Hot-Day 25: Short vs. Tall

Remember that time I debated with Craig over at Puntabulous? Cookies vs. Brownies? It was too close to call.

Today we’re debating Short vs. Tall.

Go show that overgrown fairy that short rules all!



Let your vote (for short!) be heard!

Amazonians et not Amazonians

Because let’s face it. Tall is hot but short is just plain cute.

While you’re at it, moosh in indy. was nominated for the Hottest Blogger Calendar. Vote for me? Please? I’m somewhere in the middle. Thanks xoxo.

Hot: Day 24-Indianapolis Air Show.

Dude, it was 101 degrees. We stayed for four hours.

IT. WAS. AWESOME. (and hot, holy crap it was hot.)

Indianapolis Air Show
Can you see me?
War Birds
BANG! (WW II aircraft gun barrel)
Frank Luckman, WW II veteran
Indianapolis Air Show
B-17 girl.
Can you see the insurance liability?
WW II Veteran B-17 Crew
B-17 Bomber
Indianapolis Air Show

Hot: Day 23-PUSH!

My neighbor had a baby yesterday. (SQUEE!)

She pushed for 45 minutes.

When I had a baby I pushed for 4 minutes.

If you’ve had a baby, how long did you push?

If you’ve adopted, how long did you have to wait between the birth and to being able to hold your baby?

If you’ve never had a baby and want to know how I got away with only pushing for 4 minutes, it’s because there is a God, and He loves me.

Yeah, it has nothing to do with hot. But given there are thousands of babies born everyday I’m just wondering how long it took most of them to get here.

Hot: Day 22-I miss you.

It got hot here in Indiana this last week. Humid sweaty hot. The fair was perfect.

I miss you fair.

Mornin' fair.
A true Merry.
YO-YO, yo.
Ferris? Ferris?
Please do not poke sheep.
bai bai fair

Hot: Day 21-Gen Con Festival

(Pardon the photo load time, it’s a new thingie I’m trying out, be patient it’s worth it.)

If you live in Indy then you know how this post is going to go down. If you don’t live in Indy, Gen Con is the largest gaming convention in North America with over 12,000 attendees from all over the place. When I say “gaming” I mean Dungeons and Dragons/World of Warcraft type gaming. And when I say “attendees” I mean passionate fanatics.

The conference is four days. 24 hours a day. There were dudes asleep and/or falling asleep in every corner of the Indianapolis Convention Center. There were costumes. There were scale models. There were ten foot foam battle axes. Saturday after Blog Indiana I had every intention of going home when I mentioned Gen Con and my strong desire to go to Andy and Krista from Photrade. They live in Cincy, and boy howdy they were not going to let this opportunity pass them by. We headed downtown. First thing we saw? This guy.
(Andy took all the photos which is why this post is a week late, YOU THINK I’D LEARN TO TAKE MY CAMERA EVERYWHERE BY NOW.) When we finally reached to doors, Krista stopped to pose with a Jedi. The Jedi didn’t see the Sith until it was too late.

The Sith launched his lightsaber and sabered (?) the Jedi. (Sound effects and everything!) Everyone cheered. Seriously. I even cheered. I was overtaken by sheer geeky passion. Next stop was the Pirate vs. Ninja Peace Summit. While the Ninjas gave a convincing performance, I had to side with the Pirates, you’ll see why in a minute.
Ten feet later we found these guys, by now I totally felt like I belonged, can you tell?

As we continued to wander the halls we found the Dungeons and Dragons room.

I can haz 70 foot dragun banner?

Then came the pirates. A whole group of pirates who travel down from Minnesota to do this every year. I can tell you my Gen Con experience was made whole by meeting Pirates with Minnesota accents.

Or so I thought. We were then hit on by a bunch of pirates with Minnesota accents. Somewhere is video. I’ll post it when I can. But it goes something like this: (in yer best pirate/Minnesota voice mind you) “Heave to! And prepare to be boarded! That’s pirate talk fer I think yer hot!” After the conference our pirate friends had every intention of going to the girlie bar in full velvet regalia.

“Ladies love the plumes!” said one.

“Sure you can’t use hands or teeth but they never say nothin’ about plumes!” said another.

I lost it. These guys were dedicated. And then? I was plumed.

I’ve already ordered Cody I pirate costume with extra plumage in blue, you know, to match his eyes.
If I’m still here next year? I’m totally buying a four day pass.

Hot: Day 20-Cup of tea? I am not.

I’m always honored to be linked on anyone’s blogroll or in regards to any awards someone decides to pass on to me. I’m also honored when someone dedicates an entire post to my existence. Especially when that someone is as well respected as Ms. Ruth Holladay. I met Ruth this past weekend at Blog Indiana and knew immediately she was a woman to be taken seriously. A long time newspaper woman (37 years) and a local resource of honest opinions about news and politics, Ruth Holladay has a fierce following of, well, mostly old dudes.

Old dudes who don’t like me.

A friend of mine four years ago when people didn’t know what blogs were, would describe this as a tuna fish sandwich blog, in reference to the arcane, defocused, blithering, blathering, inconsequential communique that is useless only to the writer’s friends and those that might be compelled for some reason topically, to care. There’s insufficient gravitas to promote this blog save for its example as bloggorhea and vacuousness for this mid-50’s standard issue male. Blah. If I knew her, I might care because it would be in the context of friendship. But I don’t. And it’s unlikely I will and therefore find only miniscule gravitas.


Oh, really. You’re too kind. (BTW hendy, I don’t love the term “mommyblogger” either so if anyone wants to come up with a better name of what I do I’m open to suggestions. Oh, and bloggorhea? FAIL.)

Wait! There was a follow up comment!

“. . . tuna fish sandwich . . .”

That has been out in the sun too long and has become smelly and moldy and rotten.

“. . . example as bloggorhea and vacuousness . . .”



I even got this in one comment:

“Moosh” doesn’t do it justice.
Eeeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwwwwww ๐Ÿ™ ๐Ÿ™

Too much for this old male fart.


Oh you guys! I’m so flattered you took the time to not like me, with two! frowny faces even. I’m even more honored that Ruth backed me up, that she gave me a seal of approval. Even though she knew her readers wouldn’t take to kindly to my kind of blog.
That’s balls.

Thanks Ruth.

And thanks old dudes, you gave me a true chuckle.

P.S. Can I distract you with the fact that at least I’m hot smelly rotten moldy tuna fish sandwich?
By Kim. (My BFF)
No? Well, it was worth a try.

(Oh, and don’t worry about going over to defend my honor at Ruth’s place. They’re entitled to their opinion. Let’s show ’em some Mommyblogger class.)

Hot: Day 19-Don’t worry, hot doctors? Still hot.

I’m pleased to say that the doctors currently enrolled in medical school are still hot.

Since this was round three of “Casey getting hot doctors at the local medical school” (round one found here and round two found here) I decided to come clean with Hot Doctor #87-

“Look dude, it’s obvious that doctors aren’t getting anyย  younger, and I’m just getting older so I’m going to just pretend like you’re an old grandpa and tell you all about my period. Mmm kay?”

Hot Dr. #87 looked shocked and said “So you’re saying I should stop plucking my gray hairs, so I look a little more trustworthy?”

“Actually no, because salt and pepper hair? My weakness.”

*blank stare*

Soooo. My period! WHEW!”

Long story short, after stumbling over his words four times, Hot Dr. #87 referred to my period as my “yer, uh, p.., erm, uhh, uhm, er, uhhh, menses.”

I have a new skill, making hot doctors really uncomfortable.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some peanut butter I need to eat, you see, I always crave peanut butter on my uh, p.., erm, uhh, uhm, er, uhhh, menses.

Hot: Day 18-Phelpsed.

If you’ve watched any of the Olympics then you have probably heard that swimmer Michael Phelps ingests about 10,000 calories a day during the Olympics.

If you have read any of my blog over the past week you have probably heard that I ended up going to the fair five times.

Indiana state fair x 5= 10,000 calories (give or take)

10,000 calories = Phelpsing

I Phelpsed myself at the fair.

Want a list?

2 elephant ears

2 cobs of corn drowned in butter

2 Indiana beef ribeye sandwiches

2 sides of baked beans

1 corndog

1 huge lemon shakeup

1 enormous pineapple/strawberry whip

1 deep fried Wunderbar

1/2 plate of spiral fried potatoes w/ hot cheese dip

2 chocolate milks


I’m going to have to answer to Wii Fit this week.

I may be the first person ever to be physically attacked by Wii Fit.

“It’s wasn’t me Wii Fit! I was Phelpsed by the fair! Honestly!”