Skip to main content


The new Jardieu.

We saw our son for the first time a year ago. We'll meet him for the first time next week.

The photo resolution leaves a lot to be desired. Taken at weird angles and likely on a phone, the pictures we've seen of him may not win any photojournalism awards. And yet we've looked at them every day since we first saw the overly lit snapshots a year ago.

Our adoption process/journey/story/path officially started last August, although my wife and I talked about it long before we even got married. What's interesting is during the years we discussed adoption as a possibility, I always saw the two of us with an American kid while my wife always saw the two of us with a Chinese kid.

So this Friday we head to China to get our son.

We're as prepared as any new parents can be. All praise and shouts and we-are-not-worthy-ing to be directed at my wife. So much so that I'm leaving Borat jokes out of this. She's done everything that a human being possibly could do to get…
Recent posts

Shut up and take my money.

I’ll remove some of the suspense up front (classic Chris storytelling) by letting you know that this event happened a few years ago. I jotted notes down and the dialogue exchange almost immediately so I could file the police report, however I never formulated what you see here until now. Originally, I wasn’t going to share it, but as we all know,  I must deliver #content to the #masses to become an #influencer. So here’s the post, Mr. or Mrs. Brand Manager With an Overwhelming Budget.

Full-court depressed.

The setting, a rec gym at 6 a.m. The game, basketball. The stakes, laughably low.

An ankle-breaking crossover is not how it happened. No, I broke my ankle because I fell on it funny. So funny lol! Much less embarrassing.

I felt a pop. I fell to the ground. I immediately took off my shoe and sock because I knew doing it later would yield blinding pain. So smart. Almost as smart as jumping to pass – please don't tell my high school coach or my father – and twisting in a way that makes you fall funny — so so funny lolol! — and feel a pop.

It's a non-displaced fracture, meaning it's more of a crack than a separation. Thankfully. Four weeks on crutches lead to four weeks in a walking boot lead to four weeks with an ankle brace. That's about three months to eulogize my basketball career.
We gather here today to mourn the loss of one mediocre, middling basketball career. It lasted, some rec-league refs say, too long. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, stop playing basketball you …

Baseball Boy Watches Baseball

“I am the Baseball Boy,” I declared proudly while witnessing a minor league baseball game being played by the Nashville Sounds, an Oakland Athletics Triple-A Affiliate, at the brand new ballpark, The First Tennessee Park, in Nashville, the capital of TN, the 16th state to join the Union in 1796 only later to join the Confederacy in 1861 then back to the Union after the war.
After my self-appointed nickname was gifted into the earholes of the Sounds game attendees, I witnessed no objections. So it has been said, so it shall be. I am the Baseball Boy.
Turning my attention to the on-field action, I became affixed on the baseball itself. The pitcher throws it. The catcher catches it. Or the hitter hits it. And the fielders catch it. Sometimes the fielder then throws it to other fielders to try to get the hitter, who is now a runner, out. If the hitter hits it out of play, it is either a foul ball, or a home run ball. In that case, it is up to the fans to catch it.
I am a fan. I am always …

Furry Fandom: The Fighting Okra

This one has been a long time coming. This dates back to before little baby Chris posted his first Furry Fandom post. This particular mascot was actually part of the reason I started the Furry Fandom series altogether. You may not know what school he (she?) (it?) represents, but I'm sure you've heard of him (her?) (it?). Either way, I'm here to to enlighten you.

The Fighting Okra
Delta State University

Delta State has two mascots, one official and one unofficial.

Their official mascot is The Statesman. He's just a dude in a funny hat with an unearned Masters green jacket. According to Wikipedia my reliable go-to source for everything Delta State, his conception was inspired by the role that a state representative played in placing the school in Cleveland. Apparently that gets you cemented into sports history for years to come.

With a name like The Statesmen, one would think that the women's teams would be referred to as The Stateswomen. Or maybe they would change the…

How Do You Advertising?

There's been an annoying and disturbing trend in advertising recently.

Agencies take a noun—sometimes brands are cocky enough to use their own name—and turn it into a verb, defying the laws of Merriam AND Webster. Wiping their lower halves with the pages of the dictionary, brands usually force the noun-verb transformation as an explanation of how to use a product or as a way of asking people how they already use it.

Here are a few very recent examples:

How Do You KFC?
How do I KFC? it. Right? I'm not sure how many ways you can slice it. It's chicken. You either use a fork or your hands. And you eat it out of a bucket.

To continue the KFC theme of odd requests, there is currently a push on their website to do the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge using the KFC chicken bucket. Their reasoning isn't to help create awareness of a horrible and debilitating disease in the hopes of a cure. It's because they, and I quote, "know a thing or two about buckets."…

Listen Here

I like to talk. A lot. Like a lot. A whole bunch.

I even started this blog so I could essentially talk to myself.

In conversation, I find myself trying to come up with my next point, then eagerly waiting until I can interject my obviously superior knowledge. Half the time it's some selfish point about how I can relate. And it's usually a stretch: "I completely understand what you're saying about your 2 week trip to Thailand. Last night, I ate some take-out Thai on my couch."

My attempts at empathy have become (not-so) veiled self indulgence.

I need to stop.

In this digital age, everything is so immediate, except for dialogue. You can wait a few minutes to respond to an email. You can wait a few minutes to respond to a text. You can soak in what someone is saying; comprehend it; and formulate a response.

When faced with a real in-person conversation, your response needs to be more immediate. But why does mine have to be blurted out before the person I'm talkin…