'Cos I'm the Gasman, Yeah, I'm the Gasman

I love milk. No, really. I LOVE milk. I could have milk 24x7. That's all I want to eat or drink is milk. Glorious milk. Someday I may head out to Aspen, where I hear the milk flows like wine. Anyway, the problem with milk is gas. Big, bad, huge bubbles of gas. I get so filled with gas from the milk I feel like I swallowed the Exxon Valdez. Then I feel pain like I'm trying to pass the Exxon Valdez. If you've never tried to pass an oil tanker consider yourself lucky.

So I've been crying a little the past few days. I've been crying and whining more than the Portugese soccer team. This in turn caused my parents to take away my blogging rights, so I'm actually blogging on the sly now. That's why I haven't been blogging lately, not because my dad is the one actually writing these postings and he has been incredibly, ridiculously tired because his son is not sleeping and crying all the bloody time.

In any event, my mommy heard from another mommy about the nectar of the gods, mylicon. A few drops here and a few drops there and we are once again a mild mannered, calm, rested family. My tummy is all copacetic and happy.