The Blogging Will Commence Immediately

Clean up your room or you will be blogged.

Yesterday, I wrote about the strange Christmas customs that take place in Europe. Including the appearance of Farmhand Rupert who shames little German children into good behavior by threatening to hit them with a bag of ash.

Germans may not be the warmest people, nor the funniest, but one can hardly argue with their success in the area of discipline. And if humiliation is a proven method of success, who am I, a hapless discipliner, to shy away from its effectiveness.

So today I'm hauling out an old picture of my youngest daughter, Abby, who can't manage to get her dirty clothes into the dirty clothes hamper. I suspect other parents of teenagers have the same issue going on at their house. But I have what they don't: a blog.

I also have at my disposal, thousands and thousands of photos. Photos, which I'm sure, my daughters do not want floating around the world wide web of WTF.

Furthermore, I have stories.
And I'm not afraid to use them.

For instance, last week Abby had a huge final in Biology. She's been struggling with this course so we brought in a tutor from her school. An upperclassman with stellar grades and an incredible ability to coach younger students to success.

This tutor, let's call him Blake, which isn't his real name but will suffice for these purposes, looks like a younger Keanu Reeves.

Unlike Keanu, he is incredibly bright. He's right out of Glee. He plays football. Sings in the choir. And has almost perfect grades. Next year, he will be attending some Ivy league college. And when I drove him home, he told me of his aspirations to join the FBI or CIA. Not only because he wants to serve his country but also because likes the sound of "Officer Blake."

As if that weren't enough, he calls me Mr. Siegel.

Long story short, but no less humiliating for my daughter, the results of the Biology test just came back. And Abby aced it.

Needless to say my fondness for Officer Blake, which was already in the stratosphere, has soared even higher. I now have a huge man-crush on him. And wish he would marry my daughter.

If the times were different and the old customs prevailed, I'd have already pick out the goats and cattle for his dowry.