo for larger view)

I don't want my MTV

First Nick and Jessica, then Carmen and Dave, now the Barkers.

It seems that starring in a reality show about your show-biz marriage on MTV eventually leads to divorce. I guess Ozzy should watch his back.

Mrs. Undaground and I have decided not to do any MTV reality show if offered. While our union would no doubt be fun reality television, it's just not worth the marital strain that being followed around by cameras would cause.

For now, our "episodes" will remain exclusively on the Undaground blog.

Honestly, for as much as I enjoy reality television, there's not a show that I would agree to be on. Years ago, there was a show called "The Mole" hosted by Anderson Cooper. I think I would have done the Mole, but I don't think that show's coming back. Mrs. U and I on Amazing Race would be a disaster. She's afraid of heights and our collective sense of direction is not unlike a shopping cart with 3 wheels. No thanks to any reality shows for me. I'd rather watch other people be humiliated for my viewing pleasure.

Hop on Pop

Obviously, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder is a serious problem for many people, but I believe most people exhibit some qualities of obsessive compulsive behavior. I am one of these people.

When I cook a frozen pizza, it's very important that I take the little bits of cold pepperoni and distribute them as evenly as possible. I'm not sure what this means, but I'm guessing a professional psychologist would point to something in my childhood and then bill me for an hour and ask me for a slice.

At times, I've pulled over to the side of the road to make sure that I screwed the gas cap back on. I can't explain why I do this. I've never actually forgotten to put the cap on, so I'm not sure why I'd start now.

This occasional behavior is making the Seuss nursery a little more difficult than I originally imagined. I'm currently working on the first part of my wall mural, the Hop on Pop illustration. Years ago, Dr. Seuss himself probably took a notebook and scribbled the picture in a matter of minutes. Now, as I put the image on the wall, I'm being a little too exact in recreating the same little nuances in his original creation. It's as if a Dr. Seuss descendant is going to bust into our house like some sort of SWAT team member and tell me that Pop's hair is not quite right, and we'll have to forfeit all of our books. When I step back from the wall and look at the picture, it's impossible to even see the tiny little details that I'm painstakingly trying to make perfect.

I guess that I can explain it as being a perfectionist, rather than being obsessive compulsive. In a way, it's a good thing, and I know that the Undaling will someday appreciate the love and care that we're putting into his room. When we're finished, I know it is something we'll be proud of. Maybe everybody needs a little OCD.

Now if you'll excuse me, it's 9:21 am. That means I need to count to three hundred while jumping on one foot. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12.....................

Summer Tour 2006

Tonight begins our summer concert tour of 2006. We figure that movies and concerts will be the two things we'll definitely be doing less of, once the Undaling is here, so we're going to try to get the concert-thing out of our system for awhile.

Tonight, it's Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young.

Friday night, we're going to see Dave Matthews Band.

At the end of the month, we've got tickets for Counting Crows.

Finally, in September, a very-pregnant Mrs. U and I will attend Santana with Los Lonely Boys.

John Mayer/Sheryl Crow and Rusted Root are both scheduled to be here in late September/mid-October, but I don't think we'll be able to go for fear that the groovy bass sounds could induce labor. Oh well, I'm helplessly hoping we'll have a good time tonight.

Just about every other thing we do socially, we can include a baby. These baby-friendly things include Chili's, the Olive Garden, Babies-R-Us, the mall, various festivals, and, of course, cliff diving.

Good Monday Morning

Girth Update
After 2 weeks on Slimfast diet and weekend binging, I've decided to continue to process and make it a lifestyle change.

I've now lost 7 pounds in two weeks. I still have 8 pounds to get to my pre-pregnancy weight (and then another 20 or so to get to where I want to be).

Eat less calories than you burn. It all seems so simple now, except when I'm sitting in the Olive Garden.

Baby Latest
72 days til due-date. I'm waiting on UPS delivery of the overhead projector so I can start putting Seuss characters on the wall. That should begin sometime this week.

Last night, we had our hospital tour. There were about ten very pregnant women and their significant others on the tour.

Here are some things we learned on the tour:

• The cafeteria food should only be eaten in an extreme emergency. The nurses have a "takeout menu folder" that we can use, but if we don't return it, they keep the baby.
• Some rooms have pullout chairs and some have other types of furniture, but either way, Dads will be very uncomfortable when they sleep. Oh, and bring our own pillows.
• When we move from Labor and Delivery to Postpartum room, they put a GPS Lojack type thing on the baby's ankle. This is very cool, but it dampers my plan to take him to the zoo while Mrs. Undaground recuperates.
• When on a tour with 10 pregnant women, expect to take a bathroom break once every 4 1/2 minutes.

Mrs. Undaground says the experience was supposed to make her less nervous. Somehow, it had the opposite effect and she is more nervous now. I told her I'd make her a "Childbirth Mix" on the iPod and this seemed to put her mind at ease a little bit. If you have any song suggestions for this mix, please COMMENT. So far, the only song I've picked for it is "Push it" by Salt n Pepa.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yo baby pop,
Yeah, you. Come and give me a kiss.
Better make it fast, or else I'm gonna get pissed.
Can't you feel the music pumpin' hard,
Like I wish you would.
Now PUSH IT. Push it good."

Early to Rise

I've watched a lot of TLC in the past 29 1/2 weeks. I know more than any man should know about breastfeeding, and epidurals, and jaundice.

I've also read a great deal of material about how our baby is growing and what changes are occurring in my wife.

I'm a very involved father-to-be.

For as much TLC as I've seen and as many books as I've read, there are still a few little golden moments of discovery, like this morning.

I woke up at 630am for work and realized my wife was gone. What has happened here? Was she out on the couch? Is it the snoring again? I walked into the living room, expecting to see her sleeping peacefully. Nope. Maybe she's eating breakfast. No sign of her there. Perhaps she's on the computer, catching up on The Undaground. Negative.

As I walked back through the kitchen, bleary-eyed and confused, I saw a figure through the window in my peripheral vision. Sure enough, as the sun struggled to peek over the horizon, there she was, pruning the bushes in the backyard.

I stepped outside and, in lieu of a perfectly-timed comedic quip, asked "Gardening, huh?"

"I couldn't sleep."

Fair enough. I didn't know what to say. It takes a lot to surprise me, but this worked. Dumbfounded, I said the most husbandly, supportive thing I could think of:

"Don't overdo it."

Maybe the author of "What to Expect When You're Expecting" should add a section to Week 29 about pruning at daybreak. It happens. I've seen it.

Phew!

According to the latest tracking map, issued at 8am, we seem to have dodged our first hurricane scare of the season.

Good news, as we're really not in the mood for a hurricane right now, and our foliage has only just recently grown back from the Wilma damage (though our carport remains without a roof).

Stay tuned.

Kitchen Music

I'm a musical person.

Sometimes, when my wife is cooking me dinner, or brushing her hair, or just being herself, I sing her an impromtu song about how much I love her and how she's the best wife I ever had.

The other night, she decided to add shredded cheese as an extra ingredient to a casserole she was making. She made this decision and announced it just as I was completing the first verse of my song to her.

I think it might have been the Slimfast diet talking, but my song suddenly changed into a little ditty about how much I love cheese.

I want my wife to know that I love her more than cheese, despite the suddenly changing lyrics of my song to her. It was not unlike a Meatloaf song, where he starts singing about being parked in a car with his best girl and, out of nowhere, we hear Phil Rizzuto shouting out baseball play-by-play.

Mmmmm. Meatloaf.

The Undaground Review: Superman Returns

Warning: This review contains spoilers. Actually, I don't think it will spoil the movie for you, because my blog features only very minimal special effects, but I am giving away information about the film that is integral to the plot. If you don't want to see it, don't scroll down.

To take up some space, here is a photo of a man enjoying some pie:

So, last Friday, Mrs. Undaground and I decided to see "Superman Returns". I think the highlight for me was the popcorn. After stepping on the scale and seeing that I had lost four pounds, I figured I would have whatever I want. The guy stopped filling the bag of popcorn halfway through to add quite a bit of butter. Then, after it was topped off, he once again stood over the butter pump and let it fly. It was glorious.

As far as the movie is concerned, here are my thoughts:

• Brandon Routh is not Christopher Reeve. He had very few lines in this movie, considering he was the star. The thing about Christoper Reeve as Superman is that he did a very good job of acting like Superman and Clark Kent were two different people. The new guy does a decent job, but the only difference between the hero and the alter-ego is the glasses. The clumsy, comical Clark Kent portrayal is pretty much gone. RIP Christopher Reeve.
• The special effects in the film were awesome. It's worth seeing in the theater for that reason alone, unless you have a huge TV and very good surround sound. Be careful if you're pregnant. The Undaling was responding to several of the loud, sudden sounds in the movie.
• Here's the spoiler, although if you don't see it coming from the very beginning of the movie, maybe you should quit going to movies all together. Superman and Lois Lane have a son. I can't understand why Superman's son had asthma. I guess it's because health complications are possible when someone from Krypton mates with someone from Earth, but this was unexplained. I think any pediatrician who examined the boy long enough to prescribe him an inhaler, should have picked up on the fact that the boy had the ability to throw a piano across the room. If I were Lois Lane, I would shop around for another doctor.
• At another point in the movie, Superman is stabbed with a Kryponite shiv and ends up in.... are you ready for this... the hospital! Apparently, Superman has good health insurance because they admitted him immediately without any talk of transferring him to another hospital. I've heard through the grapevine that Wonder Woman has a crappy HMO.
• I'm a fan of Kevin Spacey. He was very good at times in this movie, particularly when he was attacking Superman. I wish he would have channeled the "Swimming With Sharks" character for the whole movie. I like his portrayal of the angry Lex Luther.
• I'm still troubled by the whole deal with Lois Lane's new husband. They made him very likeable. As an audience member, I had no reason not to like him. He seemed like a good husband and father. This was only a problem when they showed Lois Lane kiss Superman. I consider that cheating. The poor guy is just trying to make a life for himself when all the sudden, some weirdo in tights shows up and his wife becomes distant. She really should have shown a little more self control, or the writers should have made us dislike her husband.
• And as for Kate Bosworth as Lois Lane... meh. Lois Lane is supposed to have attitude. I think she was lacking a bit of that.
• I wish that at some point, somebody would figure out that Clark Kent was gone for 5 years. Superman was gone for 5 years. Maybe, Clark Kent = Superman. Nope. A room full of journalists assigned to cover every aspect of the story couldn't put that together. Maybe next movie.
• As somebody mentioned in Comments, Superman no longer stands for the "American way", just truth and justice. This is not a huge deal in the movie. I just took that to mean that if Superman wanted a cup of coffee, he'd fly to Columbia or something rather than walk to Starbucks.
• There are some serious cases of religious imagery, though. He is referred to as a "savior" a few times in the movie. His father says he sent his only son to help the people of Earth. Finally, when he's falling to Earth, I don't think it's a mistake that his arms are stretched out as if he's hung on a cross.

My recommendation is to see the movie if you like superhero movies. It's as good as Spiderman. The special effects are as good as any movie. As far as the story is concerned, it pales in comparison to Batman Begins, but it's worth seeing, especially if you order the popcorn with hot butter.

Nursery Zen

'Tis Monday so I shall wax philosophical.

This weekend, Mrs. Undaground and I worked diligently to begin putting the Undaling's nursery together. We painted the room in two colors: green on top and yellow on the bottom. The colors are separated by a light blue wallpaper border. The furniture is assembled and placed in the most aesthetically pleasing way. The characters will soon adorn the walls, but that will be a process that takes several weeks.

As I sit here and type, my back is killing me. I'm extremely tired and could use a nap. While we're proud of our effort to this point, we know there is still a lot of work to do, and hope than the decisions we make in the room are good ones. Picking the wrong character could alter the tone of the whole room.

This weekend was a lesson in patience, and, now that I think about it, a good metaphor for our task that will begin in about 79 days.

After bending for what seemed like forever to paint the bottom half of the walls yellow, we realized that one coat wasn't going to cut it. Despite our fatigue and our shared back pain, we pressed on and added a second coat. Sure, furniture would cover most of the area we were concerned about, but we know the walls are better for it. I know there will be times when we will want to take the easy way out in our parenting, but we can remember the time we put a second coat of yellow on his walls and know that our extra effort will make a big difference.

Assembling the crib was something I thought would be quick and easy. Unfortunately, all of my nice Home Depot tools were useless because of the way the crib was built. In order to properly tighten the screws, I had to lay down on the floor with a tiny allen wrench and turn the screw 1/2 turn at a time. It was maddening. My wife did her best to hold the pieces of wood together for me as I muttered words I didn't know existed. Eventually, I slowed down, and enjoyed the music piping through our house as I started to methodically turn the screw 1/2 turn over and over and over again. Soon, the pieces of wood were flush against each other and we had assembled a sturdy shelter for our child to sleep in. Patience is something I'm going to need to get better at, in a hurry. My wife could be a member of the patience hall of fame, so I will learn from her.

Finally, as we worked together to slowly force every last air bubble out of the wallpaper border, I realized that soon we will be working together to coax air bubbles out of the Undaling. Who knew that hanging wallpaper would be such a lesson in child-rearing? Burp.

Right now, the nursery looks awesome. It's exciting to know that it will only get better once the Seuss characters are painted. I'll put up pictures once the entire room is ready for baby.

I'll post my Superman review tomorrow, based on the excitement over the film on the comments page.

Hooky

I decided to take the day off today so we could get an early jump on painting the nursery.

The furniture is out of the room.
The room is taped off.
The walls have been primed.

All of my painting goals have been reached for today. Now, on to my personal goals:

See Superman
Eat a meal at a restaurant

By the way, I've lost about 4 pounds since Sunday by eating less calories than I burn and riding the bike. I've calculated that I can go to Chili's today and split the teriyaki wings with my wife, eat a cheeseburger, and enjoy two beers. Even then, I'll still be eating less calories than I burn. Here's a website where you can see calorie content at popular restaurants.

Pregnancy Update: 28 weeks

Mrs. U was 28 weeks yesterday. 12 weeks to go! 83 days til the due date.

I'm pleased to announce that I've been signed up for:

• A hospital tour
• A 3-week Lamaze class
• An infant safety/CPR class

I was never a big classroom guy. I liked to get the notes and cram for the test. I guess I can't get away with that in this situation. I feel that I can be a very effective Lamaze coach. I coached little league way back in the day. If nothing else, I can repeat the phrases "Wait for your pitch" and "Keep it in front of you".

Thankfully, I've been spared from the breastfeeding class. Mrs. Undaground asked them if it was necessary for me to attend, and they said no, not unless I started lactating. (I would probably call the media first if I did).

A few years ago, some good friends of ours were pregnant, and my friend Dave did attend the breastfeeding class with his wife. For some reason, this struck us both funny at the time and we giggled like a couple of 5th graders. I wanted to know which of the three possible scenarios played out in the class demonstration:

1. Plastic boob and plastic baby

2. Plastic boob and real baby

3. Real boob and real baby

It turned out, for the record, that it was a plastic boob and plastic baby. There was, however, a video shown featuring the real thing. I think I'll see plenty of that beginning in October. My wife has assured me that she won't be a public, if-your-face, look-at-these breastfeeder. That's a good thing because I don't really have the energy to collect a cover charge and a two-drink minimum from everybody who comes to visit.

In the news

Lance Bass, formerly of Nsync, has revealed to People Magazine that he's gay.

In other news, scientists have confirmed the presence of life on Earth, and doctors have announced that hitting yourself in the head with a tire iron can be hazardous to your health.

The Rapidly Shrinking Man

Well, not quite, but I'm trying.

The Slimfast thing isn't so bad. I'm actually eating more often than I was before. I'm just taking Oprah's advice about "portion control".

Here's what I eat, for those of you who have a pregnant wife and have gained 15 or more pounds since conception (or if you're just curious).

Breakfast: Slimfast Optima Shake (these aren't so bad, but you have to chill them very cold and drink them before they get to room temperature - kind of like Jagermeister).

Snack: 125 calories. This translates as a cup of grapes or cherries, an ounce of pretzels or a Slimfast snack bar (these are pretty good. There's one that tastes like a 5th Avenue candy bar).

Lunch: Slimfast Optima Shake, 6 oz fat-free yogurt, cup of cherries or grapes.

Snack: 125 calories.

EXERCISE BIKE for 20-30 minutes at vigorous pace (that's supposed to burn somewhere btwn 300 and 400 calories according to my research).

Dinner: 500 calories of whatever. Here's where I'm not really counting calories. I'm just trying to avoid huge portions of mayo, sour cream, cheese, etc.

Snack: 125 calories. Dessert. We found some fruit bars that are 50 calories. They seem to be fine, but I will miss the ice cream and occasionally send it a card or a letter on nice stationary.

Right now, my danger zone is from the time I get home from work until bedtime. That's where the weight gain has occured. For the next few days, my will power will be tested during this time. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to sprint to the bathroom.

Monday

Slimfast
I had my first "healthy shake" for breakfast. I don't normally eat breakfast, so I hope my body doesn't think it's being attacked. I don't think I've lost any weight yet. Maybe I need to be more patient. My mother sent me an email and warned me to stay near a bathroom if I'm doing the Slimfast. I'm not sure what she means, but I guess I'll find out. If I do find out, I'll probably keep that information to myself.

Beach Bum
I spent some time on the beach this weekend. I think it's the first time since my honeymoon that I sunbathed on a beach. SPF 15 worked pretty well, but I missed a spot on my belly. I didn't realize you can get sunburn in your belly button. It's true.

Crab Legs
Cooking tip. If you steam crab legs on your grill in the backyard, don't forget to turn off the side burner, burn off all the water, and scorch the stock pot and the crab legs. The odor is pretty strong. The first batch was great. The second batch might start a neighborhood stink war.

The Man in the Mirror

To quote the King of Pop:

I'm starting with the man in the mirror
(Ooh!)
I'm asking him to change his ways
(Ooh!)
And no message could have been any clearer
If you wanna make the world a better place
(If you wanna make the world a better place)
Take a look at yourself and then make a change
(Take a look at yourself and then make a change)

I walked by a mirror the other day. I'm not talking about the kind of mirror that sits above the sink, showcasing the face and the hair. I'm talking about the full-length wall mirror near our living room. Yes, I walk past this mirror just about every day, but this time was different. I got home from my softball game and Mrs. Undaground was out of the house. I had worked up a pretty good sweat, so I thought I'd throw all my clothes right in the washing machine and do the nude sprint across the house to get to the shower. As I passed the mirror, I thought for a moment that some naked fat guy was chasing me, until I came to the sick realization that I was that guy. That moment may have changed my life. The man in the mirror is quickly turning into the "before" picture in any bowflex infomercial.

A few days later, I walked next door to the cafeteria for my lunch break. To be fair, I only go there about once a week. The woman behind the counter smiled and said, "Hi. Would you like your usual..." Then she went on to name a dish that is anything but healthy. My ears hurt from hearing it. How I wanted Superman to fly around the world and turn back time so I could tell this woman that my "usual" is field greens with balsamic vinagrette on the side. I could feel the eyes in the cafeteria fixed on me and judging me, wondering who is the farm animal who had the cajones to allow this delicious, yet deadly dish to be referred to as "his usual".

I have been proudly pronouncing that I'm trying to keep up with Mrs. Undaground for the past few months. I've been like some junk food cheerleader. Last week, she even told me that I was a bad influence on her as far as the food thing is concerned. And, believe me, I have been. I've been milking this thing as much as I can. We've watched our bellies grow together. I guess the one minor difference in this whole equation is that I don't have another human being growing inside of me, unless we've made some kind of genetic breakthrough I'm unaware of and we're having fraternal twins.

I believe that because of the fat guy in the mirror and my public embarrassment in the cafeteria, I've now reached the level of shame necessary for me to have a healthy shake for breakfast, and another for lunch. That's right. Beginning Monday, I'm on the SlimFast diet. I can't hold out til the baby's born. I may reach the point of no return if I stay on this road.

My belly has gone from a distinguished beer gut, to a manageable paunch, to the present situation, that can best be described as "cartoonish". I can no longer sit in idle as buttons pop off of my pants. One too many t-shirts now sit in the useless pile that can't be worn in public. The belly-shelf is growing. From a sitting position, I can now use the belly-shelf to hold the remote control, a glass of water, and an Armenian orphan on a tricycle. It's time to make a change.

I've said this before, and look where I am. Who knows, I think I'm serious this time. I don't want to be skinny. I just want to manage this growth before it gets out of control. I've accepted the fact that I'll never see my abdominal muscles again unless I fall into a well and live off of crickets for a few months. I yearn to wear horizontal stripes again.

Today, I am committing to two weeks on the Slimfast diet, beginning Monday. I will reassess the situation then and decide how to proceed. I've been to their website and I have a battle plan. Until then, I will do my best to avoid the pre-diet binge.

Pregnancy Update

Today, Mrs. Undaground is 27 weeks pregnant. This begins the third trimester of the pregnancy, or what we're calling "The Swollen Feet Era". Each day, I'm watching as my wife gets more uncomfortable. It doesn't help that we're smack dab in the middle of a South Florida summer.

We've revealed the name to most of our family and friends. If you really want to know and you're family or friend, shoot me an email and I'll share. I've chosen not to put the name out there on this blog because I don't want our choice to suddenly sweep the nation and become really popular. When they named the baby Emma on Friends, Emma shot up in popularity. I have a few less readers than Friends had viewers, but you never know.

I'm still watching Rock Star: Supernova, but it's not as good as Rock Star: INXS was. I wish INXS was looking for another singer and they could just do the show again.

Last Comic Standing is fairly unwatchable, but that hasn't stopped me from watching it. I can't explain why. Maybe I have a problem. I might need to join some kind of tivo anonymous group because I continually expose myself to crap with the simple click of a remote control.

Howdy

I took the day off from the blog on Monday. Sometimes, I just don't have anything interesting to say. It was an eventful weekend, but there were no real blog material moments to speak of.

Sunday, I tweaked my back playing softball. Since that time, I've had a steady stream of Motrin flowing through my veins. Yesterday, I walked around like I had a crowbar shoved up some unspeakable place. Today, it's much better, and my walking style features a little bounce, not unlike a Muppet. Tomorrow, I hope to have my full saunter back.

We've purchased the paint needed for the nursery. Green on top, light blue wallpaper border about 3 feet off the floor, and light yellow below the border. Over the green walls, we'll paint the Seuss characters. In planning this ambitious room, I feel I've bitten off a bit more than I can comfortably chew, but I will press forward because I want the boy to be impressed with it, and I want his baby friends to be jealous of how much his parents rock.

I'm also pleased to announce that my grandmother has sent the Undaling his first Cubs hat. It was shipped directly from Chicago so that insures that it's properly cursed. Soon, we will suffer through the long baseball summers together and maybe he'll be blogging when he's 35 years old about how it's been 133 years since they won the World Series.

For those of you paying attention, WVU is preseason number one according to both Bruce Feldman and Pat Forde of ESPN. Yes, friends, this could be the year. Last year was spectacular, but we're on the verge of something even better. Get ready for more fun beginning September 2nd against (cough) Marshall.

TGITEOTW

TGITEOTW
That stands for "Thank God it's the end of the week". I think it has a nice ring to it. Maybe it will catch on as a way to quickly and easily celebrate Fridays using a simple acronym. Someday I envision a chain of restaurants named after my acronym, where the waitstaff dresses like candy-canes and they hang old household products on the walls. That way, if anyone spills honey-mustard on their cargo pants, they can grab a washboard from the wall and some club soda, and quickly get the stain out.

Pig Picture
I never posted the pig picture as promised. Pardon me.

To review, my friend bought a ranch. I like to call it "Hidden Valley". To kick off their ranch lifestyle, they are also now proud pot-bellied pig owners. This is Sam:

Where have they gone?

Is it just me, or have erasable pens been wiped off of the face of the planet? For a few years, they were huge. All you really needed to effectively start school was a giant Trapper Keeper and a 12 pack of those erasable pens. Where are they? Granted, I haven't walked through that aisle in a long time. Maybe they're still there and they just don't affect my life anymore, but I have a hunch they've vanished. Like Boy George, they were huge in the 80's, but nobody's really needed them since.

Early Retirement

Today is a sad day for me. I'm retiring my favorite pair of cargo pants. If you're a regular reader of my blog, you know that cargo pants are near and dear to my heart. I enjoy the soft feel of wrinkle-free khaki against my skin, and I love having extra pockets for whatever chattel I may decide to carry. Last time I wore them, I discovered some small holes forming just above the back pockets. Apparently, the precious cargo pants have endured one-too-many tumbles in the dryer.

I've heard people say before that mutts are the best dogs. Sometimes, the best pets are not the $700 purebred royalty dogs with papers; sometimes they're the pound puppies that you get for the cost of the first shots. How does this relate to my cargo pants? Well, these weren't a pair of $60 Dillards pants or even Old Navy. I picked these up at Costco for nineteen bucks about two years ago. Yep, I threw them right in the cart on top of the 200-pack of frozen taquitos and a 6-gallon jug of sour cream. I don't know that I'll ever find a pair again that fit me and serve me so well.

I have so many memories associated with these pants. They carried me through more than one rainy concert. Once, I found a five dollar bill in one of the many side pockets. I clearly remember a time when I walked past an older woman at work who I thought was a mute, when, out of nowhere she said "Hey, nice pants."

So today, I've chosen to proudly don them one last time, even with the visible hint of my boxer briefs. I'm proud to take them for one more spin around the workplace. Maybe at lunch, I'll spill one last dollop of ketchup on them, just for old times sake. When I get home, I'll slip them off and quietly place them in the outside garbage can. I might just light a candle and say a little prayer.

Goodbye, pants.

Defensive Driving

It was Friday evening and we were driving North on the Turnpike to spend the weekend in Daytona Beach with the Undaground-in-laws. Our trusty Toyota Camry was stocked with the usual roadtrip chattel: Peanut M&M's, Pringles, Starbucks, bottled water, Altoids, and our first child (the iPod). Inside the car it was a cool 74 degrees. The music was bouncy and fun. Our conversation was easy, easy like Sunday morning, even though it was still just Friday.

Outside, was a different story. Pounding rains chased us up the coast all evening. The roads were slick and nasty, and for much of the journey, my hands remained at 10 and 2. Cruise control was set on 80. I just had to brave the storm and steer the ship. My back was hurting because of the highway tension created by rainstorms mixed with presumably stupid drivers. The situation was exacerbated by that phenomenon that occurs when tractor trailers pass you in the driving rain, then slide in front of you, sending some bonus moisture your way for as long as you're stuck there.

Once we got past the congestion of Palm Beach County, the traffic eased up a little and so did my grip on the wheel. Before long, there were no other cars close in front of us, and none close behind. This was a much better situation, and my back was already feeling better as I enjoyed the mocha frappucino sitting in the cup holder. My wife and I were discussing something, and I began talking with my hands, relying on my knees to steer and the cruise control to keep me at 80.

Then, it happened.

It took me a second to process what I was seeing. There was a Volkswagen Beetle heading right for us at a 90-degree angle from a hill off the side of the Turnpike. Later, we figured that this car was probably getting ready to merge via the on-ramp, lost control and literally took a short cut down a hill and straight on to the Turnpike. My failure to act quickly here would result in a very powerful collision with this woman's driver-side door.

My wife screamed. The moment was surreal. I could see her out of the corner of my eye bracing herself. I pushed the brake down as hard as I could. It feels like I pushed it with both feet and all my body weight, like a leg press. I know that, consciously, instantly, I thought about my wife. And I thought about my child, nestled in the safety of the womb for a few more months. I knew it was my duty to protect them, and I can't even find the right words to illustrate how terrified I was for a brief moment.

Flashback

4th of July. Mrs. Undaground is driving us to a fireworks display. As she stops at a light more abruptly than usual, I look over and admit to her what I had just done:

"You know I just pressed my imaginary brake", I tell her.

"I do that with you all the time. Mostly when you're looking at me and talking with your hands, like this."

I guess she was right. I guess I do occassionally drive like I'm an actor in a movie, piloting a fake car in front of a green screen.

"You know, I'm one of the best drivers in the United States."

"Me too", she answered.

"Seriously, I could have been in Nascar had I chosen that path."

"Nascar, huh."

"Yep. And I don't even chew tobacco or own a confederate flag."

"What makes you think you're one of the best drivers in the world?"

"Not the world, just the United States. I've never been to Europe so I'm not sure how I'd handle the road there. You see, as a youth, I was an idiot sometimes. But me driving like an idiot for a couple years prepared me well for my adult years. Now, because of those crazy driving days, I've become an expert at avoiding serious accidents and defensive driving. It's like I use my powers for good now. It's like that "Catch me if you can" movie when Leonardo DiCaprio starts helping the government bust scam artists."

"Whatever", she said as she pulled forward after the light turned green.

End of Flashback

The Camry started skidding hard, but luckily stayed on a straight line. Meantime, the woman's Beetle was losing its back end again, and it now swerved so that she was facing us, head-on, on the Turnpike. Now, I had to hit the gas, and pull the wheel hard to the right. We drove up on the shoulder to avoid her and then back on the highway. Luckily, nobody was following closely enough to hit us from behind. As I looked in the rearview mirror, I saw a hubcap rolling down the turnpike.

Mrs. Undaground was now silent. I could feel my heart beating near my throat.

"I think I lost a hubcap", I said. Actually, it ended up being the Beetle's.

I pulled over on the side and got out. The woman in the Beetle had somehow turned her car in the right direction and pulled up behind us. She got out of her car. She was visibly shaken. I waited for Mrs. Undaground to get out of the car because I wanted this woman to see that she was pregnant, carrying the most precious of cargo.

"Are you OK? What happened", I asked the Beetle woman.

"I lost my back end and just started sliding. I had no control."

"You lost a hubcap back there."

"I can't believe that's the only thing. I'm so lucky."

"Definitely. Well, drive safe."

We got back in the car and sat for a moment. The bouncy, happy music was still playing on the iPod. I was now regretting the Starbucks. Turns out I didn't need anymore energy. My adrenaline was pumping. I could have wrestled a grizzly bear right then.

"You are the best driver in the world", said my wife.

"Thanks for following up. I think that conversation is officially over now. Just the United States, by the way."

We pulled back on to the Turnpike. For the next three hours, I drove like my trunk was filled with hundreds of egg cartons and several canisters of plutonium. For a few minutes, I couldn't help but see the "what if". Wow, is that scary.

My son is still officially prenatal. I've decided to stop calling him "unborn" because the word sounds creepy to me. Still prenatal and already I've experienced the feeling a parent gets when their child is in danger.

I'm sure that there will be countless incidents where we come out of it feeling extemely lucky. I hope that I can use my past mistakes to protect him. I hope he doesn't have to touch the stove to figure out that it's hot. I hope he doesn't have to drive like an idiot someday to learn how to avoid accidents. I hope he trusts me enough to take my word for it. I hope he doesn't become a Nascar driver and chew tobacco or hang a Confederate flag.

By the Numbers

1: near-death experience this weekend (more tomorrow)
3: licks to get to the center of a tootsie pop (according to some smart-ass owl)
6: contestants remaining on Hell's Kitchen
13: items on my to-do list today
98: years since Cubs have won the World Series
99: days til due date
150: posts on this blog as of today
4367: songs on our iPod

jOkEs

Two cannibals are eating a clown. One turns to the other, and says "Does this taste funny to you?"

***

Person 1: Knock knock.
Person 2: Who's there?
Person 1: Control freak. Now you say "control freak who?"

***

A bass drum and a cymbal fall out of a tree
ba dum dum CHING!

***

Q. how many surrealists does it take to screw in a lightbulb
A. fish

***

Q: What did the perverted frog say?
A: Rubbit.

***

Q: How many kids with ADD does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
A: LET'S RIDE BIKES!

***

Two muffins are in the oven, cooking.
One muffin turns to the other and says, "Man, it's getting really hot in here."
The other muffin says, "Holy Shit! A talking muffin!"

***

A guy's in a bar with his friends and he's totalled. He's three drinks past drunk and as he starts to leave, his vomits all over himself.

"Oh, damn," he slurs, "my wife doesn't like me hanging out with you guys, and now I'm sloppy drunk and stinking and filthy. She's gonna kill me."

"No, no, no." His buddy says and hands him a bill. "Put this five in your pocket and tell her one of us barfed on you and gave you money for drycleaning."

The drunk's eyes light up and thanks his friend before stumbling out the door towards his house.
He arrives at home to find his wife standing at the door, waiting for him.

"Good God," she exclaims, "I don't like you hanging around with those slobs as it is, and now you come home stinking drunk and covered with your own vomit."

"No, no, no, baby, here," the man says reaching for the five in his pocket and handing it to her, "one of the guys got sick on me and gave me 5 bucks to pay for the drycleaning."

"But this is a 10," the wife says, holding it up.

"Oh, right, yeah, he also shit my pants."

***

Three friends are sitting at a bar. At one point, an older gentleman walks up to them. Looking at the one in the middle, he screams: "I F***ED YOUR MOTHER!!!" Offended, but calm, the guy shoos the older man away and shrugs it off, and continues to keep drinking.

A few minutes later, the same older man walks up again and screams: "I F***ED YOUR MOM BUT GOOD!!!" Again, the guy shrugs it off and continues to drink with his buddies.

A third time, the older guy stumbles up and screams: "I F***ED YOUR MOM IN THE ***!!!"
Finally, the guy looks at the older man and says: "Dad, go home. You're drunk."

Guantanamera

Earworm
For some unexplainable reason, I can't get "Guantanamera" out of my head. This is a Latin song that we heard about 300 times on our honeymoon. I always thought they said "Guantanamera, tequila guantanamera", but apparently it's "guitera guantanemera". Anyway, it's very catchy and I guess I will have to make an international purchase on iTunes to get a version of the song. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, you're probably a well-adjusted human being who doesn't wake up in the morning haunted by mariachi music.

Rock Star: Supernova
It's too early for me to form any real opinions. There are definitely a bunch of good rockers on this show. Too bad Chris from American Idol didn't choose this show instead. The Australian guy who sang "Knockin on Heavens Door" was good. The scary guy and scary girl (Rebel Yell and Lithium) were obviously well-received by the band. I need to hear more. Obviously, the guy who butchered "Roxanne" will have to really bring it tonight if he wants to survive.

#37 About Me
37. When I eat Chinese food, I take special care in planning my leftovers. I always save my eggroll for the second meal. My wife thinks this is slightly crazy; I believe it just demonstrates tremendous self-control.

TLC
We're still on a TLC kick. Lately, it's been "Bringing Baby Home". I've decided that all newborns look exactly the same in the first 36-hours after birth (except for the ones who are born with coneheads).

Dream
Last night I dreamed that somebody used my toothbrush. It was some drifter who was staying at our house. I knew that he used it because he left a lozenge resting on the bristles. It was gross. I guess it was his calling-card (at least he warned me). I've decided that my dream is telling me to be wary of drifters, especially those with good oral hygeine.

Programming Alert

Rockstar: Supernova premieres tonight at 8pm on CBS.

It will be discussed periodically on this blog throughout the season. If it's as good as Rockstar: INXS was, it's well worth watching.

Happy 5th

Movie Moment
The other night, Mrs. Undaground and I were watching Good Will Hunting on cable. There's one scene where Robin Williams and the math professor go to a bar to discuss Will Hunting's future. Robin Williams orders a couple of beers and "two sandwiches". He doesn't specify what kind of sandwiches; he puts that decision in the hands of the bartender. That struck me as odd.

Later in the scene, the bartender delivers the two sandwiches. I was surprised to see that one of them was on pumpernickel bread, the other was on white. The two men quickly get into an argument and the math professor storms out without touching his sandwich.

Sure, there was a legitimate disagreement going on about Will's future, but I think the professor might have stuck around to discuss it further if the sandwich he was given was more appetizing. I think he used the argument as an excuse to get the hell out of there before he had to eat a sandwich on pumpernickel bread. I know I would have.

Hot Dog Championship
Did anyone get to see the Nathan's hot dog eating championship? Awesome.

Kobayashi broke his own world record and ate 53 3/4 hot dogs in 12 minutes. For the past four or five years he's been blowing away the competition. Now, there's a young American named Chestnut who ate 52 hot dogs yesterday. I believe we're entering the golden era of the Nathan's hot dog eating championship. Don't miss next year's fourth of July contest. No doubt, these two guys will train vigorously now that the bar has been raised.

For me, the only problem was that I was eating my lunch while watching the telecast. It's not a good idea to eat casually while watching others eat competitively. First, it's a bit disgusting to watch these guys eat, especially once they get past 8 or 9 minutes. Also, you can't help but pick up the pace yourself, and workplace pizza is something that should be savored, not hurried.

Pregnancy Update
25 weeks today. Fifteen weeks left to go.

Are you keeping track of Americans born? Remember, that Gerber and the US census are expecting the 300 millionth American to be born in October. Now, it looks like the best estimate is October 17. That's one day before our due date. I think we can do this if the boy takes after his dad. I'm always on time, but usually early. I've spent more than a few uncomfortable moments being the first one at a party. I still haven't figured out what we will win, but it looks like Undaling may get his fifteen minutes of fame out of the way early.

Happy 4th

I hope those of you with the day off are enjoying it. I'm working today in order to continue to stockpile my "paternity leave".

Thanks for all your comments on blog boy. It brought a tear to my eye to see that 10 comments were made on one post. That's a record, I think. Rome wasn't built in a day. (America, however was built on July 4, 1776).

I have decided to go with Undaling. I liked a lot of the suggestions, and I will solicit your help again in a few short months for Mrs. Undaground's birthday present. Undagroundling was a close second. I looked up groundling in the dictionary just to be sure and it said, "a person with uncultivated tastes." My child hasn't been born yet, and we know he likes artichokes and the John Mayer Trio, so I had to skip that one. It seems he's already cultivating his tastes.

"Undaling" was suggested by my mother. Kudos, mom. You win. You have won a 7-day, six-night stay in South Florida, preferably in late October, for poolside banana-kahlua coladas and nap-relief for Undaground parents. Oh, and we don't actually have a guest room anymore, but we have really big Alice-in-Wonderland-style couches and a vellux blanket with your name on it.

Blog Boy

OK, dear readers, your help is needed.

Coming up with a name for the child was the easy part. Now, I need your help deciding on what to call the boy on this blog. Just as I am the Undaground and my wife is Mrs. Undaground, a nice internet-moniker would be suitable for the boy.

Get those creative juices flowing and let me hear your suggestions. Here are a few already being considered, but I'm wide open to more ideas.

-Undaling
-Mini-me
-OLTC (our little tax credit)

Now, it's your turn. If you've never commented before, now's the time.

Updates

1. The missing slipper was, indeed, under the bed. All is well.

2. The sub shop corporate offices responded: "Thank you, blah blah blah. Your comments have been forwarded to the owner of the location you visited." Sure, pass the buck to the people I was complaining about in the first place. Oh well. This will not discourage me from trying to change the world, one "contact us" form at a time.

3. I went back to Jamba Juice for more Supercharger goodness. Not sure yet if this is just a phase, or I will continue my mashed-up fruit eating ways.

Dis n Dat

Pregnancy Update
Mrs. Undaground is 24 weeks today. We're now watching the baby move on a nightly basis. He's kicking up a storm and probably doesn't realize he's got 16 weeks left to go. He has a name, but so far we're only telling people we know we will never see again in our lives. That's kind of backwards, huh? The conversations usually go like this:

"What's his name?"

"We'll tell you if you promise to never bother us again. From this day forward, we are no longer acquaintances. This will be our last conversation. OK with you?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

"Very well, the name is ..."

Mixing it Up
I tried something different this morning. Instead of coffee, I went to Jamba Juice and had an Acai Supercharger. It's safe to say that I don't eat fruit as often as I should, so I figured I'd try it out. It was delicious. I don't know how the energy part will work, but I am typing about 300 words per minute right now. The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog. They asked me my name at Jamba Juice, even though I was the only person in there. That made me a little uncomfortable, so I lied and told them my name was Kenny.

Missing Slipper
I'm missing a slipper. I've started an investigation. Here are the facts:

• My dog, despite her other bad habits, has great respect for my personal items.
• My wife strongly dislikes these slippers, partially because I've worn them in the driveway and they're definitely not for public view.
• The cats are usually only interested in small, woodland creatures. Also, they have an alibi. At the time, they were busy shedding.

So, right now, the only suspect is my wife. She has a motive, but she also has a high moral code, so I'm not sure she's capable of such a crime. I haven't mustered the strength to look under the bed yet, but perhaps a Jamba Juice energy boost will take care of that.

Contact Us... Don't mind if I do.

Once again, to exercise my rights as a consumer, I am filling out a "Contact Us" form. This time, it's a sub-shop. I will remove the name to protect the franchise owners out there who do a better job than this particular one. As always, I will let you know if I hear back from them.

Dear Customer Care,

My wife and I both spent a significant portion of our lives in New Jersey. Your restaurant has always been a treat for us.

For a few years, we exclusively visited your franchise in the Village Commons Shopping Center. We have had nothing but positive experiences there. It's still the best cheesesteak I can find here in South Florida.

Unfortunately, whomever purchased your franchise in the "Shops of Boynton" is besmirching your good name and doing your brand and its customers a great disservice.

Last night, we stopped at this particular location to order a Philly Cheesesteak and a Chicken Philly. We were on the way to an appointment, so we had to eat in the restaurant.

The first disappointment is that they were out of white bread. All they had was wheat bread. That kind of defeats the purpose for me when ordering a cheesesteak. I generally associate wheat bread with foods not quite as delicious as cheesesteaks.

There were four people working in the store at the time. One was making the sandwiches, taking orders, ringing people up, and taking care of some obvious pressing personal business on her cell phone.

Another employee seemed to have one purpose: to take the completed sandwich and wrap it in paper. I can't really criticize her performance, because she was able to properly wrap each sandwich in paper, but it did seem a bit inefficient to me to have such a laser-focused specialist working on this one task while other customers waited for their various sandwiches on wheat bread.

The other two employees were just shuffling around in the back the whole time. One had a broom. The floors were pretty clean, but I guess I would have traded some floor debris for some fresh-baked white bread on the premises.

As the woman made the sandwiches, she chatted on her cell phone the whole time. At one point, the sandwich-wrapper showed her versatility by actually holding the phone to her coworker's ear for her while she prepared our dinner. At other times, her plastic-gloved hand was buried in her hair, holding the phone with the same hand that would soon touch the same food that would go into our mouths.

Once we had our sandwiches, after a very long wait, I asked for ketchup to enhance the cheesesteak and mask the taste of the wheat bread.

They were out of ketchup.

I heard the customer behind me ask for soup, right about the same time I realized I was going to eat a ketchup-less cheesesteak on wheat bread. You guessed it... they were out of soup.

Maybe one of the three remaining employees could have run to the store at some point during this night. Considering it was Monday and there were only 2 or 3 other customers in the store, I can't imagine when this huge rush occured that depleted all of these necessary supplies.

I've eaten more cheesesteaks in my life than I'd care to admit. Sadly, this was the single worst experience I've had, and that includes Steak-Ums.

As I mentioned before, this has always been a treat for us, but I'm sorry to say that we won't be subjecting ourselves to this "treat" again.

Sincerely,
The Undaground

Back from the Ranch

Mrs. Undaground and I visited our good friends on the west coast of Florida this weekend.

They have just purchased a beautiful 6-acre ranch. It seems that when you buy a ranch, you need to name it. I've suggested "Hidden Valley", because I think it has a nice ring to it. I'm not sure they like it, though.

It seems they were also given a housewarming gift: a pot belly pig. The piglet is about 8-weeks old and is very cute. I'm not 100% sure the cuteness will last. I believe that every species is cute at 8-weeks old.

First and foremost, a pot belly pig seems to be a great conversation piece. We were able to sit and stare at the pig for awhile, just like people sit and stare at a new baby. Watching a piglet eat a piece of watermelon is more fun than I ever imagined.

I did feel a little self-conscious eating in front of him. We had a pork loin on Friday night and bacon on Saturday morning. He didn't seem to mind, but I was careful not to offer him any, because that would be really mean.

Now that they have a ranch, I'm hoping they can acquire all of the characters from Winnie-the-Pooh. We'll bring the little boy if they'd just get a bear, a donkey and a tiger. I'm not sure that they'll all get along, like in the books, but it would make for some great photos. I did take some photos of the pig, and I'll post one as soon as I load them into the computer.

Oil Change

I went to Jiffy Lube yesterday and asked for an oil change and a new air filter (it had been awhile). While they worked on my car, I knew that moment was coming where they would tell me my vehicle is falling apart and I need them to flush the engine, give me a transmission transfusion, and all the other mythical car repairs I don't really need. Once, they told me they have a unicorn that gargles power steering fluid. "See this liquid? It's pea green. It should be mint chocolate chip green with a hint of lime Gatorade. I don't want to push you, but if you don't buy the unicorn, you might find yourself in a fiery wreck. Don't say I didn't warn you."

As I mindlessly paged through Parents magazine in the waiting room, I was formulating my response to their sales pitch. Hmmm. Should I act like a crazy guy and scare the hell out of them, or should I pretend like I have Tourettes? Maybe I should just act like I'm a mechanic that's too lazy to do my own oil change. "No, that's OK, I'll flush my own transmission when I tweak the flux capacitor. I think I have a unicorn lying around in my own shop. I picked one up on eBay from a guy in Middle Earth."

The guy called me into the garage and said, "We changed the oil and you need a new air filter, but other than that, everything looks good."

Whoa.

I was all prepared to stick to my guns and say "no thanks" to all the extra crap. They didn't even ask me.

Is it weird that I'm a little disappointed? Or maybe I'm just a sucker for getting an air filter.

By the way, you don't need an oil change every 3000 miles. Read your owner's manual. I'm serious. Here's what Consumer Reports says about that:

Myth: Engine oil should be changed every 3,000 miles.

Reality: Although oil companies and quick-lube shops like to promote this idea, it's usually not necessary. Go by the recommended oil-change schedule in your vehicle's owner's manual. Most vehicles driven under normal conditions can go 7,500 miles or more between oil changes. Some models now come with a monitoring system that alerts the driver when the oil needs changing. Depending on driving conditions, these can extend change intervals to 10,000 or 15,000 miles.

35 Fun Facts about the Undaground

1. On days when my wife is off of work, I wake up at 6:38 (6:20 and two snooze buttons).

2. I have stood in the eye of two hurricanes. My home has been damaged by three.

3. It takes only one of me to change a lightbulb.

4. I graduated high school with a mullet.

5. I wore a Batman cape everyday for a year in the mid-70's.

6. I am 6' 4 1/2, but I round down to 6' 4. My wife is 5' 1 and 1/2 but rounds up to 5' 2.

7. I believe the two funniest people on the planet are Larry David and Ricky Gervais.

8. I don't speak to people on airplanes, not even my wife.

9. I despise group participation, but will make a fool of myself publicly if it's my idea.

10. I have sung "The Weight" by The Band at a wedding, two New Years Eve parties and an open-mic night.

11. I drink Jack Daniels at weddings, New Years Eve parties and open-mic nights.

12. I might be a speed reader. I need two books for a round-trip flight (or one really big book).

13. I have lived in 9 different states.

14. I have two Tivo lines in the living room and one in the bedroom.

15. On Tuesdays in January, I tivo American Idol, Scrubs, The Amazing Race, The Real World and David Letterman.

16. I have watched every season of the Real World, except for Philadelphia.

17. I grew up a half hour from Philadelphia.

18. When I was 5 years old, my phone number was 586-0608.

19. When I was in high school, my phone number was ANT-FARM.

20. I bought my first car for $450, then fell asleep at the wheel and totalled it 5 months later.

21. I will never fall asleep at the wheel again.

22. I drink Coors Light because I took a blindfolded taste test to determine my favorite domestic, light beer.

23. I could dunk a basketball fifty pounds ago.

24. I eat, write and brush my teeth with my left hand. For everything else I'm right-handed.

25. I have to have my toll money ready miles before I reach the toll.

26. When I see a bee, I run away like a little girl.

27. I can believe it's not butter.

28. I once let my cousin cut my hair and she went a little too short.

29. I took karate classes for a year after I saw Karate Kid and walked away from the sport after earning a purple belt.

30. Bryant Gumbel hit on my wife right in front of me.

31. I could definitely kick Bryant Gumbel's ass, but chose not to because I learned that karate is only for self-defense.

32. When we win the lottery, I'll buy a restaurant/bar, hire a good manager and hang out there.

33. I always say "When we win the lottery...", but we never play the lottery.

34. Our wedding song was "Into the Mystic" by Van Morrison.

35. I love parmesan cheese and I love artichokes. A few weeks ago I ordered Parmesan Artichoke soup at a restaurant. I don't have the vocabulary to tell you how good Parmesan Artichoke soup is.

Any questions?

Kibbles and Bits

Pregnancy Update
Mrs. Undaground is 23 weeks pregnant today. No major milestones, according to the experts. The baby weighs about a pound and the bones of the inner ear are starting to develop. Soon, those bones will come in handy to hold iPod earbuds in place. We've actually seen the movement now in my wife's belly. Apparently, it's still a pretty roomy womb, so the baby is taking full advantage by beating the hell out of Mrs. U's bladder and other internal organs.

Goo Gone
Trying to remove decals from a car or mini-van? Try Goo Gone. It's available at Office Depot. We have our new (used) van, but we need to take the rest of the glue off from the decals. This stuff seems to work very well. Apparently, it's also handy when removing stickers from frames, CD covers, etc. I'm not sure if it works when you superglue your fingers together, so you may want to take caution when doing that.

Reality TV
I know I said I was done with Last Comic Standing, but I watched it again. There's just not that much on these days. Tuesday's show wasn't bad. I guess I'm rooting for the guy who looks like Willy Wonka. He seems to be the funniest. If you're not watching Hell's Kitchen on Mondays, "Move Your Ass" and give it a try. Soon, Rock Star will be back on TV. Last year, they found a singer for INXS; this year it's some supergroup called Supernova.

Basketball
The Miami Heat won the NBA Championship last night. For the first time since the late 70's, I went an entire season without watching an NBA game in its entirety. Someone once told me that married men sacrifice interest in one sport for each child born. Professional basketball is first. (I'm not letting go of college basketball, though.)

Better than OK

Funny things Mrs. Undaground asked me last night:

"I'm going to make a casserole. Is that OK?"

"I left you the last brownie. Do you want it?"

Clearly, the obvious answer to both questions is a question:

"Does a bear sh*t in the woods?"

Stranger in a strange land

I really had no problem getting along fine in Texas. Oddly enough, the only time I felt like I was out of my element was... in Starbucks. Hundreds of miles away my own coffee-maker, I found myself stuck in a foreign land without the Starbucks-American dictionary. I occassionally go to Starbucks now, but never for my morning coffee. Usually, it's a mid-afternoon thing or an airport thing and I just order a frappucino or some other treat. On the few occassions where I've actually gotten coffee there, I've been able to work through it with the clerk and just figure it out using a series of hand gestures and some basic hieroglyphics. In this case, though, the line was very long and moving very quickly. There was no time for me to ask questions. I felt surrounded by folks who knew how to order. If I wanted a tutorial, the weekday morning in the center of a business district in downtown Fort Worth was not the place to learn. I'd have to get it right. Thursday morning, I was a stranger in a strange land.

OK. The line's moving now. I just want a large coffee with cream and sugar. I don't see that on the list. I don't know how to order it. Do they even put the cream and sugar in the coffee here? They must, right? Why is this so intimidating? The line's moving fast. Why am I the only one who's confused by this? Did all these people take a class or something? Did they find some Starbucks Yoda to explain it all to them? Is there a manual? They should put a sign on the wall with instructions how to order.

At Dunkin Donuts, I just have to say "Large coffee, cream and sugar." What happens if I just say that here? Do I get escorted out? Will I be pelted with flavored coffee beans? Maybe someone will correct me. I'm not gonna say it. It's not right. I wouldn't order a Big Mac at Burger King. I need to conform.

Let's see. Tall has to mean small. It's the cheapest. Does tall mean small in some other language? Why not pequeno, or something with "ita" on the end of the word. Grande. That means big in Spanish. Wait, this is Italian. That must mean medium in Italian. I should look that up. That doesn't seem right. Venti. That's a size? Venti. OK. I want venti. Is it enough if I just say venti with cream and sugar?

Should I ask the lady in front of me? She looks like she knows what she wants. She doesn't look like this whole process is worrying her. Maybe she pays $5 every day for coffee.

What are all these flavors? Pumpkin? Summer Harvest? I just want coffee. What's this? Caffe Mocha? I know mocha means chocolate. I can do chocolate. I won't need to figure out how to order sugar. OK. Caffe Mocha it is.

Now what? It's almost my turn. Ooops. The lady in front of me ordered. I didn't make that out. What did she say? I heard "skim". I didn't hear a size. I was zoning. I should have paid attention. Now what do I say? This feels like the soup nazi. Is it "caffe mocha venti" or "venti caffe mocha"? Do I need to say anything else? I need to look this stuff up on the internet. OK. Here we go.

"Yes, I'd like a caffe mocha... venti, please."

"One venti caffe moca. Anything else?"

"A slice of tall poundcake lemon".

Tall poundcake lemon? What the hell is that? I'm gonna get kicked out of here. I wonder if there's a Dunkin Donuts around here. I should have just made coffee in my hotel room.

They know. They know I don't know what I'm doing. Now I know they know I don't know what I'm doing. I wonder if they know I know they know I don't know what I'm doing.

I guess I go stand over here now. What's this? Whipped cream? I can't walk down the street at 8 in the morning with dessert. I just wanted a large coffee with cream and sugar. Somehow now, I've got a piece of cake and a chocolate milkshake.

Anybody know how to order a large coffee with cream and sugar? I know the venti part. How do I say the rest?

More Travel

I'm leaving town again; this time on a business trip to Fort Worth. There will be no Undaground on Thursday or Friday, but please feel free to look around the archives for anything that you may have missed over the last six months.

Someday, I'll have a laptop so I can access the Undaground from my remote locations. Live blogging from Gayapalooza would have been divine.

I wanted my mother to guest-blog after her successful contribution to my birthday post. Unfortunately, she is out of town as well. For all of her fans out there, I think there will be a few days in July when the Undaground Mom will make an appearance.

As for the pregnancy update, Mrs. U is 22 weeks pregnant today. I'm now feeling kicks on a regular basis. We've watched enough of the TLC "A Baby Story" show. Now, we've moved on to "Bringing Home Baby". It seems like a natural progression when it comes to television viewing.

I've watched the first few rounds of "Last Comic Standing". I think I'm done with that show, based on their 12 finalists. I don't know if you've seen this or not. The first few weeks are auditions, followed by a big comedy show where they weed out all the funny people and pick the ones who aren't funny to live in the house.

I went through a drive-thru yesterday, in a moment of weakness, and ordered a value meal. My total was $5.26. In my wallet, I had a $10 and five $1's. I decided that I had enough $1 bills, so I gave the window jockey $11, hoping to get back a five-dollar-bill and some change to consolidate my chattel. Makes sense, right? Well you would have thought I gave the woman a buffalo nickel and some animal pelts. She looked at me with a big, goofy grin on her face. For a moment, I thought that strange smile was a new company initiative, then I realized something was wrong. The look she was giving me was the same look I have on my face when I'm watching a puppy with a blanket on his head. She thought I was an idiot.

"Sir, you gave me WAY too much money, ha, ha."

"Actually, I was hoping I could get a five dollar bill back since I don't have change."

"Oh, OK. Whatever you say."

Listen, drive-thru tellers of world, just input the amount you are given into the cash register and it will do the math for you. Don't try to overthink this. It's simple, really. $11 minus $5.26 equals $5.74.

I'm glad I didn't give her a penny to get quarters back, or her head might have exploded.

Cheers, I'm off to fly the friendly skies (hopefully in an exit row.)

Good Morning

Movie Idea
I have an idea for a movie. It's about a couple that gets stalked by hurricanes and other tropical disturbances. First, a bachelorette party is cut short because of a curfew after a hurricane named Frances. Then, a wedding just barely happens because of another one called Jeanne. Next, the couple's new house is damaged by some bitch named Wilma. Finally (I hope), the couple's oceanfront hotel weekend getaway is washed out by some dude named Tropical Storm Alberto.

Everywhere we go, we are chased by these things. Boy, did I feel stupid Saturday morning as we drove right into the nasty weather. We had a good time this weekend, but we were somewhat limited by the weather.

Also, we didn't check the social calendar in Key West. Saturday was "Gayapalooza". We toyed with the idea of telling people that Mrs. Undaground was a surrogate for a gay couple, but decided against it. As I said to my wife while we were walking down the street, I prefer Gayapalooza over Spring Break. Gay people are much less drunk and obnoxious than college kids. I know, because I was one of those college kids about 10 years ago. As we strolled down Duval St., I was able to point out more than one location where I had vomited in a previous life.

Ugh
This Ben Roethlisberger motorcycle crash business is horrible. I'm glad he's OK, but, as a Steelers fan, I'm a little ticked off at him for riding without a helmet. Ben, put the bike away until you retire. Now, please get healthy for the start of the season.

Margaritaville

Since we've decided to skip any real vacations this summer, Mrs. Undaground and I are going to Key West tomorrow for a little weekend getaway.

For this reason, I will not be posting on Monday.

Here's an artist's rendering of what Mrs. Undaground and I will look like in Key West (if we were South Park characters, of course). It's important to note, that my wife is holding a Virgin Colada in this photo. But make no mistake, my beer is the real thing.

Would you like to create your own South Park character? Go here.

Pregnancy Update: Week 21

As of yesterday, Mrs. Undaground is 21 weeks pregnant. Our little boy is extremely active. He reacts to music and food. As soon as my wife begins eating something, he starts flipping around or kicking. This past week, after about 50 failed attempts, I felt the baby kicking.

As for Mom, her belly now looks a lot like mine. Apparently, I'm the equivalent of 21-weeks pregnant. I realized the other night that Mrs. Undaground, over the past few months, has been slowly turning into me. Here's the evidence:

Heartburn

Grunting more often

Enjoys grunting

Belly size

Outgrowing clothes

Cravings

Frequent desire to nap

Difficulty tying shoes

Occasional back pain

Gets emotional watching reality tv

Gassy

Truth be told, the missus and I have never been closer. We understand each other better now. I fully empathize with everything that's happening to her. I imagine we're approaching the point in the pregnancy where our physical symptoms will begin to differ somewhat. Although I'm trying my best to keep up, I expect her belly growth to outpace mine over the next few months. That's probably a good thing. Also, I don't have any personal plans to start lactating.

While I'm on the subject of breasts, let me tell you about our next door neighbor. On more than one occasion, I've somehow been a party to this conversation:

Neighbor Lady: If I could give you one piece of advice, I'd tell ya to rough up those nipples or you aint gonna be able to do it.

Mrs. Undaground: (laughs) OK. You actually told me that last time we talked.

Neighbor Lady: I'm serious. Rough 'em up or you aint gonna be able to feed that kid. (Looks at me) Play with 'em or do whatchu gotta do. Get 'em good 'n rough.

Me: (nervous... OK, make a joke) Maybe I could get those clamps out of the closet.

Neighbor Lady: Whatever you gotta do, do it. Pinch 'em, scrape 'em, flick 'em, bite 'em. burn 'em, squish 'em. Now's the time. Rough 'em up!

Me: (to Mrs. Undaground) I guess you won't read this in any of your books.

Mrs. Undaground: Definitely not.

Neighbor Lady: That's right. Take it from someone who knows. Don't listen to them books. I smoked and drank for all three kids. They thought the second one was gonna be a mon-go-loid. But she turned out fine, didn't it? Rough 'em up real good!

Me: Okay. I guess we're going to keep walking now. I think I hear the phone ringing in our house. If not, then I definitely left the oven on. The dog's got to eat. There's a load in the dryer. We've got to go. Bye now.

Mrs. Undaground: Yes, thanks for the advice. We'll see you later, unless we can find an alternate dog-walking route.

Neighbor Lady: Don't forget, Rough 'em up! Hey, if you ever need a babysitter...

Shilo, When I Was Young

So, Brangelina named their child Shiloh. I'm not sure if they chose the name because, in Hebrew, it means "place of peace". Maybe they chose it because their Civil War buffs, or they may be big Neil Diamond fans. I really have mixed feelings about this name choice.

First of all, I'm very disappointed in Brangelina for not considering the teasing opportunities this name brings. As expectant parents, Mrs. Undaground and I have considered hundreds of names. One of our big goals is to limit the amount of ridicule the child may have to endure in his formative years. Hector? Sounds too much like rectum. Richard? They'll call him Dick. Trey? Well, my own grandmother has already suggested that naming the boy Trey would inevitably lead to kids calling him Shelf or Dish. So what was Brangelina thinking? Can't they see that a child named "Shiloh Pitt" will quickly become "Pile O' Shit" in the eyes of classmates? Kids get teased at private schools just as they do at public schools, even if they do stay in Namibia.

On the positive side, I've been working very hard to find some new swear words. It won't be long before my fetus can hear sounds from the outside world. With this in mind, I'm trying to find some substitutes for my go-to profanities. So far, I have Homer Simpson's "Doh!", Jerry Seinfeld's "Newman!", and now, "Shiloh Pitt!" Please feel free to suggest any others.