Posts By Shaun

Blue is the name of my cat, not his color

Man, oh man it’s been too long since I sat here on Daddy’s laptop and typed out one of these posts. So long it’s a different laptop since my last post. The last time I did one of these, I was an almost-three-year-old. Now I’m five years old. And guess what! I survived my first year of pre-k (that’s short for prekindergarten for those who don’t speak in abbreviations). It was rough at first, but I got used to it. Sort of. Don’t ask!

Dad loves making faces

I’m in the midst of my first summer vacation. There’s always been a summer, of course. I mean this is the first year where it actually matters to me because I spent a good chunk of last year and this year in school and now I can just relax at home and not worry about things like numbers and alphabet and computer mouses (computer mice?). Oh! And the bestest thing happened to me today! I met Blue.

No, not the color sillies. My cat. My kitten, I should say. He’s soooooo cute! He’s so tiny and his face is so adorable. Imagine the cutest thing out there in the world. The cutest thing you know. Now add like a hundred to that! He’s much more cuter than even that. Dad warned me that he’s still a baby and he’s getting used to living with us so I shouldn’t try to rush him into being my bestest best friend ever, but it’s sooooo hard not to! He likes to sleep a lot, though. And he’ll sleep anywhere. And I mean anywhere. Yesterday, Daddy sent me a picture of him sleeping on my books! (Well, Dad has his books there, too, but that doesn’t matter, right?)

There’s video of me playing with Blue, but no pictures on Daddy’s phone. He’s on the old one again, because his newest one died on him. He isn’t sure why it died, but he says that Sam’s Son has a log of explaining to do. Which is weird, because I thought Sam only had a daughter. But he promised the moment his eight plus is replaced, he’ll be snapping pictures of me and my cute little kitten whenever we hang out.

Ok. I’m going now. But I’ll try to type more later. I just wanted to tell you all that I’m still growing AND that I have a precious kitty now. Bye bye.

Book lovers never go to sleep alone 🙂
Posts By Shaun

Shaun vs. the New Bed

So it’s been a long time since Dad let me borrow his computer and type my own post. Well, let’s face it. I’m not technically allowed to type my own posts because in everyone’s mind I’m just this almost-three-year-old ball of awesome. Either way, there a few things that I want to say before typing this post:

  1. Taylor Swift just needs to stop. Listen, girl. I get it. You’re trying to build an empire. Who isn’t these day? But you’re exploding to what my Dad calls Donald Trump/Paris Hilton proportions. And that doesn’t sound like a good thing as Dad considers them as a media whore and a failed politician with a cheap toupee. “This sick beat” has been around longer than I have been alive, Dad tells me. And I’m older than your single I love forcing Dad to dance to with me. So just stop. Also, this whole not streaming your music? That needs to stop, too. Dad is never going to buy me your CD and my tablet doesn’t have Internet connection outside the house. How am I going to listen to you now, girl? Stop sticking it to your fans and get with the program, already. Even this almost-three-year-old knows most of your money comes from merchandise and appearances.
  2. While we’re on the subject of streaming music. Google Play Music All Access (or whatever it’s called) needs a desk top app that we can use on Dad’s laptop. Do you all not know how annoying it is to switch back and forth on tabs to skip a song we don’t like? It’s knackering. It almost makes us want to drop your service and get on Spotify or Pandora One. And neither of those music services compete with yours. So stop being a Tay Swift and give us a desktop app.

Moving on.

I spent Valentine’s with Dad. We did the usual Dad things. We went to Barnes and Noble where he bought me a chocolate milk. I played with the Legos while Dad picked up a couple of books for me. Then we went to Target where Dad rushed away in search for something. When the rest of us caught up with him, he was standing beside something. A box. A largeish box. “This is for you,” he told me as I was taken out of the shopping cart and the box was placed in. We went home after where Dad and grandma spent a large amount of time putting it together. When it was all done, Dad called me into the room.

“Oh wow,” I said as I climbed onto my very own bed. It’s nice having a bed to lie in while I play on the tablet. Only Dad wanted me to sleep on it, too! “What do you mean?!” I protested. “This is my bed,” I told him, patting on the large bed we spent every weekend on. But I’m not one to pass up a new opportunity. So I lay back in my own bed and slept the whole night through without so much as a peep. It’s not as spacious as the bigger bed, but at least I’m not disturbed by Dad’s snoring.

He’s talked about giving me a room of my own, too. But I don’t think either of us are ready for that just yet. We’ll see, though. Oh well, I’m out. Until next time, stay frosty… Yeah. I don’t have a nifty sign off like Dad does.

Posts By Shaun

From the Desk of Shaun Damien

It’s finally happened. I’m not longer an almost-two-year-old bad ass. Nope. I’m a nearly-three-year-old extraordinaire. For those of you who are out of the loop, I celebrated my nearly-three-year-old birthday Saturday. It was an ordeal, let me tell you that.

Birthday CakeDad’s been busy doing dad things. He’s suffering what he calls book ennui. Nothing is interesting him and he’s writing habits have reduced. I don’t know, but I worry about him sometimes. He’s given up sodas, I hear. Which worries me more. He’s trying to eat less yummy food, which has me downright frightened.

I don’t know what’s gotten into him. I suspect it’s those plant people he talks about sometimes. He tried to show me the movie, but I was like, “Dad, it’s boring. Plants aren’t people. Now lemme play with Talking Tom.”

Posts By Shaun

Things My Dad Doesn’t Want You to Know, But I’m Going to Tell You Anyhow: A Memoir by Shaun Damien

Pickin' Mah Nose. Wut?
Gold is worth money, I’m told. I’m told there is such a thing as nose gold. Therefore, my nose is worth millions!

So you pretty much know a lot about Dad already, but there are some things you don’t know about him. Not yet, anyway. See, as an almost-two-year-old, I’ve seen a lot of things that he hides from the public eye. For instance, do you know he wrote that entire last post while listening to a Taylor Swift song? He wouldn’t want you to know that, but he did. Kept it on a continuous loop, cursing because he couldn’t find the version he liked on Google Play All Access.

He also has a couple of questionable books on his shelf. For instance, there’s this author named Nicholas Sparks. He has a bah-jillion different books by him. He told me he used to read them when he was younger because he wanted to write novels that people would cry to, and he told me that Nicholas Sparks always makes people cry. Which, I guess, means that Nicholas Sparks is a meanie who makes fun of his reader by insulting their intelligence or something. Why Dad would want to be mean to his readers is something I don’t understand. He’s a nice guy. Except when he doesn’t let me play with things I’m not allowed to play with. Like his laptop…which I’m using. Hehe. Don’t tell him because I’m not.

He’s also becoming self-conscious about his weight. I don’t see anything wrong with him because he’s so warm and squish and I can fall asleep on top him and it’s like sleeping on a pillow. He always tells me that there’s nothing wrong with the way people live their lives unless it makes them unhappy. And if something makes us unhappy, then we should do our best to change it until we’re satisfied. The other day, he went to the DMV (he didn’t pick me up for this historical ride, which put me in a mood, but whatever. I forgive him) to renew his ID and when the picture was taken and printed, he said he could feel his stomach drop (he apparently picked it up because it’s still on him). “I’m rockin’ the double chin, Shaun,” he told me and I thought that rockin’ meant something good so I started dancing and he started dancing, too, but got tired very quickly.

“When the warmer weather sticks,” he said, “we’re going to the park more often. I’ll even get you a jogging stroller and we can talk long walks and you don’t have to do a thing. Just keep me company while I do my damnest to lose some weight.”

“We’re also changing what we eat,” he said. “We’re gonna eat healthier and drop drinking so many sugar drinks.”

I couldn’t get behind him on this one, but he’s my dad and I have to listen to him.

But I’ve been thinking about it a lot and if Dad says that if we’re unhappy with ourselves, we should change ourselves. Well, I’m unhappy that I can only have my candy once a week. I want it once a day. I’m gonna have to get a step-ladder to change this. Oh well. I gotta go because I hear Dad waking up from his nap and if I’m not next to him in the bed, things may get a little suspicious. Toodles.

Shaun Damien C.
Posts By Shaun

A Few Things

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Hello. This is Shaun speaking. Typing? Whatever. That’s me up there in the slideshow with my reporter face on. It’s cute, isn’t it? What can I say? I take my good looks from the good parts of my daddy and mommy and I have to say that I’m one awesomely, ĂĽber-cute baby toddler big boy bad ass. I’ve taken over Dad’s computer because I can and he’s not around because he’s sitting in the corner, his legs up with a book lying his lap reading some book about a little person—someone who’s a little bigger than me, I’m told—with hairy feet and who wears a ring and fights a dragon. He tells me that he’ll read it to me when I’m older and can sit still longer than for a few minutes, but I’m all like, “Dad, I can type seventy-two words per minute. I’ll read books when I learn to read. Until then, lemme just get on the computer and blog my thoughts.”

And what thoughts does an almost-two-year-old me have? Well, first of all, I noticed that my feet are funny and cute and—supposedly, according to my father who gives them a sniff whenever he’s in the process of changing my diaper (I think because it makes him laugh that I laugh, but I only give him those chuckles because I know it means so much to him to hear me laugh)—stink.

Secondly, I’ve noticed that my dad has a lot of books. And I mean A LOT of books. Now most people think they have a lot of books when they fill up one shelf space. And that it’s over doing it when you fill up an entire shelf. Dad has more than that. More than three.

Your average almost-two-year-old might say a gazillion (actually, your average almost-two-year-old would just babble some nonsense, but whatever, but I give all my peers the benefit of the doubt) shelves, but it’s less than that. Way less than that. But, to be honest, I think my dad wants to hit that some day. He just might.

Now the word hoarder gets thrown around a lot these days, but that’s not too far from the truth with Dad. He  likes to call himself a book hunter—which is like a treasure hunter, but one who buys his booty rather than stealing it from other people. For instance, he heard that Barnes & Noble was having their red-dot sale where everything with a red dot is half price. He also knows that since it’s the end of the year, the calendars are also on sale.

He made off with three books from the red-dot sale—Blonde Bombshell by Tom Holt, whoever that is; Martin Sloane by some guy named Michael Redhill; and Along the Watchtower by Constance Squires—for only $1.79 each. Not a single one of them is about a fox or a monkey that makes friends with a walrus named Tiny Tamoo. At least none of them have tiny people with hairy feet in them, which is an upgrade for my dad.

Along with these books, he walked away with copies of Your True Home by some guy with a funny name (Dad says to be respectable of others, but the guy’s name is Thich Nhat Hanh; it reads like something I say when I’m just making noises with my mouth to entertain my parents) and a copy of The Upanishads, which he tells me is a holy book from some ancient religion, translated by another guy with a weird sounding name—Eknath Easwaran. I asked Dad about his non-religion and the fact that he has a lot of books from various religions, but he just rubbed my head, picked me up, and blew on my tummy so it sounds like my butt, which always makes me laugh.

He bought himself a Zombie wall calendar filled with a lot of awesome zombie drawings, which would scare most almost-two-year-olds, but not me because I’m a zombie slayer at heart and I laugh in the rotting faces of the undead. He bought a One Direction calendar for my cousin, Jaylene—sure she gets eye-candy as a calendar, but you ask for a calendar of 1950s pin-ups and  you’re told you’re too young (pfft! double standards)—as well as, a Smurfalicious bookmark. Nothing for me? Gee, thanks Dad.

Oh well, I think that’s about all I have to say tonight. Maybe, if I’m good enough (or if Dad’s reading that other book about more little people with hairy feet and rings), I’ll get to post soon enough.

For Chapin City Blues, this is Shaun Damien Corona signing off. And Happy New Year!!!

P.S. I should probably note (Dad told me to) that the sale price is in store only, as it seems. If you want to pay $1.79 for the red-dot books you’ll need to have a membership and actually visit the store. It seems the website is marked at a regular (and semi-discounted) price. However, as any good book hunter in training knows, Amazon has them for a fairly reasonable price, which is why I linked to those pages in most cases. Sorry. Continue on to my dad’s rather boring posts about being a boring adult.