Cribs.

So Noah wrote this post over a month ago, and I just haven’t gotten around to posting it for him.  He’s not too happy with me about that, complaining that a quarter of his life has gone by since then, and he looks nothing like he did back then.  And really, he’s right.

Now if only he could teach his big sister fractions…

Hey, yo – it’s Noah here again.

I heard a rumor that some people didn’t believe that I was actually writing my guest posts. So I had The Servant Who Calls Herself Mommy take a picture of me hard at work.

Yeah. Take that, all you doubters.

In fact, The Servant Who Calls Herself Mommy actually does very little of her actual blog writing. She’s really insanely lazy – she makes the whole family do it for her.

And when I say the whole family, I mean the WHOLE FAMILY.

Yeah. I’d watch out when opening emails from her if I were you – you might get hit with a projectile hairball.

Anyway.

MTV heard about my quickly skyrocketing movie career, so they asked me to star in an episode of “Cribs”.

And since I have a couple of those, I figured, sure, why not?

So come on in to my first crib.

(I figured I’d impress all the MTV watching ladies by wearing my Electric Guitar grunge shirt for the shoot.)

Unfortunately, what would NOT impress the ladies is the other end of my crib – where The Servant Who Calls Herself Mommy keeps all my baby junk:

So let’s move on. Upstairs, you can find my other crib. I do all of my deeeeeep sleeping in this one.

Uh, yeah. Those ARE pink pacifiers.

You see, The Servant Who Calls Herself Mommy, for some reason, finds it difficult to get to the store much these days, so she orders everything that I demand from Amazon Mom. Which is great and all (after all, I get attacked by the Baby Paparazzi every time we go out in public anyway), but when you order PACIFIERS from Amazon Mom, you don’t get to pick your colors.

And so she ended up with terrible luck and two pink pacifiers.

For the love of all things manly, Amazon, get it together and get that fixed!!!!

And to make it worse, my ally, my last hope, the TRAITOR, The Servant Who Calls Himself Daddy, agreed with her that I HAD to use them, but only at night, in the dark, while I’m sleeping.

(That way it effects my masculine ego and image as little as possible.)

So. That was embarrassing.

Next stop, please.

THIS is where the magic happens!!!!

My beloved changing table. I once shot poo all the way across the room on that thing, and The Servants didn’t even find all of the brown drippings on the wall until three weeks later.

I. Am. AWESOME!!!!!

What’s next… oh yeah – stars usually show off their rides in these shows, don’t they?

I cruise all over the house in this spicy convertible… back, and forth, and back, and forth, and back, and forth….

See that foot? Yeah – I like to gas it in this thing!

Oh – sorry about the smell.

And then there’s the one I’ve totally decked out – lighting everywhere on this baby!!

I especially love this ride because it never forgets that I am a STAR.

Well, that’s about it. I hope you’ve enjoyed the tour, but it’s time for you to go now!

Seriously. You’ve gotta go. Because I’m really craving one of those pink pacis, and that CAN’T get on the show. That’d ruin my career faster than a greasy-headed, puke-covered mugshot showing up on TMZ.