It’s true. Non-stop, I’ve been going.  We’re trying to get some stuff squared away for Modern Bird Studios, and I’m not sleeping much.  Yesterday Megan had her oral surgery and I had to hold down the fort.  My sister in law ended up taking Sage leaving me with the Bear, but only after he got up from his nap.  So with he and I rolling solo, I figured we’d make a video.  There is nothing on this video except us goofin’ around. No commentary, no narration, no story. Since it’s Friday, who wants to engage a full on VLOG with commentary and questions and crap anyway?  Not me. So our shenanigans are pretty simple, but I’m not afraid to admit that this boy performed this go around. Enjoy!

Lame VLOG # 12 from The Lame Sauce on Vimeo.

I’m still working on the LIVESTRONG Challenge post, btw. Coming soon.

So, I was going to wrap up my Guest Post Extravaganza on Saturday, but at the last second decided that I would post the very last post today instead.  Why, you ask?  It may have something to do with Saturday being a day to go out and enjoy time with your family and I didn’t want anyone to miss out on this post.  It may be because I forgot.  It may be because I wanted to be sure that I wanted to give Lisa full props.  Maybe. It could be anything. But it’s not lame. No, it’s not that.

For the last two weeks I’ve been managing guest posts and have a system.  Imagine my horror when I put up the title to this post realizing that I may be introducing Lisa’s blog to folks that has the kind of title that makes me look like the jerk.  Well, let’s be clear here, the title to Lisa’s blog is ‘She Ain’t Heavy, She’s My Sister’ (http://sheaintheavy.wordpress.com/) and while I’m a jerk and pretty lame, I’m not a big enough of a lame jerk to make ANY statement about a woman’s weight.  But let’s back up here.  I know Lisa from Twitter @luckyandsass and I’m pretty stoked about having her here for a guest post. So, check it out, leave a comment, visit her site, follow her on the Twitter and keep it realer than a mo fo.

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I Used To Be Pretty Lame.

So this is my first guest post and it’s for Gregg over at The Lame Sauce. I’ve read his blog and he covers a lot of really deep, important, issues. Issues such as t bagging, turtle heads, and how to buy douche at a yardsale.

But seriously, Gregg claims to be lame sauce, but I have a sneaking suspicion this is false. I mean he makes kick ass art, he’s raised $1,000 for cancer research, oh, and if that wasn’t enough? He’s gonna hop on a bike and ride it for 100 miles to support the cause too! Way to make the rest of us look lame, dude.

Anyhow, when I asked him what I should write about he answered “something lame”. Here’s what I came up with.

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Jim and I met in the summer of 2003 and by New Years Eve we were living together,… sort of. There was three of us, me, Jim, and Jim’s best friend from childhood, Jessica. I met Jessica the day we moved into our apartment. I’m brave like that. Our rent of 675.00, split 3 ways, and still we bitched constantly about how we had no money.

Where was all of our money going? It wasn’t like we were hosting huge poker tournaments at least twice a week, or going to Atlantic City every weekend, ordering take out every night, and keeping Miller Brewing Co. in business.

Oh wait, no…we were doing all of those things. We were just stupid. Thinking of how much “extra” money I blew still makes me cringe.

We were 23 years old, this is what we were supposed to be doing, right?! I guess, however, my liver could have gone without the severe torture I insisted on putting it through on any given day. Weekdays be damned, I can’t let having a full time job with health benefits and a 401K keep me from hangin’ out!

Seriously, I was LAME. So lame that on the rare occasions that Jim and I find ourselves out at a bar I want to go up to all the young 20 somethings and tell them to go home and put the $50 bucks they’re about to blow on shitty beer and even shittier food, into an IRA, because “you just never know”. I mean, how can they just throw their money away like that, don’t they know that’s two cases of diapers? or like 4 outfits from the Carters outlet? or groceries to hold you over for about a week? Don’t they know?!

No, they don’t. You know why? ‘Cause right now it’s not their job to know. Just like I had no idea when I was 23 that buying myself a new Coach purse for three months in a row was just f’ing stupid. The closest I got to thinking about the future was how I was gonna wear my hair that night, curly or straight?

But then, you know what happened? I realized, “hey, I think I’m gonna marry this dude”. And all of sudden, there was talking of moving out so we could see what it was like to live sans roommate. I mean, we really hadn’t lived alone, what if when we did, we couldn’t stand each other? What if he leaves the cap off of the toothpaste and Jessica had been putting it back on all this time and I didn’t know this about him?!

Well, Jim does leave the cap off of the toothpaste, so do I. Also? I’m pretty sure when they invented the flip-top cap, divorce rates plummeted. Clearly, we liked living alone together. So we decided to get hitched. And then we did what I imagine most couples do when they are getting ready to get married. We went through our individual finances in the hopes of merging them like any good married couple.

Except, no. I can’t even explain to you the clusterf*ck that was my husbands financial history. I mean I knew it was crappy, but he made me look like Dave F’ing Ramsey! Ugh. So we avoided the discussion as much as humanly possible and lived blissfully with our separate checking accounts. Then it was time to buy a house/have a baby. There was no more avoiding it, we were going to have the face down the financial demons of our past. And it sucked.

Another lame thing? This was probably the most trying time in our relationship. I mean we’ve been though a lot, miscarriage, deaths of loved ones, owning and selling a business, but this, this? was our biggest challenge?. LAME. But we rose to the occasion (after a lot of fighting and throwing things (all objects thrown were by yours truly)) and buckled down and we were determined to get us a house! It was during this period of time that I saw my husband use a coupon for the first time in his life. And currently, he will not buy diapers without a coupon. Like if he forgets our coupon, he leaves the store, comes back to get the coupon, and goes back to the store. All to save the family that he loves and that we worked so hard to build an 5 extra bucks.

And that might seem lame, but to me? That’s love.

Oh Kenny. This man is the man. SmonkYou, a force to be reckoned with. His sarcastic satirical self with a nice Jewy center is my shining example.  There are a lot of guys, dads and such, that blog. Kenny speaks my language.  It’s true that I go for the potty humor 100%, and throw in a little bit of feeling, but this guy….he’s like my brother from another mother. Lots of love and respect for Kenny, his skills with graphic design (he’s a creative director or something), his love for his kid, and his ability to point out the mildly retarded.  You can find him at http://www.smonkyou.com or @smonkyou on the interwebs, but I’ve got him here.  Check it, check it out.

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This could really suck or The bestest guest blog post in the world.

I’m supposed to write about something I think is lame but that’s really tough for me. Maybe it’s because I’m so sarcastic, skeptical and blunt that I have just too many things on my List O-Lame that I’m having a hard time narrowing it down.

I could write about Facebook, because I think it’s pretty freaking lame. I guess it all depends on how you use it but I see too many sycophantic or high schoolish updates that it makes my skin crawl.

I could write about people using any type of location service on social media when it’s letting the world know you’re in such lame places as Target, the dry cleaner or a McDonald’s drive-thru. No one cares.

Also on my List O-Lame would be preachy people, Minnesota (or general bad) drivers, the lack of spell check on the Palm Os, cheese, waiting for a more than 22 minutes to get a table at a chain restaurant (none are that good that you need to wait that long, go somewhere else), this post, blended coffee drinks and such that makes it take 15 minutes to get my morning espresso and a whole lot more.

But what I want to talk about today is the lamenicity of dead beat dads. Although first I should mention that I think it’s lame when people call others out for making up words using real words and prefixes or suffixes we all know…c’mon pull that stick out of your butt.

It should be obvious why dead beat dads are lame, it’s pretty much in the name. I had one, although he’d say that legally he didn’t have to pay for raising his kids. So I guess I’d add people who try to run their ex-father-in-law’s business into the ground so that they don’t have to pay a cent in a divoce but instead get a payout monthly. Dirty laundry is lame too…but whatever.

So other than the biggies; not supporting your kids, not being a good role model for your kids and leaving the baby momma on the hook for everything I found another reason it’s totally lame.

Dead beat dads are missing a huge opportunity to meet the ladies…not only are they being lame to their kids but they are being lame towards themselves.

I never realized how much of a great prop a baby can be…or I would have borrowed someone’s kid when I was single.

I should really quickly caveat this by saying I love my wife and that there is no way in hell I would have cared for anyone elses child when I was younger.

Ok back to the point…ever since Miloh was born when I have him in tow I get smiles from women. I believe it’s impossible for a woman to walk by a guy with a baby and not smile coyly at that guy.

It was noticeable from the first time we took him out but it really hit me the weekend my wife was out of town. I went to one of those outdoor malls and toted hime in his stroller. Women were abound, a lot with kids, and would look at Miloh and smile then look at me with a bigger smile.

I kid you not when I saw 2 women change their walking path to pass Miloh and I to say a flirty hello.

So to all dead beat dads out there please realize you’re missing a huge opportunity in meeting women if you don’t have your kids around with you. Babies would work better than any line about their father being a thief.

And maybe, just maybe if the dead beat dads of the world used their kids for their own selfish reasons there could be a little positive side effect of a kid being with it’s dad.

No complaints about the post…I said it would be lame.

you can stalk me at http://www.smonkyou.com or @smonkyou on twitter

Joanna over at Raising Madison (http://raisingmadison.com/) has been one of those ladies that I’ve always seen on Twitter as part of the entourage of women who are blogging, tweeting and just involved with the subculture associated with it.  I’m not sure what I did to earn her follow, but I think it has something to do with my wife over at Modern Bird Studios. Nevertheless, Raising Madison has become a staple to my irreverent rantings on twitter, and I can count on @RaisingMadison to participate.  She’s funny, open, honest and has a great sense of humor.  Most of these are required to put up with me, especially on Twitter.  I was thrilled that she agreed to write a guest post.  She’s the bomb diggity. Check it.

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I sat down to write this post for Gregg and stared at the blank computer screen for at least an hour. I wanted to write about the most hilarious conversation ever in the history of the world that I had with my husband in bed the other night………. But I can’t remember it. I can tell you it had something to do with me dying which caused my husband to fart but beyond that? Nothing.

So I did what any sane person would do when looking for post topics. I asked hundreds of internet strangers on twitter.

When the topic of pet peeves came up I knew that was the winner because holy cow do I have some pet peeves that I think are totally lamesauce. (For clarification the pet peeves are the lamesauce not me. *I* rule the school). The irony of this post is that all of the things I consider to be lamesauce are the same things that my husband thinks makes me a neurotic head case. Whatever. He chose to be with me for eternity. Clearly, the joke’s on him.

Let’s start with chewing. I hate the sound of someone chewing with every fiber of my being. If I’m sitting next to someone who is chewing loudly I have to resist the urge to punch them in the face. Loud chewers beware, one of these days I’m going to go postal. It’s only a matter of time. Also? Gum smackers, you’re in this group too… don’t think I left you out.

Next on to tidiness. Things have a place for a reason. Dirty clothes go in the laundry basket. Dirty dishes go in the dishwasher, toys go in the toy box. It’s all very zen. So when the state of my house is any less than zen I can’t relax. I will get up in the middle of a television show to restore everything to its place. Some might call it lame. I call it normal.

Lastly? The way my husband mocks me mocking him? Totally lame. Let me set the scene.

He’ll say something totally ridiculous.

I will mimic what said ridiculous sentence in such a manner that could practically earn me the academy award for best leading actress in a biography.

He will then laugh hysterically and mimic me, mimicking him in the most over-the-top, exaggerated NON academy award winning kind of way.

Obviously my husband just doesn’t appreciate a rousing theatrical performance.

This one is seriously one of my favorite tweeters. Finder her on the Twitter @poeiap and be prepared for the following: offense, surprise, laughter, and pithy one liners. Those are all pretty much the same thing, aren’t they? I’m pretty pleased that @poeiap is here. Honestly it’s a chance for me to introduce someone new to you.  I need more laughter in my life.  People like @poeiap give me that. Dead serious.  It’s at this point that I must admit that Twitter helps me out.  Not just the marketing effort that goes forth, but the fact that I can vent, be myself and talk crazy vent talk and still get a little love.  @poeiap is one of those that has embraced me enough to do my thing while still making a friend.  So yeah. Hello friend.

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I married my high school sweetheart.  I know, the idea is nauseating, even to me.  The idea is just…lame. When I tell people this, I can see the wheels turning.  It starts with thinking back to their high school years, and their first brushes with dry-humping.  Usually this stroll down memory lame ends with a shake of the head, and a sigh of relief at having dodged the bullet of ending up with the person who got them to 3^rd base in the backseat of a car after senior prom.

This had not been my plan.  I came of age in the grunge era.  I rocked the flannel and Doc Martins (burgundy, thank you very much) and I raged against the machine. Kind of a hard thing to do in Utah, bastion of traditional women’s roles (read: get married, breed, keep house). I flat out told my parents that my plan was college and career, and that I wanted kids but a husband, not so much.  Yes, my declared plan at the age of 16 was to be an older single mother. Go me.  My parent’s plan had been The Nunnery, and that didn’t change after my grand announcement. They were super thrilled, but they only had themselves to blame, they raised me.

Then he walked into my life. And by life, I mean my theology class in Catholic school. I will not bore you with the details, but we started dating and I KNEW I was gone.  So much so that I bet my father $100 bucks that I’d marry Man.  It is all kind of romantic and at the same time I realize just lame it is to people not us. I love our shared history, our inside jokes that sometimes go back 15 years.  And one the best parts of all of this, is that I got to skip dating a bunch of LAME assholes during my young adulthood.

Of course now that I have children, I worry about what kind of example we’ve set for them.  The idea that you can find your life partner in high school, that is just nuts. This is clearly going to be a case of “Do as I say, not as a I did.” Or maybe we can just convince them that their Mama and Papa are odd, and not at all normal.  And maybe they will buy it, because by then, they will be teenagers and therefore their parents will be lame.  Maybe that is one thing we can count on as parents, that the modus operandi of teenagers it to treat all parents as lame, unknowing duds.

Maybe it is time for me to start researching monasteries…

Today’s guest is Ryan. Some know him as @red_i_jedi802 on the Twitter, and others know him as the better half of blogger You Can Call Me Saucy.  He is part of the other couple on Twitter that cracks me up.  When I put out there that I was looking for some guest bloggers, Ryan pipped up.  Why not?  The guy is funny, active on the Twitter and has a whole duo thing goin’ on and you know what? He’s a good guy! So here it is!

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So when I saw the_lame_sauce was looking for guest bloggers, I was eager to jump at the opportunity. I don’t have my own blog and probably never will, but I have done one other guest post over at You Can Call Me Saucy. My post there was pretty risqué, and knowing the_lame_sauce is a family man, I wasn’t sure what to expect. But here I am writing it anyway.

So, I had no idea what to write until a few short hours ago, I even tweeted that I was in need of ideas! The only response I got was from the_lame_sauce himself…”lameness” he told me…Uhhhhh??? Ok! He elaborated by saying “the lame sauce is the site, lame is the theme. If you have trouble coming up with something, try less hard and it’ll come” Weirdest advice I’ve EVER received, but damn if he wasn’t spot on!

I have chosen to do sort of a rant! Seems pretty lame to me and my topic is something I consider very lame. REALITY TV! Let me start by saying that I HATE REALITY TV, I hate that they call it REALITY TV! How can you call it real when they have a crew of writers, producers, and directors telling the cast what to do? I know it has that human element that is the unpredictability factor, but still! My life is real and unscripted, uncut, and unedited. These TV programs couldn’t be any further from that. I’d like to talk about a few of the more “popular” reality programs, and I know I may not make a lot of friends with this topic, but pffffffft!

The first, and probably the WORST program, Survivor! Ok, seriously!? How many people if truly stranded on an island trying to survive, are going to be participating in challenges, and strategizing to win? Wouldn’t the ultimate goal really be, to get the EFF off that island? You want a real survivor show, put twenty or so people on a boat in the middle of an ocean, and blow it up! There! Survive itches!

My second target is big brother. More like oh brother! A house full of strangers, believable as reality so far but, that’s about where it stops. They don’t have jobs, or pay bills, or even leave the house! I believe they call those people agoraphobics! They compete in challenges, and obstacle courses, and endurance tests in these elaborate setups within the same house. Now, as someone who’s had various roommates and lived in different houses, I have never encountered anything remotely close to this! The only other believable part of this show is the backstabbing, deceiving, manipulating, “oh no you didn’t sleep with my man” BS known as drama, that we all try to avoid in our REAL lives. If you wanted to video tape all that, just go to any college and walk into the dorms!

My last target is anything with “celebrity” in the title or as a focus of the show! That’s right VH1 I’m talking to you. If it has to be announced to us that you are a “celebrity” you REALLY aren’t. Chances are you’ve already had your five minutes, or you blinked and missed them. Get over it, and get on with your life. If VH1 has to help you find “love” by corralling all the hookers off the corner, you obviously aren’t looking for love. And when you come back for seasons 2, 3, 4, and possibly 5! You should just be shot!

I know what most of you are thinking,” how do you know so much about all these shows you hate?”. Simple answer, i have family, friends, and a girlfriend that are all fans of some form of “REALITY TV” and it pains me to admit but, yes I have been subjected to watching the atrocity that is these train wrecks. Well, I think I’ve rambled and ranted enough to call myself lame, so I’ll shut up now and let you get back to what you were doing. Thanks to the_lame_sauce for the opportunity to do this.

Elz is a customer. She followed @Modern_Bird through what I can only imagine was one of many online blog promotions we participate in only to find out that we’ve got a serious case of the sillies.  We’ve known her for a little bit now and you know what? She’s funny enough to appear on TheLameSauce.com (you know with my huge screening effort), and seriously people, follow this woman: Twitter is @txelz and her website is http://elzabelz.blogspot.com/. Read on, good people, read on.

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credit: Karen Walrond from www.chookooloonks.com

I’m Elz, my little spot of the blogging world is http://elzabelz.blogspot.com/. I’m super excited to be blogging here today because I honestly think Gregg is one of the most talented artists out there. And is extremely patient when lame people can’t decide on colors and picture subject for his pieces for like un=m…hypothetically…months. However, it took that same lane person three years to pick out a kitchen table, so yeah…moving on. In thinking about what to write for Gregg, I though about what would be the lamest but still keep you interested enough to not click that little red X. Without further adieu, I present: Our Lamest and Most Interesting Vacation Ever, with a side appearance from Girls Gone Wild Las Vegas.

Our lamest (and most interesting vacation ever), with a side appearance from Girls Gone Wild Las Vegas.

My first trip to Vegas was Lame. And fun. And weird. And …About 6 years ago our friends decided to get married in Vegas. Fun! Except they decided to get married in Vegas when I was 7 ½ months pregnant. And it was 110 degrees in the shade. LAME. But, friends are friends and weddings are always fun. Also, this was our first baby so we had no child-care to arrange, which can, you know be LAME. So, to Vegas we went.

We were staying at Caesar’s Palace, which at the time was undergoing major renovations. We get to Vegas and check into our room. Clearly our wing of Caesar’s had yet to be renovated because our room looked like this: Open door, look at galley style room with a hot tub in the middle of the room. No curtain. Just a hot tub in the middle of the room. Sexy for most. Extremely lame for a preggo. Look at the king size bed. Hmmm. Look up. Mirrors! On the ceiling! You may be into a lot of kinky stuff, but I am pretty sure that nobody needs to see a nekkid pregnant lady. And that nobody who did not want to see me nekkid from every angle at 7 1/2 months pregnant- ME! Gross. LAME. Room assessment: extremely LAME. Trying to get the heck out of our room from the 1960s, we go downstairs to explore and Celine Dion has freaking taken over Caesar’s. This was at the beginning of her Vegas run and there are posters of her all over the hotel, like 20 foot tall posters, her music is playing on a constant loop, and the chips have her face on it. I don’t even need to label that one for you as Lame, right? Because, seriously. If that last sentence offended you. I’d love to apologize but I won’t. Because Celine taking over Caesar’s was beyond Lame. It was just sad.

*I should interject here that while I am now rarely without a camera of some sort, this all occurred before I was obsessed with photography. Whihc is really a shame, because I could have made some serious cash….moving on*

The day of the wedding we decided to go to the pool to chill out. Since we were in Vegas during the summer, the hotel pool was literally teeming with people. So, a group of us decided to go to the “Adult Only” pool. It promised peace and quiet for us ladies and boobies for the men. Remember, I couldn’t partake of any alcohol poolside if I wanted to. LAME. So, off we go. I am a people watcher. I do. Shortly after we arrive, I identify a group of men I quickly dub “the Guidos.” Fast forward 5 years and they would all be perfectly at home in the “Jersey Shore” cast. I’ve never watched “Jersey Shore,” so it is likely that one or all of these men play prominently in the show. The Guidos have a lovely cabana and are trying desperately to make the cocktail waitresses fall in love with them and do their bidding. LAME. Enter the Girls Gone Wild Las Vegas (“GGWLV”) cast. That’s not how they were introduced, or identified, but trust me on this. A trio of young women come to the pool and promptly disrobe and start putting on a show. The first two start-um-swimming together, verrrry slowly, while looking around as they swim. I notice this because I’m just about the only person people watching at this point. Me and the Guidos. “target Acquired” said one GGWLV girl to the other. Faster than you can say, ‘Your mother must be very proud,” the Guidos and the GGWLV cast are introduced. The cocktail waitresses become very busy at the Guidos cabana. The Guidos and GGWLV cast become very busy giving the whole pool a live version of “Bad things happen to Good Girls when Alcohol is Involved.” Body shots are done from places you really should keep covered; backwards chicken fights, etc. By this point, I am no longer the only person watching. My friend is reading his book upside down and hasn’t turned a page on at least 15 minutes. Other pool patrons are sending drinks. We are frantically calling anyone we know to tell them what is happening- remember this was years before phone pictures or video or even YouTube. LAME. I would have made an easy million on taping this. This visist was also years before the “What Happens in Vegas” campaign; which, screw that campaign, this story HAS to be told. Let’s just say I have tried to PG the story as much as possible since Gregg is a family man. Train Wreck City. Enter Caesar’s management stage left. A group of suits walks over to the show. One of whom is wearing an earpiece like the Secret Service. I can only imagine what Management was telling him to say. About a minute later, one GGWLV leaps up and yells, “This guy is making us stop swimming here, what do you think of that?” To which the pool patrons reply, “Booo”. I think LAME because there is no way in hell anyone is going to believe this actually happened. Unfortunately the GGWLV are escorted off the pool premises and I am left with a now very uninteresting book and a non-alcoholic Frozen Daiquiri. And jack crap to look at. And, no way in hades am I swimming in that water. LAME.

I didn’t even win at Blackjack. LAME. Or see any type of Elvis. LAME.

Las Vegas-LAME. Also, what the hell did we just see interesting!

I’m riding 100 miles today. I’m doing the LIVESTRONG Challenge, 100 miler, an event that many of my readers helped me raise money for. I’m in PA, had a horrible nights sleep on a horrible bed with a sad and eventless night away from my family.  I needed a guest poster today. I have it. Like the Messiah on the Sabbath, she came. Well, I mean I scheduled this a week or so ago, but nevertheless, she’s here.

Occasionally someone gets me. Like REALLY gets me. I’m not sure if Nicci (aka @Sticky41284) is one of them. That’s not completely true. She follows me. She engages me on twitter sometimes. My tweeting irreverence could, conceivably, be enough to drive even the bravest of souls away. Nicci is nice, sweet, and cute. Her Twitter avatar says it all compounded by her website Changing The Universe (http://changingtheuniverseblog.com/). I’m willing to admit that a woman who comes off this way following someone as lame as me intrigues me. Let’s read on, shall we?

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When Gregg posted on Twitter that he was looking for some guest bloggers, I thought, “Wouldn’t it be hilarious if I said I wanted to do it and he responded back ‘Who are you, crazy lady?’”

For some reason, Gregg thought I was cool enough (or lame enough, I’m not sure which) to be included as a part of this. So I come to you today as the “Blogger You Don’t Know But Somehow Think Is Totally Awesome.”

I had no idea what I was going to write about for this. I even went to my husband and asked him, “Honey? Why am I lame?” He answered, “Baby, why do you think you’re lame? I think you are awesome!”

“ARGH! You don’t get it!!” I shouted back, as I reached for the remote and turned on Wheel of Fortune.

And then I realized it. Watching Wheel of Fortune made me lame. Or 74 years old. But I’m going with lame.

Why was I watching Wheel of Fortune? Because we are broke. We had to cancel cable TV and rely on our cheap-o antenna for our TV viewing pleasure. PBS, CBS, ABC, and My29 are the only channels that work. We are an NBC family.

I have a ridiculous crush on Brian Williams, but I’m stuck with Katie Couric for my national news at 5:30. I love the local news program on NBC, but I’m stuck watching a different one. Jeopardy is my favorite game show EVAR. Last year for Christmas, my husband gave me a “Jeopardy Question of the Day” desk calendar. Yes, I am lame like that. But Jeopardy is on NBC. So I’m stuck with Wheel of Fortune.

So how do I make myself feel better about the fact that we can’t afford to get decent TV in our house? I judge. I judge the news anchors for their accents. I make fun of Katie Couric and ask if she misses Matt Lauer. But mostly, I judge Wheel of Fortune contestants.

Do you have any idea how many finalists pick C, D, M and A as their letters? I do. Almost all of them. Did you know what they film more than one episode a day? I learned that yesterday when the crowd shot they showed was the same crowd shot as the day before. And why, oh why do contestants keep spinning and trying to get more money when they clearly know what the answer to the puzzle is but they are just trying to get more money? Do they know they are just increasing their chances of landing on the Bankrupt space!! GEEZE!

I play along with the contestants. I have a 74% success rate at guessing what letter they are going to say next (also, did you know 68% of statistics are made up on the spot?). Let’s say there is a three letter word and the last letter is “E.” You can be certain that the next letter called will be a “T” followed by an “H.” Then they will buy a vowel. Probably an “A.”

And don’t even get me started on people who call letters that are ALREADY ON THE BOARD! I mean REALLY! Pay attention! You are on TV to win money, not act like a weirdo! If you wanted to get on TV to act like an air-head, I’m sure Jersey Shore is casting for season 4 (which is currently my favorite TV show and I have to watch it on my laptop on Friday mornings. Judge me.).

I spend a lot of time analyzing Wheel of Fortune contestants. Wait, not analyzing. Sorry, wrong word. I meant judging. Which is lame. I could be out taking a walk, or cooking a decent dinner, or creating world peace. Instead, I cook a lame dinner, watch Wheel, and play with my baby all at the same time. Which actually isn’t lame, since that makes me the Best Multi-Tasker in the History of the World.

But what’s really lame is that if we had money, there would be no way I’d be watching Wheel of Fortune at 6:30 every night. Nope, I’d be watching re-runs of the Daily Show and the Colbert Report from Comedy Central from the night before because I go to bed before those shows actually air. Which is also lame.

The end.

It’s Saturday.  As Saturdays go, it’s been a tough one. I did my very best to pick up the slack for my wife so that she could have some time to herself before I took of to Philly for the Livestrong Challenge I’m doing only to fall directly onto my fat face.  Big time dad fail. It happens, to be sure. Sometimes it’s my fault and sometimes it’s not. Sometimes.

This all leads up to an additional big fat fail.  I had meant to schedule this post to go up, but alas it’s nearly 6 and here I am in a arbitrary hotel in PA trying to get my ish together.

Do you know the Twitterer @karmapearl?  If you don’t, you should. I had first seen her on Twitter.  This is how I make all my friends now, you know.  But Natalie, who is @karmapearl also runs a sweet little blog I like to call Hope Springs Eternal (http://hope-springs-eternal.com/). Well, ok, I guess that’s what she calls it too, but here’s the deal. She’s not afraid to post something that is incriminating. I like that. I like that A LOT.  Couple that with a good sense of humor and we’re golden.  I’m pretty stoked to introduce to you @karmapearl. Boom.

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So Gregg instructed me that I was supposed to come up with my own theme, or whatever you want to call it, for this guest post.

Which I thought was lame, because I have a hard enough time coming up with my own damn blog posts. But then I thought, “Hey. You’re a blogger. Step up and wring those creative juices from that brain of yours.” And then I realized that I was talking to myself, and the only other person in the room was my cat, and I think that might make me crazy. And lame.

So then I figured I might write a lame post about being lame, seeing as how I’m guest posting on The Lame Sauce. I also wondered how many times I could fit in the word “lame” into one post (5 so far). Gregg also told me not to use the “eff” word, which is really hard for me because I heart eff bombs. I really need to stop dropping them so often, as my 7 month old will soon become a myna baby and mimic everything I say. Because I’m afraid that one day her sweet old Gran will tell her not to touch her lamp, and Nellie will be all like, “Eff you, Gran, I do what I want” and I will have to have someone sweep me up off the floor because I will have shattered into a thousand pieces of shame, embarrassment, and Oreos (the Oreos are because my mother in law keeps like eight bags of Oreos in her house at all times and I eat all of them). That would be really lame. (6)

This post isn’t really turning out to be lame (7), I guess, but more rambling and disjointed, which is how my brain works. Have you ever taken one of those free-form writing classes where you just write whatever pops into your head at the very second you’re writing? I’m kind of doing that, except with typing. It’s actually kind of liberating not to have to think about what you’re writing and just let your brain do the work. Except my brain is a strange and crazy place so it’s kind of exciting and terrifying not knowing what’s going to come out. I’d say it’s about 95% exciting and 5% terrifying. Or maybe it’s the other way around. But that’s what makes it so awesome. Oh, I also like to just randomly whip out movie quotes and interject them into normal, everyday conversation and I usually am met with strange looks and raised eyebrows, which tells me that whomever I’m talking to is totally lame (8). If someone does get the quote, it means that me + that person = BFF.

So I realized that this guest post doesn’t really make any sense at all. My train of thought derails a lot, which is unfortunate. And lame. (9). I’m not really sure where else to go with this without becoming wildly inappropriate, or REALLY bizarre.

Also, I just went back and re-tallied my count on the use of the word “lame” and realized that I’m one off.

Lame.

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Natalie sent me two photos. I can’t one up her fantastic post without posting this. It’s that fantastic. Also, the file name to the photo is simply titled: Cat Lady. Awesome.

My wife and I are a couple.  We are even a Twitter couple.  There are a few of those out there.  I’ll be honest, these two are 1 of only 2 couples I pay attention to. Jeez, did that even make sense?  It’s not that I’m not open to having more friends on Twitter that are couples, no. It’s just that this is it.  I honestly believe that if we lived near @Lins610 and @Japster24 (for those who don’t know, that is their Twitter handles), we’d all be BFF. I’m fairly certain the the personalities of @Lins610 is closely related to my own wife while maintaining an air of lighthearted laid back funny of @Japster24.  I follow Waking Up Williams (http://wakingupwilliams.com/), and I’ll be honest people…we email each other too. I know. It’s kind of got that whole other level thing going on and I imagine a ‘define the relationship’ conversation will happen any day now.

I am pleased that these two agreed to guest post. They made a VLOG. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to being taken aback, but a little relieved too. You see, there is no editing required on my part for posting a video.  So gird up, oh people of lame, because this epic guest VLOG is a whopping 23 minutes (almost 24). It’s actually worth it though because there is so much charm going on here.  Yeah, I’m talkin’ about you Japster. Sinner.

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Hey folks, it’s LCW and JPW. Gregg wanted lame. And since we’re actually huge nerds, far more lame than the normal lame, we made a vlog, because Gregg had sent us some questions to answer and we thought it would be more entertaining and less boring. Except I’m pretty sure it turned out to be rather boring and so lame, that Gregg may have to shut down his site after his site stats go into the red.

A few disclaimers before watching: It’s safe for work, it’s lame, not offensive though. We didn’t dress up for the occasion, in fact this is what we look like each evening after a long day at work. We didn’t act for this at all, there was no practicing or fancy editing to make us look better. Sorry if you thought we were much cooler, but this is who we are, raw and unedited. (Well except for when we ran out of memory and JPW edited the end to piece it together).

Big Lame Guest VLOG from The Lame Sauce on Vimeo.

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To my disappointment there was no special picture at the end of the video as promised. I begged Lins for one. Here it is: