NOTE: If you are easily offended by offensive things then please go somewhere else. I suggest pbskids.org or barbie.com, you wuss!


SCROLL TO THE BOTTOM OF THIS PAGE TO LISTEN TO MY HILARIOUS AND WILDLY OFFENSIVE PODCAST!

Saturday, September 29, 2007

Photos From My New Picture Phone ...

Me tackling over 35 boxes of juvenile christmas overstock (COUTS) in one day ...








Sleepy Isabela ...




The district manager of Barnes and Noble, Pete Scott, rehearsing his role as Captain Book's long lost father Admiral Chad Bookington the 12th.




We've lost our internet connection we were pirating from our neighbors. We should be getting it back in a few days, hopefully. Until then, I'm sorry for not posting.


Keep checking YouTube for the video of today's exciting Captain Book adventure!

Thursday, September 20, 2007

Ineffective Phrases For Performance Appraisals ...

-chunky

-moist

-tasty

-ribbed for her pleasure

-darling

-crybaby

-shit face

-lemon fresh

-juicy

-portable

-easy to swallow

-artificially flavored

-donkey raping shit eater

-ramrod

-may contain nuts

-made in America

-spicy

-creamy

-wipes off easily

-hypoallergenic

-batteries not included

-excellent source of calcium

-dolls not included

-use only as directed

Pictures From Isabela's Second Birthday Party ...

... we were originally going to go to the park and let the kids play on the playground and just hang out and enjoy each other's company. But when we got to the park we noticed that the playground was closed due to "broken equipment." Bela cried and cried. And we felt bad too because we were already feeling guilty over not throwing her a big party and now she couldn't even play on the playground.




So a quick phone call later and the next thing you know the party's moved to our home and Natasha's mom's home next door. The kids played in the backyard and the adults cooked and drank and talked and partied. It was a very mexican party and reminded me of every birthday/wedding/first communion/funeral I ever went to when I was growing up. It ended up being a whole lot of fun.






















Happy 2nd birthday, Isabela! Can't believe you're two years old already.


Up next: Emerald's sixth birthday in December, my 31ts birthday in March, Natasha's birthday build-a-bear bash in June.


All our birthdays are exactly three months apart. That's why we can never have any more children. It would fuck up our roll.



Sunday, September 16, 2007

How to Grill A Gummy Hamburger ...

STEP ONE: Find something gummy. I usually prefer gummy bears. However, yesterday all we had were gummy dinosaurs, which worked just as well.




STEP TWO: Ground up some meat. Add seasoning salt and a liberal helping of Worcestershire sauce.




STEP THREE: Mix the gummy bears (or dinosaurs) in with the meat, then mold into large thick hamburger patties. Make sure they are thick so the gummy pieces will stay in the meat during the cooking process.




STEP FOUR: Thank the crap out of your lovely wife for grilling you gummy hamburgers.




STEP FIVE: Place gummy patties on the grill and monitor closely while drinking. The drinking is important. It is best to have drank two or more beers BEFORE eating a gummy hamburger as the beers help the taste.




STEP SIX: If a few minutes your gummy hamburger will be ready. Add cheese, ketchup and mayonnaise for taste and place on a bun. If your patty comes out smaller than you had hoped, simply get another patty and make a double-decker gummy hamburger, as the picture illustrates. Now you are ready to eat your gummy hamburger.




STEP SEVEN: Eat the crap out of your amazing Galindo-invented gummy hamburger. The taste is interesting and cannot be described. One thing is for certain, however. It tastes ten times better than you THINK it tastes.




STEP EIGHT: After you've had a few bites, many people around you will want a taste. Some people who said before or during the cooking process that they wanted a taste might chicken out at this step. Make fun of them. For unknown reasons, the gummy hamburger is a very mexican friendly food. Mexicans LOVE the gummy hamburger. So, if you have mexican friends with you, it is best to make them their own so that they don't totally jew yours.




This hamburger has also been tested on canadians. I am happy to say that our cadadianite neighbors from the north ALSO enjoy the taste of the Galindo-invented gummy hamburger.


ENJOY!

Saturday, September 15, 2007

Isabela Galindo's 2nd Birthday ...



The Isabela Galindo Saga (from last year)


Taking a deep breath. Trying to stay calm. Crazy ass day.


We woke up early, fed the girls, went to my work and then went off to the mall so Isabela could make a doll at the Build-A-Bear workshop. But of course we also had to bring Emerald and Deinna, too, and they each wanted their own bear with its own clothes and accessories, so we ended up spending way too much money on all three of them. And we set up a schedule for how today was going to go and it's all fucked up now. We're running way behind and everybody's tensions are high and there's some drama going on with one of Natasha's brothers and a whole bunch of other high stressed drama situations that are putting a damper on things.


Taking a deep breath. Trying to focus on Bela because its her day. Besides, Emerald loves her bear and Isabela loves her Spider-Ghost (I'll explain some other time) and there's less stress since we're just having a small get together and not a full blown party. Just imagine how much my wife's brain would want to explode if we WERE throwing a party for Isabela. Wow. Blood everywhere.




Happy second birthday, Isabela Naleen Galindo.

Thursday, September 13, 2007

New Seether Single Leaked Here First ...



... Seether is an amazing band. They rock hard but without the angry asshole white trash male posturing that comes with angry screamo metal. They have a conscious and a soul and a heart and in between their angry rock songs there's some incredibly beautiful ballads with an incredible deep soul and an amazing gift for songwriting.


I saw them live in 2003 and I'll never forget it. I went with The Little Her. No link there to former posts. Fuck, I've mentioned her like fifty times in this blog so go and search her your own damn self. Anyway, we were on a date. We were probably on our fourth attempt at being a couple. I believe this was just a few days before she broke up with me the fifth time. Ra and Socialburn opened up and I fell in love with them both and consider myself big fans of both bands to this day. We positioned ourselves at the bar, which was pretty cool. But the problem was this is Sacramento, cowtown capital of the damn state. There was a Sacramento Kings game on and, only in Sacramento, 1/6th of the damn audience was actually watching the stupid game and ended up cheering at random times for the Kings and not for the bands. Pissed me the fuck off. What pissed me off even more was that the Little Her wanted to hang out outside and smoke halfway thru Seether's set. So we smoked outside and ended up missing their song "Broken."


Seriously, I'll never forgive her for that shit. One of the best songs ever written in the history of the world and she made me miss it. FUCK! But all in all a great show. They even did an incredible cover of the Drowning Pool song Tear Away, which is one of my favorite angry songs of all time and a song I used to sing all time at karaoke, back when I was young and suicidal and drunk. I wish to GAWD that I had the recording of Seether singing that because his voice singing that song was absolutely amazing. Great ass show. It hurts me, though, that the image of Seether in my head will always be accompanied by The Little Her, which is why I pray they come back to Sacramento one day. They haven't since 2003. I hope and pray one day they come back so that I can see them again but THIS TIME with my wife. Hopefully one day ...


I'm a really big big BIG fan of theirs. There are more than one song of theirs that mean something very personal to me and will stay with me until the day I die. So, with that in mind, here's a big leak, the new single off their new album coming in October. Listen to it, get excited, and get ready to buy the crap out of this puppy ...


Fake It


And here's some more songs from Seether. Be sure to buy their new album that's scheduled to drop on October 23rd. Seriously, this shit is gonna be good ...


Love Her

Gasoline

Broken (acoustic)

Out Of My Way

Fade Away


You know ...


I post a lot of free mp3s here. THIS ONE, though, might be the one that finally gets me in trouble.


If it DOES and if this is somehow placed in the hands of record companies and lawyers, then PLEASE pass it along to the band that Sacramento, California REALLY wants another concert.


PLEASE?!?!?


CLICK THIS LINK AND PLEASE DEMAND SEETHER IN SACRAMENTO!!!

Thanks, Aaron ...



We did another one for Emerald, who is not my biological daughter. So check this out ...




WHA-A-A-A-A???


This shiznit's a lot of fun!

The Children Of The Corn ...

... if you're a regular reader of my sexy wife's livejournal then you probably have already heard of Natasha's cousin's four blond-haired, blue-eyed semi-terrors that we call the children of the corn.


Individually they are cute and harmless. Except for the youngest Stephen. He's the only boy and he's a literal demon hell child that was spawned from the devil and he gets into everything and doesn't listen. He acts just like a one year old and he can barely walk and talk, so it's a shock that he's three going on four. Personally we think he's mildly autistic but his mom's too stubborn to listen to us.


But I digress.




On their own these kids are cute and fairly sweet. They do no major damage individually. But put them together (and especially so when Emerald and Isabela and their cousin Deinna are around) and they are an A-bomb, a weapon of mass destruction, a plane headed straight into the goddamn twin towers. They're loud. They scream. They fight and run and it's an unstoppable force. It's a fucking hurricane and a flood of unmistakable volume.


They turn anywhere they go into their own New Orleans.




And somehow I've been tasked to take care of them today. I slept in a little bit, went to Bouncetown with Lance and Nathaniel and the girls, then came home and started to take care of the C.O.T.C. while Natasha took Em and Bela and Deinna to the dentists. That's where she's at now. I don't know how long they'll be or when they'll be back. I've been alone with these kids for a little over two hours now and it feels like its been a million years. Now I have a newfound respect for those brave poor black people who suffered through hurricane Katrina because I feel like hiding on the roof right now.




NATASHA JUST GOT HOME! Praise da lawd, praise da LAWD!!!


Here's some thank god Natasha's home music for your punk ass ...


The White Stripes: You Don't Know What Love Is (Just Do As You're Told)

Ben Kweller: Commerce, TX.

Dick Dale and his Deltones: Let's Go Trippin'

The Gothic Archies: How Do You Slow This Thing Down?

David Bowie: Modern Love

Gorillaz: Rock The House

Mos Def: Close Edge (studio version of the awesome song he did on Chapelle's Show)

Public Enemy: By The Time I Get to Arizona

Socialburn: The Leaving Song

Monday, September 10, 2007

Tony Hawk-ing It ...



... when my wife and I first moved into that crappy apartment we used to share, we were still drunk with the scent of new love. We were utterly all about each other, staying up late every night just talking and spending time together, sitting on the tile floor of our kitchen and just talking, trying to get to know one another. It was sweet and sometimes I wish I had that back.


Then one day I bought Tony Hawk's Pro Skater 3 for the Gamecube. And Natasha spent all of her time OBSESSED with that damn game.


She did the same thing with Pro Skater 4. And World of Warcraft. And Animal Crossing. She actually got into a huge ass fight with me, angry and yelling and storming off to bed one night because I ruined her radish crop.


But since those apartment days any time that my wife ever became majorly obsessed with something has been commonly referred to as "Tony Hawk"-ing it.


I say this for no reason, just making conversation.


On a completely unrelated note, Natasha woke up at around 4:15 am this morning so she could work out at the gym at 5 in the freakin' morning before Emerald had to go to school.


Is it just me or is that crazy?


Me? I'm proud of my slightly more defined muscles and my slightly bigger arms and the four pounds I've lost. But Five days of hardcore working out are enough for me for now.


That's why I'm drinking a tall boy of Labatt Blue (my first beer in a week) and listening to Patton Oswald. I mean, I love Workout Steve but I don't want Workout Steve to take hostage of all the other Steve's.




NOTE: My wife just read this post over my shoulder and has asked me to add that she feels wonderful physically, mentally and emotionally and her self-esteem is higher. And that they were turnips, not radishes. Well, I'll be damned. I totally forgot.

Sunday, September 9, 2007

Sore As Hell But ...

... since I've worked out an hour and a half every night for five nights I've lost four pounds.


Yay me.

Friday, September 7, 2007

Can You Carry Me ...




... my family is totally loving our free gym membership.


Natasha's been working out like crazy and getting mad stares from the gym men on account of her curves bulging out of her tight workout clothes. Emerald and Deinna are loving the gym's huge kids section and their three story playset and their video games and their cool kids activities like kickball and soccer and dodgeball. And even little Bela loves the baby area. I assumed she'd be crying and screaming the whole time she was there but once we dropped her off she looked at all the babies, grabbed a toy phone, and climbed up onto a small play castle and pretended to call Pepe. Happy as hell.


I'm liking it, too, although not with the intense gun-ho attitude of the rest of the family. I like the sauna and the pool and I like the "idea" of working out. But it wasn't until I STARTED working out that I realized how out of shape I was. My body is just constantly sore now from working out an hour and a half every night with my wife.


Thank GAWD I've been working out, too. It's like I've had an underweight skinny young person's body throughout my teen years and when I was twenty and when I was twenty-four and twenty-five and throughout my twenties. It stayed the same. I was a skinny little kid with a young guy's body. Then the SECOND I turned thirty I suddenly had a little belly and love handles and little man boobs. I went from being a 125 lb. twentysomething to being a thirtysomething hisband and father of two who weighted almost 160 lbs. So thank gawd I'm working out. Suddenly I need it.


I could do without being sore, though. I think Natasha's getting tired of hearing me beg her to carry me around the house on account of how much my body hurts.


Here's a song I'm reposting for my dad. It's Los Lonely Boys singing John Lennon. I hope he likes it ...

Los Lonely Boys: Whatever Gets You Thru The Night

Wednesday, September 5, 2007

OMFG!!!!



IF they EVER read my blog I am so fucking DEAD!


I almost hard a heart attack on my way to the gym. I couldn't believe my eyes. These guys did a concert in my kids section last year and I dissed them relentlessly. You can imagine my shock when, at the Savemart RIGHT NEXT TO MY HOUSE (!!!) I saw an ad on the back of a car window saying they have an album dropping on October and they have a myspace. Oh my god, I almost crapped my pants.


If they ever find this blog then I am as good as dead.


Listen to their song Bouncer off their new cd.


On July 24th, 2006 I said about this song "Just wait 'till you hear the song 'Bounca'! Wow. Not a dry seat in the house! We're going to get so crunked up in here you're going to have to crack open a fucking window!" Now, here it is. And damn. This is going right up on my iPod, right next to Chokeaho's new song "Bad Baby Daddy."


Early Bedtyme gots the phat ass beats on his iPod, yo.


And he might also be shot soon.

V.I.P. Steve ...



... my family and I spent Labor Day at the California State Fair. We brought our own grapes. Some of them were sour. Bela can vouch for that.


We had originally gone to the fair so that we could see Weird Al in concert. I've been a big fan of his ever since I was a kid. His music was the first music that I could honestly say I was a big fan of. I remember being eight years old and liking Weird Al and the Beatles. And Anthrax's "Among The Living" album. My musical tastes were strange even back then.


So they sell really nice floor seats for the concerts in advance. But they almost always never sell out, so we had heard that they give out the remaining free tickets the day of the show starting at four. The sign, which we had seen a few days before, said that the line for the tickets doesn't start until three-thirty. And I really wanted to see Weird Al, so at three we made our way to the sign and, because this is California, there was a massive line already there.


So we gave up on seeing Weird Al. I played brave super daddy and said that I didn't care but deep down inside I was really pissed off and hurt and upset that we wouldn't get to see him.




Then, later in the day when the kids were riding rides, Natasha went off to do something, I don't remember what. While she was out, no doubt the results of her amazing triple H breasts, someone asked her if she liked Weird Al. She said yes and this dude just up and handed her a ticket. One ticket. Can you believe that? She says it's because of her good karma. I believe her because lord knows my karma's in the crapper. She gave the ticket to me and at around six that night I went to the venue to get me a seat.


I went thru the main entrance with the ticket takers barely paying any attention to me. I checked out the merch I couldn't afford and spent a few minutes looking at all the nasty fat people who had already gotten a seat. I decided I would spend my ten bucks in a beer or maybe some kick ass garlic fries so I walked to the exit and was stopped by security. They looked at my ticket, confused. They told me I was at the wrong place. I had a V.I.P. ticket and I needed to wait in the other line at the side of the venue.




I waited for a half hour in a line surrounded by drunk college guys with baseball caps and collars up and really expensive cell phones. One of the guys started talking with me. He was so drunk that when he asked me my name I told him it was Pedro. He almost bought me a luchador mask. I'm nervous because I have no idea where I'm at or if I'll get a seat or what.


The next thing I know I'm escorted into a private V.I.P. dinner. The ticket Natasha got was a special ticket reserved for exclusive fair sponsors. The area is a nice, shady and fully catered patio area located above the general seating and right next to the fair stage. Literally, Weird Al was just a pebble's throw away. I got my own table all to my myself right next to the railing overlooking the fat dumpy people with the free tickets. And I was served dinner, too. I ate my massive fill of steak and stir fry and steak and broccoli and steak and ice cream and all the soda that I could drink. The cook even cut me a big tasty chunk of grizzle. I mean, sure I'm surrounded by rich white yuppies who seem a bit concerned by the sweaty mexican with the wife beater on but I didn't care. I was V.I.P Steve. It was totally awesome.


It was so awesome, going from being pissed off that I wasn't going to get to see Weird Al to getting seated at a free V.I.P dinner, that I ACTUALLY HAD A CIGARETTE on their smoking area right next to the lake area. I haven't had a smoke for damned if I know. I sat there chatting up two tall tattooed busty models of some sort and looking behind my back constantly to make sure my kids didn't see me. I also got two free drinks for their ample bar. I got a large strong white russian first (for "The Dude" in Los Angeles) and a really HARD Jack and Coke next. I told the bartender "I'd hella tip you if I wasn't broke ass" and he seemed to respond to that because he ended up giving me four large beers for free after that. The amount of alcohol I drank that day would have knocked me out if it wasn't for the massive levels of adrenalin pumping through my body.


I sat there in the V.I.P. section watching Weird Al and getting totally drunk for free, the whole time smiling and wondering how fucking cool I must have looked, that stupid drunk grin on my face as I watched Weird Al in the V.I.P. section.


That's V.I.P. Steve. There's Reverend Steve the founder of The Church of Ed Wood, Mr. Steve the semi-famous storyteller of Barnes and Noble store 1996, there's Daddy Steve the father, Sexy Steve the Natasha-fucker, and Esteban the son of Teresa and Jose Galindo Sr.


V.I.P. Steve doesn't come out to play a lot. It's good to see him again.




I've got to go now. We're going to get our free corporate memberships to California Family Fitness.


V.I.P. Steve.

Sunday, September 2, 2007

Somehow I Blame Greg ...

... Emerald and I are the only ones awake right now. Emerald's drawing and playing games with me while I catch up on my reading and my writing and my general procrastinating. My wife and youngest daughter are asleep on the couch so I have my iPod's "mellow" playlist on. A lot of soft Beatles tunes and Jim's Big Ego and some mellow rap songs and a dash of the Gothic Archies. Natasha loves my mellow playlist. I hope it's helping her get some rest.


We were going to go to the fair today but half of the family is out like a light. So I guess that's not happening. We're mos def going tomorrow to see "Weird Al" and I'm psyched about that. This will be my fourth times seeing him live. He's amazing live. The hilarious little original video pieces that he shows between numbers is what makes him so awesome live. If anybody wants to meet up there (Jesse, John, Gwen, Risa, etc.) then just let us know.




I've been a bit melancholy lately.


I know I shouldn't be. I'm happy with life. Things are finally going places for me. My storytimes, which I've been doing at the same time twice a week for over four years now, are finally starting to make waves and get some recognition. I'm constantly getting calls and e-mails at work from schools and organizations wanting me to make an appearance and do a storytime for them. There's a private school I'm doing this friday and then some library downtown requested an appearance from Pirate Steve later this month which I'm flattered by. I did a school appearance about two weeks ago and then a week before that I did storytime at Arden Mall in front of about a hundred kids. And of course my Captain Book plays every month are a HUGE success! You add all that with the storytimes I'll be doing for California Family Fitness in exchange for a free year family membership to their amazing two-story gyms and it looks like me and my storytimes are finally going places.


And then you add all that with the amazing family that I have, my incredible wife and my two amazing daughters, the great and constant sex my wife and I have been having and the documentary I might be in and things are looking up. Things really are looking up for me.


But I miss something. There's something missing and I don't know what it is. I'm thirty years old with a wife and two kids but there's something wrong and I have no idea what that is. There's a part of me that wishes I were still the guy I was five years ago, angry and single and careless and drunk, spending every night staying out until two or three in the morning, getting drunk and getting high and hooking up and fucking and fighting and screaming and partying every goddamn night. That Steve didn't care about anything or anyone but himself and he had a ton of friends and he went to parties and went to the movies and had money to spend on himself. I miss that me. And there's a small part of me that misses having a ton of friends and having a bar to go to where people knew my name and stupid shit like that.


There's a part of me that wishes that I still had that. But if I had that, then I wouldn't have my amazing wife and my two amazing daughters, whom I wouldn't trade for the world.




I BLAME GREG.


Greg is my old school Arizona friend. We both went to the same catholic school together, then he went to Tucson and I stayed in Phoenix. Now he's in L.A. and I'm in Sacramento. I visit his blog a lot. My wife and I are both big fans of his site. And we're both proud of how much Greg has his life in order. He's happy and peaceful and he knows what he wants to do with his life and he's doing that.


His site is a constant source of discussion between Natasha and I. She asks me what I want to be doing with my life. I usually answer something along the lines of "I want to entertain children, read stories with them, play with them, write plays and act." This usually leads us into the "Then you should quit the bookstore" conversation. Then I get depressed. I've worked my ass off for almost seven years and now FINALLY things are happening for me.


I see Greg's blog and I wish I had the courage to do what he's done, to quit my job and follow my dreams. But my job has facilitated me getting this far in the achievements of my dreams. My job, so far, has been vital in my success. I can't just quit.


See? It's Greg's fault. How dare you have your shit together? How dare you live life to the fullest pursuit of your dreams?


Damn you, Greg!