Waking up is hard to do

I am a pretty solid sleeper. I can fall asleep pretty quickly, get into a good REM and snore the rest of the night away (and by the way, people who snore do NOT snore on purpose. They do not say to themselves as they get into bed, "Man I hope I snore tonight. Because I really love the feeling of having my throat dry out and have it feel like sandpaper. And I can't wait until 3 oclock in the morning to have my wife yell at me. I love that." So you should not yell at them you should wake them gently. Lauren and I had this conversation early in our relationship and she wakes me gently or nudges me).

A problem with me being a solid sleeper is my inability to think straight if I wake up in the middle of the night. I have no problems in the morning, if I get five or six hours of sleep, just in the middle of the night. For instance, if Lauren tries to nudge me in the middle of the night to get me to stop snoring our conversation goes something like this:

"Bill, can you roll over?"

"You want an IRA roll over. A 1035 exchange?"

"No. You are snoring. Roll over."

"I love Rolos."

"Bill, no, you are snoring."

"I am not boring."

"Roll OVER."

"How many times?"

"Just once. Okay. Good. Go back to sleep."

Lauren, on the other hand, has difficulty sleeping and once she is awake she has a hard time falling back to sleep.

We have not used an alarm clock to wake us up since Max was born. Both Max and Wyatt are early risers. Early like 5 AM early. Most mornings I get up with the kids and I try to let Lauren sleep in a bit. Well, not really sleep in, but more like rest for bit. When Wyatt wakes up for the day I can hear him, over the monitor, jumping in his crib. That is my alarm clock. I can hop right up and go get him and start our morning routine of chit chatting, cuddling, making coffee and preparing his milk.

Some mornings Wyatt asks to see his mom and he snuggles with her for a few minutes before we start the day. Wyatt has been teething recently and has not had a good nights sleep in a while. Last week I heard him jumping in his crib. I jumped up and I went to get him. I was tired and little groggy, which is unusual for me in the morning. Wyatt and I chatted for a bit and I went about with our morning routine. We went downstairs and started to make coffee and milk. Wyatt was really irritable and was asking for his mom. I tried quieting him but it did not work.

From the top of the stairs Lauren called out to me in a loud whisper. "Bill?"

I walked to the bottom of the steps and looked up. "Yeah?"

"What the hell are you doing?" She whispered.

"Making coffee. What's up?"

"It is 1:00 in the morning."

"What?"

"It. Is. One. O'clock. In. The. Morning."

Dumbfounded I walked into the kitchen and looked at the clock. It was One AM. I carried Wyatt back upstairs and we climbed into bed. I handed Wyatt over to Lauren. She was up now and would not be able to fall asleep for a while. I went right back to snoring.

Like I said, in the middle of the night I am a bit loopy.

The worst part, I have done this three times in the past week.

Got Crabs?

Lauren finally cooked the free Thanksgiving turkey we received from Giant Food Stores back in November. Our meals have consisted of some type of turkey dish for the past 5days. Last night, using the rest of the meat, Lauren made turkey and dumplings. It was delicious.

I was never a big fan of turkey/chicken and dumplings. The dumplings I had as a kid always seemed to have the consistency of snot. While growing up I knew that my mom would make it at least one time a year for my brother Dan’s birthday. Chicken and dumplings was his birthday meal of choice.

We all had a favorite birthday meal that my mom would make for us. Sharon always chose Lasagna. I don't remember what Dennis would prefer. Kevin went with cheese steak and cheesecake. Dan, chicken and dumplings. Lawnwhisperer liked veal Parmesan. Peanut Butter and Jelly was Pat’s favorite meal. Michael wanted tacos. And I think for my brother Jim’s birthday, since he was the favorite, my mom and dad probably took him out to Outback Steakhouse every year.

My birthday meal of choice was chicken potpie. Since my birthday was in June my mom would always suggest hotdogs and burgers on the grill. I think I was the only one she ever tried to talk out of my birthday meal (yes I have middle child syndrome). I always did get my own personal potpie but everyone else had burgers. I like the tradition of birthday dinners.

Lauren’s personal favorite meal is crab legs. Whenever they are on sale or in-season I always make sure to get some for her. We actually had some right before Valentine’s Day. Eating crabs is always work but it is always fun. Max helped me crack the shells. When I say “help” what I mean is he held the little tools. He really enjoyed the whole process. Why shouldn’t he? I did most of the work and he got to eat most of the crab. I could not crack the crab legs fast enough for him. He really liked crab and I barely got to eat any.

So last night as I was eating my dumplings, thinking of my brother Dan and birthday meals, I asked Maxfield what he wants for his birthday dinner on Saturday. I was sure he was going to say chicken nuggets and fries or pizza. He thought for a moment and turned to me and said, “Crab legs.”

Lauren smiled and did a celebratory fist pump in the air. “Yes!” She said knowing that we would have her favorite meal and I am sure part of her glee was from the pride she felt that Max inherited some of her tastes.

Max will be four. A four year old wants crab legs for his birthday dinner.

“You know Bill.” Lauren said, “You may want to eat something else before dinner on Saturday. Otherwise you will be hungry.”

Shooting more than Webs

Hasbro has a line of superhero figures that are perfect for Maxfield and Wyatt. Max's favorite is Spiderman. The Spiderman figure we have came with a cool disk shooter thing that can be attached to the figure's back. We have, of course, lost all of the disks so Maxfield just says that it is a jet pack so Spiderman can fly.

The first picture is how Spidey is supposed to wear the back pack.


Max, being the creative boy that he is, tried to put the back pack on Spiderman upside down.
Max has decided that when the back pack is on upside down it becomes Spiderman's potty.
So now when we are in the middle of a big adventure of battling DR. Octopus and the Green Goblin, Spidey occasionally has to stop and as Max says "Go poopy on the potty." I guess something else besides the "Spider Sense" is tingling.


I find this hysterical and I added the paper for effect.

The Devil's cat.

I was sitting in the family room, reading a book, waiting for the new episode of Lost to start and Lauren was at the kitchen table, which overlooks where I was sitting, working on a sewing project. The kids were asleep. The cats were locked up and Luna, our dog, was out back. I was looking forward to a peaceful evening.

"Uh Oh" Lauren said. "I think Luna just got sprayed by a skunk."

I looked over at her. "Why do you say that?"

"I just heard her bark and I can smell it."

I stood up and walked the five feet to the kitchen. Lauren was sitting by the bay window that overlooks the back yard. I was smacked in the face by, what I thought at that time, was the most despicable odor I have ever smelled. Lauren said she heard a noise under the bay window. That must have been where the skunk was hiding.

"Oh No." I said and I went back to the family room to open the sliding glass door that leads to our screened-in porch. I opened the door and was smacked in the face by what I thought, at that time, was the most despicable odor I have ever smelled (and I just smelled the most despicable smell). "Luna!" I called out.

She came running to the screen door. I shut the sliding door behind me and walked over to the screen door and let her inside the porch. I leaned over and smelled her fur. And now, at that time I smelled the most dispacable odor I have ever smelled. Yep she got sprayed by a skunk. I knew I was going to leave her on the porch and as I tried to enter the house she tried to nudge her way past me. I grabbed her by the head and pushed her back.

I walked back into the house and our entire home now smelled of skunk. I would say it is was a "God awful" smell but I think that maybe a Skunk is like the devil's cat. The odor was pungent and putrid and Lauren and I both agreed we could taste it in the back of our throats.

"How do we clean her up?" I asked.

"Go look it up on-line." She answered. "Is she bad?"

"She does not look like she got it in her face but her coat smells horrible." I said as I ran to the computer and thank Google I had an answer fast.

"I need to run out to the store to get some peroxide and baking soda. I need to clean her tonight. I can't let her sleep outside. Its freezing." I put on my shoes and grabbed my keys and headed out the door. I thought the fresh air out front would be refreshing but the stink was still burning the hairs in my nose.

Ten minutes later I was standing in Walgreens Pharmacy looking for the materials I would need. I had to ask a young girl to help me find something and as she walked past me I could see her wince. "Holy crap!" I thought. "I smell like a skunk." I sniffed my hands. They weren't too bad. Maybe I was smelling a phantom smell. I sniffed my arms, my shoulders, my chest anywhere my nose could reach. The girl turned and looked at me like I was a crazy smelly lunatic. I must have gotten skunk on me when I pushed the dog back. I apologized to the girl and tried to explain myself but she just hurried away.

I took my basket up to the counter and,of course, at 9:30 on a Thursday night, is when EVERY ONE wants to shop at Walgreens. The people in front of me kept looking around and sniffing the air. The two people directly in front of me, kept looking back at me and making faces. I could swear that the guy at the check out counter, after I signed the credit card slip, threw the pen away.

When I got home the house still stunk. I put on some old clothes and some just purchased rubber gloves (I usually rent them . I have a lease with an option to buy*). I took off my shoes so they would not get wet and smelly. I made up the mixture of peroxide, dish soap and baking soda and I went out back onto the screened porch.

I scrubbed the dog for twenty minutes. My feet were soaked and numb from the cold. The instructions said to let the mixture soak in for a bit before rinsing it off. I went inside to warm up and I filled up two buckets of hot water to rinse the dog. The house still stunk. I waited the appropriate amount of time and I went back to rinse the dog. I poured the hot water slowly over her back. As the hot water hit the cold conrete floor, steam rose up into my face. The more water I poured, the more steam. Basically I was taking a skunk sauna.

Suprisingly the mixture seemed to work. Once Luna was rinsed she smelled more like wet dog than skunk.

Like I said before, a skunk has to be from the devil. I have never smelled anything as horrible as that sulfuric, pungent, nasty, burnt rotten eggs smell of a skunk spray. That's just how nasty it was. The smell feels like it has invaded my body to some extent, like I need to use Carpet Fresh on my soul.



*What movie is that line from?

Comment

I am a firm believer that if you want to be something in your life (doctor, chef, actor, writer, etc.) you should surround yourself with people who actually do what you want to do. I know it is easier said than done, but I believe it. Some of those things require college degrees and cerifications but by going to school for a specific career, by default, surrounds you with people of the same wants.

Once you are in the evironment of your path of choosing you can look at what you consider the best of people and try to emulate them or you can look at what you consider the worst and try to avoid being like them. Also, once you are in the environment, and surrounded by the best, opportunities to learn, get a job, find a mentor etc. , present themselves. If you had not been surrounded by the right people those opportunities most likely would not exist.

I think the same way when it comes to relationships. I know people that crave and want stable committed relationships but surround themselves in other peoples negative dramas that they can only take away negative vibes. Those negative vibes stick with them when they are dealing with their own relationships.

There is a positive and inspiring energy that comes from groups of people who share the same wants and desires. Don't believe me? Take a look at any political rally. Watch a sporting event.

Sometimes this energy can produce bad effects such as cults, terrorists, organized crime and the like, but when it comes to the simple pursuit of happiness of a carreer or relationship or hobby I always say, "Surround yourself with the best. There is nothing wrong with being the dumbest guy in a room full of geniuses."

I started Poop and Boogies, the blog, three years ago. At first it was a way to keep my family and friends, 1000 miles away, informed about my (Lauren and Maxfield's too) life in the Sunshine state.

Since that time P & B has kind of taken on a life of it's own. A large reason for that is the people of the Blogosphere and their comments that they leave here. I never realized that I would feel connected to people whom (or maybe it is who, I am sure Cat can tell me) I have never met.

From those comments I have clicked and clicked and clicked. I have found blogs that I like. I have found blogs that are not really my taste but are great. I have found blogs that are entertaining and humorous. I have found blogs that are sad but inspiring.

But I really feel lucky to have the comments. Thank you. I would like to say a special thank you to Anonymous Kevin and RZ Dreams who do not have their own blogs but have commenting for a very long time.

I know there are lurkers out there that read and do not comment and I am very thankful for them as well. Thank you.

But comments lead to other great blogs and by accident I find myself surrounded by great people.

One of the most fascinating things, to me, about the internet is the ability to "surround" yourself with the best by just sitting at your computer.

Here are some blogs that I consider the best ( I stress "some" because each week my "best" changes). They inspire me, entertain me and give off postive vibes.



Rude Cactus , What Was I Thinking, Klog, DWM, Truths and Half Truths, GreebleMonkey,



I'm No Belle, Eclectic, Bossy, My Circus Life, Doc Ern, Bogart , Nothing But Bonfires,



Oh The Joys, Creative Type Dad, Gigglepotamus (she's hot)

I Blame

I cleaned out the attic this weekend and found some old pictures.


I blame my mom, my sister Sharon, my brothers Dennis, Kevin, Dan, and John for letting me go to school like this, in the first grade, for picture day.



You would think someone would have told me that my bow tie was upside down.

The Way Eye Roll

Do you know how a good sneeze can be satisfying? You can feel the itch in your nasal passages and it builds and it builds and your neck and shoulders tighten ever slow slightly in preparation of the sneeze. Part of you does not want to sneeze, but you know that once you do there will be a moment of satisfaction and relief. And sometimes, maybe someone interrupts you, or the sneeze is not as cleansing as you thought and you think “Man, that totally was not what I wanted it to be.”

Do you know what I am talking about?

Do you know how a good yawn can totally make you feel better? Your body is craving the oxygen and you look forward to the stretching of the neck and mouth muscles and the refreshment of a deep clean breath. Then in mid-yawn someone stops you. Your yawn is interrupted. Like maybe your spouse sticks his finger into your open mid-yawn mouth as a joke (Lauren hates when I do that) and you are left feeling like you need another yawn but you know you can’t really make yourself yawn, so you sit there waiting.

The other day I was on the phone with Lauren. I was at work and she was home. I asked her if she knew where a certain photo was.

“No. I haven’t seen it.” She said.

“Well I took it from the side of the fridge and I scanned it. And I remember taking it out of the scanner but I don’t know what I did with it after that. I am pretty sure I left it on the desk.”

“Well,” Lauren replied “if you would have put it back where it belonged then you would know where it was.”

I paused.

“Go ahead Bill.” Lauren said. “Roll your eyes and sigh.”

She got me in mid eye roll and mid sigh. It doesn’t matter that she was six miles away and couldn’t see me. She knew what I was doing.

She interrupted a perfectly good sigh and rolling of the eyes. It felt like a stifled sneeze or a half yawn.

No satisfaction what so ever.

V-Alien-tine's Day

Last week I stumbled upon a book of how to make home made cards. The first thing I saw in the book was the idea for the card I made for Lauren for Valentine's Day.


You see? When you open the Alien's head it becomes a heart. Pretty cool.
The idea for the V-Alientine card came from the book, the rest of the words came from me.

I was going to write something like, "My love for you is outta this world." or "How about tonight, I wine you, I dine You and I Area 51 you." But I decided with the whole abduction and probe thing.

I also purchased a little something for the love of my life and I think it is a very romantic gift. I know she will use it.

Tonight I plan to hide in different parts of the house and she can see if it works.

Check Gauge

I never fill up my gas tank because my car is on its last legs. I would hate to invest 60 bucks into a full tank, just to have the car go to the junkyard. That is wasting 60 bucks and as my brother John says, I’m cheap.

I was at work, the morning that I got the call to get to the hospital right away. As I pulled out of the lot, the fuel light lit up in my Ford Explorer, indicating that the tank was close to being empty. I knew the hospital was about 10 miles away and I did not know what type of traffic I would hit. I needed to stop and get gas, because it would suck if I got stuck on the side of the road and not get a chance to see my dad before he passed away.

I stopped at a gas station, slid my credit card through the machine and pumped the fuel for about three minutes. Just enough gas to get me the rest of the way and to make sure that the fuel light was off. I found out through a phone call that my Dad had already passed away when I got the original call at work. I continued to pump more gas, because, now I felt empty.

That was six weeks ago. The fuel light has gone on 4 times since then. Every time it lights up, a wave of emotion hits me and reminds me that I am feeling empty.

When my grandmother passed away a couple of years ago, my mom and her sisters started to notice Butterflies in unusual places. There is a story behind the butterflies, which is too long to write here, but they all look at butterflies as a sign of their mother’s presence. It brings them peace.

My brother Jim’s very close friend, Toz, died in Iraq in 2005. I have been told the story (but I do not remember it exactly) that a Buck, a wild deer, came out of nowhere and watched the funeral procession. I am not sure of the significance, but there was one, and many people who attended looked at the Buck as a sign that Toz was okay.

I have read and heard other people’s stories of signs, dreams and other weird stuff that has happened after someone has died. I find them all fascinating and most of the stories all end with the fact that the living are now at peace with passing of their loved ones.

I still have not seen or found that sign that has brought me peace, or closure, or whatever I feel that I need, with my father’s death. I know I have plenty of great memories and I am blessed with the fact that I could consider my dad my friend but I keep looking for something else.

I know. I know. It will happen when I am not looking for it. But, right now, all I got is a fuel light blinking.

Secrets and Cheese

We were gathering up our stuff, getting ready to leave Lauren’s mother’s house, after enjoying a delicious dinner, when Lauren’s mom offered us some leftovers.

“Here, take this provolone.” Lauren’s mom said.

“No. You keep the provolone. We have plenty of cheese at home.”

“Well, I am not going to eat all of that provolone. You take it.” Lauren’s mom insisted.

“Mom, you can use the provolone for salads or whatever. What we are taking is quite enough.”

I listened from the other room and they said provolone like 30 times. Every time they said provolone it bothered me. Not the actual word but the way Lauren pronounced it.

Driving home I told Lauren to be careful on one stretch of road because cops always hide behind certain building to catch speeders.

“I know I see them all the time when I drive down here.” She confirmed. “You know I have only ever gotten one speeding ticket?”

“Really? When?” I asked.

“Back when I did that craft show in Jersey. The speed limit went from 50 to 35 in an instant. The cops just waited at that spot and pulled people over.”

She told me about how the cop stopped her and acted like he was doing her a favor by writing her up for a lower speed than what he thought she was doing.

“We were together back then. How come you never told me you got a ticket?” I asked.

“I guess I was embarrassed by it then.” She answered.

“Look at that. You keeping secrets from me after all this time.”

“Oh. I am sure you have some secrets kept from me.”

“Well I need to stay mysterious.”

I think she rolled her eyes and the conversation ended there.

This morning we were chatting and I asked her why she pronounced provolone the way she does.

“How do you pronounce it?” She asked.

“Provolone.” I said. “Like it is a professional volone.”

“Well, I prefer provolone.”

“How I did not know that? We have been together for ten years. You would think that it would have come up before.”

“I don’t know.” Lauren said. “I guess it never came up.”

“See. There you go again, keeping secrets from me.”

Line Please

Most Barnes and Noble stores, in the children’s section, have a little stage area. They use the stage area for Friday night story time, and crafts, and other events. When the stage is not being used for events, most times, you can find kids playing on or around the stage.

The stage is one of Maxfield’s hangouts whenever we go to Barnes and Noble. Much like his father, Maxfield loves being on stage. He may not have anything to say but he enjoys his time in the center of the stage. Sometimes he dances, sometimes he just talks and sometimes he just jumps up and down. Whether he has an audience or not, he has a great stage presence.

Last week at B&N Max had an audience. Seated at a round table, to the right, were four little girls probably between the ages of 5 and 10 reading princess books and such. Just a few feet away, in a little chair designed for kids, sat their mother. Max bounded onto the stage and spun around. The noise he made caught the attention of the girls and he noticed that the youngest girl was watching him.

Max, motivated by the attention, ran from one side to the other, all the while keeping an eye on the girl to make sure she was watching. He waved to the youngest girl and she waved back. Max giggled and hopped up onto the higher raised platform and from behind a column, played peek-a-boo with the girl. She laughed. The older girls looked up from their books to see what was so funny.

Now he had a larger audience. He leapt down. He spun. He waved his arms. He stopped dead center of the stage. Then, like his father, he seemed to struggle with what to do next. He seemed like he was trying to figure out what his next line was.

Then he smiled at the girls.

And then…then he farted.

He farted loud and long. The girls all started giggling. The mother looked up from her book, unaware of what happened, to shush the girls. They pointed at Max and as the mother’s eyes followed their finger she saw Max smiling back at her.

And as if on cue, now that he had another member of the audience, Max farted again.

Adventures of Max and Wyatt

When we last left our superheroes.....Spiderman was battling the evil Green Goblin.

"Poooooosshhhhhhhh." Spiderman said as he waived his arm. "I webbed you."

"I just used scissors to cut the web." Replied the older, more grey Goblin.

"Foooooosh. You are in a cage." yelled Spiderman as he jumped from the couch (even though he has been told numerous times not to jump from the couch).

"I just used an exploding pumpkin to break out of the cage. KabOOOm."

The Green Goblin rolled on the ground and grabbed Wyatt. "Now I am going to take Wyatt hostage."

"You better go and save Wyatt." Mommy said from across the room.

"I webbed you again. Now I am going to take Wyatt. C'mere Wyatt."

Spiderman grabbed Wyatt and then ran and jumped onto the ottoman which he is not supposed to jump on.

"I am going to throw an exploding pumpkin at Mommy." Cackled the Green Goblin.

"Okay." Said Spiderman completely content that Mommy may explode.

The Green Goblin laughed at Mommy.

"Aren't you going to save me Spiderman?" Mommy cired.

Spiderman rolled his eyes. "Okaaaaaay." He moseyed over to Mommy and half heartedly threw the pumpkin away.

" I am now going to be the Joker. You will be the Hulk." said Spiderman (I mean The Joker) without any respect for the DC Comics/Marvel comics continuity or crossover.

"Hulk Smash Joker with this rock." The Hulk yelled as he picked up a couch cushion like rock and threw it.

The Joker without batting an eye knocked the rock away.

"Wait a minute." said the Hulk. "the Joker can't do that."

"I am Super Strong Joker."

"I am going to take Wyatt prisoner."

"I just webbed you with a little hole for Wyatt to get out. "

"Wait a minute. I thought you were Super Strong Joker." Barked the Hulk.

"Now I am Spiderman."

To Be Continued...........................

Observation about myself

I don’t have a cause. I also don’t have clue, really, when it comes to other causes.

I know that most people, who champion a cause, do so, because of something or some event, has affected them.

I feel very blessed and fortunate to not have had too many serious illnesses or other ailments directly affect my life. Sure, cancer has caused me some hardships on a personal level. In the past year or so I have lost a very dear friend, my father-in-law, and my father to various cancers. I have a family member or two that are undergoing treatment of other forms of cancer. And I have another very close friend who is fighting even another type of cancer.

I have a few nieces who are afflicted with rare ailments that require special medical treatment that only comes from seeing special specialists that specialize in their particular disorders.

But again I still don’t have a cause nor do I have a clue. Ignorance is bliss. I am lucky to not have a cause. I never take this luck for granted.

But sometimes I don’t realize what other people have to deal with. And sometimes I don’t realize what other people do that may seem small but really are big.

Two things happened this past week, which totally made me realize how clueless I am.

My first ignorant realization happened at the super market. I was putting groceries in my car and I looked at the back of the car next to me. I saw that it had one of those magnetic awareness ribbons on the bumper. It was not yellow. It was not pink. It was multi-colored and looked like puzzle pieces. I have seen this ribbon so many times while in my car but never up close. I did a double take as I read it. AUTISM Awareness.

I swear (and I am not really proud to admit this) I always thought that those ribbons were a “mock” ribbon and they read AUSTIN awareness. The little puzzle pieces from 20 feet back, through a dirty windshield, kind of look like flowers. Any time I ever saw one I would say in my best Mike Myers impression, “Yeah Baby!”

Ya see? I am an idiot. Ignorant to other causes.

This past weekend, my friend Tara spent most of her Saturday, with her daughter, selling Girl Scout cookies. Trying to be a good friend, I went to her location and bought some cookies to support her and her troop. I figured I could spare a couple of bucks, get some cookies and help the local scouts. It would be my good deed. Tara was very grateful and thanked me like I was doing her a favor which, in a way, I felt that I was.

Later that night as I was enjoying my purchase of the cookies I had a second realization. As insignificant as Girl Scout cookies may seem in comparison to cancer or Autism, I was totally impressed that my friend Tara gives of herself in this way. I know that she is involved because her daughter is involved. But not only is Tara committing herself to her child but she is also committing herself to other people’s children at the same time. I don’t think that many of the people that were buying the cookies that day, realize that the women volunteering with their daughters were volunteering and contributing to many other children. I was not doing them a favor by buying cookies. They were doing my community a favor by volunteering. They should be thanked.

Thanks Tara.

I am not sure of the direction I was going with this post. Mostly I think that, maybe I need to “clean my windshield” more often become more aware of the people around me.

8 is the loneliest number

Think about it. Does anyone ever use the "8" button on their microwave oven? Are there any recipes that call for cooking something for 8 minutes? 8 Seconds?

I feel bad for the "8" button on my microwave. From now on I plan to re-heat my coffee for 48 seconds. Or cook my Spaghettios for 2 minutes and 38 seconds.


Lauren, my wife, who is busy working on her blog (yes she is starting a blog of her own) discovered this funny blog called Fail Blog. I do not like to promote negative vibes such as failure, but some of the posts are hysterical. My favorites are this one and this one.