Dear PETA...

Today I can guarantee that Annie had the best day of her young life. She met a squirrel. Then she ate him.

Here are some pics of what's left of Mr. Squirrel hanging out (ha!) inside Annie's mouth and near dad's foot.

Now I have nothing against squirrels, and I don't wish them any undue harm. But I am concerned that since Annie has started eating squirrels, people in Mableton will begin having trouble getting their Honey Nut Clusters! That $&#^ is tasty.

That is all...

Baby Henry

Today, my cousin, Henry, entered the world. Sucked, didn't it, buddy? Just wait, it gets better...boobs, kisses, snuggles and lots of attention. I feel your pain though....especially on the ol' you know what....
Above, you can see a picture of young Henry delivering a powerful karate chop to Aunt Amanda's neck. She was stunned for quite a while, but I'm told she's recovering well.

Henry's been lucky enough to have already signed an endoresement deal with Nestle. Oh Henry! You lucky bastard.




I'm thinking about signing my own endoresment deal with George Lucas. I've thought of a cool character name for his next movie....Duke Poopwalker, a tiny infant turned space adventurer. With magical powers and a little orange sidekick...no wait...green. Yea, green, that'd be freakin' sweet.

Champagne

Once again Mom and Dad abandoned me with that maniac Gia. They just had to go to Mom's work buddy's wedding reception. They got all fancied up and then dumped me on Aunt Shannon andUncle Robby for FIVE HOURS! Seriously, look at me. How could you be without me all that time? I'm charming and witty. People crave Walker-time.

This is a pick of Scarlett and her new hubby - you can't really see them that well so I'm adding another picture of Scarlett and I. I think I'm way cuter than that dude she married anyway.

Anyhoo, back to the story. I was soundly sleeping when they finally got their butts back to Mabletucky to pick me up and take me home to my adoring fans (read Ralphie, Dirty, Charlie and Annie). Well of course I woke up, and of course I wanted some boob. But this time was different - the taste was like sparkly sunshine and butterfly kisses. Heaven. It turns out Mom didn't bother to pump and dump. Thanks for beginning the killing off of my brain cells so early - I hadn't planned on starting that ritual until I turned thirteen or so and get up enough courage to bust open the liquor cabinet.

Well my first brush with alcohol, albeit breast milk flavored with champagne, was a drowsy one. I fell asleep (blissfully) almost right away. Last thing I heard was mom say, "looks like he inherited your PTFO tendencies, Micah". Zzzzzzzzz......

Pumpkins

We all know how cute I am, but even I'm starting to get tired of all the pictures. Today, we drove 25 minutes to a lawn covered with pumpkins and scarecrows just to take pictures. Dad was a sourpuss about the whole thing. Yeah, I said it - sour-puss. And I wasn't the only one with that opinion. Both Aunt Shannon and Uncle Robby said as much. Way to invest some time and care into my childhood, pops. I'll be sure to repay your interest with massive therapy bills someday.

Anyway - all Dad wanted to do was watch football. He does that a lot. Mommy has been very tolerant up until yesterday, then she got mad. And when she gets mad ... well I shudder to even think about it.

By the way, Dad snapped this photo of me lurking in the pumpkin patch. Can anyone spot me? Where's Walker? I wore a special outfit to blend into my environment, and held very still. I am the essence of stealth. Good luck trying to find me in here. For you see, a pumpkin ninja is only found when he wants to be. That's right. Ninja. To be sure, that dude in the background can't see me. He has no idea of how much destructive power I could unleash him, if I chose to. But the first rule of being a ninja - with great power comes great responsibility. So congratulations, dude. You know what saved your life? My code of honor, that's what. Recognize.

It turns out, EVERYONE enjoyed our time with the pumpkins. We even adopted three to take home with us. Gia helped me pick mine out - she's so sweet. Crazy, but sweet, and impossible to understand. Dad says that's the definition of most women.....

See this pick of me and Gia? I'm not passed out. I just have underdeveloped neck muscles. Don't laugh. I will unleash a world of hurt on you.

Cast & Crew Spotlight

Continuing with the introductions of the Cast and Crew of Walkerworld...

Ralphie

Nickname(s): Ralph, Ralph-schmalph, various maledictions

Ralphie has the voice of a Spanish gentleman, and is a crafty puss whose mission in life is to piss of my dad. He likes to eat plants, steal pacifiers, knock anything on any horizontal surface to the ground, and chew fingers.

Mom says Ralphie is pretty. Granted, he is. Yet he is also an ass. Just ask Aunt Debbie. She was once bitten by him.

Ralphie tries to escape his suburban prison nearly every day, often lurking near the front door in hopes of catching someone off guard. He will bolt into the yard, merely to eat more plants. When recovered by Dad or Mom, he retreats inside and throws up said plants like Tracey Gould after a good meal. She sure was cute on Growing Pains.

Ralphie most often can be seen lying about the house in his usual places - arm of a chair or sofa, foot of the bed, on our Ottoman (the Turk doesn't complain much, though). Late at night when the 'rents are getting into bed, Ralphie likes to come lie on Dad's chest, mere inches from his face, blocking any view of anything other than him. He tries to chew on any of Dad's fingers he can find, and if ignored, will be sure to give a close brush of his brown-eye before stalking off.

So, when you come over, say "hi" to Ralph and beware his surliness. He likes new people less and less, though apparently Big Pop, Uncle Toro, and several others are welcome friends. The dogs, after several months, have also made the list of approved house guests. For, to Ralphie, that's just what they are. Short-timers, bound to depart and leave him in peace. To Ralph, they are the inevitable losers in the game of "who can live longer, beeches?".

That is all...

Today I....

....just want to share with you how cute I am. Check out my rockin' new pajamas...

The "Incident"

Today I went with Mommy to her work for a shower for Scarlett's wedding. I really didn't mean to, but I had a little accident and poop leaked out my shorts. Normally, this wouldn't be a big deal, but Mom's friend, Emily, was holding me when it happened and I got poop all over her sweater. Sorry Emily. Heh, heh, heh......

He loves the unitard

At Gia's birthday party, there were lots of shenanigans. A fun time was had by all. Especially by my Uncle Robby, who used the opportunity to perform some sweet tricks on the uneven bars.

While showing off his awesome skillz, He did do this one flip where his legs came down onto the lower bar, making this loud smacking noise and the backs of his knees hit. When he got down, he hopped around a bit because I think he hurt himself pretty badly. He was dancing like a Mexican jumping bean - and it was HI-larious.

Dad tried to perform some tricks. He wound up looking like a dufus. Way to uphold the family honor, pops. Get some skillz, lardo.

All in all, I think Uncle Robby enjoyed the gymnastics equipment more than Gia did. Perhaps he has aspirations of wearing a unitard and being in the Special Olympics. If that's the case, I'd be right on the sideline, sitting with the other people who were there and yelling, "Go Robby, go!"

That is all...

Fat child tortured, parents laugh

Today during my two-month checkup, Dr. Kuo told me that I am in the 90th percentile for weight, according to my age. That means I outweigh nine out of ten of other chubby babies in the US. Which means I am a badass. I can't wait until I'm in daycare soon and some little shrimpy kid tries to f*&^ with me. I'll throw my 13lb, 7oz ass-kickin' body all over him, and make him cry. Step off, bitch, this is Walker's World.

My parents celebrated my obvious genetic and health superiority by musing that I was fat. Hold the phone folks! Did Kanye just say President Bush hates chubby babies, or did I hear you call me fat? I'm healthy! I eat the rich and nutricious secretion of my mother's mammaries all day and have the cheeky smile and Ruebenesque form to prove it. So where do you get off thinking I'm fat? I'm healthy, punks.

Anywho, in addition to the usual Dr's office fare of being stripped down, measured, poked and prodded like some prize animal at a 4H meet, I was given my first shots. Read, I was tortured. Some seemingly sanguine and amiable nurse holds me and cuddles me, and just as I open up to her, she then shoves a needle bigger than I've ever seen into my leg like some psycho ninja assassin. I was about ready to retaliate with my tiny fists of fury, but then...the emotion overcame me. My parents call me fat, I'm naked and in the arms of someone who I thought was my amigo, and I'm 23 minutes overdue for my reservation at MRB...the tears flowed like a river. You should have seen my dad's face. He was heartbroken to see me in such a state. Who's laughing, now, you bastahd?

I will avenge these trepasses, and sow displeasure and sorrow in my wake as I taste the sweet fruit of victory. The day will be mine. Oh yes, it will be. Carpe nunchaku.

That is all...

Today I am two months old

That's right world. I'm two months old today. This proves that my dad is not incompetent (so he says).

Things to remember about this milestone:

1. Only 250 more months until I can legally drink.
2. Only 214 more months until I can join the military and travel the world kickin' ass for the US-of-A.
3. Only 200 more months until I probably drink for the first time.
4. Only 196 more months until I am allowed to be on the road.
5. Only 190 more months until I am a threat to your daughter's innocence.
6. Only 154 more months until I choose whether to like sports or science/magic/nerd-dom.
7. Only 148 more months until I decide girls are hot.
8. Only 142 more months until I go to Space Camp.
9. Only 118 more months until I join PeeWee football.
10. Only 94 more months until I decide girls are gross.
11. Only 58 more months until I want nothing more than Hulk underoos.
12. Only 34 more months until I wonder if my bellybutton has a bottom.
13. Only 22 more months until I begin to love PB&J.
14. Only 16 more months until I start talking.
15. Only 10 more months until I begin torturing Ralphie, Annie, and Charlie.
16. Only 8 more months until begin walking.
17. Only 6 more months until I begin eating solid foods.
18. Only 4 more months until my boobie access pass expires.
19. Only 2 more months until I start scooting around.
20. Only 2 hours until I piss myself ag...oops, too late.

That is all...

Falcons stomp Vikings, I vow to stomp Ralphie

Today, Dad and I watched the Falcons open a can of whoopass on the Vikings. The game was fantastic, as was the performance of nearly every player on the team. I got really excited and puked on dad while celebrating. He was cool with it, though. Not like the dude dresses to impress. Hell, I made him look better with my hurl on him.

Meanwhile, in the background, our #1 cat Ralphie managed to find and destroy yet another of my pacifiers. That little puss has been systematically destroying my pacifiers like the insurgency in Iraq destroys convoys. He is a sneaky little cat, lurking in the shadows and waiting for us to let down our guard, then he strikes, and is off before you know it. I've lost no fewer than eight paci's to that bastard. Mom recently found a cache of them under the couch.

We've tried locking down the supply of pacifiers, but it's tough to keep up security 24-7. We've thought about wiping out his base of support, but it is shared by innocent civilians (read our I-live-in-the-garage-cause-I'm-emotionally-unstable-and-if-I-was-a-human-I'd-be-a-bag-lady cat Dirty).

I hope that little *&^# realizes that he'll get his comeuppance when I reach about 12 mos or so. At that point I'll be mobile, in control of my motor functions, and able to yank the hell out of his tail.

You just wait, furball. Your time is gonna come. Led Zeppelin wrote a song about it.

That is all...