The Bird Flu Made Me Crap On Your Windshield

My wife and I have officially become those parents that let their kids run around bare-ass naked with guests in the house. This started as the result of a particulary nasty diaper rash on my son's butt which needed to be air dried . Much like New Orleans, when the muddy water rises, it's best to get out of the way and let that sucker breathe.

It doesn't make things easier when your child has poop that could eat through sheetmetal. We learned early in his infanthood that we had to be especially vigilant on crapwatch because his poop was so damn corrosive that it would transform his rear-end into one of those red-assed baboon sphincters you'd see on National Geographic within 5 minutes of blasting out of his butt.

Of course, my daughter, whose belief that nudity is an equal-opportunity activity, then decides that if the sight on one naked toddler running around and diddling his own private parts is funny, then Hell's Bells, TWO naked toddlers running around would be downright freakin HILARIOUS. Off with the clothes, and now I am the proud owner of free-range children.

ITEM! Don't ever shoot a movie in 24p unless you are dead set on going film out in the end. Save yourself the endless hours of spiritual Russian Roulette, wondering why something like pulldown becomes more important than the existence of GOD.

ITEM! www.localbruisers.com is coming in December. The consensus was that the front page pic of Henry was much more attractive than the picture of me dressed up as Paris Hilton.

Big ole sloppy kisses for my astoundingly good cast. They rocked. And they worked for free. Heh heh, suckers.