Leave behind some green-eyed look-a-likes..........

My daughter goes crazy anytime "Single Ladies" comes on. Literally crazy. She can't even walk yet but she clearly tries to copy dance moves from that video. We have it on tape. She cries if someone changes the channel, and I've seen the great abyss of eternal darkness in her eyes if you're so rude as to talk during her theme song. It's like living in that twilight episode where the kid with magic powers controls the whole town. She just turned 1 last week. When I get mad at her for doing something bad, she kisses me. She's a lot like her mother.

My son on the other hand loves the Fleet Foxes album, probably because I forced it on him and everyone else in my life in 2008, but regardless........he legitimately loves it, and has commented many times on the empyrean CrosbyStillsNash-ian (his word) harmonies and poetic lyricism. I might have made that last part up. He's just 2 years old, but either way I have a feeling we'll still be talkin' about "blue ridge mountains" when he's 42. It's one of those. He also can count to 10 and wakes me up at 5 in the morning to take walks for no apparent reason. Earlier today I pointed out a bird in a tree and he said "Get down here bird, I'm gonna eat you!" I'm very proud of him.

When I run miles on the track everyday to get ready for boot camp and I feel like I can't go any farther, I just say their names over and over until I'm done. In 7 days, I'm leaving both of them for 6 months.

Anybody got a gun? Anybody? No? Thanks anyway. I'll be fine. Probably not.

Blow thru ya hair, seabreeze, sticks and shit..........

I've had a fade haircut of one kind or another since I was 12. Bald, razor, southside, and of course as I got older and wiser, tapered. One way or another, for as long as I can remember my hair has never been longer than maybe an inch-and-a-half, which by the way has helped me out many times in the past because it turns out it's way less than what a drunk person would need to grab in a fight (or as I like to call it, "hate handles"). So when I moved out to Florida for these two months before Navy boot camp, my wife says, she says to me one day she says, "Why don't you just grow your hair out? They're gonna cut it for you when you go to boot camp anyway. And besides, it ain't like you have anybody to look cool for out here, nobody knows you." I nodded in agreement and said, "Yes, you're right baby, I AM the coolest person out here."

She said that's not what she meant.......but I know she was just being polite because all her uncool relatives were in the room at the time. She's such a kind soul.

So now it's 2 months later, and my hair looks like a cross between Corey Feldman in the Goonies, and Ian Curtis around the 5th hour of swinging from the noose. It's pretty sweet. And by sweet, I mean chaotic and embarrassing for everyone involved. It's the MTV music awards of haircuts. It's the Nick Nolte's haircut of haircuts. They say you only get one chance to make a first impression, and if that's true then I'm pretty sure there's at least 10 people down here whose first impression of me is that I live in a trailer with my shut-in "big mama" who only cuts my hair on the two most important holidays: Easter, and the anniversary of Ronnie Van Zant's plane crash.

Point being: I look ridiculous. If I wasn't me I'd tell myself, hey..........knock it off. You look ridiculous. But somehow still unbelievably attractive. I wish I was you.

The only question left is what to do with all the hair once they cut it off. They usually just throw it away, but seeing as how I'm a famous local rapper and philanthropist, they obviously won't be mixing my hair with all the "normals". In all likelihood they'll gently place it in a box with bubble wrap and hide it in a combination safe of some kind. But what next? I'm way too humble to be so selfish as to keep it to myself, so what lucky soul will be the new owner of my thinkin' cap jacket?

I'm thinking the only fair way is to set up some sort of nationwide lottery system. What do ya'll think?


Here's this too................between this Sia performance, and the TV on the Radio "Wolf Like Me" fiasco from a couple years ago, I'm beginning to think they slip the artists somethin' in the water in the green room there at the Letterman show. Just wow.

Maple syrup. Grows on trees.

10 William H. Macy films with titles that also sound like bad Cinemax midnight skin flicks:

Lip Service
Roommates
The Maiden Heist
The Client
Foolin' Around
Hit Me
Bart Got a Room
Keep Coming Back
Twenty Bucks
The Boy Who Loved Trolls

(Mr. Macy after reading my list. I think he liked it.)

Point and shoot..........

A lot of people been askin' me for pictures of the kids since we've been down in Florida. So here's a couple while I upload the rest and send 'em to various family members with equally busy bodies.

Also, these should serve just fine as photographic evidence that both my children are alive and well. Take THAT, Greta Van Susteren!

Amani eating the usual breakfast we give her.

"As your accountant, Daddy.....I strongly advise
you to buy more appey juice"

Christmas present #1

Christmas present #2

"I need a break......and by break, I mean drink."

The last picture taken of the pilot before the horrific crash.

It gets foggy in Florida

That's it for now. Maybe next time someone will take a picture of me.

"Probably not" (c) Reggie Coby

My Top Ten movies of 2008 (*revised)........

EDIT: List has been revised after goin' to the movies last night and seeing my new #1 pick.

I didn't see shit this year, so this is really a top 7 list with 3 good films latched onto the end to round it off. The last 3 are all great films that I loved and are all lightyears ahead of the rest of the stuff I saw this year (Appaloosa, Indiana Jones, Dark Knight, Pinapple Express, etc) but I have a feeling if I saw more stuff that was on the critic's lists they wouldn't even be in my top 20, let alone my top 10. But here's the list anyway.......


1. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
2. Slumdog Millionaire
3. In Bruges
4. Man on Wire
5. Frost/Nixon
6. The Fall
7. Encounters at the End of the World
8. Religulous
9. Cadillac Records
10. Seven Pounds

Liam, you sneaky bastard........Or, the best dream ever

I've only had like 3 dreams in the last 5 years. Or I should say, it ain't that I don't HAVE them, I just don't remember 'em. They happen, I'm sure...........but when I wake up it's all blank. So imagine my surprise when I woke up this morning and remembered perfectly the dream I just had. I was beginning to think I just didn't have a soul anymore. Or that my brain was going rogue and being an asshole by rationing out my dreams for his own sick entertainment, maybe to get me back for all those years of filling my skull up with smoke. Apparently I can still dream, though.

I don't know what was different last night from any other night, but I wish it would happen more often because my dreams are hilarious. I'm really missing out. Maybe it was the fact that I killed a whole bottle of champagne last night. Why? Because my father-in-law couldn't get the cork back on. He didn't want to waste it, but also didn't want to help finish it off, a combination that put me in a tough spot since everyone knows I'm morally opposed to people wasting perfectly good alcohol, with the obvious exception of the time me and my brother stood on a rooftop by a major street in the middle of the night, shook full beer cans and threw them in front of cars and watched the people swerve in horror from the mini-explosions of Lone Star. Those were simpler times.

I really hope that's not the actual solution to my problem, though. Champagne. How embarrassing would it be to explain THAT shit on A&E Intervention? The bald guy is giving his little speech, "I just see a whole bunch of people who love ya to death, and they feel like they're losing ya, and they wanna fight to get ya back. So what's gonna happen is they're gonna talk and then you're gonna talk and then we're all gonna watch it back on my forehead. So Sandman, why did you become an alcoholic?"

"To make dreams come back for make feel good."

"...........This is the alcoholic kid, right? I thought we were doing the paint huffer next week? Can somebody get this kid outta my face, why is he climbing on my back?!"

"Happy New Years! Happy New Years, Dr Phil!!!"


Anyway..........the dream.

So it starts with me walking through my old middle school, only it's some 17-story hyper-realized grand ballroom version of my old middle school, which for some reason is always the way I dream about old schools I went to. It's probably better that way, since my middle school was a certified shithole with more cops than teachers and a daycare center. So I'm winding my way up the spiral staircase going to computer class (which we all know shoulda just been called Oregon Trail 101) and I pass by this room with some old asian guy standing alone dancing back and forth with himself. It's extremely creepy, so logically I go in to get a better look, which is what we all do when we see a mentally ill person dancing with an imaginary partner. He immediately stops dancing, swings around, and it's George Takei. The asian guy who played Dr. Sulu on the original Star Trek. Now........that's a strange thing for anyone to dream about, but I happen to be a 23 year old who's never watched one episode of Star Trek in his life, much less the 1960's version that was hot when my pops was a pre-teen. I literally only know who George Takei is because of one Simpsons episode, and the William Shatner Roast on comedy central. That's it. I had to use wikipedia just to spell his name right. So now he's two feet in front of me in my dream, and he's giving me a real uncomfortable stare, and finally he says, "Do you want to hear a song?" How can I say no? He proceeds to sing "What's the Story, Morning Glory" by Oasis, which I assume was only in the dream because I had heard it on the radio yesterday afternoon. He sung the whole song, and then I woke up. The End.

If you don't know who George Takei is, you're probably wondering why I even wasted the time to type that out. But if you know who George Takei is, and you've heard him speak, then you know why I've been laughing nonstop about this all day. In the car, laughing. On the toilet, laughing. At the mall, crackin' the fuck up. It's a funny ass visual. "All your dreams are maaaaaaaade..........." I'm laughing right now writing this sentence.

So now I've decided that if I ever get rich, I'm gonna get George Takei to sing "What's the Story" to a camera and sell me the tape. He can name the price. Whenever I'm having a bad day, I'll just pop that hoe in and all will be right in the world. Religions are built around less.

Hope everyone got through hangover day in one piece.