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No spoilers. We’ll have spoilers again someday…probably…


Just went and bought….FOOD! And they didn’t have everything I needed, so I have to go out and buy MORE FOOD.


So my fitbit (yes, still fit!) tracks if you get at least 250 steps an hour, at least during the day. It has the sense to know when you’re asleep or your soul is crushed at the end of the day. That said, I’ve gotten at least 250 steps in EVERY HOUR IN DECEMBER. Mrs. McP averages four hours a day.


I’m tired.


Ooh! Ooh! Another bullet point for our list of terrible fitness tips!

“Be completely insane and stay continuously engaged in either shopping or cooking for a month straight.”

I’ve…uh…well, I’ve walked 40 kilometers so far this week. That’s a thing. It’s, what, not quite 5 miles a day? I mean, I’m not fit like YOU, and it’s heavily weighted towards the morning and evening with many hours in the middle of the day where I’m just sitting instead of talking 250 steps an hour, but, you know, I’m trying to contribute here.



Thanks! 40 KM a week is pretty good! But man, I want a stationary hour. Badly.

What’s really insulting is this “active minute” thing. I have no idea how it calculates that, but damn, thing, how can I have no stationary hours at all and not have any active minutes? I’M ACTIVE DAMMIT! My “longest stationary period” (it tracks that) was when I took it off to take a shower this morning.

That happens a lot.

Stupid fitbit.

I dunno, man. I just got back from a shopping trip in which I bought food, LEGOs and Pokemon (which sounds like I’m kidding, but I am, sadly, not kidding) and got a lot of steps.

Do steps count if you’re buying chocolate?


Chocolate, LEGOs and Pokemon is kind of the perfect shopping trip. Well, if you throw in some booze.

I think steps count MORE if you’re buying chocolate! Because…uh…because the thought of the chocolate gives you a little extra energy and makes your steps more vigorous!

Just go with it. It must be true: after all, you read it on the worst fitness blog on the internet.


Must be true. Everything we say is true.


It was NOT a perfect shopping trip. It was an expensive shopping trip that will lead to my house being messier in the near future.


It is true that neither Pokemon nor LEGOs are conducive to “go play outside!” That’s a problem.

We need more nerdy outside things.

Something like a video game, only you play it by going out and running around until you’re exhausted.

It’s funnier if I don’t mention the obvious here.


Yes. Let’s go for funny.

Here’s really the tough part about having a whole lot of company for multiple days. On one hand, you know that they are going to hit your booze supply hard, which is ok, cuz I, too, will want to hit my booze supply. However, if you overbuy, you run the risk of (you think I’m going to say “getting everyone too drunk” but I’m going to say) spending too much money on the booze bill, cuz damn. That said, if you underbuy, you run out of booze and we just can’t have that for any number of reasons.

Entertaining. It’s a bitch.

Oooo! Now we’re giving entertaining advice!

Eat your heart out Martha Stewart!


We cover it all! Relationships, houses, entertaining, fitness, parenting…is there any topic on which we DON’T have fabulous and timely advice?

If there is, just let us know and we’ll make some up.


We haven’t mentioned nudity in weeks!


God I’m tired.


True, we have let that slide. One has so many other responsibilities, what with the house and the children and the fitness and the cooking.

I suppose at least it’s not as if our readers have nowhere else on the internet to turn for that.


True, but those sites lack our intelligence and wit.

And advice on all those other things!


Very true. Our thoughtful, discerning and wide-ranging coverage of multiple topics is what sets us apart.

Also, we play video games sometimes.


We do? I thought all we do is cook….

I’m cooking now, actually. But it’s a whole mess of meat. Not your thing.

But yeah, you know what I miss?  Video games.  They really do wonders in the stress relief department.  Kevin, you’re dying for a cause.  The cause being my sanity.

How the hell are you staying sane? You’re not playing anything either, you say. Pokemon can’t be that much of a support.


I think I’m still mostly sane because I’m at work (quiet! full of adults! no cooking!). All the props to you stay at home parents, man.

Also we don’t have exciting company coming to rile up the kids and require feeding. That helps a lot.

Pokemon doesn’t hurt either, though, honestly. I took the kids out raiding over the weekend. It was a wonderful time of family togetherness. Fresh air, exercise, Lugia battles.

At least it was when I wasn’t trying to pay attention to my phone-battle while also keeping them from squeezing though a fence and escaping into an empty lot that was probably full of broken glass and holes to break ankles in. Parenting tip: have the 6-year-old keep an eye on the 2-year-old while you battle your legendary Pokemon.


There’s also that moment when you remember that two of your cookie sheets started rusting a couple months ago and you got rid of them and you have to urgently go out and get new ones and it’s the week before Christmas and everyone’s sold out of cookie sheets and you have to go to five different stores.

There’s that moment.

I just had that moment.

The family that raids together stays together. Ok. But you probably don’t want to have the 11 year old watch the 8 year old. He’d be all “go into that lot and play with glass. Here, I’ll help you.”


Actually, that’s a good point. Even the 6-year-old can’t entirely be trusted around the lure of glass. Back in the summer we were at the park and I was watching the 2-year-old play with dirt (as they do) while the 6-year-old ran around, and some random other child came over to say that the 6-year-old was playing with broken glass. He was making shiny piles of it and stuff. Thanks, kid-narc!

I mean, I get it. Glass is sparkly and attractive, and if you smash it even more it makes an interesting noise, and I PROBABLY won’t cut my finger off if I just play with it a LITTLE. I played with it a few times myself as a kid. He was fine, he hadn’t cut himself, but we still had to have a conversation about how glass is not a good thing to play with because it CAN be dangerous. And he politely agreed not to do it anymore, and probably will still grab it the next chance he gets, because…sparkly! Attractive! And now forbidden!

I probably should have just told him he could bring some home, because THAT would have immediately robbed it of all appeal. It would be in one of his ‘treasure boxes’ that he never opens.


Yeah. They tell on each other. And then it gets to the point where you don’t give a fuck, which pisses them off all the more.

“DADDDDDY! Junior’s watching cartoons!!!!”
“So? I’m busy. Whatever.”

but the only alternative is:

“DADDDDDY! Junior’s watching cartoons!!!!!”
“Junior, turn off the cartoons.”

Lose lose. Junior actually called ME spoiled today. I said “yeah? What do you do for me? What do you give me?” and he had no answer, but slammed the door anyway.

Why’d we have kids?

Now I just had the moment where I put the oatmeal thumbprint cookies in the oven for a couple minutes before it dawned on me I forgot to give them a thumbprint. So I took them out, then had the moment where I went to put them back in forgetting entirely that they had been in the oven.

My new cookie sheets sure do heat up fast.

This is not going well.


I don’t know why YOU had kids. I had kids because you said it was gonna be great and I was gonna love it!

No, wait, that wasn’t you.

OK, I don’t know why either of us had kids. It seemed like a good idea at the time, I guess. I mean, they’re cute, right? When they’re sleeping.

And they give us the joy of Christmas, which we’re otherwise too old and jaded to appreciate. And we have dreams of getting them to loot for us, when we adventure. And SOMEBODY’S got to impale us on a stake someday.

But certainly the answer to “why do we bake cookies?” is a lot more obvious and less fraught with drama and complications. “Cookies are delicious!” — end discussion.


I did?

No, it wasn’t me. No, no it wasn’t.  

Well, see, I have the excuse of Mrs. McP, who wanted three kids for a very long time (until the point where she had three kids. I kid, I kid, sorta). You have no such excuse.

It’s the stake thing. I rather LIKE Christmas, in the abstract. It would be rather lovely, sitting with just Mrs. McP, couple of cookies, little wine, HD Yule log on the TV, snow falling quietly outside, lights on the tree. That would be lovely.

But yeah, the stake. It’s that.

Mrs. McP also made the horrendous decision to put presents under the tree, back on Monday. With a week to go. I was out at the movies (the new Spider Man animated one, which is AMAZING and you’d love it but I digress) and I come home and she’s put them all under the tree! As if the kids needed more reasons to be insane.

I was so stunned that I said “What are you thinking?” out loud, as soon as I saw it.


It’s definitely the stake.

And see, we’re providing a helpful public service, because if any of our readers hasn’t had kids or bought a house yet, maybe they’ll learn from our errors! There’s always a chance.

Mostly the stake, though.

And the cookies.

We do have some presents under the tree already, but they’re being OK about it. It’s probably another aspect of the barely controlled chaos of two, as compared to the gibbering lunacy of three. I blame Mrs. McP.


As do I. I have no idea what she was thinking.

Wait…why do we need kids to make cookies?

At least Christmas is good for fitness! I find it rather amusing that my fitbit doesn’t give me active minutes for vacuuming, but I have 19 active minutes so far today, and, basically, I’ve made cookies. And chocolate peanut clusters.

Fitbit’s got its priorities down.


Good work, Fitbit! Reward the important stuff.

Good point…we don’t need kids to make cookies. Some would say that kids give us an EXCUSE to make cookies, but we’re grown-ups: we don’t need excuses. In fact, kids just eat the cookies so we don’t get as many ourselves.

All right, scratch that one.

It’s the stake, all the way.

That’s a weird, baffling T shirt.


Even by our rather odd standards, that one is rather odd.

I should make more cookies, but I’m tired.