The Song That Ate Mah Brain

Posted by Wombat Central on October 21, 2014 in Music |

My kids have been subjected to my music for long enough to recognize my listening patterns.

“What’s your favorite song this week?” one of them will ask me.

It’s nice when it happens to coincide with something they also like that week, like the time I couldn’t stop playing “Happy” and was so excited to make my own video for it. That, of course, was just about when everyone and his dog did their own video version of the song and I abandoned my idea right about the time that I never wanted to hear the song again due to overplay on the radio.

Sometimes I’ll have my song of the week on the iPod and offer to play it en route to somewhere in the car.

“Ooh, have you heard my favorite song of the week yet?”

Usually day one or two affords them a chance to hear it ad nauseum, as I become nearly obsessed with playing it until the shinyness has worn off. It really can get ridiculous. I’m sometimes grateful for the thrill to be over so I can just hear it once in a while and jam along instead of thinking things like, “I wonder if I could play it 10 more times while I cook dinner. That might hold me until dessert.”

Sometimes I get all Brokeback about it:


It’s nearly that bad sometimes. Worse still is when it’s a darker song, like this week’s selection. I’m sure you have little-to-no interest in sampling this, but since you’re in no danger of finding it appealing enough to even finish once, here it is. I’m certain it will have zero effect on your productivity:

I guess what I like about this is the way he (Mike Patton, lead singer) begins with a basic melody and a few elements, and once that’s established, adds another layer, then another. It’s actually not a typical sound for this band, and having been a fan for years, perhaps that’s part of the appeal.

The baseline didn’t hurt its case, either. One of the Youtube commentors agreed: “This baseline makes me moist.”

Just like Duncan Hines, honey. Just like Duncan Hines.

I’ve been listening in the car on my iTouch this week. The first time I played this, I didn’t realize it was on shuffle. The song ended, and something far more upbeat and happy played, and I thought, “Oh, iTouch, you get me. Thanks for dragging my minor chord loving ass out of the funk of that song that I love and hate all at once and making me shake my groove thing again.”

Another day it played THE SONG, then a happier song followed by an audio book recording of Tony Robbins. Well, now if that wasn’t a sign. Pshhh.

“I WILL DO IT, iTOUCH! I will quit this downward spiral of a song and



Happy to report I’m sort of  mostly in the process of passing the point where I Must. Hear. My. Song.

I’m now fine with hearing it just a few times a day. Really. I wonder if they have meetings for this sort of thing. Sweet Jeebus, I need a new hobby or something.







Dear Puppy

Posted by Wombat Central on October 4, 2014 in Family, Furry Friends, Rummy, Scary Crap |

Dear Puppy,


Bunny turds are not for consumption. It is the reason we all run screaming from your wagging tongue and don’t engage in toy play with you after visits to the back yard. For the love of the man, please stop snacking on them like they’re Raisinets.


Stairs are not the devil. If you’ll just climb the magical steps to the second floor, you’ll discover a whole new world to sniff. You might even get to sleep with your parents. Also, you can hide there from overzealous little people when the need arises.


People sneeze and cough. This is not cause for alarm. Such involuntary actions will not produce disembodied heads or bring the world to a close. Promise.


Thanks for being such a good sport about wearing diapers this week. Just a few more weeks to go, and you’ll be past this whole coming-of-age nightmare I call “The Carrie Chronicles.” I think the kids behind the counter at Walgreens think I have some kind of feminine product hoarding issue.


Since you’re being such a good sport about wearing the diapers I’ve made for you (even the ones fashioned from a pair of my old undies with the classy tail hole), I’ll forgive your removing the store-bought ones I purchased and subsequently shredding the maxi pads all over the carpets.


Sorry so many things skeer you. Contrary to what you might believe, people are mostly good, doors will not bite you, and not every person who comes to our door is equipped with a cheese-dispensing attachment on their arm. Just our friends do. The appliance repair dude was absent the day they handed out that apparatus.



Your person mom


P.S. We think you’re pretty awesome.




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Posted by Wombat Central on September 22, 2014 in Furry Friends, Rummy |

She’s our new 10 month-old pup.

She arrived with that name, and we had every intention of changing it, but after spending the first day with her, we decided she simply looked like a Rummy.

She’s enormous (nearly 72 pounds).

She’s very sweet.

She is also quite scared of… well, most things.

Like sneezes (I think we’re loud sneezers at the Wombat household). They kinda send her into outerspace. Or sniffing around to see what terrible, horrible thing could have made such a noise.

And grunty Pugs. They’re kinda scary. What with all the grunting.

And strangers. All strangers, sadly, but we’re working on it.

She has found some favorite things, though.

She loves Annabelle’s old squeaky hotdog.

And food.

She’s also quite good at prewashing dishes as they go in the dishwasher.

Having a job is important, you know.

She’s used to being with her pack of dogs, and I think sometimes she really misses them.

Sometimes she seems to think I’m one of them when she gently gnaws at my hand while getting silly lying on her back.

She’s one of the best-behaved pups I’ve seen.

We just have to work hard on that shyness thing.

We’re trying to give her lots of love to make her feel secure.

Here she is sharing a moment with Mister Man.

So sweet.

A boy and his dog

A boy and his dog



More Mustaches at the Mall

Posted by Wombat Central on September 6, 2014 in Humoring myself again, Shopping, Too Much Time on my Hands |

Because life needs more mustaches.


Since my last installment of Mustaches at the Mall, the mustache revolution has exploded. I found many mustaches already residing at the mall, but there was still much ‘staching to be done:


Hello Kitty got into the swing of the mustache thing:


This photo (and many others) captured in new Blur-a-vision!


But Kitty still needed a little help:

Double lip protection!

Double lip protection!


Not sure what animal this is supposed to be, but he looked better with a little hair on his upper lip:





Proof that mustaches do make everything better:

I'mma go ahead and add these to my Amazon wish list.

I’mma go ahead and add these to my Amazon wish list.



Never seem to tire of this play on words:

Why does this phrase still make me smirk? Mustaches are funny. That's why. And I'm simple like that.

Why does this always make me smirk? Mustaches are funny. That’s why. And I’m simple like that.



Things even sound better with a ‘stache:

I have no idea which boy band this is, but I doubt even a mustache will help their music.

I have no idea which boy band this is, but I doubt even a mustache will help their music.



Had to kick a few things up a ‘stachie notch at Brookstone:


See? He knows it sounds better with a ‘stache on it. Rock on, bro.


I don’t even know what this gizmo is, but its popularity just went up 100 and ‘stache percent:




I think this is a diary, hence the lock. I don’t, however get who it is. Rudolph has a red nose, but I don’t recall a bow or big ol’ lashes:

Rudolph's cross-dressing cousin? I don't know either.

Rudolph’s cross-dressing cousin? I don’t know either, but bonus points for already having googly eyes.


Cool ‘stache hat:

Only thing missing is googly eyes.

Only thing missing is googly eyes.


Cool kicked up a notch:

Even cuddly pandas love a good 'stache.

Even cuddly pandas love a good ‘stache. Ooh, how did I miss that owl next to it? Dang!


I’ll get it on the next round…

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Giddyup–She’s Back!

Posted by Wombat Central on August 24, 2014 in Entertainment, Exercise, Fashion |

Hey kids–Ms. Prancercise is back in the saddle, and she’s brought along a special (unnamed) friend. Who also has things going on in a certain region of his pants that she seemed to struggle with in her last video.

Great green beans. I don’t even know what to look at first here: Frightened horses fleeing for their lives? The artful game of “dodge the droppings?” Or the most obvious one–whatever it is that’s going on inside that zebra-print ensemble?

I’ll be scrubbing my eyes if anyone needs me.




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Happy Hellos

Posted by Wombat Central on August 13, 2014 in Childhood, Comedy |

I think the untimely departure of Robin Williams has struck a melancholy chord with anyone who has ever seen him perform on stage or screen. I hope he knew what joy he brought to the masses. I suppose even if he had, it wouldn’t have been enough to shake the demons he fought for so many years.

His humor gave some people moments of light from their own gripping darkness. Others he lifted to a higher level of being through his dramatic work. Still others simply found moments of levity in an otherwise stressful day when they settled in to watch him improvise like only Robin could do.

My childhood friends and I loved him when he debuted as Mork from Ork. As high schoolers, we were forever quoting a special of his where he said something to the effect of: “Fuck it, I’m going through–gotta get these pineapples to Hawaii!” I use that quote to this day, but I only recently tried to explain it to Mr. Wombat and had to dig deep in the recesses of mah brain to remember in what show I’d seen him say it. I think it was an old HBO special.

I suppose he’d probably prefer to see us laughing. I’d like to remember him with one of my favorite ways to greet friends and family: A hearty Mrs. Doubtfire Hello:

I think the party upstairs just got kicked up a notch.

Or ten.

Rest in peace.


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