MISTAKES MADE AND NO ONE GETS LAID

Urrrrrrp.

Sorry. I've eaten like a pig this weekend. It's the heartburn talking. No...really.

First off, I wanna blast my former internet service provider Home.com. They went bankrupt on Friday and nobody told me shiznit until I received an email on Friday saying "Guess what? You don't have internet service anymore! Isn't that a hoot??"

Apparently, in talking with other home users, they DID send me emails saying that the end was near. I just chose to not read them.

Ahem.

A little tip for Home.com...put in the subject line "YOU'RE ABOUT TO BE INTERNET-LESS!!!" next time. I'd read that crap.

So now I'm a proud card-carrying member of the Charter Communications family. Well...I'm not exactly "proud"....I've had to download the software twice now because they left me hanging the first time. But everything seems to be working fine now and I'm looking forward to a long and happy relationship with Charter.

...Just in case they're reading this...

We went to Birmingham Friday evening so that Susie could get a good night's sleep before her big test Saturday morning.

Mistake #1: Stopping for a big Mexican dinner before making the 90 minute drive. That was about the dumbest thing I've done since that acid trip in college where I tried to castrate myself with a cigarette lighter to prove my love for a particularly provocative poster of Suzanne Sommers in this guy's apartment.

We made it to Birmingham in record time, shaving 20 minutes off the 90 minute drive. This was accomplished by succumbing to the band of Mexican dwarf prisoners inside my bowels that were demanding to be released immediately. I was all like..."Whatever you say Pancho! I'm going 110 mph in a mini van...I'm doing my part!"

Whew! Never ordering Carne Asada before a road trip again.

Anyway, got up there, the prisoners were released and then I played with Andrew while Susie studied some more.

Man...Andrew LOVED his first hotel room. Everything was on his level. He learned how to turn the heat into cold air and must have done that about 8,000 times, giggling the whole time as the air blasted him in the face.

Then we did some bed wrestling which I let him win. Keep in mind, I may be an old man...but I think I can kick my boy's ass if I needed to. I just let him win to build up his self esteem. Plus...the little bastard's a dirty fighter. He bites and scratches pretty hard and I thought if I let him win, he'd take it easy on me. No such luck. I have a mark on my cheek that looks like eight baby teeth in a circle. Thanks little dude.

We slept just fine, considering that we weren't in the best of neighborhoods (note to self: Don't let wife ever make hotel reservations again when she doesn't know the city).

Got up Saturday and went down to the Waffle House adjacent to the hotel. I refused to eat anything there, keeping with my Waffle House tradition of not giving them a dime since 1985 when I quit the place.

Susie had a waffle, eggs, bacon and toast. Sure did look good.

Looked damned good.

Smelled good too.

I wanted a bite. But...keeping with the blah-blah tradition...I didn't eat any.

We left there, found me a bagel cafe where I had my morning bagel and then dropped her off for her test.

Andrew and I went back to the hotel room and wrestled until he fell asleep. Of course, I had gone from behind him and trapped him in the deadly Sleeper hold, which explains his quick and deep slumber.

He slept for about two hours at which time I finally woke him up and we went to the Galleria, the largest free-standing mall in North America if you don't count about 4,372 other malls.

We visited the Disney Store where we loaded up on "Bear In The Big Blue House" merchandise at overinflated mall prices for Christmas.

We waved at Santa. The sonofabitch wouldn't wave back because we didn't stand in his precious mile-long line and pay $24.99 to have him acknowledge our presence.

F'n Santa.

I told Andy there's no such thing as Santa and that was some derelict in a rented suit. From here on out, I'D be buying the gifts at Christmas time. He just needs to tell me what he wants and as long as he cleans his room, chops the firewood and earns a decent living for a baby...I'd take care of him.

He agreed and we kept walking.

I found a Yankee Candle store in the mall. Lemme just say, when it comes to Yankee Candles, I toss my masculinity out the window and become a sashaying, lisping pseudo-male.

I was in HEAVEN!

I smelled about 30 candles and made the "Mmmmmmmm" sound after each one until Andy got embarrassed that his dad's about as manly as Princess Diana and started voicing his disapproval of the store as well as his dad's sensitive portrayal of a mentally unbalanced fruitcake so we left.

He can be such a little bitch sometimes.

We left the mall and went back to pick up Mama from her test. Apparently, she had been studying all those nights and WASN'T out being a crack whore because she thinks she did okay on the test. Plus I met her study partner Kelly who didn't really strike me as a crack whore partner-in-crime.

We celebrated the finishing of their test at Dreamland BBQ. Dreamland is famous for their ribs, which I had never eaten before.

I wasn't impressed. I make better ribs than these guys. Famous my ass. Maybe it's time "Uncle Bob's Tasty Ribs" opens up and sets the rib world on fire.

I was even less impressed when the bill came. We had ribs, white bread and baked beans.

$41.25.

I sputtered and gasped, but nobody really took notice of it because everyone else in the restaurant was sputtering and gasping over their own respective bills.

We paid and left.

Drove home.

Mistake #2: Do not eat famous ribs right before a road trip.

Got home and made some little riblets in the bathroom.

Settled in to watch the Florida-Tennessee game.

To make a long story short...I'm a Tennessee fan. Die-hard fan. Florida always beats Tennessee. They've beaten us eight out of the last nine years. Plus, we were playing at Florida and hadn't beaten them in their own stadium in 30 years. It's a game that I'm predisposed to watch us lose.

We won.

I was happier than a whore in hell.

My sister and her new attorney boyfriend came over. He turned out to be a really cool guy. Quiet, but not too quiet. And he really knew how to kiss my ass, which is always nice when you're meeting your girlfriend's big brother.

We went to Copeland's, my favorite semi-fancy restaurant.

Mistake #3: Do not take a cranky baby to a semi-fancy restaurant and expect him to be an angel.

Andrew had been shuttled around for 24 hours, not been able to play with his toys, had been rudely awakened from two naps, was chock full of Tylenol and smelled of stale urine.

While everyone around us looked like Alabama's uppercrust...we had a whiny baby who was throwing anything he could get his hands on to the ground.

This is fun for about 0.4 seconds. Then the whole reaching under the table to pick up your silverware gets old.

OH!

I actually drank some alcohol last night!

Keeping with my Yankee Candle mode, I ordered a Twister which is probably the most delicate, feminine drink on the menu.

I ordered it because my sister and her beau are going to New Orleans in a few weeks and she wanted to know some good drinks to order down there.

So I ordered the Twister to let her have a taste. She liked it and is planning on ordering that while down there.

I guzzled it. Damn...it was good. Coconut rum, peaches and some fruit juice. Great drink.

The food came and neither Susie or I was that hungry after eating all those unimpressive ribs that afternoon. So I brought most of my meal home (Blackened Chicken for those of you who keep a running diary of what I eat).

Came home, tried to watch more football but I was about as groggy as a drunken baby. So with Susie's blessing, I went to bed while she stayed up with Andrew who was NOW in a great mood, playing with his toys and glad to be home.

I put my head on my pillow and was awake for about 10 seconds before crashing.

Got up this morning, reinstalled my Charter crap and wrote this thrilling essay of my weekend so far.

Christ.

This is one exciting life I've got here.

No wonder I've got you completely captivated with my day-to-day activities.