Twelve Years

...here's a new mushy poem.  If you're looking for the usual dick n' fart jokes, you won't find them in this one.  So there.  You've been warned.

Twelve Years
written by Ryan Matthew Ewing

Twelve years gone by ain't really much more than young history
All the tears and smiles of joy and pain they flood and reminisce you see
I threw a fit when I first saw you cause your body was a mystery
And I knew I was in for it when you gave your sweet kiss to me

There are times I don't think you notice me still staring in your eyes
And then I'm foolishly gazing off at you like an early sunrise
Some days I get so lonely sitting right beside you
Always remembering what it was like living inside you
The moments come and go, but priorities came and came
And my heart is trained
To love you for all time, keep alive the burning flame
We journey on and on unsure of just what's coming next
And my heart is patient
I've got all the years in the world for you and time is so complex

Twelve years of young history
You're still my mystery
Just give your kiss to me

Review - Buckcherry: Fuck EP

I wonder if this album cover has any special meaning?

Buckcherry have been one of my favorite bands since coming onto the scene in 1999.  They quickly showed that good ol' fashioned rock n' roll was not yet dead.  They've had some killer albums ("Timebomb" "15"), and some just okay albums with a few killer songs ("All Night Long", "Confessions"), and it's always seemed that when they try to be more radio friendly... that's when their music tends to fail the most.  So they decided to release a new EP under their own label, and intentionally put the word "fuck" into each song.  Just to prove to us all that they still have their balls.

The Good - It's Buckcherry, so it rocks.  You can continue to hear their GnR-AC/DC-Aerosmith influences all over the place on this EP, just like any of their past releases.  The song "Say Fuck It" is a cover of "I Don't Care" and if it weren't for that four letter word, could've been played on the radio.  But getting on the radio doesn't seem to be this album's purpose.  The gang in Buckcherry are great at writing openers and closers of albums, and "Fist Fuck" is another great closing track that wants you to just start the album over again.

The Bad - "I Don't Give A Fuck" is the only track of the six that I think I'll be skipping over.  It just seems to repeat the ideas of "Say Fuck It" but without the sing-a-long qualities.  Also, Buckcherry have been promoting their Singles Club subscription service, offering a new song each month for the next six months, and their cover of the Rolling Stones' "Beast Of Burden" was so excellent I was sad to see it not turn up here as a bonus or hidden track.  They could have easily called it "Fucking Beast Of Burden."

The Verdict - I think what Buckcherry have done here is work within a formula that other established bands should work with.  Six songs for six bucks, very little filler, and I'd imagine two of them will find their way into their live set.  If you like classic rock without all the fucking bullshit, give this a listen.

- ryan

A Handful of New Art

Here's a handful of new artwork for you to enjoy.  These will all find homes on my Deviant Art Page as well.

Adventures of Ryan: "The Wife's Time Traveller"

This newest piece of The Adventures of Ryan series features the return of Clepto Cody, and the first appearance of my actual wife in any Adventures of Ryan strip.

Triumph

This was a character I created back in 1997.  I thought it would be fun to draw her again. (Done simply in HB pencil)

   

Batman

...random sketch I did of Batman just to try out some new ink pens I bought.  No pencils, just jumped right into the ink for this one.

 

Superman (George Reeves style)

...this was actually done with some of my daughter's crayola markers.  You'd be surprized what you can accomplish with those things.  I intended to make this as much in the style of the 1950s Superman TV series as possible, and in the end I think it looks more like Ben Affleck in Hollywoodland.

 

Supergirl

I did this one up pretty quickly one afternoon while I was waiting for a pizza. (HB pencil)

Top 11 Sidekicks

Who wants a kick in the side?  Nobody, that's whom.

But some of the greatest heroes and protagonists of all time have needed a sidekick in aiding their quest for... well, whatever it is they're questing about.

Here are eleven of the best. And not all of them are super-heroes either.

11. Hermione Granger
I'm a firm believer that those movies should've had different titles.  How about, "Harry Potter's Friends and the Goblet of Fire"?  I mean, really, while Potter is getting himself in trouble it's up to good ol' Hermione Granger to save the day.  Every single fucking time.  Even the Weasley kid does more than Potter does.


10. Garth Algar
If you stop and think about it, Wayne Campbell was unable to party without the help of Garth Algar.  If it weren't for Garth initiating with, "Party on, Wayne?" then there could possibly be no, "Party on Garth!" to follow.  Wayne relied on Garth for all the hard work, while Wayne was out putting the moves on Cassandra.  Garth even did most of the work for Waynestock.

9. Jerome, from The Time
If you're a bad-guy musician in an early 80s pop-funk band, and you wanna become the top billing band in the Minneapolis scene before Prince reigns down purple everywhere, you gotta have one smooth talking sidekick to help you accomplish your goals.  Jerome would do just about anything for Morris Day, from holding open doors to tossing a stank ass ho into a garbage dumpster for him.

8. Luigi
The brother of Mario always gets shit on for some reason.  He never seems to get the game named after him (unless you count that bad SNES Luigi's Mansion game).  Hell, even one of the games without Mario was still called "Mario Is Missing".  While Mario gets the Princess, Luigi gets stuck with Daisy.  Well you know, Mario?  Luigi can jump higher than you!  So fuck off!

7. Brutus "The Barber" Beefcake
The Barber is one of those sidekicks that was just waiting, biding his time, because he thought at some point he'd take over the mantle of Hulkamania and get to be in the big show.  No matter how great his accomplishments, including ending Mr. Perfect's perfect record, The Barber will always be seen as the Hulkster's little sidekick.

6. Lipton/Knorr Sidekicks
These things are pretty decent if you're living on a student budget.  Or if you're just really poor like I was circa 2006.  Sometimes you can get them for a mere buck, and they're ready to eat in under fifteen minutes.  They come in lots of different flavors too, like Alfredo, Parmesan, and Three Cheese.   Fancy shit!  Unless you eat them twice a day for a week, then your shit isn't very fancy at all. It's gross.


5. Jughead Jones
If you think about it, Jughead was the ultimate wingman.  We all know that Archie wanted to get with both Betty AND Veronica, and while I'm sure that getting them in bed at the same time was the ultimate goal,  Archie would definitely cut his losses and take just one of those fine babes if the opportunity came up.  And Jughead was clearly there to keep the other girl occupied.  Or maybe pick up any sloppy seconds, I don't know for sure.

4. Arthur
The City is a dangerous place for any super-hero. Even if you're nigh invulnerable like The Tick is.  And when you're a big-shot hero like The Tick, you need a roommate Sidekick  like Arthur to help fight the good fight, keep you up to speed with evil villain bios, and scrub those nasty pots n' pans.  I'm pretty sure Arthur paid all the bills too while The Tick watched HBO for free.

3. Lumberjack Jess
He walks with a manly swagger because he has a manly job.  He can pull up his manly pants, scratch his manly scratch, and when he sees a friend he likes to give him a manly punch.  And then he likes to have a laugh at their expense.  "Hahahahahahaha"... you know, and I know, that it's hard to picture Jesse Katsopolis as ANYONE'S sidekick, especially Joey Gladstone's.  But it really did happen in the episdoe, "Girls Will Be Boys" of Full House.  It didn't last long.

2. Robin
Holy number two, Batman!  We're specifically talking about the Burt Ward Robin from the 1960s Batman show.  All other Robins have gone on to make their own name for themselves (becoming Nightwing, getting killed by the fans, being popular enough to actually have your own series).  What Burt Ward did was re-define what a sidekick was for many years.  Go on, close your eyes and say the word "sidekick" out loud.  You picture Burt Ward's Robin, don't you?  There's only one sidekick ever who was better...

1. Short Round
If Indiana Jones is the greatest action hero ever, then what does that make the little guy who actually saves Indy from the bad guys trying to rip out his heart in The Temple of Doom?  Who's there to let Dr. Jones' main squeeze know not to call him "Indy" but to give him some goddam respect?  'Nuff said.

I hope you've enjoyed this list.  I was half in the bag when I started writing it, and totally sober when I finished.  I've often thought about getting a sidekick of my own.  Anyone want to apply?

- Ryan

The 15th Anniversary of My 19th Birthday

The 15th Anniversary of My 19th Birthday

that was me in '99.

In Canada, your 19th birthday is a pretty big deal.  You've been old enough to vote and buy pornography for a year by this point.  What's more important is you can now legally buy alcohol everywhere in the country.  If, like me, you grew up in Ontario there were only a few ways to get drunk on a Saturday night until you were 19.

1. Take a quick drive to Hull, Quebec.
2. Take a long drive to Manitoba.
3. Raid your parent's liquor cabinet.
4. Become friends with older kids who could legally buy beer already.

Number one and number four were always the easiest to accomplish.

This coming Wednesday I'll be turning 34. Holy cow, where did the time go?  Did I really drink away that many years?  Am I really just a 21-year old trapped inside a 33 year old's body?

My 19th birthday (August 13th, 1999) was a great adventure indeed.  So let's take it from the top.

That August I was earning a living at a summertime art camp for little kids.  My hair was really long at this point, but still not at it's longest.  I was avidly wearing red jeans, unbuttoned leopard print button up shirts over top of black tank tops, lots of bracelets and necklaces, and a top hat. Also, my love for Converse All Stars had only been going for a year or so. I guess you could say that Converse and I were still in the newlywed stage.

I had become close friends with the guys who would continue to be my closest friends for the rest of my life - The Dickheads, though we hadn't been given that moniker just yet.  The Dickheads were (and still are to some impact) Chris Morris, Brian Crofton, Adam Thom, Peter Fairley, Joshua Lindsay Mercer Clements, and myself.  You could argue that this other guy, Rob "The Beef" Trentadue, was also a part of the Dickheads but that would depend on which Dickhead you asked about it.

As my nineteenth birthday approached, I left the details up to the Dickheads.  My parents had decided to go out of town to visit my sister for a couple weeks, so I had the place to myself.  The possibilities were pretty much endless.  And since my 19th birthday fell on a Friday, I had an entire weekend to wreak havoc if I so chose.

The Dickheads decided we'd been partying in Kingston enough as it was, and since I had actually been going to pubs and bars while I was 18 I had to agree with them.  It was then Chris Morris who came up with the plan.

"Let's get him right royally fucking drunk at a dirty strip club in Belleville." - Chris Morris (paraphrased but probably pretty accurate to a quote)

The Dickheads - Chris, Adam, Ernie (filling in for Josh), Grover, Crofton, Ryan.

And that's what happened.  I've always been a big fan of road trips, so myself, Adam, and Peter, all piled into Brian's mom's car that Friday when I had finished work. The Beef might have come along too, but I really don't remember.  This car was special, because it was still sort of new.  You see, The Dickheads kinda killed his mom's first car, The GEO, on the 401 Highway a few months back.  This new car was a sleek NEOGEO.  We were late leaving, of course, because we were waiting for Adam "Always Late For Everything" Thom to finish taking a big poop in his house.  I'm not making that up.  Then we hit the road, stopping only for gas.

Chris was living in Belleville at the time and when we got to his apartment we couldn't figure out which buzz number was his.  We did, however, know which balcony was his so we did what any Dickhead would do... we climbed up the balconies to get to his apartment.  Made sense.

After a quick debriefing of plans, we called some cabs and headed out to drink.  Little did my horny and perverted newly 19-year old mind know, the boys insisted on some pre-drinks first at some other bar that didn't have any naked women in it.

WHAT??????????

I had never been to a strip club before, and most of my friends were already a year older, and thus a year wiser, and informed me that the beer at the strip club was priced up the ass and we needed to get a good buzz on for cheap, because we needed to save cash to give to the strippers.  That decision was economical and fair to the women who were probably paying for their therapy with whatever fivers get tossed their way.  Remember, in Canada, the lowest denomination of a bill is a five, so a stripper single can go a long way.

We finally got to the strip club, a little place called The Cabaret, and we weren't even greeted at the door.  No carding, no checking for our ID, no cover.  In all fairness, we were there a little early.  The sun had just gone down.  In August.  But this was good, because I was honestly worried that even though I had turned 19 that day and was legally able to drink anywhere in Canada that they wouldn't let me in.  You see, I didn't yet have a driver's license (not that I have one now...) and I was still using my birth certificate and student ID for my picture to get into places.  Lame, I know, but it's still better than Adam trying to use his birth certificate with a photo of him cut out from the local newspaper with his name under it.  Let's just be glad we got in with no hassle.

Here you see three Dickheads being awesome.  I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong, they were awesome.

We immediately sat in Pervert's Row and ordered several pitchers of Molson Canadian, which we excitedly drank and then ordered more.  We were still kids, remember, and to us Molson Canadian was the coolest beer out there.  I have since developed a hatred toward that awful beer and you probably couldn't bribe me to drink it even if you offered naked women.

Well, maybe.

This is where the night got a little hazy and my memory escapes me a bit.  I remember going to the bathroom and putting a loonie into a machine to get a porno bubble gum card, except it had no bubble gum and I was disappointed.  I also remember Peter "The Robot" Fairley trying to get some of the strippers to join the Ryan Fan Club.  I remember Chris referring to my face as being many inanimate objects and other things.... "your face is a beer".... "your face is maple syrup"... "your face is richard nixon"...

But what I remember most is how the Dickheads got me up on stage with a stripper.  There we were drinking away and staring at boobies when suddenly a voice came over the PA system, announcing to everyone that it was indeed my birthday and that I should get up on stage.  I didn't know what to expect, and actually thought for a second that I would be required to do a striptease like the guy in Detroit Rock City.  Who would want to see that?  Especially from me?

A bouncer then came onstage and offered me a seat.  He was a nice man, considering he could have eaten me in three bites, and he could sense I was nervous.  The bouncer informed me to just relax and let happen what was going to happen, but also made it very clear to keep my hands to myself.  I dramatically put them behind my back to make sure he saw me do so.  I wanted to live to see twenty.

"hey guys, check out my GnR t-shirt... PSYCH!"

Then the PA system lit up with Guns N' Fucking Roses... "You're Crazy"... the slower acoustic version... and this french girl came out and started dancing.  Just for me.  Sure, everyone else was watching too, but fuck them, this dance was just for me.  It was my goddam birthday.  And at this point I was also really wasted from beer and shots.  I think all I could do was smile at her and reassure her that my hands were comfortably behind my back because I didn't want to get assraped by the bouncer.  I guess she thought that was cute.  I bet they say that to all the boys.

Next, "Angel" by Aerosmith... and the stripper was on my lap. Sweet Mary Jesus this was incredible.  Just relax, and let happen what was going to happen...  WHAM!  My face was smushed right into her average sized boobs.  I remember thinking they were real, even though I had very little basis for comparison at this point in my life.  And then after blinking a couple times to make sure what was happening was real, I had a face full of good ol' French Canadian beaver.  Not the kind you'd find on the other side of a nickel, but the kind that would make you want to set up a dentist appointment the very next day.

Then something was very cold. Ice cold.  Almost like it was ice.

It was ice.  And it was down the front of my Superman boxer shorts.  Yep, I wore Superman boxer shorts to a strip club.  Fuck.  And everyone knew now, because the stripper had pulled down my pants when I wasn't paying attention.  That ice was cold.  You might say it was cold as ice.   Another lap dance followed, and the ice continued to be cold.  When she was done, the nice man on the PA system asked everyone to give me a round of applause and I stood up, ice falling, water dripping, and my arms in the air like I'd just won the WWF Intercontinental Championship at Summer Slam.  Even the bouncer shot a thumbs up my way.  This was my moment.

it's a wonder anyone ever kissed me.

The next thing I remember is waking up in Chris' living room, on his floor, unsure if he had passionately man-raped me while I was asleep. I knew for a fact that I didn't puke, and I was a little proud of myself for that.  To this day, I'm still excited when I wake up after a night of crazy drinking and no vomiting.  Oh, the birthday gifts didn't stop either.  Chris' roommate sent me home with a box of Count Chocula.

Before leaving Belleville we stopped at a Chapters bookstore.  I bought some magazines, and in the process we saw the strippers there from the night before.  We all made eye contact and it was awkward.  Mostly because none of them joined my Fan Club.  And that was my 19th birthday.

- Ryan

Harley Quinn - The Best Thing in Comics Right Now?

Everyone loves Harley Quinn.  Even people who don't really love comics all that much.

We all know the basic story - Harley Quinn showed up on Batman: The Animated Series as the Joker's girlfriend/sidekick and she became so popular that she eventually wound up in the regular DC Comics Batman books, and then had her own title too.  It was eventually cancelled, and when the New 52 started Harley found herself in the Suicide Squad.  And then, almost out of nowhere last fall were ads for a new Harley series.  You could quickly tell from the ads that this new monthly comic was going to be something different.  And something special.

...oh, and something successful too.  Since the first issue (#0) launched last November, Harley Quinn has consistently been a Top 20 selling comic book.  It also regularly sells more copies than Superman.  Holy Puddin' Pops Batman!

So, why is Harley so great?  Or, more importantly, why is she so popular right now?  Harley has always appealed to young men.  Is it because we see her as Mr. J's babe?  The kind of girl that can get bossed around and keep coming back for more loving?  Wow, do we actually like her for that reason?  Or are we compelled to watch her story unfold, hoping that she'll finally be able to have happiness without the Clown Prince of Crime?  The Joker hasn't even shown up in the pages of Harley's newest series yet.  We all know it's coming.  It has to happen at some point, right?  And we're all waiting with anticipation for it, just to see what happens.  I mean, ANYTHING can happen in this new Harley series.

Girls love Miss Quinn too.  If you need proof of that, there's a new line of Harley Quinn inspired clothing coming out this fall.  Yep, that's right.  Harley Quinn has gone from Saturday morning cartoon sidekick to full-fledged pop culture icon.  Have you been to a convention lately?  There are Harleys everywhere.  A girl can certainly get a boy's attention by dressing up like Harley Quinn, but there has to be more to it than that?  Quinn represents rebellion, anarchy, chaos, and insanity - but can snap her fingers and be the girl next door too.  Does that sound like today's modern woman to you?

Harley Quinn might very well be our favorite new york doll, but is it too much too soon?
(...anybody pick up on the Dolls reference there?  C'mon, I'm really proud of it...)

Harley Quinn #0 was a gamble, allowing the creators to think outside the box and write outside of the four walls.  It paid off big time, setting the stage for the new series to be as crazy as it wanted to be.  In the last month or so, Harley has been featured in Secret Origins #4 (gaining a cover spot ahead of Robin and Green Arrow), had a Special Edition Director's Cut of issue #0 that let us read the enjoyable ramblings of writers Amanda Conner and Jimmy Palmiotti, and starred in a One-Shot book about her roaming around the San Diego Comic-Con.  All of this on top of her team-up with Poison Ivy in her own book.  DC has also been reprinting some classic Harley stories in collected editions to capitalize on her insane popularity.

So the question has to come up, is DC going to over-saturate their market with Harley Quinn and ultimately ruin her popularity?  Or is DC getting the most out of Harley's popularity before it slows down again?

What I do like about her extra-curricular activities is how they are all written by Conner/Palmiotti.  This keeps the narrative flowing well, even when the artwork doesn't match up from story to story.  If we're going to get a dozen Harley stories all at once, at least they're coming from the same place.  So we know they're quality and we're getting our money's worth.

I truly believe Harley Quinn is the most enjoyable comic on the market right now. If you aren't reading it, you should add it to your pull list right away.

- ryan
 

I love this dog!!!!!!!

...should've called this, "Harley & Me"

Good god, I love this dog!

Her name is Harley, and she's been living in my house now for four years!

Four years!  That's 1,460 days!  Holy smokes!

Harley is just the best doggy in the whole wide world!  I love it so much when I come home to find that she's been all curled up on the couch, getting my spot all covered in little white hairs.  That's how I know she loves me back - my spot on the couch is always warm, slightly furry, and there's usually a wet spot on the cushion from where Harley was licking her paws uncontrollably.  If I'm really lucky, I won't notice and I'll get some of that hair on my clothes too.  Man, she's so awesome!

Harley is a pretty good eater too!  Wow, she can pack back whatever food gets put in her dish, plus she's always willing to do her part to help eat whatever leftover food is on my plate.  And, uh-oh, a couples times she's even finished my dinner for me when I wasn't looking because she must've thought I didn't like it and wanted to help out and make me proud of her.  Awww shucks, it's not like I really want to enjoy that food I spent my hard earned money on anyway.

We also have a cat named Ozma. I'm sure you've seen pictures of her before.  Ozma doesn't really like Harley, and honestly, I don't know why.  I guess the cat is just kind of a mean ol' bitch.  Whenever Harley sees Ozma, she runs up to her REALLY fast, and gets right in her face because she wants to be as close to the cat as possible.  She just wants to be her friend so badly!  And then Ozma gets scared like a little wussy and backs up with her claws out.  That's horrible. How dare she try and do that?  I mean, it's not like she should ever feel as though she has to defend herself around Harley.  Sure, Harley is about 6x the size of the cat, but c'mon - SHE JUST WANTS SO BAD TO BE HER FRIEND!  Silly cat.

just look at how straight up dangerous and menacing this little bitch of a cat is... she's so mean.

You know what I've never done?  I've never once thought about taking Harley out to the middle of nowhere and leaving her there.  After all, there could be wolves or dinosaurs or dog catchers out there!  That would be terrible.   I feel horrible for even thinking of such a thing.

One of my very favorite things about Harley is her tremendous singing voice.  All of my neighbors are extremely fortunate to be able to hear Harley serenade them from out in our backyard, usually later in the evening when they've already gotten in bed.  It must be like being lulled to sleep by a caring mother.  In the key of H.

She's also a pretty talented dancer.  No shit!  If you ever come to my house for a visit, don't worry, you'll be treated to her fancy footwork as soon as you come in the door.  In fact, she'll dance AND sing for you at the same time - doing circles around you, and engaging in an energetic game of patty-cake with your pants.  Your legs and pants should be so lucky.

Did I mention how she gets up on the couch and leaves it covered in her little white hairs? I did?  Okay, but I probably didn't explain about how that's just her artistic prowess.  Yes, the whole house is her canvas and at any time you might see her designs on the couch, the floor, the stairs....

Oh, and Harley isn't allowed in the Fan Cave for some strange reason.  That's a mother fucking travesty.  She should spend as much time as possible down there, peeing on the carpet, chewing up my favorite Bruins hats, and eating cat poop out of the litter box.  Yes, that's another way Harley helps out around the house.  She eats the fucking poop out of the litter box.  And then she tries to give me a loving kiss on the cheek.

God, I LOVE THIS DOG SO MUCH!

I also really enjoy giving her doggy treats.  Especially when she's in the backyard and it's time for her to come inside because I have to leave for a little while and (unfortunately) can't bring her with me.  I'll call out to her, "Harley... it's time to come inside!  Come on, my perfect little angel!  Inside!"

And then I'll wait a little bit.  Nothing.

So I call her again.  And again.  And then a few more times, mostly because I love hearing the sound of her name.  Then I decide to bribe her in with a treat, because let's face it - the best way to get a dog to do what we want is to reward them for not doing it in the first place with a tasty little snack.  SUCCESS!  And in the process I've reinforced the behavior that she shouldn't listen to anyone at all unless a tasty snack is involved, which is a great lesson for her if she ever wants to get anywhere in this cold, cruel world.

I can't express enough the happiness that courses through me just for being able to share the air I breathe with Harley; my best puppy pal.

Also, she can be quite the trickster.  In the early, early mornings when I'm having a shower, Harley will lay at the top of the stairs and wait for me.  As I leave the bathroom in the dark, she nearly trips me and almost sends me falling down the whole flight of stairs.  This game, not quite unlike "hide n' seek", is played at least three times a week and I never know for sure which day she'll play it.  I just love nearly falling down the stairs and breaking every bone in my body, don't you?

Just look at all the love in this picture!

A few weeks back, my wife told me some shocking news about the average life spans of dogs.  She gently informed me that, realistically, Harley might only live for another seven or eight years.  I had never been so sad about a piece of news before.  I was down right depressed when I thought about it.  Seven or eight years.

Seven or eight years.

2,555 or 2,920 more days.

Well, if there's one thing I've learned from all of my quality time with Harley, it's that you don't dwell on the negative things people may say or think.  That's why I go out of my way to talk about all the wonderful things Harley does all the time.  I just love sharing my feelings about her.

She's a special kind of dog, and I'm truly very, very, very, very, extremely, very, ultra-super-very, very lucky to have her in my life!  I can't say it enough: I LOVE THIS DOG!!!!!!

- ryan

Other Famous People Who Look Like Me

That's My Boy!

Breaking news - My pregnant wife is expecting a boy.

...and he looks just like me already!

That's right.  A male child.

I'm 99% sure it's mine too.  I mean, and married men with kids will agree with me here, I don't actually remember making the love to my wife and thus conceiving this child.  She told me it happened, and narrowed it down to a specific day and time so I'm just going to assume I was watching a Bruins game while all the hoopla happened.

Regardless, I'm going to be a dad again - and this time to a little boy.

You might remember a little while back I did the Top 11 Rejected Baby Names, so basically I can now cut that list of names in half.  And no matter how hard I try, she won't let me name this boy Bret The Hitman Ewing.

Believe me, I've tried.

In all seriousness we've settled on the name, Grayson, for this child.

And also in all seriousness, yes - this name is traced back to Batman comics.  When our son is old enough to learn the secret origin of his name, he's gonna be super happy by that news.  Unless he's a Marvel fan, then he'll be no son of mine.

Many of you know that I'm an Irish Prince.  If you don't then that's definitely a story for another day, but in the meantime just accept it for the sake of this blog.  I am, until this son is born, the last of my family's bloodline.  My father had two male siblings, who each spawned one son. Neither of those cousins of mine reproduced boys.  They only had girls.  They're also a good fifteen years or so older than me, so since getting married and having sex with a purposeful outcome (or a goal - that kinda takes away the excitement and allure of bumping uglies with your mate) it's been up to me to produce a son.  If only so that the family name can continue.

...how we announced to the world.  Well, facebook.

Initially I was convinced we had to give this child an Irish name.  After all, our daughter's name is Ryleigh, so I put a lot of effort into finding a great Irish name for my boy.

I then decided that this child should have the most Irish-sounding name out there... Patrick.

Yep, I was all set to name my child Patrick Ewing.

It only took about four seconds to realize a thousand reasons why that wouldn't work.

And then I remembered how much I liked the name Grayson, and how if Ryleigh had been a boy she might have been named that.

I don't expect this new child of mine to join the circus, or fight crime, or live in a castle in Ireland.  But as I sat there in the hospital room watching the ultrasound (and how looking at the face straight on kind of looked like Skeletor) (and the weird-o 3D ultrasound that looks like the baby is on fire) and learning the good news of the gender, one thing became abundantly clear: I have never been so excited to see a penis in my life.

- Ryan

Ryanopoly... so far.

So here's what we've got so far for Ryanopoly.

Yes, there ARE 3D tokens coming to play with.