Two and a half months, you say? Bullshit. That can't be right. Anyway, here's some pictures of my babies and some cake. So begins the "Justin tries to update every day and probably stops after two consecutive days" TNOTBEM extravaganza*.
The badass sandcastle cake was baked by the lady of the house, but the pestle-ing of the graham crackers into a facsimile of sand par excellence was all me.
As my daughter Niamh turned a year old, I finally decided to help her with something. Prior to this, I had a strict hands-off policy in place. You'll notice that my "future glasses"*2 are hiding the shame in my eyes.
Niamh is about to go all 'Sean Penn'*3. Guess who's playing the part of the papparazzo?
Here's Neil. We go way back. Must be five years if it's a day...
Oh God, I'm so old.
Once I was a man (arguably). Now I am hammock.
* It's not going to be exciting, people. But then again, it hasn't been an exciting two and a half month silence, either.
*2 My future glasses are proof that not all drunken drug store purchases need be cause for regret. And they're red. Haven't worn red since the "Converse Debacle of 1996".
*3 No, she's not about to argue passionately for human rights. The other Sean Penn thing. With the punching and the yelling of obscenities. Tiny fists and "big girl" words are an adorably effective way to get knocked unconscious.
Chapter 7-Page-21-Decision Time
2 hours ago