I'm writing you from my new office which my wife got me for Christmas. As I may have mentioned, my old office was a desk at the foot of our bed approximately six inches from the place where our children train for futures as shot putting opera singers. At least I assume that's what all the screaming and block throwing is about and precisely why I haven't stopped it. I don't want to stunt their growth.
My NEW office is still a desk at the foot of the bed inches from Twin Town, but it comes with Noise Cancelling Headphones. Unfortunately, there's not a pair of noise cancelling headphones on the market that can handle twins, so to actually drown them out I have to plug into a white noise channel and turn it up. Way, way up. My new office sounds as if it's located in a Class 5 hurricane that spins directly around my head. The upshot? Turns out you can't hear twins in a hurricane.
Anyway, 2009, I really wanted to sum up 2008 for you, reflect on all the awesomness, tell you about the twins first Christmas, etc., but I feel like what we really need to talk about, 2009, is the horrible sickness and diarrhea you've brought me. It's actually erased my memory of everything good that came before it. I go to the bathroom and I have to check my wallet to remember who I am. It is unpleasant.
To save us from repeating the word diarrhea over and over, I will from now on replace it with the word lollipop. Unfortunately, at first, I didn't know I had lollipop. I would be sitting around and think, 'oh, I have some gas, I should clear that out'. And then I would think, 'uh-oh.' If there's anything more embarrassing than crapping your pants as an adult I really, really, really hope never to find out what it is. It's times like this that I'm thankful I work out of a small hurricane located only feet from the bathroom. You know that you're ill when you're packing for a two day trip and you find yourself thinking, 'how many pairs of underwear should I bring? 4? 10? You know what, I better just bring them all'.
UPDATE: My dad took me out for a chili-dog once I thought lollipop was behind me. Let me just say that if you've had days of lollipop, and you're walking around the world with all of your underwear in a bag that you never let beyond arm's reach, chili-dog is not the right answer to any question. That's like trying to find out if your swim lessons have been effective by jumping off a bridge with a Volkswagen around your neck. For the next 30 minutes it pretty much looked and sounded like there was a live animal trying to eat its way out of me.
The irony of all this is that I've traveled away from the safety of my hurricane simply because someone offered me a free meal, and when I RSVP'd I just naturally assumed I would be able to digest it. My understanding is that the restaurant is a tough ticket, the kind of place where you can't turn around with whacking a celebrity with your bag of underwear. If Russell Crowe asks why I keep running to the bathroom, please tell him I'm training for a marathon.
UPDATE: Its now my birthday and, as a present, I seem to have retained last night's dinner. This is shaping up to be the best birthday ever!