Feed Us A Live Insect

Especially the part with the squirrel...

I wasn't sure if I should write about this because we generally try to keep things involving our son, Ivan, seperate from the band...but it had a pretty serious impact on us, so I'll make an exception this time.

Sometime last weekend Ivan picked up a rotavirus, which is basically a very nasty kind of stomach flu. I'll spare the details, because they're pretty unpleasant (fountains of vomit, anyone?), but the upshot was that he spent four days at Huntington Memorial Hospital hooked up to an I.V.. He's fine now--or, at least, he's more or less back to his normal self, except that he can't have any dairy for the next week (a major point of contention, if you ask him). We took turns spending the night with him at the hospital, during which time he was so uncomfortable that he was unable to sleep much--so most of that week is kind of a blur, because we didn't sleep much either. Poor kid.

I gotta say, though--if you're gonna be sick, Huntington is probably one of the better places to do it. It was like staying in a hotel...a hotel with really bad food, and people losing control of their bodily functions in the lobby. Apart from that, it was really plush! Oh, and we watched about 150 continuous hours of cartoons, 'cause when your kid is sick in the hospital you let him do pretty much whatever will take his mind off of things, and Ivan wanted to watch cartoons. Fair enough, but most of the cartoons were just...oh, just godawful. Okay, okay, I'll admit it...Spongebob Squarepants, which I'd never seen before, that was pretty good. Especially the part with the squirrel. And I kind of liked the show where the kid has the fairy godparents, that wasn't bad. But the rest? Feh! Dora the Explorer? Dora can go explore the dark end of a tar pit for all I care. And it was charming to see that kids' commericals are as horrendous as ever, the worst by far being the ones for "Bratz," which are these unattractive plastic hydrocephalic freak dolls. Apparently these appeal to 11-year old girls...the trashy, promiscuous ones, I gather, judging from the commercials. Belching played a large part in these ads--America, these are your daughters!


Bratz pez.

posted by Eli Monolator @ 2:02 PM