Decade of Us

Ten years ago, Candace and I got married. It was awesome. She's the best. I am lucky. That is all.

The Family That Rocks Together, uh, Socks Together?

So Target had (has? I dunno. Check yr Target. Maybe they still have some.) a steal of a price on Beatles Rock Band the other day, so after some back and forth, Candace and I broke down and snatched it up. We'd been watching it for a while now and it finally went down to a reasonable price, so it came home with us the other day. It was pretty much the best decision ever. I mean, check these girls out?

My Valentine

Hey, Internet. Happy Valentine's Day. If you'll indulge me for a post, I'd like to talk a little bit about my Valentine. That's her in the picture. Isn't she pretty? Yeah, I know, she's totally out of my league, but I'm not complaining. Also, aren't my eyes squinty?

I won't bore you by rehashing the details of how we met and fell in love, but suffice it to say that it's pretty epic. Candace has her version of the story here, and you can read the true story here, if you'd like. The bottom line is: We met. We fell in love. We're living happily ever after.

I'm very grateful for Candace. I'm a weird, moody, nerdy, needy person and there are very few people in this world that I feel really "get" me and Candace is at the top of the list of those type of people. I can't believe that I found such a person, but here we are. Add to that the fact that she's fun, smart, creative, caring, supportive and willing to say hard things to make you better, well, you can see why I took advantage of her lapse in judgment and married her for time and eternity.

Also, she is awesome.

Like I said earlier, I'm a weird guy. I'm a romantic, but not in a "bouquet of roses," type of way. (Besides, we all know that roses smell like poo-poo-poo, right Outkast?) I'm more of a "I made you a mixtape," type. So excuse me if this goes right over your head, but I'd like to briefly share a song with you. It's called "Peephole," and it's the penultimate track off of Guided By Voices' excellent Bee Thousand album. It's a short song, less than a minute-and-a-half, but I think it's one of the most romantic things I've heard. It's one of those songs that, for me at least, captures what it means to really love somebody. Here are the lyrics:

Give me the cost of the albatross
And wear it 'round your neck for size.
Don't let it get you down,
I'm looking inside your house
And oh, and it smells so nice.
Your house always looks so nice.

Maybe they're twice as high, laughing.
Maybe the time is right, you know.
Promise me not to leave.
I'm looking inside your brain,
And […], it's a cluttered mess.
I love you, I must confess.

It's that last couplet that punches me in the gut. "I'm looking inside your brain and … it's a cluttered mess," followed by "I love you, I must confess." To look inside somebody and have them look inside you and see just how supremely crazy and messed-up and broken you are and to still have them love you despite - and maybe because of - all that debris, for me, that's love. That's real, true, abiding and everlasting love.

So, Candace, thanks for putting up with the mess that is my brain, the ball of crazy that is me. I love you like tons. Thanks for helping me straighten my brain up a little. Even if it's only a small corner of the place, it's progress, right? And besides, we have forever, you and me.

Happy Valentine's day, you modern lovers.

*******

Here's the track in question, if you want to listen to it:

Peep-Hole - Guided By Voices

The State of the Dylan Address

The full text of Dylan Todd's State of the Dylan Address, as transcribed by the Basement of the House He's Living In:

Good evening, Madame Internet, eavesdropping security organizations, Google web-crawling robots and distinguished blog followers. We are gathered together tonight to discuss the state of the Dylan, as our Constitution - which I just wrote here on this napkin and, I gotta be honest, it pretty good stuff - states we must do from time to time. See, in a week, I will be having another birthday. I'll be turning 33. Treinta y tres, mi amigos.

Which, I mean, think about that. That's almost starting to get old. I mean, I'm old enough that bands I loved in high school (The Pixies! Pavement!) are having reunion tours. I'm old enough that I remember when Dennis Miller was incisive and relevant. I remember when Weezer wasn't a cuss word. I'm old enough to look at the prices of things and tell whatever kid happens to be walking by that when I was a kid, comics cost 75 cents. It's enough to make a fella take stock of what he's accomplished, what he's got going on and what he's working toward.

Okay, sounds fair. Let's do this.

First off, the elephant in the room: I have no job. I have no job during the worst economic environment since the Great Depression. I'm living with (pronounced: "leeching off of") family, in a basement, while I look for work after moving my family, quite suddenly, cross-country. Yaaaay! That said, we're in surprisingly good spirits and I'm supremely confident I'll find something and soon. I mean, not to be all conceited, but I'm good at what I do and I know I'll find a job that will be creatively satisfying and also help me support my family. If not, there's always my first love, the forgotten trade of competitive scrimshawing.

And I have a lot of things to be thankful for/proud of. I've graduated from college with pretty good grades, played in a band, hunted the mighty Yeti, married a great woman who is awesome and, man, I have a beautiful family. Seriously, I'm not sure how I lucked out with the pretty girls I'm surrounded by every day, but I'm glad I did. The other day I caught myself singing, unironically and loudly, the theme song to Growing Pains. Okay, maybe it was a little ironic and maybe it was "incredibly loud," as opposed to just "loudly," but still.

There's a lot to look forward to for Dylan. For example - and you'll find this either pathetic or endearing - Lost is back on TV for its last season and it's just as mind-blowingly rad as it is inscrutable. And there's also the Star Wars roleplaying group we're starting up again which I gotta admit, I'm pretty excited about. And I might start a band. We'll see. We're getting a new computer soon, so that's exciting. Oh! And dudes! I have an Xbox 360! And in May, Candace and I will celebrate 10 years - A DECADE, MAN - of marriage. I'm like the king of the World, A.K.A., this dude.

So that's where Dylan is right now. As you can see, I am pleased to report that the state of the Dylan is strong. Strong like ox. Thank you. And good night.

Crapshoot

I swore in a Target restroom today. I said the ess-word. You know the one. S-H-I … Yeah, that one. I said it pretty loud, too. I didn't yell it, but it was definitely audible. Now, I'm not a restroom cusser. I'm not even really a cusser. So why was I standing in a handicapped stall in a Target restroom, cussing it up?

Well, mainly because it fit. It was what I was staring at: on the toilet seat and toilet, on the floor and, sadly, on my aged and comfy Converse All Stars, may they rest in peace. Oh, and it was all over my daughter, too, poor thing.

We were picking up a couple of things after dropping sister and mom off at school and the craft show (Going on all weekend! Go get some Sparkle Power merchandise! And yeah, I'm plugging a craft show while relating a poop story. You knew what I was when you picked me up.), respectively. You know, gettin' my Dad on. We looked through the electronics (Claire is not very good at the Xbox), the Christmas stuff and, finally, the toys. Every. Single. Toy.

We were playing with that Disney Princess display, the one where you spin the thingy around and push the pink flashing button and it plays a snippet of a song from each princess' movie.

So Claire's spinning the thingy, pressing the button, dancing around and all of the sudden she stops, makes a worried face, looks at me and says, "I need to go potty." Now this is a problem. See, we're potty training, so that means we're in panties and I reeeally don't want an accident, so I pick her up and run. And if you're at all familiar with the Target we frequent, you know that we're almost at the point farthest from the restroom.

Now would be a good time to cuss. But I don't. I run.

We make it to the customer service counter and I still have a basket with some items and you can't take unpaid merchandise into the restrooms so I ditch the basket at the corner and keep running. My sunglasses are in there and Claire's jacket too, but at this point, I don't care if they're stolen. I just care about getting to the restroom before something bad happens.

At this point, I think we're okay. My arm's dry. That's a good sign, right? We make it inside and into the handicapped stall. I pull down the panties and go to set her down on the seat and that's when things, well, when things go to crap. Or, you know, the other word. The word I said.

I'm a dad, so after a brief survey of the damage I roll with it, trying to clean Claire up as well as I can with the tools at hand (toilet seat covers, wet toilet paper), trying to clean it off the seat (those elaborate toilet paper shields I build before I sit down don't feel so ridiculous anymore), the floor, my shoe (so long, Converse) and I cuss.

I cuss. And in the moment, it fits.

5 Years

Five years. Where'd all that time go? It seems like yesterday I was sitting on a stool in a weird, thin, slippery white plastic jumpsuit as doctors rushed my beautiful, terrified bride into an operating room for an emergency c-section. Five years ago since I held that pink, warm little thing in my arms and felt like the world had stopped turning for a little moment. Five years ago since my life changed completely and totally for the better. Five years since I met my daughter, my buddy and my snuggler. Five years ago, I became a dad to a beautiful little fearless, headstrong and inspiring girl.

Happy birthday, Sadie. Thank you for changing my life. I'll love you forever and ever; no matter what. I'm glad you're in our family. I'm glad I'm your dad.

*******

BTW, Candace has pictures from the Star Wars-themed party over here.

:: 9 ::

Smiley face emoticon.

Future's So Bright

Today's Claire's birthday. She's cool. This is her eating Lucky Charms, rockin' some shades. I'm glad she's here and part of our crazy little clan. I'm a very luck man, to be surrounded by cuties of this caliber like all of the time. That is all. Good night.

Busy Doin' Nothing

So I've been off of work since Christmas Eve Eve and it has been fantastic. We stayed here in the Cleve for Christmas and had a great holiday here with our little family. Candace already blogged about it here, so I'll just say that it was great. Candace got me a cavernous new external hard drive, so look out, Internet. I am coming for you.

It's been great being home. We've been relaxing, hanging out with friends, eating disgusting amounts of ham and watching lots and lots of Star Wars. (Big thanks to my parents who bought us the Original Trilogy set on DVD, which - for all you Star Wars nerds out there - includes the original, non-Special Edition versions on the bonus disc. Which is awesome. No wussy screaming for Luke as he throws himself down the air chute in Empire! Yay! Also, big thanks to Philippe for a VHS set of the OT. Nice find, my friend. And another shout out to Aunt Lilia who rocked the house for our girls. She made this Princess Leia dress and bun set for Sadie's Barbie dolls that is just amazing. I will post pictures soon. Unless I forget. Which is very likely.)

We've also been keeping remarkably busy. We did some pretty unbelievable cleaning/organizing, most especially in the "middle room" (our craft/computer room) which has been the shame of my existence for a while now. We whipped that room into shape like a mamma jamma. It looks freaking amazing now.

So today was "Do Some Arty Projects, Dylan" Day, apparently. I did not have it marked on my calendar, so it sort of snuck up on me. But it was loads of fun. Once I got started, I was thinking to myself, "Dang! I should do this type of stuff for a living!" And then I remembered that I do, so yeah, I've got that going for me.

It kicked off this morning when I finished this poster I'd started a few weeks ago. It's available in the shop if you're interested. We'll be listing a few other color options for it as well over the next few days. Here's pictures:





Then I whipped up a "Don't Eat Pete!" board for a little family game night. Candace has rules posted here, and you can download your own board here and play. Just grab some kids from somewhere (please make sure to ask permission first if they're not yours/if you don't have custody of them) and get playing. M&M's not included.



After that, I started working on a couple of upcoming BRR Mixxes that need artwork for them. The first one was another Ping Pong mix I had made with the Bryan Hitch of webcomics, the Chris Haley. It's titled & Away We Go! Here's the inked artwork I sent to Chris to work his color mojo on:



That's me with the balloons and Chris with the cape. If you haven't done so already, go check out his & Curt's webcomic Let's Be Friends Again. It's funny stuff.

Finally, I finished off a huge stonerish collage for January's mix, Electric Freak Out, made from a buttload of late-70's National Geographic magazines and a warped, overactive imagination. And tape. It's 100% analog, ballerz. No digitalism involved. Well, except for the scanning part. Click for biggification:



So anyway, I'm going to bed. Just thought I'd hip you cats to what I've been up to. Happy New Year if I don't post again before then. 2009's gonna rule.

Questions For Myself

What follows is a list of questions I find myself asking, um ... myself.

"Could I care less about anything related to American Idol?"

"Are there a more loathsome and irritating group of people than mainstream superhero comics fans?"

"Why in the world did George Lucas think it was an even remotely good idea to have that two-headed podrace announcer in The Phantom Menace?"

"Where can I find a decent, pre-owned disco ball around here?"

"How do h-h-human beings survive in this c-c-c-coldness?"

"Why did nobody tell me that Gouda cheese was so amazing? Why am I almost 32 years old and I'm just now finding this out? Seriously, people, how is this happening?!"

"Is 'Gouda' capitalized?"

"Does anybody listen to the mixes I post?"

"Why does the Chris Haley hate Garfield so much?"

"Why do my girls love to destroy everything in their path?"

"What am I getting for Christmas? Is it a pony? Two ponies?"

Bragging Party

I just wanted to rub it in your face that I am surrounded by the cutest girls on the planet. Seriously, look at those faces. How lucky am I?

*******

Photo from the booth at Big Fun, from our visit this last weekend. That place is ten kinds of rad. I would try and describe it, but words fail me. It's like trying to describe what Cap'n Crunch tastes like or what Heaven will smell like (though I imagine the latter will have a definite bacon-y musk to it).

Imagine every toy you ever had or wanted as a kid in one place. Then multiply that by ten and you're getting close. I mean, they have the G.I. Joe aircraft carrier on display and like this whole epic diorama built around it! And a Mego Thing doll! In fact, they have three of the Fantastic Four (no Invisible Woman). And their Star Wars figure collection ... oh man. It's like the back of the boxes up in that place.

And all of it is for sale, which is great because you're an adult now and theoretically, you can buy this stuff. All of it if you want to. It's nine-year-old Dylan's wildest fantasy come true.

Needless to say, Me = freaking out. If you ever come to Cleveland we will so skip the Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame (which is sort of like the Hard Rock Hotel only without the slot machines and the d-baggs in tank tops yelling "VEGAS, BABY!!!" at the top of their lungs) and just go there, deal? Until then, peace, my Internet homies.

How We Met (The Truly True Story)

Candace recently blogged about our "how we met" story over here. The only problem is that it's totally inaccurate. Like, total lies. The real story is much more epic and has 300% more battles. And a car chase. And I'm pretty sure that I wasn't wearing a Hanson t-shirt when we first met. I'm pretty sure I answered the door shirtless, my pectoral muscles and perfectly-honed six-pack aglisten with perspiration and desire. My body was emanating a musk as intoxicating as it was animal. My flaxen hair hung loose about my shoulders like drapery framing a chiseled face full of ruggedness and handsomeness and ... Oh, wait. That's a passage from that Harlequin Romance novel I was working on. I had to shelve it because I ran out of synonyms for "heaving."

In any case, her story's full of holes, mis-rememberings and some flat-out lies. Allow me to set the record straight.

Our story begins in 1999. As Prince suggested, I was partying like it was 1999. Which it was, so that worked out pretty well. I had just returned from covert operations in Bangladesh and was looking forward to some downtime after thwarting a horrible terrorist operation using only my mind and a sock full of thumbtacks. It was pretty awesome. Especially when I blew that thing up and it was all like "KA-BOOMMMM!!!" And I was like, "Hope your fire insurance is paid up," as I walked away in slow-motion. Here's where that car chase comes in, as well as a pretty sweet musical montage of me sneaking into the Pentagon set to the Stooges' "I Wanna Be Your Dog." More stuff blows up while I ride off on a super top-secret experimental hover-bike. In slow-motion. Roll credits.

Anyway, I was back, and single and definitely ready to mingle. And I'm sitting there, chilling, unwinding, y'know and my brother Bryan comes in and says, "You know what you need? You need to go see a movie that will really take a crap on the most beloved sci-fi franchise in the last lifetime. For like the sixth time. Shall we see The Phantom Menace again? Ammon's in town."

To which I responded: "Okay. Cool. Maybe this time I won't want to kill Jar-Jar."

"Let's not get carried away," Bryan said. And thus it was on. The date was set, the die cast, the uh, metaphor was uh, slung? I dunno. We went to the movie and I met Candace.

From here, the story's pretty close to what she said, only substituting the Hanson shirt for my rippling muscles as I previously mentioned. Did I mention they were aglisten? Because they were. But the part about the licorice box? I have no idea what fantasy novel that concept trotted out of. Seriously, she was all over me like an applique sweater on a fourth grade teacher. I was like "Um, I'm trying to eat my Red Vines here, lady." And she was all, "So, have I told you what classes I'm taking next semester?" And I was all "Um, like three times. Now if you'll kindly excuse me, I have to watch as George Lucas kills my enthusiasm for Star Wars with midichlorians. Dang, girl!" So yeah, not necessarily love at first sight. Though I did think she was super cute. Just a little too, I dunno, forward?

At the time I was playing in a band called the Asthmatics and our house was a hub of activity that summer, so we had a few chances to see each other again and all of the sudden we were sitting on the couch in her parent's basement, making out watching Willy Wonka. Seriously, I thought she really wanted to watch a movie about a kid who inherits a crazy candy factory, but all of the sudden she's all over me. And I didn't want her to feel bad, and she was so dang cute, so I kissed her back. It was the gentlemanly thing to do. And I may be a lot of things, but one thing I am not is ungentlemanly.

I distinctly remember stopping her mid-make out and saying "Are you sure you want to make out right now? The creepy tunnel part where he sings 'There's no earthly way of knowing / Which direction we are going...' is coming up and I really like that part." And she was all "Listen. Do you want to make out or what?" And I was like, "Um yeah because you're super cute and I think we're gonna get married but don't be surprised if you catch me sneaking a peek every now and then because I really love this movie." And she said "Just shut up and get to kissin', hot stuff."

And that is the true story folks. Only I left out the part about when the psychic robots dinosaurs kidnapped her and sent her into the future and I had to rescue her using only my mind and my mighty, glistening pectorals and I blew up the psychic robots dinosaurs' hideout and it was all like "KA-BOOMMMM!!!" And I was like, "You just got extinct-ed," as I walked away in slow-motion with Candace in my arms and we sped off in my spaceship.

Also, I beat her at tether ball every time; I don't care what she says.

Anyway, so I love Candace. Or: "I so love Candace." Or: "Love Candace, so I." Or whatever. She's funny and cute and awesome and smart and she smells nice and even though she sometimes confuses her rich fantasy life for reality, she's still the bestest thing that ever happened to me. Seriously, without her, I'd most likely be living in a box somewhere. And not even a cool box. Like a store-brand Cap'n Crunch box or something. For reals.

A Family Of Deer Were Happy That the Clearing Looked Like A Laundromat

For father's day I received a "Buy any Threadless tee you want" coupon from my beautiful ladies. After much deliberation and numerous consultations with the tea leaves and chicken entrails, I picked this baby. I picked this one because it matches this vintage cutie.

How'd I do? Did I choose wisely?

Ocho

Eight years ago today, I married by best friend in the whole world in a holy place. And though we're not those incredibly young-looking people anymore, I'm glad that I've spent the last 8 years next to her and look forward to spending the next ∞ years occupying the same place.

Candace, I love you. You're the best. Thanks for loving me.

Like, uh, Stuff and Stuff...

* I had a pretty great Memorial Day weekend, all told. How was yours?

* Watched I'm Not There last night and loved it to bits. It's bold and messy and brilliant. The only story that I didn't cotton to was the more conventional biopic section starring Heath Ledger and Charlotte Gainsbourg, though even that was well put-together. I would love to watch two hours of the Billy the Kid/Riddle County/Basement Tapes story though. When the giraffe walks into the frame?! I gasped. Totally amazing. And Cate Blanchett, oh man, I loves her. It's a heckuva movie and highly recommended, though I would be interested what someone who isn't freaking named after the Man thought of it.

* I have nothing to read on the train tomorrow, as I finished up the second-to-last Invisibles trade I had tonight while Candace sewed. WTH?! What am I going to do?!

* We went out for our anniversary to La Dolce Vita in Cleveland's Little Italy over the weekend and had a lot of fun and delicious pasta. And this weird appetizer that Candace wanted to get but I didn't really like but it had prosciutto in it so I ate that. Prosciutto is yummy. Also got some pretty terrific cannolis at a bakery there. I love cannolis almost as much as I love my lady. And I love my lady like a lot.

* And I guess that's it. I know, exciting, right? Such is the life of a jet-setter like me...

Why So Serious?

Sadie got into Candace's makeup the other day. Looks a little like Heath Ledger's Joker in The Dark Knight, doesn't she? You can tell from the picture that she thinks she looks very pretty, but still...

Uncanny, right?

C is for "Claire!"

Happy Birthday, Claire. I'm glad you're in our family and I'm glad I'm your Dad. You're a joy to be around and I love you.

Sincerely,
Your Dad

PS: I'm sorry that you sort of look like me. Hopefully you'll dodge the unibrow and bushy eyebrows. I also apologize for your never being able to get a tan. My fault.

K is for "You're Kidding Me, Right?"

This has to be the dumbest thing I have ever heard of. And I have watched roughly one million Walker, Texas Ranger episodes. I mean, I can understand Marvel Zombies, that was fun and tapped into the zombie zeitgeist (which has totally passed, entertainment world. Please take note) that was in full swing when it was solicited. This, Marvel Apes (I grimace when I type it, in case you were wondering) thing makes no sense. It's like Marvel is using a random word generator or something. I'm surprised it's not New Marvel Apes. Seriously, this is stupid.

In other news, I have successfully turned my three-year-old daughter into a nerd. We were at Toys R Us Friday night, getting a birthday present for Claire's first birthday (and checking out the new summer blockbuster toys ... no Indy toys? WTH?!) and as Candace was paying, Sadie climbed into one of those coin-op little cars. Spider-Man was driving it. It wasn't the Spider Buggy. Sad, I know. Anyway, she was sitting there, having some sort of conversation with Spidey when I walked over.

"Oh, hi dad. This is Spider-Man." Sadie explains, putting her arm around him. He look smaller in person, BTW.

"Oh yeah? And what's your name?" I ask this because Sadie is almost always someone else. It's cute, except she never lets you know who she is and gets sort of pissed if you don't know which of her lineup of aliases she's using.

"I'm Princess Leia. I'm his wife." she says, matter-of-factly.

This is what happens when nerds are allowed to reproduce. Girls, if a guy can name 15 superheroes and their secret identities/real names off the top of his head and/or seriously considered a career as a Jedi: Just Say "No."

Sunday Comics! Words Of Wisdom From Yotsuba&!

You bet it is, Yotsuba. From volume 5 of the incredibly charming manga series Yotsuba&!, a story about a cute little girl with a lot of enthusiasm. It's from chapter 31, entitled "Yotsuba & Stars." I'm not a big manga guy, but I'll be danged if this isn't one of the best things I've read in a while. You will not be sorry for having read it.

My Birthday Gal

Not a lot to post today, but I did want to give a big birthday shout out to my main lady: the one & only Candace. Happy birthday, Candace. I loves ya.

I loves the rest of you, too, just not in the same way. I'll be back tomorrow. Until then, something to think about - Who would you rather be stuck in an elevator with: a mummy with athlete's foot or a rabid hedgehog?

Answer below.

Postscript: I am also sending out a "Happy Birthday" shout out to Rose. You go, Super Gadget Girl. Birthdays for everyone!