Tag: overconfidence

Local Man Goes “Full Method” to Prepare for New Baby

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With the imminent arrival of his first baby, T. Lindeman of Philadelphia prepared the way any new parent would: reading every baby book ever written.

But for Lindeman, it wasn’t What to Expect When You’re Expecting or Expecting Better gracing his bedside table.

“Oh, this one is great!” exclaimed Lindeman, holding up a tactile copy of The Very Hungry Caterpillar. “Feel that weird crunchy stuff under the pages? What is that stuff? It’s amazing, I can’t stop touching it!” Lindeman also perused Moo, Baa, La La La!, Goodnight Moon, and Brown Bear, Brown Bear in his spare waking moments.

“But I don’t have a ton of time to read anymore, what with all the naps!”

Lindeman has been approaching this upcoming life-changing moment in a way doctors are calling “troubling” and his wife describes as “really pretty annoying.”

“I guess the biggest thing to talk about is the diapers,” said Lindeman’s wife, L. Burton. “He’s not just stocking up. He’s wearing them. Constantly.”

Not only that, but he also insists on cleaning and changing himself. “Which actually sounds helpful,” Burton added, “until you see the mess. It wouldn’t be so bad if the infant diapers actually fit him. And the diet certainly doesn’t help!”

Lindeman’s cabinets are lined with jars of mushy bananas and mushy peas. The fridge? Just milk. So much milk.

“If I don’t have my bottle every two hours,” said Lindeman, “I’m going to get fussy.”

“Usually he can burp himself, but sometimes he asks me,” Burton said. “I don’t mind getting to smack him on the back a few times, except when he spits up and says ‘That’s the wet burp we are looking for. Just like Uncle Stephen [Lindeman, Lindeman’s brother]!’”

Despite working her own job up to the point of delivery, Burton found herself taking on another full-time role: caring for the adult-sized infant living in her home.

“Bath time is tough,” she said. “He just gets so splashy. And if the soap gets in his eyes he won’t stop crying for hours.”

We caught up with Lindeman during tummy time, moments after he had finished a new bout of crying.

“Everything is getting so hard! There are these new gates at the top of the stairs, so I can’t throw myself down them. And the cabinets all have these locks on them so I can’t get to the knives. I can’t even open a jar of aspirin!”

Rolling over and over on the small mat before crawling over to his impending child’s toy chest, Lindeman’s behavior did little to dispel rumors that he had forgotten how to walk. Crawling from room to room, he let out occasional groans and grunts when he wanted something, a wordless language that Burton “unfortunately” picked up quite quickly. Even over the course of this interview, it seemed to be replacing his capacity for speech entirely.

As the day wore on, at one point Lindeman caught sight of his wife and immediately cued up his tears again until she put him to bed and sang him a few lullabies.

“It’s the same every time,” Burton clarified. “If he sees me, even if he’s fine, he’ll cry until I pick him up. It’s terrible for my back, and probably bad for the baby too, but it’s the only way to get him to settle down.”

Beneath his mobile of spinning animals, scratch-offs, and beers, Lindeman finally drifted off to sleep. But it was a peace short-lived. Moments later his cries rang out again—accompanied by the telltale smell of a freshly soiled diaper.

Husband Experiences Woes of a Sympathetic Pregnancy

On By TommyIn Current Articles, The Lindeman Daily1 Comment

“Tired a lot, nauseous, a ton of weird cravings….” listed off Philadelphia resident T. Lindeman. “Occasional mood swings and weird cramps.

“And that’s not even getting into what my wife is dealing with.”

When L. Burton announced to her husband that she was pregnant, Lindeman took it with all the enthusiasm and excitement in the world. Little did she know the immense impact it would have on his body and lifestyle.

“I can’t let him shop by himself,” explained Burton. “He’ll beeline to the ice cream aisle and start loading up the cart.” For any other man, this wouldn’t be an issue. However, Lindeman has what doctors are calling “a disgusting degree of lactose intolerance.”

“I normally don’t even like ice cream,” whined Lindeman. “It’s these damn pregnancy cravings!”

Lindeman is adamant that his body is experiencing a “sympathetic pregnancy,” which can be found in many tomes of medical literature next to the chapter on snake oil.

“It’s absolutely wild the effect this has on the human body,” said Lindeman. “I’ve definitely been feeling the mood swings, especially when driving. I’ve never experienced road rage before!”

Burton confirmed this behavior, but said it was nothing new. “[Lindeman] has always been the type to get emotional. He weeps during episodes of Love is Blind and Severance!” Lindeman chose not to respond to these allegations, except to say he was a “sucker for good television.”

But pregnancy isn’t all sappy TV, aggressive driving, and constant snacking. There are also downsides that Lindeman is acutely aware of.

“I don’t mind the sympathy cravings,” said Lindeman. “But it’s the physical toll—the sympathy morning sickness—that gets to me!”

Every morning like clockwork, sometime between 5AM and 10AM, Lindeman finds himself face-first in the toilet bowl. And no, he’s not having a morning slurp like a dog.

“Sick as a dog, more like!” Lindeman exclaimed. “All these new hormones rushing through my bod, there’s no wonder I keep vomming. But everyone says that’s just how it goes in the first trimester.” Unfortunately for Lindeman, he is already well into the second trimester.

“It’s not morning sickness,” said Burton, who by coincidence often joined Lindeman on the floor next to the toilet. “He’s just sick from drinking or eating too much the night before.”

When Lindeman heard this, he remarked “That’s her opinion. But doesn’t she feel better knowing that I’m going through all of this with her?”

“It doesn’t stop with the morning sickness,” furthered Burton. “He’s also producing what he calls ‘sympathy burps,’ and claiming the baby is giving him gastroparesis.

“I think he’s having too much seltzer water and ginger ale to, as he says, ‘settle his stomach from the pregnancy.’”

Without a doctor’s diagnosis, there’s no way to know for sure what’s causing it, claimed Lindeman. But Burton is a doctor, and she said it’s definitely the seltzer.

“Who knows?” shrugged Lindeman.

As the pregnancy stretches on, Lindeman has taken to having a “bit of a siesta” every day. From approximately 11AM to 6PM, Lindeman can be found curled up in bed, “catching flies with my honk shoes on, and maybe a couple of cartoon Zs coming out of my head.”

Is this affecting his job? Or his helping around the house? “Yes,” said both his bosses and his wife.

“The doctor said naps are vital to the growth of the baby!” Lindeman is heard to say as he curls up with a big fuzzy blanket.

In his endless pursuit to ensure the baby has the best possible future, Lindeman has also started sympathy nesting.

“Lauren [Burton] is getting a BBL,” said Lindeman, referencing what he calls the forthcoming Baby Boy Lindeman. “So we need to make sure there’s lots of cozy places for that thing to rest and be happy.”

Lindeman has helped paint furniture, given up his office for the nursery, and even brought in twigs, yarn, and shiny things before being told that’s not what “nesting” means.

Unfortunately for this publication, our interview with Lindeman led to a monologue.

“I don’t mean to make light of women’s experience with pregnancy,” said Lindeman as he made light of women’s experience, “but it is just as hard, if not harder, for men.

“Between the sickness, the crampings, the hormones, not to mention the sympathy incontinence we get after the birth, our bodies will never be the same. We are forced to give up our own bodily autonomy for the sake of our families—without any say in the matter! It’s my body, it should be my choice!”

“Who knew 40 seconds of passion would lead to nine months of discomfort?” responded Burton, referring to how uncomfortable Lindeman makes her with his new complaints and irritating behavior.

She isn’t the only one made uncomfortable by Lindeman, who left us with these final words:

“Ugh, I need to go. I think my milk is coming in.”

Self-Proclaimed “Funcle” Revels in Love of Five Nieces

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Hours after the girls wake up, Lindeman descends the stairs to bask in the glow of his nieces’ affections. Calling himself the “funcle” (a portmanteau of “fun” and “uncle”), Lindeman is ready for the nonstop positivity that only an uncle can receive.

So it came as a shock when each of them independently greeted him with a “Where’s Lauren [Burton, Lindeman’s wife]?”

“Obviously it isn’t what I expected,” says Lindeman. Undeterred, he prepares to win them over and experience all the best parts of hanging with kids under 4, without any of the diaper changes.

And what better opportunity to win them over than the Christmas season, when Lindeman could give them presents and catch them at their most holiday cheerful?

As a LEGO aficionado, Lindeman planned for ages to get Poppy her first LEGO set, and he spent hours picking out just the right one. On Christmas morning when she opened it up, she got right to work building and playing, before remembering that her new-found fun was a gift she had to thank someone for. With a big smile, she ran up to Lindeman and said the words he longed to hear:

“Where’s Lauren?”

This is not unusual. In fact, most of their conversations start and end with the same two words. When Lauren is in the room, Poppy sticks to her like glue. When she’s not in the room, Poppy is asking Lindeman where his wife is.

“Any interaction is a good interaction,” said Lindeman, clearly attempting to hide his tears. “Really! It’s the best!”

A few days later, Lindeman traveled up to Cape Cod to win over his other four nieces.

“It’s a numbers game,” explained Lindeman. “With four of them in the same house, one is bound to love me as their funcle.”

From the start, however, Lindeman’s optimism was unfounded. Seeing a large bag of Play-Doh ready for the molding, he asked the two older girls, Olivia and Charlotte, if they wanted to play Play-Doh. He received resounding no’s. A few moments later, Lindeman saw his wife playing Play-Doh with them.

Undeterred, Lindeman caught Olivia building a pillow fort on the couch. A master builder with years of experience (see: aforementioned love of LEGO), he knew he could help build something stable and stylish, fashionable and functional. When he offered to help, or even to just sit quietly next to her fort, she responded negatively.

“It was her own fort,” sniffled Lindeman. “I can understand wanting to accomplish a task all on your own.” Lauren was later invited to help build, and even enter, the fort.

Another niece, Zoe, was recovering from a bout of RSV. A little sluggish from the medicine, Zoe wasn’t too anti-Lindeman when he approached her, but she certainly didn’t go out of her way to be pro-Lindeman.

“AaaaaaAAAAAAaaahh!” said Zoe, when asked for comment.

The youngest niece, Avery, was at first an easy target for hanging out. At meal times, she would be locked in her height chair, unable to leave when Lindeman would sit next to her.

“It was great!” smiled Lindeman. “A highlight of my time for sure–aside from one small blemish.

The “small blemish” Lindeman was referencing was a moment when he was asked to watch the teetering toddler as she stumbled around the living room. At one point when Avery reached for his hand, she dropped before he could reach her — right onto her face.

“There was a lot of blood,” said Avery’s mother, who had to clean up the bloody nose. “[Lindeman] really shouldn’t be allowed unsupervised around anyone of any age.

“Funcle? More like lunkle.”

Still, some moments were sweeter than others. Olivia played with stamps for a while, and gave Lindeman a small piece of paper that said “mermaizing” with a picture of a mermaid. He opened it to find she had stamped tiny hearts inside. (Never mind the fact that she gave Lauren two stamps.) And Charlotte spent ten minutes handing out straws to everyone in the family.

“Even though she gave me a straw last,” said Lindeman, proudly displaying his yellow straw, “it still counts!”

And while normally Charlotte’s favorite thing to say to Lindeman is “No,” at bedtime she asked him for a kiss and a hug, and said “I love you.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s really a funcle moment,” said Lindeman. “But it makes being an uncle more than enough.”

Ireland Calls for a State of Emergency Amid Picker-Upper Scandal

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Chaos reigned in the Irish countryside this October, as partygoers faced catastrophe during an otherwise idyllic weekend.

“People act surprised,” said L. Burton. “But anyone who knows Tommy [Lindeman] would have expected this.”

Burton and Lindeman had flown across the Atlantic Ocean to attend a beautiful wedding at the famous Slane Castle in Ireland. Despite the distance, they are never ones to neglect an opportunity to celebrate love and cut some rugs. And soon after landing on the Emerald Isle, the wedding day arrived.

The evening at the castle started off with gusto and pizzazz — a beautiful wedding ceremony and delicious meal were followed by dancing into the night. When 10:30PM loomed and the band departed, the celebrants descended into the castle’s basement. There, the festivities continued deep into the night with dancing in the castle’s hidden nightclub.

It wasn’t until dawn that anyone noticed that anything was amiss. In the dim morning light, bruised bones and stained clothes revealed a populace unprepared for the type of evening Lindeman brought to the fore (and to the floor).

“Yup, it was Tommy [Lindeman],” said K. Votta, the wedding’s beautiful blushing bride. “I had a feeling it would happen — anyone would — but the degree of carnage was wholly unexpected.” Indeed, Irish authorities say the country had never seen such a slaughter.

This publication has been able to dive deep into the evidence and piece together what happened in Slane Castle that night:

When Lindeman is having a good time, he becomes what in some circles is known as a “picker-upper.”

“I pick people up,” explained Lindeman. Notably, Lindeman did not say he also becomes a “putter-downer.”

“He dropped so many people,” said A. Conyngham, the owner of the castle, who had ventured down into the nightclub to see how the night was going. “I don’t know how he was able to get through so many. It was horrifying.”

While Lindeman claims to have been stable throughout the night, evidence points to an early lapse into picker-uppering.

“We tried to put Kaitlyn [the bride] on our shoulders during the start of the reception,” said M. Protesto, another partygoer who occasionally partakes in responsible picker-uppering. “But as soon as we started tossing her in the air, he was clearly losing control of the situation. I had to single-handedly save the bride.”

Lindeman is adamant that the floors were to blame, though he was the only guest in a wedding of over 200 people that seemed to have trouble.

“They were slippery as hell!” Lindeman tried to argue unsuccessfully. “No one could be expected to stay on their feet!” Camera evidence shows that only Lindeman had trouble remaining upright.

As the night grew long, Lindeman grew bolder, picker-uppering more and more wedding guests and cultivating a scene of such devastation, the country of Ireland had to put in place a State of Emergency.

Slane Castle, originally built in the 18th century and maintained in perfect condition every since, felt the trauma of Lindeman’s presence. The castle steps, already indented by centuries of feet, wore down in a single night at a rate that would normally be seen over 100 years of activity. Lindeman’s inability to maintain his feet wore them down with heretofore unseen speed.

“I will say my tailbone was definitely bruised and uncomfy [sic] on the flight home,” said one of Lindeman’s victims. “Not the first time I have ended up on the ground and definitely will not be the last.”

Channeling the late-90s band Drowning Pool, Lindeman continued to “Let the Bodies Hit the Floor” throughout the night. Unfortunately for him, his picker-upper-ees were not the only ones scathed.

“My knees are devastated,” exclaimed Lindeman, attempting to say that no one can blame him because he’s also sore. “And I’m going to climb mountains tomorrow!”

This publication has no empathy for a remorseless picker-upper. Especially one that did the unforgivable.

“I dropped Buck [the groom],” moaned Lindeman. “At least he seemed to bounce,” he continued, though it was clear that even he did not believe his own words.

Luckily the bruises will fade, and even thoughts of falling will orange and fall from the tree of memory. It will be as if the picker-uppering fiasco never happened, perhaps a distant dream. All anyone will remember will be an evening of joy, dancing, love, and most importantly, Guinness.

“That’s not true at all,” said the victims in unison.

Lindeman Claims He Will Build a Bar

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“I’m going to build a bar.”

With these words, T. Lindeman of Philadelphia, PA made a declaration, a vow, and a promise.

After moving in August of 2023, Lindeman and his wife, L. Burton, settled quickly and easily into their new home. Carpets were swapped with hardwood, bare walls became adorned walls, and their television was set up to stream through an Xbox. Every space was filled with mementos, meaning, and love.

One room, however, was still a question mark.

“It’s the room downstairs, in the back room behind the garage,” explains Burton. “We originally used it to store spare couches, since we had a lot of couches.”

But once the furniture was passed along to friends, the room was empty, a big absence of love and meaning. That’s when Lindeman made his declaration.

“I’m going to build a bar,” he said. “And it’s going to be great!”

The goal, Lindeman posits, is to have a “chill hangout space,” where people can “relax” and “take it easy” and also “slurp down a couple of pints of big boy bevies.” His enthusiasm for this new project was clear, though not as infectious as he had hoped.

“My co-worker and I made a bet,” Burton says. “We knew it would take a while for [Lindeman] to build it and get it ready. So we made a wager on what specific date we thought it would be finished.” Perhaps embarrassed about the lack of confidence in her husband, Burton refuses to even hint at what date she picked.

But that lack of confidence might not be unfounded. Though a self-proclaimed “LEGO maniac,” Lindeman has no real experience building anything of any true substance.

“He claims he built a desk during the pandemic,” says Lindeman’s friend M. Protesto, a seasoned woodworker who had volunteered to help Lindeman in his project. “But that was just putting legs onto a single piece of butcher block. Not really much he could mess up.”

But Lindeman could not be dissuaded. He went to work researching, planning, organizing. He even bought a binder to hold his “schematics.”

Plans in hand, Lindeman flashed them in front of Protesto.

“They seemed ok, from what I glanced at,” shrugs Protesto. The question remained, would he be able to actually execute the project?

After sitting on the plans for a few weeks, the wheels of progress began to inch forward with an influx of confidence from a surprising source: in what can only be described as a bout of madness, his parents gifted Lindeman tools for his birthday. Armed with his own proper equipment and borrowing his father’s miter saw, Lindeman had no excuse not to begin with haste.

Lindeman visited several places to get the wood he needed for the project. He started at Home Depot, which didn’t have great quality. Then he went to Lowe’s, which also didn’t have great quality. Finally, he went to a lumberyard in West Philly. It didn’t have great quality either. But he bought it all anyway and brought it home. Some of it wasn’t even warped!

Eventually, the room was filled with piles of wood, tools, and screws. It was time to get to work.

When it comes to cutting wood, the inexperienced Lindeman subscribes to one rule: “Measure twice, cut yourself twice, cut the wood once.”

Things began to come together. With a Bud Lite in hand and Thin Lizzy on repeat, a bar began to appear.

Now over a year after they had moved into their home, it seems like there is still a long way to go with the project.

“The frame is built, the kegerator installed,” exclaims Lindeman. “There is a light at the end of the tunnel!”

“But not much light,” adds Burton, referring to the fact that a vortex of sawdust spins continuously around the room, blocking out both natural and artificial light. With sharp tools all over the floor and scraps of wood piled over every spare surface, Lindeman’s work is a bit of a mess. But he insists that is just what it takes.

“Once we tap that keg,” smiles Lindeman, who doesn’t know the first thing about how to operate a kegerator, or even how to properly pour a beer, “nothing in the world will taste sweeter.”

As of now, the bar is still incomplete.