Toddler Walks On, Makes Ohio State Football Team

A local toddler is set to shock the collegiate sports world by being the youngest player in NCAA history to don shoulder pads and a cup.

The 23 month-old, known as Bub, said he had some trouble with the bench press ("too heavy"), but that his 40 yard dash time (82.4 seconds) “all but sealed the deal.”

“Okay, so, the sanctions hit our recruiting a little harder than I thought, fine,” Coach Urban Meyer said. “You should have seen the gimps I cut.”

Size may not matter, but at 32" and 24 lbs., Bub has already been mistaken around the practice facility for a hash mark, a really long zoom lens and, yes, a defective Gatorade cooler. 

"#94 just kept grunting and pushing my belly button. Then he turned me upside down before throwing me under the bleachers," Bub said. "I don't think he's on scholarship."

“Well, he won’t be doing a lot of lead blocking, I can tell you that," Meyer chuckled. "But we feel he could be an elusive asset. He’s like a little bonsai amongst, you know, the real trees. Write that down.”

Because of the impending sanctions, Bub won’t be eligible for scholarship until the 2046 season. But the immediate, obvious questions of his student status were quickly defused.

“Already been accepted. Done. His essay was particularly moving,” Meyer said, with a crude masturbatory gesture. “Please, it’s a fucking state school. Off the record, you know how many retards get in here every year?”

Well, one retard who never got in to OSU is Bub’s fanboy father, Daddy.

“Yeah, nobody was more surprised than me,” Daddy said. “The kid can’t throw a spiral for shit.”

“Like I said, beggars can’t be choosers,” Meyer said. “Hell, he might have started at Penn State. What? Too soon?”

You can find out when the Buckeyes kick off their 2012 campaign next week against the mighty juggernaut of Miami (Ohio).

UPDATE: Toddler Fiefdom Bublandia Shutters Its Borders After 24 Days

In what is being hailed by one parent as a “sweeping, resolute victory,” the world’s tiniest kingdom, Bublandia is no more.

The recently deposed King Bub emerged from the kingdom walls last night waving a soiled diaper. He was barely recognizable under layers of grime and a scraggly beard.

“My loyal subjects were ready to be Gallipoli-ed with me, but cooler heads prevailed,” the now-just-plain Bub said, fighting back tears. “Now does anybody here have a goddamn TWINKIE???”

A dearth of food and water undoubtedly hastened the collapse of the neophyte state. This hit Bub, the only non-stuffed inhabitant of Bublandia, the hardest.

“In the end, he threatened to eat us all,” Orange Monkey, one of Bub’s loyal subjects reported. “But then Giraffe reminded him he was a vegetarian. Whoops.”

Numerous other factors contributed to the fall of the 2.5’ by 4’ empire, including “tired” soil, a lackluster sewage system and the production of nothing.

“Also, the eco-tourism thing never really took off the way I’d hoped,” Bub added.

As a result, Bublandia will be absorbed back into Parentopolis, effective immediately. Grand Puba of Parentopolis, Daddy, had only this to say:

“Bow to my victory scepter, bitches!”

Despite the taunting and misery that is sure to beset Bub under such a regime, he says he has no regrets:

“It turns out peace and love is not a sustainable model for a republic after all, but we gave it a good run. And, selfishly, I’d say founder/ruler of a sovereignty before age two will look pretty good on my resume.”

What the Fork?

This is a fork.

So, my son says fuck. Quite a lot, actually, for being less than two. And while I don’t feel as though I’ve unmoored my son’s dinghy on the river of Hades exactly, his fucking is getting a little out of control.

Oh sure, we laugh, play it off as FORK, even when we’re cruising the frozen food aisle at Jewel or getting stink-eyed at story-time. Where did he learn it? Who taught him how to do this stuff?

Well, that’s easy. Me.

But that’s not the correct question. The correct question to ask is HOW did he learn it? It’s not as simple as my kid says fuck, hahahahaha. Though it is pretty funny at such an innocent timbre.

It’s more a matter of language acquisition. Language is learned through context. You show a kid a fork, name it, and show him how to use it, well, that’s a fork. That makes sense. I’ve heard him drop the f-bomb enough times now that I’ve been able to piece together the origins of the offending context. It’s like carbon dating. But for fuck.

Listen:

I’m in the kitchen today, doing kitchen stuff. Bub is in there, doing Bub stuff. I am walking to the fridge and I jam my toe into his wooden high chair leg for the 296^th time. That shit hurts. But I channel some inner Buddha, fake a teehee, say Ouch! Then somewhere, four feet below me, across Obscene Canyon, I hear FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!

What’s that, little buddy? You want a FORK?

Bub looks up from the mason jar lid he is playing with, confused. Not as to why he’s playing with a fucking mason jar lid, but as to why he would possibly want a fork in this context. OMG, can he EAT a mason jar lid? Jesus, why didn’t he think of this sooner? Fuck the fork, he shoves the lid in his mouth.

At least he’s not saying FUCK anymore. Wheeew! Bullet dodged. For now.

You can’t really get mad at him, because he doesn’t know what he’s saying. He only knows the context of Ouch = FUCK! And perhaps it did, once or twice, under extreme duress. And there he was, a red-tailed hawk swooping in on my vulnerable lexical field mouse. But that was ancient history; I haven’t loosed one in front of him for months. Got off the fuck cold turkey. Come on, Bub, really? I’ve grown, can you?

Which leads me to reason number two I’m pissed at him--he's just been saving that shit like a spiteful tabby. Yeah, remember that time two and a half years ago that you guys went to the Dells for the weekend and left me here with the Big Bowls? Yeah, that’s why there’s turds in your shoes.

Not cool, Bub. I know, it must be hard to say a bunch of crap and have nobody understand you. Or to have people understand EXACTLY what you’re saying and try to twist it into something that makes them look like less of a parental failure. Luckily, we don’t associate with a-holes like that.

I guess we reap what we sow. We’ll try harder with the new one. El Tabula Rasa or some such. It could be worse, I guess. He could be regurgitating excerpts from The View or spouting Coldplay lyrics. Fork that.

Father Opens Baby Petting Zoo

Feed at own risk!

Riding the momentum of an EMBARRASSING CHILDREN’S MUSEUM INCIDENT, and spurred on by no one in particular, a Chicago father known as Daddy has opened a private child petting zoo.

“The idea came to me like a vision. Just like the spirit horse, yo,” Daddy said. “I’m providing the rare opportunity here to gaze upon a baby in his natural habitat.”

“He means my crib,” Bub, his son, said. “And yeah, I’m not really a baby anymore. I talk and everything.”

“He’s right, of course, he’s not a baby,” Daddy said. “He is…The Exhibition!”

“He means The Exhibit,” Bub said. “And, by the way, would you mind phoning my lawyer?”

The press release for the opening states that the Touch Bublini exhibit is now open to the public, from 9-5 Monday thru Saturday, nap or wake. Admission for adults is $20, kids under two are free. Cash only. Daily Skills Exposition at noon (supplementary fee applies). No refunds. Valet parking available for $10.

We asked Daddy out of morbid curiosity what the Daily Skills Exposition consisted of. He was happy to indulge us.

“Take the best dolphin show you’ve ever seen. Multiply that by 200. Subtract the water. Then take away those annoying squeaky noises, add fireworks, a fog machine, and a certain bitchin’ Scorpions tune, and I think you’re looking at money well spent.”

“He has also installed this degrading goldfish cracker dispenser right next to my crib so people can feed me like some sort of gimpy dairy goat,” Bub said. “Which reminds me, can I borrow a quarter?”

“I’d watch my digits if I were you. The kid’s a known biter,” Daddy said. “Also, don’t bang on the slats or make any sudden, aggressive gestures. No line-jumping or flash photography. And no swearing, bitches. This is a family establishment.”

As security is listed simply as “my overwhelming brawn,” we asked Daddy if he really thought it was a good idea to have strangers in and out of his son’s bedroom at all hours of the day. Aside from the obvious cleanliness and health concerns, somebody could easily stuff Bub in an oversized fanny pack while Daddy is distracted and make a run for it. Then you’re out an entire child plus your sideshow. Did he not ever stop to consider this?

“Well...did they or did they not pay first?” Daddy said. “I’m just asking.”

Toddler to Market New Condiment Diet

A precocious local entrepreneur named Bub has announced the launch of a new condiment-based diet called Condimaximum!

“First off, I dislike the word diet—the word itself sounds like your giving things up that you really want,” Bub said. “Condimaximum! is more of a life journey.”

The trailhead for that life journey apparently begins with a bottle each of ketchup, mustard and mayonnaise.

“The gateway condiments,” Bub said. “But I can promise you they are merely the tip of the spiceberg.”

In addition to the “holy trinity” of condiments, the Starter Kit also includes a Pocket Sauce Guide, for meals on the run, as well as the pamphlet Huge Sauce—Your Guide to Buying Condiments in Bulk.

“Hey, those 5 gallon tubs of Miracle Whip are no urban legends,” Bub said. “In fact, I polished another one off just last night.”

Asked what his inspiration for the plan was, Bub said, “What can I say? I love the smell of Hellmann’s in the morning.”

He also said the secret to the plan is to not eat your vessel until it literally disintegrates into the sauce itself, whereby you’ve actually increased your overall volume of sauce. Critics were quick to point out this was really stupid.

Undaunted, Bub went on to tout the plan’s economical benefits: “’Um, yes, I’ll have three fries, please.’ ‘Three orders, sir?’ ‘No, just three fries.’ They usually just give you some that got stuck in the basket, then you load up at the condiment buffet. Breakfast of champions.”  

There is a Stage 2 kit in the works, called Your Guide to Chunks.

“These are not your grandmothers condiments,” Bub said. “This gets into some real heavy hitters--your salsas, tzatziki, relishes, Bolognese, etc.”

And a  spin-off product, Bubonnaise, which a press release calls “a zesty ascot to accentuate any sandwich,” is still test-marketing, but you can currently find Condimaximum! on any respectable informercial channel for $9.99 plus shipping.

Father Lists Son on eBay

 

A local father known as Daddy created an e-ruckus yesterday by putting his firstborn on the virtual auction block.

Listing #32,876,398 was titled “Gently Used Blonde/Blue Male Toddler,” and the reserve price was set at twenty U.S. dollars. The item description was as follows:

Gently used 22 month-old up for bids! Answers to the name Bub. Normal signs of wear and tear, but all parts working. Moderate drooling problem. Huge head. Yogurtarian. Possibly ambidextrous. Makes a great party favor or White Elephant gift. Knows numbers, his ABCs and several useful obscenities. Loves bubbles. Current on all shots. Bankie included.

“Technically he’s a 2010 model (October), so Blue book, he’s down to $200 already,” Daddy said. “I know, right? You know what they say—as soon as you take em out of the hospital the value drops by like half.”

Asked what his inspiration for such stupidity was, Daddy said:

“Well, I’ve had plenty of interest. People will come up to me at the playground and be like, ‘I’ll give you twenty bucks for him, ha ha.’ That kind of thing. So I thought, why do community theater when Broadway is right here on my computer?”

Despite his pedestrian analogy, the item was listed as Local Pick up Only.

“Yeah, I LEARNED MY LESSON about shipping babies the hard way,” Daddy said. “Not walking down that slippery slope again.”

“While eBay policies do not explicitly forbid the selling of human beings, it’s just kind of a common sense thing,” spokesman Jeff Tillman said. “Besides, that shit would never get through the post office, anyway.”

The baby was taken down after 27 minutes, a real crusher for Daddy.

“People sell babies all the time, what’s the big whoop? I’m trying to boost the economy!” Daddy said, adding, “Maybe it was the reserve price. Twenty bucks might have been pushing it.”

Asked what he was going to do now, since parenting was apparently not on the horizon, Daddy said:

“eBay’s not the only auctioneering game in town. I’m taking my talents to Quibids, bitches.”

Toddler Sues World For Being Too F-ing Big

A Chicago two year-old known as Bub is suing the entire world for being “very user unfriendly.”

The suit comes on the heels of a “crushing” incident at the playground, as Bub explains:

“So, I’m talking to a young woman in front of the seesaw. I’m all like, ‘You wanna grab a drink?’ And she’s all like ‘Teehee, it’s a little early in the day, but okay.’ Yeah, I couldn’t reach the water fountain.”

“Oh man, I wish I had that on video. It was awesome,” Daddy, Bub’s father said. “He goes from straight-up pimping to standing there like go-go Gadget arm and shit.”

“Needless to say, that was the end of our little rendezvous,” Bub said. “Suddenly she was more of a ‘juice person.’ The one that got away, eh?”

The Napoleonic suit names a litany of grievances against man and nature, from “ginormous steps” to “unchecked foliage.”

“There’s shrubbery in our front yard that dwarfs me,” Bub said. “Now how do you think that makes me feel?”

Bub says he’s had a veritable outpouring of support, including from the infamous Jonas Davies, head of The A.T.A. (Angry Tikes of America). Davies of course made headlines recently when this diatribe at a local Denny’s went viral:

“Kids menu? Let me guess. A hot dog, a burger. Ooh, a cheeseburger. PB&J. Nuggetry of a dubious nature. A what-the-fuck-are-you-smiling-at choco-waffle for breakfast. Jesus, I’ve got more creativity in my balls. And they haven’t even dropped yet.”

“A little reactionary, perhaps, but their little hearts are in the right place,” Bub said.

It is unclear what exactly Bub is suing for, other than “justice,” but he says that raising awareness is the first step.

“Imagine if you needed a trampoline to get into bed at night or advanced mountain-climbing gear to board the bus? That’s what this is all about.”

In a bizarre twist, the United States of America has countersued, claiming that bigger is in fact better. Numerous examples are cited, including Hummer limos, the Super Big Gulp and Texas.

Obstinate Local Father Spearheads Parental Olympics Initiative

A Chicago father known as Daddy has unveiled a plan to pit neophyte parents against one another in a variety of competitive arenas in what he’s calling the inaugural Parent-Off.

“It’s a response to all the hush-hush judgments,” Daddy said. “You know, like ‘What kind of parent lets his toddler eat dirt and honey for breakfast?’ Well, it’s time to put your toddler where your mouth is, bitches.”

This proposal comes a couple months after the nixing of his original idea, the Baby-Off, which was to pit young gladiatorial prospects in such riveting heads-up competitions as the Staredown and the Drool-off.

“Baby-Off was too much like midget porn,” Daddy said. “Fun for a few minutes, but in the end, you’re left staring at a bunch of short people making you feel weird. This is way more sophisticated.”

Critics were quick to point out that none of the “sophistication,” such as Most Convincing Elephant Sound or the Playground Obstacle Course actually has any bearing whatsoever on one’s parental aptitude.

Daddy was quick to counter, “What the fuck is aptitude?”

He also drew scorn from the child-caring community, with some of his event descriptions. Straight from the rule book:

Baby Roundup: Each contestant receives one burlap sack. Toddlers are fed a shit-ton of Oreos and then released into gymnasium with five second head start. Contestants rush to “bag” (picture Borat and Pamela Anderson), as many kids as possible before buzzer sounds.

We asked the only other registered participant, Daddy’s son Bub, what he thought of the Baby Roundup event.

“I don’t really like Oreos,” he said. “Other than that, it sounds like a fairly typical Tuesday afternoon.”

It will likely all be a moot point, though, as there is currently no funding, no sponsors, and the location is listed as “in the street, bitches.” However, according to Daddy, they do have a “pretty dope logo.”