Yup, The Heir has arrived! HE was born on September 19th, five weeks early. That’s right, The Heir is a boy!

And after a little under two weeks in the hospital, he’s now A-OK and is home. I haven’t had a full night’s sleep since, but that was expected.

Pics and more info coming when things settle down a bit. But despite the stress, it’s a very happy time!

Hola, everyone! I’ve been quite busy lately. It seems that simply creating a baby is not enough. Unbeknownst to me until recently, there’s also quite a bit of preparation needed before The Heir makes its debut.

Yeah, that’s right, I used the “it” pronoun. I’m tired of the “his/her” business.

Anyway, part of the prep is having a place for The Heir to sleep, eat, and poop. And as a baby, all three can be accomplished in the same room. I tried that once and all it got me was a threat from my wife to spray me with a hose.

The Heir’s Chamber required quite a bit of work. First, I was evicted because that spacious room was my office. Then it had to be cleaned out. Then we ordered carpeting. No furniture yet, though. I maintain a milk crate, a couch cushion, and two bungie cords would do the trick, but apparently that’s not fashionable. Or responsible. Or legal. But it’s easier than painting a mural. I should know, I just painted one.

The Heir’s Chamber now has this on a wall. Huzzah!

Here are some close-ups of some of the characters.

The Gill Gang: Don’t let their smiles fool you. These fish are hardcore. I painted a shark one night, and the next morning, all that was left was a painting of a shark skeleton and a red tint on half the wall. Plus, the fish were smiling, but I didn’t paint them that way. I painted over the scene of the crime and just let them be. I just let them be.

Pinchy: The Host loves crab rangoons. It’s the only seafood she’ll eat. Which makes me wonder why she wanted a giant crab to be painted on the wall? I hope she realizes that if she’s hungry, she can’t just carve Pinchy out of the drywall, mix in some cream cheese, deep fry it and then eat it. … Hm, that sounds pretty good. I know what I’m doing for lunch (just before I call a handyman to fix the drywall).

Soopah: He’s an up and coming celebrity, so if you’re a paparazzo, take some pics of Soopah. In fact, seeing as how this is a candid pic of Soopah, I might even be a paparazzo myself. Next stop, embarassing photos of Lindsay Lohan. Eh, nevermind, that market is saturated. For now, I’ll just stick to pictures of Soopah Star. –Hey, I just got that! Clever.

Dr. Otto Octavius, M.D.: Yes, he has the same name as Spider-Man’s archvillain Dr. Octopus’s real name. But the octopus people see past Doc Oc’s villainous ways and revere him as a hero, a bridge builder between the quadpus (as they call us) and their kind. As such, Otto Octavius is a common name for them, much like Americans like Bob Smith or Terry Bradshaw. I know about a dozen of each! And now we all know at least one Otto Octavius, and he’s a doctor to boot!

And please, be polite and don’t point out that he only has four tentacles. The Host did that when I painted Otto and it took seven coats of purple paint to completely wash out the octopus tears because their ink glands are also their tear glands. Little known, but true, fact. Well, maybe.

This past weekend I moved a ceiling fan into my home office.

Just now, I stood up and stretched, hitting my hand on the spinning fan blades.

This happened while watching an episode of “The Office” titled “Safety Training.”

Seriously.

That would have been really embarassing if I didn’t work at home by myself. But since nobody saw it happen, and nobody knows about it, I don’t have to feel embarassed at all.

–Oh wait! Crap.

A few weeks ago, The Host and I travelled to Miami for The Heir’s first party, also known as a baby shower. Don’t kid yourself, a baby shower is not for the pregnant lady. Said pregnant lady is merely the oven baking the “guest bun of honor.” She’s the transportation, the biological vehicle carrying the person everyone is celebrating.

Which makes me, papa-to-be, the unwanted party crasher. On the invitation, I’m like “and guest’s guest.” Well, consider that party crashed then, because I enjoyed the baby shower tremendously. Then again, any party is awesome after six shots of tequila and anywhere from three to nine beers (I lost count). By the way, if any of the shower attendees are reading this, I lost my camera, my underwear, and one sock. If you found any of them, please send them over.

No, I didn’t really get trashed at the baby shower. I save that for only very special occasions, like Thanksgiving and Tuesday afternoons.

The shower was a lot of fun! Friends, family, and lots of baby gifts. We got all kinds of great things, even a robotic babysitter. Sure, The Heir’s room is about 25% complete, but it’s practically full. The Heir has more toys than I do, and I’ve been buying toys for 29 years! Well, I’m bigger than s/he will be for many years, so I’ll get to play with all those toys whenever I want. What are you going to do about it, Heir? Cry about it? Oh crap, s/he probably will. All night long. For months on end.

Is it too late to register for ear plugs?

Not many LOLcats actually make me LOL. Well, this one did:

And then there’s this awesome clip from “Scrubs” that shows what I’m lobbying The Heir’s nursery to look like. Thus far my attempts have been rejected, as have my attempts at awesome names, but the struggle continues.