I haven't mentioned this in a while

I am ridiculously cute.

Mirror, Mirror, On the Wall

Who is the most comfortable of them all?

I met Robi Bacsi first and he was comfortable. Then I met Pak Bacsi and he was even more flabby....I mean comfortable. And then......and then......and then I met Peti Bacsi. WOW.

He was so comfortable I was able to sleep on him while he was walking around doing stuff.

He's planning on being an actuary when he grows up. Actuarially, come to think of it, maybe it's not the flabbine....comfortableness of Peti Bacsi that puts me to sleep but his Actuariness.

Another thing about Pak Bacsi

Right now Pak Bacsi is employed at Walt Disney World. He spends most of his days wearing Mickey Mouse ears and eating Cotton Candy while the Electric Light Parade goes by. Unfortunately, the Electric Light Parade is pretty boring during the day.

He's always had two dreams:
1. To study under the famed Noam Chomsky.
2. To be a masseuse. Not just any masseuse, but one who massages while singing Hungarian folk songs. Here you can see Pak Bacsi strutting his stuff with me:

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-69164441469693104

Actually, I got confused. He only has one dream: To massage Noam Chomsky while Mr. Chomsky sings Hungarian folk songs.

Polyphasic sleep is not just for cats anymore

You can't go wrong with something called the Uberman method. Not the Olbermann method. He's a nut job.


A few weeks back I got my parents excited by sleeping for 5-6 hours in a stretch. They thought I was going to start stretching that out. Instead I found this great method for getting more out of my day. In it I hardly sleep and still have the energy to cry and eat and play. My parents say it seems like I'm awake 20 hours a day.

Google is making my life too easy

I have a new tool for posting photos. They will now be available at this address:
http://picasaweb.google.com/MatthewStrada

Flabby shoulders are most comfortable

I've talked about my uncle Robibobi Bacsi before, but today seems like an appropriate day to reintroduce him. No particular reason for today (this is a lie, but if I told you the reason why, I'd have to take dramatic steps to ensure you didn't tell anyone else, know what I mean, nudgenudge, winkwink).

Pfc Robi Bacsi is a member of the 1st SQDN, 40th Cavalry, 4th BDE, 25th INF (ABN). I have no idea what most of that means, but he's still a pretty cool guy. "Honor, Courage, Commitment" is what they always say. Or is that the Navy?

The thing I like most about Robi Bacsi is that he's comfortable to sleep on:

I think it's because he's flabby. My dad could still take his younger brother mano-a-mano, that's right man to man. Unfortunately, they didn't have a chance to duke it out the weekend of my Baptism. Not because my dad would have been afraid or backed down or anything, they just felt it would be inappropriate and that Nagymama would not approve.

Something I have to get off my chest

There is something that has remained unsaid about Robi Bacsi for a long time now. I do not like to stir things up, upset the turnip cart, if you will, per se, ipso facto. I wasn't quite comfortable writing it down so I thought the best way to communicate these thoughts would be to record them in video and post it:

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-1530437665992207686

Ain't no godmother, like a west coast godmother

Cause the west coast godmother's don't stop. My father had to explain to me that although Maria Neni is both my godmother and from San Francisco, she is not my fairy godmother. That's good, 'cause I am in no mood to get setup with a Prince Charming.


The real proof that she is not my fairy godmother is that fairy godmothers do not hold their godchildren underneath a gushing flow of water while said children are being stared at by their sharply dressed parents.

Maria Neni is pretty busy. Outside of her godmother duties she has some other minor responsibilities. One of the easier ones is being the mommy to Sandorka and Sarika whom you met earlier in the week:

The big question is now that she's had an eldest daughter and a son after, which set of grandparents is Maria Neni going to follow? Will she have a daughter soon? Or will she take a few years off and then have three sons? I'm thinking of starting a discussion board just on that topic.

You ever feel so hungry you could eat a giraffe?

I definitely know that feeling. I'm still only consuming milk, but sometimes I get a hankering for a hunk of raw, yellow and orange-spotted giraffe meat.

And now for somebody a little bit hairier and a whole lot scarier

My uncle Piki Bacsi is my Godfather. Not the Godfather. He's not rich enough for that. Usually I like looking at his funny faces. I can never tell when he's making a face to make me laugh and when it's his normal face. Sometimes his faces are a little too much for my naive eyes:

And sometimes he really scares me. He's the one on the right in this picture. His WIFE, Martha Neni, is the one holding me. You may be wondering about the veil on Piki Bacsi...don't worry, he's an artist (as in a do-re-mi/la-la-la-la artist not a painting artist).

Princess Charlotte

The next person I would like to introduce you to is my cousin, Charlotte (Sarika). She looks like a duck in this picture, but she's really a big girl. Sometimes she might think she's a duck, but people from San Francisco are like that.


She did a great job of holding me and helping my mother bathe me.

Two days ago, I hinted that cousin Sandor might join the religious life. I'm not sure what kind of career Sarika will pursue, but whatever it is, she will be the boss.

No post yesterday

I apologize for not posting yesterday. I was busy flying back from Cleveland and boy are my arms tired.

Here is a gratuitous shot of me hanging out on my Nagymama and Nagypapa's bed. What else could I be doing but looking at their ceiling fan.

Meet my family

My Christening was a wonderful opportunity to meet my wacky, wonderful family. It was also give me an opportunity to introduce the world to them, especially since I have so many amusing photographs of them.


First, meet my cousin Sandor (that's Alexander for you uncool people who don't speak the magyar). He's pretty old (two), but I look up to him. The main reason I look up to him is that he stands and walks and therefore is usually above me. Here's a picture of him with my uncle Robi Bobi Bacsi:

I've asked him what he wants to be when he becomes an adult. He's not certain just yet, but take a look at this video for a definite possibility.

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-8326588496851380610

He looks quite comfortable on that altar.

My parents are wimps

They are such the product of this cesspool of Vatican II, cheesy-Jesus, feel-good Catholicism. No fire. No bodily mutilation. Just water. At least there was a lot of it. It wasn't quite complete immersion, but pretty darn close.

Look at my mother's reaction when I end up drinking some Holy Water (40 seconds in). She should be happy that my Christening was both inside and outside.

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=7506521550012787318

If I leave here tomorrow

Before I left the great town of Bridgeport to come to Cleveland for my Baptism, there was somebody special I had to say goodbye to. It was a long, sad parting. I fear that we will never be as close as we once were:

There is somebody special awaiting me in Cleveland.

It's tough when you have a ceiling fan in every port.

The bearded guy is my grandfather

My family is big on tradition. Therefore, my baptism will be done in a traditional Catholic ceremony. Afterwards I anticipate a traditional Hungarian porkapalooza with pork prepared in 18 different ways. Who has two thumbs and is going to have a "head cheese" Saturday? ME.

Afterwards there will be a bit of a shindig. In honor of tradition, I expect it to go much like my father's Christening. I've attached some video from that:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cLthhTnleso

A star is born

Word on the street is that George Lucas is taking inspiration from Michael Eisner. Disney for years has been diminishing its brand by releasing direct-to-video, poor quality sequels to its blockbusters, e.g., Aladdin 6/The Little Mermaid 8: Jafar vs Ursula and The Lion King 12: Mufassa is Still Dead. Having already destroyed his brand with poor sequels released in the theaters, George Lucas is going to make some prequels to the sequels of episodes 4, 5, and 6.

Star Wars Pi: Chewy's Dawning will feature Chewbacca's early years up to the point where he meets Han Solo. I have been practicing my Wookie-speak in the hope of landing the role of a young Chewbacca. Here I am practicing:

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=2704385086898437313&hl=en

A whole new world

I've always enjoyed walks. Well, okay, once I got used to going for walks I started enjoying them. For so long, I thought they were very pleasant opportunities to enjoy some fresh air, be close to az anyam or az apam and get a lovely view of their necks.



Well, yesterday az anyam tried something new with me. She put me in the BabyBjorn facing out. I never knew there was so much to see on walks. There are houses and cars and telephone poles and houses and cars and houses and cars. Not to say that this is all more interesting than my parents' necks, but it is different.

For those of you keeping score at home

Last week I went to the doctor and had the opportunity to contribute to the global eradication of polio, diptheria and other nasty, disgusting diseases. That stank.

I was more than happy to do my part to better the world, but why does doing my part always have to hurt so much.


The more significant news from my doctor's visit was my updated metrics: 15 pounds, 3 ounces and 26 inches. That's a solid pace of 1.25 ounces/day and 1.67 inches/month. Not only does this mean I'm in the 97th percentile sizewise, it also means I should be 6 foot 8 inches by my fourth birthday.

Notice the giraffe in my left hand. I've been using my left hand a lot lately, or as my father calls it, my "pitching hand." Usually the giraffe hangs around in my jungle gym, but I enjoy playing with it so much the parents took him out of his natural habitat to spend more time with me. I'll hold on to it as I flail my arms about. I'll also put it up to my mouth where everyone expects me to start chewing on it. That's disgusting. It's a giraffe. There's no milk in there. Why would I put it in my mouth?

The Deheathenisation of Mr. Matthew Strada

While I hear that the weather in Limbo is lovely this time of year, I am more of a fan of Heaven.

Toward this end, I am getting the stain of original sin wiped from my soul in a ritual this upcoming Saturday, September 16. Anyone who will be in the vicinity of the 44107 is welcome to attend. It will be at St. Luke Church at 2:30 in the PM.

I'm not sure what to expect. I hear they light some candles, put a dress on me and then pour water over my head. I wouldn't mind something a little more exotic like fire and immersion in water. Or even immersion in fire. Something a little more hyperdispensationalist. But not too exotic....Here az anyam had just explained to me what they do in a certain other religion to welcome you into the faith:

To anyone who has to endure that, I say, "Mazal Tov."

Sleeping arrangements

Parents reading books is never a good thing. Az anyam decided she'd had enough of my crying and not wanting to sleep at night. They found all sorts of tips and tricks to get me asleep. It's worked out pretty well for all parties - my mood is better and I am sleeping a little bit more. When I sleep more, they sleep more.

I've had more gunk flowing through my nose than Kate Moss does in a day. The parents gave me nose drops to help me breathe last night. That stuff is wicked awesome. Now it's more like a Len Bias nose flow.

Here I am demonstrating one of the new book techniques. Notice that I'm asleep so it clearly worked:

Parents just don't understand

My folks and I have had a running dispute the last few nights. They are so old-fashioned and just plain old that they can't see things my way. They want me to sleep and I don't.

They don't get me. I'm a party manimal. I just want to sleep all day and party every night. I was born to do two things: drink milk and scream my head off during the night. I was done with the milk....

Let me illustrate graphically. They want me to do this:

I didn't want to, so I did this:

A reminder to all the cool people in the 216, 440 and 330

RobibacsiPalooza is scheduled for this Saturday, September 9.

http://www.evite.com/pages/invite/viewInvite.jsp?event=KLLILYOUZHZKIGFELPHI

This is GI Robi Bacsi's last trip to the Cleveland area before he ships off to exotic, foreign ports to be all that he can be.

If you show up, make sure to wish him, "Semper fi." He loves that joke.

The one problem in Canada...

...is that there is a serious dearth of ceiling fans. I don't know if it is a cultural thing. Maybe it has something to do with the tax structure. It actually is most likely due to the brisker weather. We had to leave the Accord at the border and take another form of transportation. This is az anyam with her favorite sled dog, Jean-Pierre:

He was named after Piki Bacsi's two favo(u)rite prime ministers. Unfortunately, there was a blizzard on the trip back to the border and my parents had to eat him. Jean-Pierre, that is, not Piki Bacsi.

This was in August. I guess it's not really a wonder at all that they don't have ceiling fans.

So we got to Nagymama and Nagypapa's house. I was finally placed down on the family room floor and there she was, the XBR 5000:

She is suspended 16 feet above our heads. Well, 16 feet above my head. About 10 feet above most other heads. She has 5 reversible MDF blades with a 15 degree pitch and an incredible four foot downrod. I stared at her for hours.

Here I am in my Nagymama's lap gnawing on my fist admiring this enchanting Venus of ceiling fans:

More proof I need some alone time

Remember what I was saying about people constantly staring at me at my most private, tender moments. Need I say more:



I guess that is what happens when your dressing room is the dining room table...

The future Mrs. Matthew Strada

While on the Canadian leg of my tour, I had the opportunity to meet my bride-to-be. This is Julianna Jr or JJ as I like to call her. She's a bit younger than me, but looking fine.

The conversation has been a bit awkward. I'm not exactly sure how she's responded to my advances, but my father has indoctrinated me with the joys of being married to a Canadian woman. I will work at her until she recognizes that we were meant to be together.



She will be mine. Oh yes, she will be mine.

I know people love to look at me, but come on....

I'll admit that I'm a bit of a Rousseau-ian naturalist. I think naked is beautiful and there is nothing to be ashamed of in my body. Besides, I've been working out and must say my body is showing it. My body is a finely tuned piece of art. Maybe a Rueben, but still a piece of art.

That said, some privacy at some points during the day would be appreciated. Here is the crowd gathered around my last bath:

Here is the crowd gathered around me just after a recent diaper change:

If this much interest remains in my soiled nappies, I may start charging admission. We could add some bleachers. I may be modest, but I also have my price.

I am a fast learner

On a post a few weeks ago I commented on my father's thoughts on how to get out of work. I've come up with one myself - sleeping. Last night we ended the Matthew Strada International Tour 2006 (more photos and stories to follow). On the drive back I fell asleep around 830 pm in the middle of Pennsylvania. I woke up at four in the morning. By then we had been home for hours, the car was unpacked, stuff was put away. The weirdest thing is that not only were my parents not mad at me for not helping, they seemed happy I had slept through all the work. This sleep thing may work out well for me yet.

Gigantic, Enormous, Massive Kitchens

A thought occurred to me as I was being observed in the bath by 18 adults yesterday. Adults are large. They bathe. Where is there a kitchen with a sink large enough for your typical adult to bathe? If the sink is that big, how big is the oven?

Left Behind

I was hanging out with my boy Liam. I actually should call him my man as he's a good 4 months older than me. He can do this mad crazy thing called crawling. He would crawl over and take a look at me and I just laid there prone. This seems to be the sort of thing I should be doing already. It's a great advantage. If I were able to "crawl" it would open whole new worlds to me: electrical outlets, CD racks, stereo components, computers, etc. If anyone has any suggestions or availability for tutoring in "crawling" I am very interested.