The Padded Cell of Uncoolness

A fellow blogger who I may be related to challenged me and the rest of her minions to let our readers peer behind our cyberspace curtains. Everyone buddy up, mind the empties on the floor and, please, no flash photography.

This is my home office, or as my accountant calls it, "The Big Write Off."

Should look familiar as it is featured in my blog banner. Note the relocation of a few key items. The beaver statue, a gift from my best friend in college, is atop the left speaker. The black-and-blue talisman, a gift My Love brought home from Istanbul (not Constantinople), is protecting me from the evil eye from a perch on right speaker. Don't stare directly at it! Some of you may go blind!

Now, let's pan and zoom.

This is the nerve center. A 5.8 GHz cordless phone. Well-fingered Rolodex (eeew, that didn't come out right). And, my baby -- 100 watts of Sharp sound! Five CD changer! AM-FM tuner! iPod slot! XM satellite radio! Dual remote controls! Oh, God. Oh, God! Yes! YES!

First reader to correctly name the three CDs visible on the left will receive a copy of the unlabeled mix CD seen right above the newspaper. It's a goodie.

Not much on this side. Yes, I am drinking tea. I've been getting the shakes from making the homebrew a bit too strong. Jeez, what's next? Geritol? Depends? White patent leather loafers with a matching belt?

The remote is for the TV you can't see to the right. It's only on for Mets games and the occasional AM glimpse of Kelly Ripa's fine self. Much MUCH more potent than caffeine. God, when will My Love get home from Turkmenistan?

The beverage warmer on the far right is a Christmas gift from Thing 2. Picked it out on his own and bought it with his own cash. It can't melt an ice cube but, for some reason, I found it to be the most impressive gift a 5-year-old without a fake ID for his old man some hooch could buy.

We bought this Wyeth print (any one know which Wyeth?) shortly after we brought home Murphy's predecessor, Kiner, in 1998. This hung over our bed in the old house.

Sometimes Kiner would actually curl up like this on our Marital Mattress and snooze underneath it. I miss him ...

… especially when my current assistant here starts nudging my wrists when I'm trying to type. OK OK OK OK! I'll let you out again! How often can you pee in an hour?

I do leave my office once in a while. Often, but not always, to use the bathroom. Sometimes, I move to this chair in the living room. I've highlighted the key features.

This is where I have lunch, read the newspapers and, when the reality of at-home dadness has become too much, I catch up on TiVo'd episodes of "Mythbusters" and daydream of me, Kari, a roll of Mentos and a few liters of Pepsi One.

But when I'm really blocked and need to get the creative juices flowing, I go here:


Then, I push the secret button on top the handle.


Kelly Clarkson! Are my wrists really that hairy?

And viola!

My muses. They are sooo good to me. Thank you, Sheinhardt Wig Company and all your subsidaries, for providing me with the fine piece of refridgeration equipment to keep my friends chilling at a quench-tastic 40 degrees, and ...!

Wait a second.

Who put the frickin' bottle of Life Water in there! Blasphemy! Blasphemy!

That's it. I was going to show you Thing 1's bedroom since that's where most of the Diva Discourses take place, but letting you see where my 8-year-old daughter sleeps … that's a little creepy.

Now go, and never darken my towels again!

But before you do, stop by the gift shop and pick up something for the kids.