Ava and The Chach comin’ at you wall to wall and treetop tall
Hello, boys and girls! Welcome to “our thing”, or Cosa Nostra, as they say in nine out of 10 Martin Scorsese movies. Be assured, though, no heads will roll here. The only thing rolling will be Mom’s eyes when Dad makes a joke. Ha ha! No, this is Charlie and my blog, a combined rebranding of our respective Facebook pages, Ava Reese is a Kick-Ass Baby/Kid, and The Chanicles. Facebook is okay, but it’s kind of yesterday, and that Mark Zuckerberg is so old. (Don’t tell him I said that. I still consider him a friend.) More importantly, there are no bold or italics on Facebook, and limited “hyperlink functionality” (which my Dad says was his nickname in college), which Charlie and I both agreed were very troubling omissions.
So, acknowledging that “the Book” had been very good to us during the infancy (hah!) of our social media journey, we decided to go in a different direction. Of course, the Zuck was not pleased, but you can’t run a business on friendship. And he was gracious enough to invite us to dine with him and his lovely wife Priscilla at their Palo Alto-area home. Suffice it to say we “liked” the place quite a bit. (Yeah. I went there. And I’ll go there again, so buckle up, sweetheart.) So we said goodbye over a dinner of wine and crepes (Zuck and Priscilla), and milk, raisin bread toast with butter, and banana-cream flavored waffle wheels (Charlie and me). The Zuckster was very gracious, and the dinner went well, until it inevitably deteriorated at the end, when I — as I am wont to do — poured a bowl of apple-cherry GoGo Squeez apple sauce on my head, and Charlie — as he is equally wont to do — regurgitated his entire meal all over his lap. “How immature,” said Zuckerberg, who wears the same outfit to work as he did to Kindergarten. Suffice it to say we had to beat a hasty retreat to the airport (thank goodness for UberJr) to catch a red-eye back to the Chi before Mom and Dad noticed us missing.
UPDATE: It would seem at our respective tender ages of 1 and 2ish that Charlie and I have already aged out of the social media expertise window, but we’re doing the best we can to figure this all out. This is our understanding right now: Whatever we post from here on out will automatically generate a tweet from our Twitter account, and a new post on our new Facebook Page, Ava and The Chach. Our previous FB pages will no longer be hosting new posts. So make sure you follow the new FB page. BTW, we may be completely wrong about this, so we’re going to verify it with some 3-month old IT guys who Charlie met at fetus camp. Anyway, feel free to like our new FB page and follow us on Twitter. We’ll be doing additional tweeting as well, so don’t miss out!
So here we are, blogging our cute little butts off. Did you see that sweet domain name? Charlie got it through a buddy of his. Anyway, in order to produce this fine example of literary genius, Charlie and I had to seriously pool our resources, the origins of which we cannot officially disclose, but suffice it to say that said resources may or may not have involved copious transactions of black market Cheerios with nations that may or may not be on the State Department’s Most Ridiculous Nations (MRN) list. Did you know they had a list like that? I didn’t.
Now, you may be thinking, Ava and the Chach! Where have I heard that before? Or, you may be thinking that these kids are really overdoing it with the italics. Well, I’ll tell you something: if you think we overuse italics, wait ’til you see how we abuse the hyperlinks!
Anyway, A&TC is based on the title structure of one of television’s most iconic — dare we say life-altering — shows, a program that taught us more about what it was like to be an American in the late 1970s than perhaps any other ostensibly fictional series before or since. Of course, I’m talking about BJ and the Bear, the humorous, heartwarming, and let’s face it — hairy — story about a man and his chimp that definitely was not a cheap rip-off of Every Which Way But Loose.
Anyway, we’ve included our prior Facebook posts below, and we’ll be updating this bad boy as we go through our lives in the Chi and surrounding territories, swingin’ for the fences, takin’ what we’re given, and workin’ for a livin’.
Hah! Hey there, Huey. Don’t sue us, bro! Anyway, in the meantime, feel free to follow us on Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, Inkwell, Mayonnaisejar, Armpit, Toenail, Navelgaze, or any other two words you feel like randomly combining (what a country!). However, we may get an actual Twitter account if Charlie’s contact in the western suburbs (he won’t tell us which one — oooh, so mysterious!) comes through with the fake IDs and passports.
I remain skeptical, but you never know with the Chach. For a kid his age, he’s been known to pull off some doozies. Respect!
So we’re throwing in some recent totally cute pics to tide you over as you go through the old stuff. In the future, we’ll have video and whatever else they let us put on this site, which I can’t tell you how we obtained except to say that it may or may not have involved copious expired condiment transactions with a certain group of retired Foosball referees in Southeast Asia and Milwaukee. Charlie got us the hookup. See what I mean? Pretty connected for a 1-year old.