All Hallows' Eve: The Fun Factor Increases The Older You Get

The other day, I made the statement:

(and I quote)

"Someday I am going to grow up to be a mature adult. Today is not that day"

Is it just me or does Halloween get increasingly better the older you get? I remember the days of trick or treating having a blast running around town, filling up on an insane amount of candy, picking out which teachers' houses you were gonna hit up for the best selection, and totally crashing from the night's festivities around 9:00pm.

HOWEVER, as my age increases over the years, I must admit that my maturity has not. Halloween has officially become a night of dressing up in ridiculous attire, creating your own dance parties, playing alcohol-related games that I'm not so sure have any clear, concise rules, and hittin' the club in an effort to show up all the slutty 21 year olds who dressed up in as minimal clothing as possible. Question: Have you ever seen a mouse wearing knee high stockings and lingerie? I have. And they travel in packs.

Halloween 2011 did not disappoint in the area of "awesomeness." What could be more fun then spending the evening as Mexi-Pippi Longstocking (representin' Brown Town) challenging Jake and Elwood Blues to a rousing game of flippy cup while a bumble bee buzzes around the table showing off dance moves circa 1994? I find myself drawing a blank! - because there is absolutely NOTHING better!

The night only became slightly awkward when Jake and Elwood thought it would be appropriate to celebrate flippy cup wins with the occasional make-out. I never realized the Blues Brothers were so close! I'm assuming they left that part out of the story for a reason.

And then the party truly began when Elwood, Pippi, and Buzz the Bee totally annihilated the kittens, Lady Gaga's, butterflies, fairies, and every other totally overdone female costume of the year on the dance floor. I hate to brag but WE CAN bust a move! And damn do we look good doing it!

And as amazing as it was beating that poor little cheerleader in a Beyonce dance-off, nothing compares to the emotions I felt when receiving this picture via text message from Huracan.

That adorable baseball is the home of my future niece or nephew. Props to Mama B for joining in the Halloween fun! I may be a Cubs fan, but I am an even bigger fan of Baby Beans.



Seis.

In the words of Brian McKnight.........

(Because when I need to do some serious soul-searching

I turn to the greatest R&B singer of all time)

2005

2006

ONE

You're like a dream come true.

2007

TWO

Just wanna be with you.

2008

THREE

Boy it's plain to see.........

That you're the only one for me.

2009

FOUR

Repeat steps one through three

2010

FIVE

Make you fall in love with me.

_______________________________________________________________________

SIX

2011

$%&#....what are we supposed to do for six?

Brian McKnight never got that far.

What good is an R&B love song when your relationship

lasts longer than the lyrics.

Good thing we've been writing our own song for the last six years.

I think it's safe to say we got our kicks

During year Number 6.

Looking forward to year Number 7.

Thanks for the love, support, and memories, Officer Bob.

May we continue to cherish every moment of our lives spent together.

*October 28, 2005*



It's Been Two Weeks......

since I kinda/sorta ran but most definitely finished a marathon.

And I haven't had time to blog about it because of the following:

Destroyed Couch #1

3 escapes from the back yard fence.

New bars screwed into aluminum fence to increase security.



Destroyed Couch #2

8 more "how the %$&@ is he getting out?!" escapes from the backyard fence.

ALOT of cussing and heavy drinking.

Destroyed guest bedroom sheets AND mattress.

More cussing.

More drinking.

AND JUST ANOTHER LIFE MOMENT TO ADD TO THE LIST OF

"SHIT YOU CAN'T MAKE UP"?

Today......upon returning home from work, I see this.

Look closely.

The DOUBLE pane window through which my 1 year old dog actually jumped.

When it was closed.

Forcing me to make the ultimate decision.

It's official:

All the love in the world can't keep me from finding this young pup a new home.

Apparently it wasn't meant to be.

I can't take it anymore.

My bank account can't take it anymore.

You win, Reggie, you win.

:(

And who do I call when I need plywood shoved in my broken window?

Who do I call when I pretty much need anything?

THIS GUY.

Thank you Mr. and Mrs. P for bringing this man into the world.
Thank you, CareBear, for marrying him.
Thank you, Mrs. for sharing your brother with me.

I realize I am in no shape or form related to this man (unless he has some "brown" gene I'm unaware of), but he has never turned down a phone call from a crying, yelling, stressed out, Mexican woman. And I can't thank him enough.

And what makes me smile out of this whole situation?

The fact that this little girl now follows her daddy to all Casa de Bob 911 phone calls.

Too bad we have become "those people."
The ones all the neighbors are ashamed to be living near.

You know what I heard happened?

That loud Mexican chick and her cracka officer boyfriend got in a fight. He called INS. They were evicted. She was deported. AND they boarded up the windows with that poor dog inside.

But that's just what I heard.

Twenty Six Point Two

As I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep.

And if I die while attempting to finish my first marathon tomorrow,
I pray the Lord has one heck of a sense of humor!!



On a serious note, A HUGE thanks to all who have supported me in my fundraising efforts for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. It is incredibly humbling to know I have so many family and friends willing to support this cause.

To Uncle Chris, Buddy Udiskius, Becky Basham, and Daniel Schaub:
I know you will all be carrying me through tomorrow.
As I pray that you have met peace in your own lives,
Please offer me the same by carrying me through to that finish line tomorrow.

To my father and cousin:
This run is also for you. I will be going through my own battle physically tomorrow as I tread through each mile marker. I know this does not compare to the mental battles you experience every day, but I hope it brings a smile to your face knowing you are not alone. Love to you both.

Ready or not, HERE I GO!!

Tonight's Blog Brought To You By the Number 5

Five.

The number of uber-hip members in the greatest girls group of all time. "I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want!" Baby, Ginger, Scary, Sporty and Posh will forever be my music idols. Holla back, Spice Girls!

Five.

The number of times Officer Bob has scolded me for recently removing the manhood from his youngest child, Reggie. Apparently messing with a male's precious little baby-making jewels is comparable to murder in the eyes of a father. Sorry, boys, but I ain't housin' any more mutts!

Five.

The number of days in a work week. The number of days in a long, boring, dreadful work week. Can you tell I'm getting a minor case of "burnout" at the job?!

Five.

The number of fantasy football teams Officer Bob is currently managing from his bedroom office. AND the number of times he has regretted picking up Peyton Manning in the first round. P.S. Go pack!

Five.

The number of platonic solids. Whatever that means. Thank you, Wikipedia.

Five.

Offered "up high" or "down low" (as long as you're not too slow) in recognition of a person or act that is groovy or awesome. For example: El Aguila states: "I learned to play the banjo in an hour!" I acknowledge such feat with a HIGH FIVE!

Five.

The number of days until I participate in the 2011 Bank of America Chicago Marathon.

Five.

The fourth digit of my assigned bib number for said event.

(Do you think they assign bib numbers by the approximate minutes predicted to finish?)

Five.

The number of times I have cried myself to sleep in anticipation for said event.

I guess it's now or never. I can no longer put off the fact that I will be running 26.2 miles on Sunday in an effort to raise funds for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. I received an e-mail yesterday morning entitled, "Welcome to Race Week!" HOLY S&%#. Race week is here. There is no more time to prepare. No more training runs. And no more being picked up off the side of the road because I lost a toe nail sometime during the 4 hour time span my body was in motion. 

The participant guide arrived in the mail and I almost regurgitated my recently consumed glass of apple cider as I read the contents of the 20 page book. Any race that requires 20 pages to explain the timeline of the day should not be considered a legal athletic event. Unfortunately for me and my stupid life dreams, I have traveled too far in my personal adventure to turn back now! Can I just say "Eff You" Chicago Marathon marketing team for placing a photograph of seven non-athletic looking older adults on the cover of the program guide! What would make me feel even worse about my incredibly slow time or even inability to finish the race? Knowing seven men 40 years my superior have run every Chicago Marathon for the last 34 years with ease. Hopefully gramps has a strong back for carrying overweight Mexican women across the finish line when they pass out at mile 23!

Still on the list of things to do before Sunday:

1. Complete the final iPod playlist.
2. Develop list of sightseeing for the family to do while waiting 6 hours on the streets of Chicago for me to cross the finish line.
3. Pick up super rad t-shirts for family to wear on race day.
4. High five Officer Bob for putting up with me and my ridiculous training habits for the last 5 months.
5. Eat diet high in fiber in order to regulate bowels for race day. (TMI?)

To all those who have supported this bucket list dream, I cannot thank you enough! You've helped me get this far, and I only have 26.2 miles to go!

See you at the finish line!!

(I just hope I'm upright)

Gunther Gab: Happy Birthday, Pebbles!!

She´s your brand new little daughter,

so enchanted, sweet and smart.

With a coo, she´ll have you smiling

With a laugh, she´ll own your heart.

It´s the time for hugs and kisses,

Reassurance when she cries.

It´s the time for making moments

Full of love and Lullabies.

For these golden days of childhood

come and go so very fast -

Hold her tight and love her dearly.

Make these precious moments last.

CareBear and Titty Baby welcomed their beautiful daughter on September 22, 2011 at 8:30am. Pebbles weighed in at 7lbs 9oz and measures 19 1/2 inches in length. It is quite possible that she may be the sweetest little baby born into this world - and to Titty Baby nonetheless. Sometimes, I just don't question the works of our Father, I just bask in his glory. And what a glorious gift to these proud parents.

Other than some slight nausea from the father and an extra large noggin pushin' on her mama's pelvis, I received word that the delivery went pretty smoothly. Both mother and baby are happy and healthy, and the new daddy has transitioned into his role with confidence. It has been confirmed that his role of recording bowel movements is taken very seriously. Just remember:

Officer Bob and I made the trip to the hospital as I anxiously waited my turn to love on the sweet little girl. The drive with Officer Bob was spent discussing proper technique of holding his new niece. His exact words were, and I quote "Nobody is making me hold her. I am not picking her up until she is three!"

I am sure you can all guess how that one turned out.............

It didn't take long for her uncle to fall under her spell, and he did so well with her. He is completely wrapped around her finger, and already talking about future birthday gifts. Her birth certificate should have read S-P-O-I-L-E-D.

Although there is no photographic proof, trust me when I say that I took full advantage of my snuggle time with Pebbles. Though I may not be her aunt yet, I am TOTALLY smitten by such a precious being, and I have no doubt that I will be making several visits to see her during the coming weeks. I just can't get enough Pebbles time!!

We left just as Pebbles was receiving her very first manicure! Thank heaven for little girls, right CareBear?!

Stay tuned for future updates on this beautiful family of three as we watch Pebbles develop her own unique personality and grow into a beautiful young girl.

P.S. No worries, Mama Dirt. The 8ft inflatable light-up stork made yet another appearance. Casa de Pebbles does not go unnoticed!

Feliz Cumpleanos, Beautiful Pebbles!

Your Uncle and Kinda-Sorta Aunt are so happy you have FINALLY made your appearance!

Let the spoiling begin!!!

Dear CareBear:

I sympathize for your state, belly stretched half a mile
So I decided to write you a poem. Hope it makes you smile.

You wait all this time with a good attitude
All day just dreaming of your baby in nude

Bigger you both get, with each passing day
And it becomes harder to work, sleep, and play

Discomfort and gas rule your life
No one else can imagine the torture and strife

People keep talking, calling, and email
It is enough to make you lethargic and pale

Every day your mother guesses a new baby name
And you're just praying to end this game

When will she come? Nobody knows.
I'm sure you wake up thinking, "Oh God how this blows!"

Your husband hangs with the boys and cracks open a few beers
As he brags of his Doctor's office souvenirs

I have to pause here as its hard to think
While picturing Titty Baby, the glide, and his best friend Rink

Each night you sit at home cringing in pain
The waiting and waiting drives you insane

But soon you will be holding a baby in your arms
Under her spell, hooked by her charm

A new precious life, just wait and see
Too bad the wait feels like an eternity

Until that time comes, just stay home and rest
Because Pebbles will appear when she feels its best!

Some people think football is a matter of life and death..........

I assure you, it's much more serious than that.

The most anticipated time of year has come. Forget Santa, The Easter Bunny, or even that questionable fairy that runs around stealing the molars from our youth. The most important, long anticipated, day of the year has arrived.

FOOTBALL SEASON!!!

It surprised me to find out that even mother nature might actually be a fan of the pigskin as the temperatures dropped and the chilly fall weather arrived in honor of this famed day. However, she does get a little moody and perhaps "pouts" when things don't go her way. Hence the rain. Must be a Bears fan.

Even though today might be the actual starting day of the season, preparations for this moment have been a daily routine at Casa de Bob for the last several weeks. The green and gold attire has been moved to the front of the closet, and the sewing machine is training for a marathon of its own in creating garments for the four-legged members of the family.

And of course......this has been the scene at my house for the last 6 nights running:

Let me break down this image for you:



Officer Bob sits with his trusty companion, the Dell, logging into one of 5, count 'em 5, live drafts for the 2011 Fantasy Football season while talking on the phone to El Aguila discussing team strategy and bitching about player selection while simultaneously shouting at his adorable girlfriend (that would be me) to boot up the netbook because the trusty Dell can't keep up with his lightning fast drafting skills.

Even Gilbert and Reggie get into the fantasy draft action offering their father pointers and keeping him updated on the latest player injuries.

Yes folks. This is what my house has become.

If I didn't have marathon training to keep me busy, I might actually have to start throwing a little yellow flag when I need to grab Officer Bob's attention. That always seems to create some sort of emotional response.

However, I must admit, that it does feel good to train for my race wearing a
Cheese Head!

GO PACK GO!!!

To answer your question, Mr. Hank Williams Jr.......
Yes, I am indeed ready for some football.

Marathon Training Week "Does It Really Even Matter Anymore?"

In case you were wondering,

I.Am.Alive.

I realize my lack of blogging has had people questioning the state of my being, but I am happy-ish to report that I am alive and kinda sorta well.

In 5 1/2 weeks, I will be standing at the starting line of a 26.2 mile road to you know where. The training has been kicked up a notch lately, and I will tell you that my knees and back are cussing at me every step of the way. If my right knee could talk, I'm pretty sure words that start with f and b would frequently be shouted as I take step after step in an effort to be somewhat, kinda-sorta, not really prepared for this thing they call a race.

Here's my question.......is it still considered jogging if my speed walking pace is faster than my jogging pace? My vote - yes. Because I damn well say so and I'm gonna damn well step across that finish line no matter what it takes.

I've been researching effective training methods and techniques for preparation, and I just keep thinking to myself - Is your body REALLY ever prepared for 5 to 6 hours of torture? Doubtful. Especially since my body can't seem to make it past mile 12 without having to take a 20 minute potty break. Luckily my training runs take place on deserted country roads, and I'm able to somewhat tuck myself between a few stalks when nature calls. However, I highly doubt the city streets of Chicago will have such a fortunate hiding place. I just pray there are multiple gas stations along the route for such times. Many reports state that racers have no problem relieving themselves while in motion in an effort to meet record breaking times. I, however, have no problem running 3-5 miles COMPLETELY OUT OF MY WAY to make sure my bladder is comfortable. I may not be the classiest of individuals, but I would like to protect the small glimpse of reputation that falls under the somewhat respectable category.

All in all......I may not be exactly where I would like to be in my training, but I can assure you that this bucket list item WILL be checked off on October 9th, 2011. Simply because there is absolutely no way I am putting myself through such torture EVER AGAIN! Please keep saying prayers for me as motivation is starting to dwindle.....what gives me hope? The AMAZING charity that I am running for and knowing that I run so that someone else may live. Don't forget to stop by my website and make a donation for such an awesome organization. (http://afsp.donordrive.com/participant/bigbocabob)

With peace, love, blistered feet, and sweat-stained sports bras,

Big Boca Bob

P.S. Any suggestions of songs to add to the playlist to get me through my 19 mile training run this Saturday would be GREATLY appreciated. After three hours of extremely slow jogging, an upbeat, motivational song is pretty much the only thing I have. HELP!

Beans Blab: Week 25 Update

In less than four months,

This Oh-So-Adorable Little Boy.......

Is going to be a dad.

A father.

Un papa.

It's doesn't look any more natural no matter what language you write it in.

Watch out world.

Baby Beans is still in the womb and already showcasing that he is going to be his father's child.

Exhibit A:  Baby Beans has already made his mother's life HELL. A trait that Huracan has mastered tremendously well.  Baby Beans has induced enough vomiting to fill the Grand Canyon (sorry for the disturbing picture) in the first few months of his womb life, and Mama B continues to take each day in stride. Doctor's visits, ridiculous diagnoses, and constant flushing have not held this Mama back, and I commend her on the sacrifices she has already made for the little diablo. Trust me, Mama B, one conversation with Mama Dirt will make you understand that if this child is anything like his/her father, this torture will never end. Huracan is climbing toward his 29th birthday and still haunts Mama Dirt's dreams. Good luck, Girl!

Exhibit B: I give you the ultrasound picture.

In which little innocent Baby Beans is very obviously flippin' his parents one giant bird. Nothing says love like a fetus tellin his papa to stick it where the sun don't shine. This baby is already makin' his Aunt super proud! Hopefully, one day in the next couple years, when all the other aunts at work are showing off videos of their cute nieces and nephews crawling and walking for the first time, I can show a video of my little Baby Beans smokin' a skogie and shoutin' at his Mama to fix him some f'in meatloaf!

This past weekend Huracan and Mama B welcomed Officer Bob and I into their home for a nice relaxing getaway. Well......road tripping with Officer Bob isn't quite relaxing so I correct my previous statement by saying MOSTLY relaxing getaway.  This would be the face I saw 7 hours and 45 minutes out of the total 8 hours spent in the car..........

It is TOTALLY not my fault that long car rides pretty much drive me insane causing minor confusion in the location of the Berlin Wall. Apparently, it is not in China. That tiny misunderstanding, my friends, will cause the face you see above. (A face I get to see quite often!)



I was more than ready to arrive at our final destination, the humble abode of the Huracan and Mama B soon-to-be family of three. And I will tell you that I was NOT surprised to find that Mama B has got to be one of the most adorable little preggos that I have ever seen. Why do the mothers of both of my future little relatives have to be so freakin' tiny?! I'm pretty sure if you totaled their weight, I would still have a few pounds advantage on them. Thanks, Mama B, for the self-esteem boost! Looks like its doughnuts and ice cream for dinner again tonight! (I tend to hide my feelings with food)

And the day would not be complete without the token maturity of the Proud Father!



I must say, however, that the highlight of the trip may have been meeting one of Big Boca Bob blog's biggest fans! Baby Beans's Grandma B was reportedly anxiously awaiting the arrival of Big Boca Bob and Officer Bob, and I sure hope we did not disappoint! Officer Bob was only referred to using his blog moniker as the Nudist Nana and I quickly became BFFs. It is no lie that The Nudist Nana is quite the entertaining conversationalist and may make some blog cameo appearances in the future! The Nudist Nana predicts the birth of a larger than normal red-headed Mexican baby, and if this prediction holds true, I vow to love that ginger beaner to the core.

Thanks to our hosts for the fabulous tour of the town, the relaxing movie watching, and the great weekend getaway. Miss you already!

Gunther Gab: Showered With Love

After this past weekend, I think it is safe to say that Baby Pebbles is TRULY loved.

Mama-To-Be CareBear and Baby Pebbles had quite the partay on Sunday, and the amount of love for this child consumed the room. Approximately 50 friends and family brought smiles, laughter, love, and loads of gifts for the precious baby-to-be. AND I even wore a dress with heels for an entire 5 hours with minimal complaints! Talk about a good day!

I apologize in advance for the lack of photography. I was WAY too busy socializing, scooping ice cream, and watching gift-opening to worry about a camera!

A BIG thanks to Mama Dirt, Daisy Duke, The Llama, and Dancing Queen for their decorating skillz. Who knew a Masonic Lodge could be glittered with sugar and spice and everything nice. I think the amount of pink in this room would have made Barbie's Dream House look like the rut hut.

The day started out with introductions from a room full of chatty women. It was impressive to see the number of people that will be welcoming this baby into the world. I just hope Baby Pebbles will someday understand how many friends and family have been anxiously awaiting her arrival.

During introductions, the sound of ice cubes could be heard rattling in the kitchen, as the Mrs. was preparing for her first game.  And this is where I insert a plug for the creativity of the Mrs. If you or anyone you know is getting married, having a baby, or having a fiesta for any other milestone in life for which party games are needed, this is your go-to-gal!!

Game #1: My Water Broke! - Each participant received an ice cube with a tiny baby inside. The first person to free their baby from the frozen capsule, and shout "My Water Broke!" would be the winner. Prior to the game starting, as the Mrs. and I were frantically tossing glaciated babies into plastic cups laughing at the ridiculousness of the scenario, we were discussing methods participants might use and the potential length of time this task might take. I confidently stated that Mama Dirt can be quite the competitive player. Not 2 minutes later, I witness Mama Dirt gnawing on a plastic baby while simultaneously shouting the catchphrase. At the same time, one of the younger guests was smashing her baby with a chair leg. What are we trying to teach here, Mrs?! Nothing better than corrupting the future motherhood of such a young lass.

Game #2: Each gift seen below had a baby-related item that started with the specific letter located inside. Guests could feel each bag to guess the item. (PS - This poor child will never actually be called her given name as her in-utero name of Pebbles seems to have already stuck. This can be blamed on your parents, Baby Pebbles, for they are the ones holding your birth name hostage until your arrival.)

Game #3: Prior to the fiesta, the Mrs. made a phone call to her younger and oh-so-naive brother to ask him for responses to baby-related trivia questions. Poor Titty Baby did not know what he was getting himself into as his responses would then be told to a room full of the smarter gender.  The goal of the game was for CareBear to match Titty Baby's answers to 20 questions. Poor CareBear was asked to actually think like Titty Baby. I fear anything and everything that goes on in that man's mind and would deny the request to enter such a dangerous world. However, CareBear rose to the challenge, but struggled along the way. Many answers weren't too far off, but it was the occasional offbeat answer that threw the room full of women into a whirlwind of laughter. A few homework assignments for the Dad-To-Be: #1 - google definition of swaddle, #2 - poll friends of mothers to embrace realization that a child will go through MORE than 6 diapers a day, #3 - visit a local hospital to witness a newborn child with the umbilical cord still attached and observe for more than three hours without gagging.

AFTER the games, came the food! And thanks to Daisy Duke and CareBear's best friend, Erin, what a fabulous spread it was! You would not believe the number of toppings for ice cream sundaes that could be displayed to satisfy the hunger of 50+ women. Nuts, candies, sauces, etc. filled each guest's bowl and they were topped off with what else but whipped cream and a cherry. The sundae bar was a great hit! Erin was responsible for the punch and water for rehydration following such taxing games. I am 100% positive that all guests left the fiesta with bellies and hearts full!

AND THEN........PRESENT TIME! I have honestly never seen so many pink-wrapped, pink-bowed, pink-glittered gifts in my life. Now I am only 25 years old so it's not exactly the longest life to speak of, BUT I'm not so sure I will even witness such a sight in my next 25 years of life. After an hour of unwrapping, I could see the fatigue start to settle in CareBear's eyes. I'm not so sure who was more emotional, CareBear or the Mrs. The eyes were swelling and tears were about to flow on a couple different occasions as presents were unwrapped. Now I understand that CareBear was more than happy to see all the women closest to her share in her excitement for her and her future motherhood, but I'm not so sure she would have been able to untie even one more bow. There is absolutely no fear that Baby Pebbles will ever have to go without incredibly adorable clothing.

Thanks to ALL that attended, and to ALL that made the shower a success. CareBear is READY TO POP and we are all anxiously awaiting the arrival of a precious, not-so-little, big-footed princess.

Halfway to 42

21 years ago,

On July 27, 1990

A little brown boy entered our family.

It was a good thing Mama Dirt was strolling next to the dumpster that day

and saw his little brown eyes looking longingly for someone to take him home. 

Turns out the stork saw him,

said "screw this!"

and dumped him at the most appropriate place at the time.

Another man's trash became our little family's......trash.

But he was treasured trash, nonetheless.

I, for one, was more than happy to bring a younger sibling into the family.

An hermano that I could tease daily, push down the stairs,

and dress up in my old dance recital outfits.

And now........

That little brown boy.

Has matured into...........

An older little brown boy.

I honestly, truly, am having a difficult time coming to the realization

that my little tiny baby brother is a legal alcohol-consuming,

slot-machine playing, full blown adult!

Talk. About. Scary.

So far in his 21st year of life, El Aguila has purchased his first 6 pack (of Mike's Hard....really, El Aguila?! What a pansy!), lost slightly more that $20 at the casino, and received a long lecture from his older, wiser, and more beautiful sister about bar selection in a college town on a Saturday night.

Sounds to me like he is kick starting his adult life in just the right way!

FELIZ CUMPLEANOS, EL AGUILA!

I love ya little brown dumpster boy.

We've always been Mama's favorites. PLEASE don't screw it up!