Tommy Titus

i bet some of you thought this was me. i'm flattered, frankly. and you know what they say - flattery will get you anywhere. but just in case you were wondering, i have a slightly milder build.

dork

hey, camera dude. take my picture. but only if you make me look good. what kind of camera is that? you're taking a lot of pictures, you must have a lot of film. oh, it's digital. whoa. it must have cost, like, 12,000 dollars. is it yours? that must be a cool job. so do you write the stories, too? did you take that really cool picture on the front page the other day? no? well, that's too bad. it was a really cool picture. did you know that every time you take a picture of me, your strobes go off in the gym because you didn't turn off your pocket wizard?

caleb

mom holds Caleb, my college roommate Kev's baby boy, while dad gets some work done in the dining room.

rocket scientists

listen closely, now. this here's how you fire a rocket. make sure you have fresh batteries in the button-pusher-thinger (henceforth referred to as the "bpt"). if the rocket don't fire, pull the wire-sparking-thinger ("wst") out of the engine, test the bpt again, and watch as the wst does what it was supposed to do before but for some reason didn't. repeat the proper process several more times, until all wsts are rendered useless. go to garage and locate container that says "old, dirty gas", grab a ball of thin rope, a glass container, and have brother commandeer a lighter. douse a section of rope, shove one end into the engine, light the rope, and stand back. watch as the fire meanders down the rope, burns around the engine but not in it, and burns up one of the wings on the rocket, making any future launch attempts significantly more dangerous. repeat at least once more. when fed up, give up. have several accomplices document the futile endeavor so you can relive it perpetually.

laugh feast

meals in our household are a real treat, and it isn't just the food.