When I wrote The Ginger Files article it was kind of one of those "I don't know what to write about today so I'll find inspiration in my home" type of things. For whatever reason, that was an extremely popular entry. Even though it was Ginger's suggestion that I someday use the collection of her quotes on the blog, after her mom called her to poke fun, she sourly said, "You made me out to be a stupid blonde." To which I replied, "No. They know you're a redhead." For which I was punched in the arm. Right on the spot where I had earlier been injected with a small amount of rabies. (All the cool kids are doing it.) Since I don't feel like being punched in a spot where a big needle had been jabbed into the muscle in my arm, today I'll share some quotes from my kids. Neither of them read the blog, so I should be good.
There's two Pancake daughters. One is Maggie, age 8, who can be seen in action as The Killer from the Dead on The Super Pancake Bros. Show (in the episode shown on the first Video Vednesday). The other is YaYa, age 5, who will be making her SPBSS debut as a faerie in the upcoming second series. Ginger and I have taken to calling them "buttnerds" due to their nerdy nature and the fact that they both always seem to have gas. Yeah, I live in a weird house. Also, both of them have said plenty of ridiculous stuff over the years.
When Maggie was a bit younger and she'd play with her toys, I used to stand nearby so I could hear (and write down) some of the ridiculous things she made the characters say. Two such quotes are:
Thanks for getting me the month of the week basket!
My drool is clean. It's one hundred percent fiber.
I don't think I can really offer any explanation for those, not without giving way too much context (which I don't quite remember). Besides, neither of those make any damn sense. Speaking of not making any sense, here's a recent conversation I had with YaYa:
YaYa: They skipped it by accident.
Baxter: Who skipped what?
YaYa: I don't know.
Now, this maybe would have made sense if it was in reference to an earlier conversation, but I had no idea what she was talking about. She literally walked up to me and announced that they had skipped it by accident. I don't know who skipped what. She doesn't know who skipped what. But she wanted to let me know that they had, in fact, skipped it. Not on purpose, like jerks, though. By accident.
Okay, okay, I accused my daughters of being nerds a few moments ago, but the truth is: they get it from me. One thing that indicates my nerdiness is that I still play WCW/nWo Revenge on the Nintendo 64. Another indicator is that I renamed and recostumed all of the characters. Giant is now Gravy Train. Goldberg is now Harry Bazooka. Et cetera. While playing the battle royale mode with me one day, Maggie started smack-talking the other combatants. Here's what she had to say to Manmachine (formerly Kevin Nash):
That's right! I called you poopy-butt! What are you gonna do about it? Nothing! You're too tired because your bed time is seven-thirty!
Alright, so her verbal throw-down skills aren't on par with The Rock or Chris Jericho, but at least she never called Hulk Hogan 'nigga' during a televised interview. (Not yet, anyway.) What about YaYa? You're probably wondering what sort of stuff she's says while we're playing fifteen-year-old video games. Well, you're in luck! Because while we were playing The World Is Not Enough (which has a better multiplayer than GoldenEye, in my opinion) she told me:
You smell dangerous!
I didn't think it over too much when she said it; I just took it as a compliment and moved on. Now that I'm writing this, however, I have to ask, what does danger smell like? Gasoline? Dynamite? Whiskey? Or perhaps the way I smell midway through work because this deodorant I have doesn't quite do the job. Eh... I'll still chalk it up as a compliment.
I already mentioned that Ginger and I call the kids 'buttnerds', and I've also been known to throw the terms 'dork' and 'weirdo' at them, mostly because they are constantly doing dorky and weird shit. But what do they call me? Well, one time Maggie kept calling me Phil. I was curious as to why, and when confronted about it, she gave this answer:
It feels good to call people Phil.
So next time you're having a rotten day at work, just start calling your coworkers Phil. You'll start feeling better, and you'll confuse people. That's two good things you can do at the same time with minimal effort. When I'm not being called Phil I'm usually just called Dad. But for whatever reason, about two weeks ago YaYa suddenly changed the pronunciation to "Dayid". During a conversation, curiosity got the better of me:
YaYa: Look, DAYID, a fake leaf.
Dayid: When did I become "Dayid"?
YaYa: By the end of March.
I'm still utterly confused about why 'Dad' has changed to 'Dayid', but at least now I know when the change occurred. It's odd to me that she is aware of not only the change in pronunciation, but that she also kept track of when she made the choice to start saying it that way. I guess it's a step up from Phil.
There you have it. Ginger isn't the only weird female in The Pancake House. The place is practically crawling with weird female types. I'm always being assaulted by strange girls. I'm always being confounded by strange girls saying strange things. I wouldn't change it for the world, but I am looking forward to the birth of my son to balance things out a little bit. Then again, if he's an obviously-gay-from-a-young-age kinda kid, the balance will still be heavily skewed. Unless he's a Lumberjack Gay. Then we could spend our days chopping firewood and talking about baseball. Which means I'll have to start watching baseball. I'll also need to buy some axes. Dammit! Why is parenting so complicated?!
I hope you've enjoyed another peek at my weird family. Thanks, as always, for checking out Phil Dayid's Phil Dayid Blog.