Below is the letter I just submitted to the Ortega Website at http://ortega.com/, reproduced in its entirety. I think it speaks for itself. The horror. The horror.

Product UPC: 4150100803

Manufacturer Filling Date Code: I have looked at the box for three minutes and have concluded that this number does not exist.

Message Subject: The Tragic Events of Taco Night 3/10/2010

Dear Person in the Ortega PR Department Stuck Reading My Complaint,

I was glad to discover on your Website that my opinion is important to you, because I had a traumatic experience involving your Whole Grain Corn Taco Shells this evening. You see, tonight was taco night–a magical evening in my household when it seems, if only for the twenty minutes I’m enjoying my wife’s delicious tacos, that dreams really can come true.

I was unwinding from a hard day’s work, enjoying some age-appropriate online video with my two year-old son at the kitchen table, when my wife gasped from across the room. I ran to her only to discover than nine of the ten delicious Ortega Whole Grain Corn Taco Shells we had purchased only two days earlier were broken into no less than two, but no more than seven pieces. Oh the humanity.

What could we do? My lovely wife had already prepared the ground turkey, complete with your Ortega Taco Seasoning I might add. The tomatoes had been chopped. The spoon was already in the tub of sour cream. We couldn’t turn back. I ask again, what would you have us do?

Sure, I went ahead and broke up what remained of the battered taco shells in an ill-conceived attempt to make nachos. And yes, I know the ingredients are identical, but it’s called TACO NIGHT for the love of all things holy. It just wasn’t the same. I work hard to provide for my family, and I shouldn’t be denied my preferred ground turkey and shredded cheese delivery vehicle.

I’m sure you think I’m blowing this out of proportion, but what you’re forgetting is this: Ortega is not simply selling whole grain corn taco shells; it’s selling “taco night” and all the associated hopes and dreams that go along with it.

I ask that you make this right. Please find a way to restore my faith in your brand. I will be chronicling this incident on my blog at www.notoriousdad.com. While I don’t mean this in any way to be a threat, I pull some serious weight with the seven people who read my blog each week . . . six if you don’t count my wife who is already aware of the events that took place on this tragic night . . . four if you don’t count the other two guys who write with me . . . three if you don’t count my mother.

Thank you for your time,

Andy

End Note

I will publish any response I receive in it’s entirety to you, my faithful readers. Let’s hope Little Caesar’s does a better job with Pizza Night on Friday.

Round 1:

Combatants:	Twist	Dr. Dre
Career Began with:	Fresh Beat Band	NWA	Winner: Dr. Dre
Hangs out with:	This Guy	Snoop Dogg	Winner: Dr. Dre
Favorite Instrument:	Himself	Glock	Winner: Dr. Dre

Final Verdict: Dr. Dre

I’m paraphrasing here, but Dr. Dre was “strapped with gats while Twist was cuddlin’ a Cabbage Patch.”

Round 2:

Combatants:	Twist	Vanilla Ice
Biggest Hit:	“Loco Legs”	“Ice Ice Baby”	Winner: Twist
Biggest Pickle:	Losing his voice while trying to find a word that rhymes with “music”	Being held by the ankles off of a 20th floor balcony by Suge Knight	Winner: Vanilla Ice
When He Knew He had Hit Rock Bottom:	Joined the Fresh Beat Band	Attempted suicide via drug overdose	Winner: Vanilla Ice

Final Verdict: Vanilla Ice

Rob Van Winkle would wax this chump like a candle.

Round 3:

Combatants:	Twist	Dominic Victor
Thing he loves more than anything:	Singing, Dancing, and Friendship	Juice	Winner: Dominic Victor
Favorite Expression:	“sweet”	“mo’ juice, mo’ juice”	Winner: Dominic Victor
Prettiest woman he’s ever laid eyes on:	Kiki	Mommy	Winner: Dominic Victor
Biggest Life Challenge:	Learning a dance that Kiki choreographed	Urinating in a designated receptacle	Winner: Dominic Victor

Final Verdict: Dominic Victor

Dominic already knows how to say, “what-what, WESTIDE,” and does his best to get his fingers into a “W.” Seriously, my kid rules.

Winner of the gift card is Zach. Hopefully he buys some flowers for a lady friend, because a dude buying flowers for himself would just be creepy. Thank you everyone for entering, I’m sorry the rest of you are losers.

Want to be just like Andy? (Don’t we all?) Well now you have that opportunity, and you don’t even have to wear a sweater vest.

Thanks to 1-800-FLOWERS.com one of our faithful and loving readers is going to win a $50 gift card. That can be you. It’s easy to enter.

All you need to do is leave a comment down below and you’re in. You have until Wednesday Feb 17 at 5 p.m. to enter. We’ll pick a winner at random.

Over the past week, 1-800-FLOWERS.com has shelled out some big bucks to show up across the Yahoo! and MSN homepages in an attempt to sell their Valentine’s Day flower arrangements. I say this as modestly as possible–it’s lucky for their shareholders that someone in their PR department was smart enough to realize that Notoriousdad.com pulls some serious weight across the interwebs.

The fine folks over at 1-800-FLOWERS.com offered to send each of our wives a dozen red roses and a personalized greeting in exchange for an honest product review. This presented me with an ethical dilemma. As soon as I wrote about the flowers, Kerry would know that I received them in return for only the time it took to write this post. However, if I didn’t disclose that they were given to me, I would be guilty of being dishonest with our vast fan base. Because of my respect for you, our beloved readers, I’ve chosen to take the high road. Okay, to be honest, I also ran the following calculation:

(value of 1 Andy Hour) x (hours spent on post) = $$ Spent on Kerry

Or expressed numerically:

$10,000 x .75 = way to friggin’ much to justify this review

Based on my rough numbers, Kerry received an extremely expensive gift, and 1-800-FLOWERS.com made out like bandits. However, I’ve already started writing, so it’s too late to turn back now.

So what did I think of the flowers, you ask? I’ll start by saying that Kerry’s favorite flower is the carnation, so I’m used to buying flowers with the change left over from my beef jerky purchases. However, I’m told that roses are quite a bit more expensive. I spent minutes of research on this, and while I couldn’t find the identical picture, I believe the arrangement that was sent to my lovely wife is sold by 1-800-FLOWERS for $47.98. I’ll let you be the judge. Here is the picture from the site and a poorly-lit picture of the actual product received by my wife (I should reread Mark’s post on taking good pictures):

For the record, Kerry’s roses were deep red. My flash and amateur photography skills made them look a bit pink

Kerry was not a huge fan of the heart-shaped pendant hanging around the vase, so it was promptly removed, but the vase itself is sturdy and reusable. Overall, I think she was pleased. As evidence, I received the following text at exactly 4:52 this afternoon: “Just got my flowers…thank u…they are gorgeous : ). I love you!” As an aside, my wife has an ellipses addiction.

As for the service, the flowers showed up right on time and were delivered by a nice older gentlemen whose looks Kerry described as “totally Joe Pesci from Home Alone.” 1-800-FLOWERS.com even spelled all of our names correctly on the personalized greeting. It appears that you can order flowers as late as tomorrow and still have them delivered by Valentine’s Day.

Based on my experience, I may pay actual money to use 1-800-FLOWERS service in the future.

Unfortunately for me, the flowers did not lead to a spontaneous anything-goes make-out session as soon as I stepped foot in the house, but I attribute that more to my buzz-kill of a son than I do to the flowers.

If you are planning on ordering from 1-800-FLOWERS, we can hook you up. Use the code SCORE15 to save 15% on any non discounted items.

Last weekend we took a trip to the Cleveland Metroparks Rainforest with our friends Beth and Dwayne and their two little ones, Riley and Lilah (or as Dom calls them, “Wiley and Ya-ya”). As an aside, the Rainforest is fantastic for older toddlers. Everything is easily accessible and open, and it only takes about an hour to get through—perfect for short attention spans, but I digress.

Kerry and I were a little nervous to unleash Dominic on Riley. Dom is firmly entrenched in his “My Phase,” and while he’s starting to understand the concept of sharing, he still has some work to do before being released into the general population.

Just to be clear, we were nervous for Dominic, not Riley. Riley is six months older, two feet taller, and able to execute a technically-sound, UFC-style rear naked choke (good parenting, Dwayne). I put my money on Dom stealing a toy, being violently taken to the ground, and then tapping out within 37 seconds of Riley entering our front door. I could not have been more wrong.

At the Rainforest, Riley and Dom pointed out animals together and engaged in thoughtful dialogue like:

Riley: Dat monkey!

Dom: I see monkey too. See ‘im?

Riley: Yeah! Dat monkey!

Dom: See ‘im?

Repeat endless loop until forever

Back at our house Dom and Riley sat together and read through a pop-up book:

Dom: Dat elephant!

Riley: Yeah!

Dom: Dat giraffe!

Riley: Yeah!

And who would have thunk it? They also had a mutual appreciation for pizza and the movie Cars.

I was pretty sure that Dominic just made his first friend. However, my suspicions were confirmed after Riley got a time-out for some minor infraction or another. Here is the actual conversation I had with my son:

Dom: I wan go see Riley.

Me: Riley is in time-out, buddy. He’ll be out soon.

Dom (pointing towards Riley): I wan go dat way.

Me: I know buddy, but Riley is in time-out.

Dom ignores me, runs and grabs two plastic animals, then proceeds to sprint in between my legs

Me: Dom, come back here, Riley is in time-out.

Dom: (handing Riley a Hippopotamus): Daddy, I wan be in time-out too.

Two and a half year’s old, and my kid is already harboring a fugitive. I’m not looking forward to when Riley gets his driver’s license.

Tim Sandwich Artist: Hi, welcome to Subway.

[Never looks up, continues to fiddle with a bag of broccoli cheddar soup]

Randy: Duuuuude, baby, what it is, what it is?

Sandwich Artist: What kind of bread would you like?

Randy: Ehhhh, I don’t know dog. This is hard man, this is hard.

[Fiddles with the whiskers on his chin while looking intently at 6 loaves of bread]

Sandwich Artist: I’d go with the Honey Oat, it’s got oats on it.

Randy: Hawwwww man, I like it. You know what I like about it is that even though it’s a little yeasty at times, it’s still able to bring me back in with the oat. I like it man.

Sandwich Artist: What kind of sandwich can I make for you?

Randy: Yo dog, dog, you even have to ask? Chicken Bacon Ranch, baby! Love that ranch, dude, feelin’ it, ranch is where it’s at yo!

Sandwich Artist: Alright. Would you like cheese?

Randy: I’m going to say 100% yes!

Sandwich Artist: Toasted?

Randy: I’m going to say 1000% yes!

[Guy slides the sandwich on to the tray for the toaster. Both awkwardly await for the toasting to commence]

Sandwich Artist: Would you like any vegetables on here?

Randy: Duuuude, dawwwwwg, duuuuuuude, no.

Sandwich Artist: What about the ranch?

Randy: Six-hundred-million-thousand-hundred percent yes!

[A small amount of ranch is applied]

Randy: Duuude, it’s just like it doesn’t have enough UUUUGGGGGHHHHH! Come on man, UUUUGGGGGHHHHH!

[Ranch completely covers every available inch of the sandwich]

Randy: Dawg, dawg, dawg! That’s what I’m talkin bout! I felt that, I felt that.

[Thumps chest with fist, repeatedly]

Sandwich Artist: Would you like to make this a combo today?

Randy: No. Sorry duuuude. Today’s not your day man.

Sandwich Artist: Okay then, that will be $6.18.

[Pays with diamond from his watch face]

Sandwich Artist: Thank you, have a good day.

Randy: Once you got started you had it goin’ on! I was like WHAAAAAAT! Just really classy man, you made it your own. Awesome. Awesome.

[Randy walks out. Sandwich artist goes back to fiddling with the bag of soup]

“Oh, he’s calm. . .calm like a bomb” 

While my marriage may be a democracy, my relationship with my son is much closer to what I like to refer to as a “benign dictatorship.” As any good dictator knows, it’s important to suppress the will of the proletariat to prevent an uprising. In this, the first of my 37 part series, I will discuss three important ideological rules of any benign dictatorship:

Rule #1: Control the Supply of Goods and Services: A strong dictator will create demand for a particular good or service and then suppress the supply of said good or service to manipulate the behavior of the proletariat.

When my son first transitioned to a toddler bed, he quite literally got up 113 times before we finally got him to fall asleep. Fortunately, I am a shrewd dictator who studied economics and understands the power of creating unnecessary demand and then increasing the price by suppressing supply.

First, I went to the store and purchased a series of safe plastic toys, including a car, an airplane, and an elephant. Each night thereafter, these bedtime toys have been introduced to Dominic five to ten minutes before it’s time to get under the covers. He is allowed to play with them in bed while we read him poems and say his prayers. However, each time he gets out of bed for more than a three count, he loses a toy, thus suppressing the supply of bedtime toys and subsequently increasing the price of getting out of bed.

I suggest starting with five or six toys the first night to give yourself some additional leverage until your child learns the rules. It may sound a bit cruel, but remember that he gets to keep all of the cool new toys if he simply stays in bed.

Q: But what if he keeps taunting me by getting out of bed for two seconds at a time?

A: No problem. Parents can manipulate the space time continuum by counting faster when necessary to prove a point. Alternatively, you could just start at three on the second offense.

Q: What if you take away all of his toys, thus removing all incentive to stay in bed

A: If you do it right, it’ll never happen. Make sure the toys are interesting and never give in. If you take a toy and he remains out of bed, simply start a new three-count and move on to the next toy. Show no emotion, except a steel resolve.

If this method doesn’t work for you, you’re probably failing to follow the next law of all successful benign dictatorships:

Rule #2: Do Not Negotiate with Terrorists: A strong dictator will greet all acts of terrorism against the ruling party with swift and severe justice, resorting to a scorched earth policy if necessary.

My son is adorable, but he is not rational, and he completely lacks the ability to delay gratification. He will use any means necessary to get what he wants now. Negotiation with a toddler terrorist, even if occasionally “successful,” only diminishes a dictator’s power. If your toddler could think rationally, it would go something like this:

“I want to watch another Little Einsteins, but daddy just turned off the TV and said it’s time to eat dinner. I’m probably SOL when it comes to TV, but I’ll open this round of negotiations by whining and pretending I have no bones and see what counteroffer daddy puts on the table.”

Even if you successfully negotiate an end to the tantrum, you have just unknowingly reinforced the simple fact that the whining/jelly leg routine establishes a seat at the table. He now knows that while he might not get more TV, he can certainly squeeze something out of you.

Instead, use your three-count again. If you get to three, he gets a timeout—every time. As always, be consistent and don’t show any emotion, no matter how frustrated you may be. Don’t say a word that isn’t a number between one and three. If you’re at a store, timeout can be the car. Get creative. If you’re under a time constraint, restricting the supply of a favorite set of toys can serve as a stand-in for the timeout. As I said above, I’ve found that you must create demand for more than one toy so he always has something to lose.

Rule #3: Remember the “Benign” in Benign Dictatorship: When the proletariat follows the rules of the benign dictator, he should be rewarded with additional foodstuffs and freedom. Even when revolting, the proletariat should be treated with respect.

Always be fair. Always be consistent, and always follow through on promises. Good behavior should be rewarded, whether it’s with a gift or simple praise. When things aren’t going so smoothly, always remember that you’re the adult. You should have more control over your emotions than your toddler.

Note: minus the hilarious metaphor, the methods to curb “stop behavior” described above are slight variations on those described in the book, 1-2-3 Magic. The book also gives some good advice for promoting “start behaviors.”

My brother, because of my insistence on taking so many photographs, calls me “Markarazi”. I don’t mind it though, because I love photography and my son and my nephews make some great subjects.

Keeping a few simple tips in mind can greatly improve the pictures of your kids. Follow these and you’ll have people asking you where you got your pictures done.

1. Get Up Close

Get your camera close to capture all of those little details like their fingers, toes, curls of hair and especially their eyes. Children change so fast, seemingly day to day sometimes, capturing these images will allow you to relive some of the warmest memories about your child.

2. Get Far Away

Hey, I thought you said… If every picture you have of your child was taken from four feet away, you lose a bit of their relative size. So back up, way up if you have to and use your images to show how small they really are in proportion to the rest of this world we live in.

3. Ditch the Posing

Kids don’t sit still for a damn thing let alone some of your camera shenanigans. So don’t make them. Let them do whatever they want and start taking pictures. There is something beautiful about catching them in those moments when they are just being themselves.

4. Always Be Shooting

If you’re shooting with a film camera you can ignore this one and go back to churning butter. With digital cameras you can take a 1000 pictures at no real cost. So why not? You never know when you’ll catch that moment. This picture above, I shot 700 pictures that day and I caught this as the second to last shot.

5. Don’t Always Shoot Them From The Front

To create some visual interest in your photographs, change the angle at which you photograph your kids. Take an image from behind them, it can help to place you in their shoes, see what they are seeing. Climb up on the jungle gym and shoot down on them. Whatever you choose, at least try it. You’ll quickly find that your photographs are much more interesting this way.

So for everybody I work with who reads this blog (read: the people who have the power to fire me), I’d like to apologize up front for the rather vulgar punch-line of this, my first post of 2010. I ask for mercy only on the basis that this is a true story and simply too funny and embarrassing not to share with perfect strangers on the interwebs.

Before Christmas, Steve’s wife wrote about how their son, Sam, was telling everyone who would listen that he wanted a “big Woody” for Christmas. Obviously he meant a Woody doll from the movie Toy Story, but c’mon, that’s some funny stuff. (Sorry Steve, I meant to say “a Woody Action Figure.”) Kerry and I had an equally embarrassing experience on our last trip to Home Depot.

We were desperately trying to find a couple of light bulbs that would fit into our ancient bathroom light fixture, while simultaneously preventing Dominic from picking up anything too dangerous. He was inexplicably all-consumed by a rather banal calk display in the center of the aisle (see post’s title). The following is the actual transcript of the conversation that followed:

Dom (holding up two tubes of calk): “Daddy what this?”

Me (absentmindedly): “That’s calk, Buddy”

Dom runs up to a benign-looking older gentleman looking at flood lights

Dom (now shouting excitedly): “I have two calks!”

Older gentleman laughs uncontrollably, coughs violently, and gasps for breath. Kerry’s face turns beet red.

Me (shaking my head): Indeed you do, Buddy, indeed you do.