"I DO! I DO!"

I had a big long entry here. I really, really did.

Then my boy Mattie Gee sends me this email that says "Oh BY THE WAY saw this site the other day...really sick...then they were talking about their good friend CURT COLLINS who went with them on one of their escapades....these guys are totally sick. not one for the workplace at all."

Curt Collins is an old friend of mine. His name has been changed to protect his sorry ass, but he has a name that not too many people have. Plus, I heard the other night that he had just recently been divorced.

Anyway, the site is some site that talks about how these guys pick up women and get the women to do all kindsa nasty things in their van. There's pics and everything. Since I'm at work, I couldn't look at much of it, but when I clicked on the accompanying link that Mattie Gee provided me, it automatically erased my long Diaryland entry to show me a bunch of skanky women in the back of a bus lifting their shirts up and stuff. When I hit "back", I was greeted with an empty text box where once rested a hilarious entry all about burning bags of ass hair.

So...you know...that really sucks when that happens.

Anyway, my country hillbilly bud at work ate some collard greens for lunch today and stunk up the entire office building like your average smoker would.

I've never eaten collard greens in my life. The only food I can eat that smells nasty as hell is country ham ... the salty cured type of ham. Man, that stuff STINKS when you're cooking it...kinda like a laundry hamper full of pee-soaked undies ... but damn, it's good.

So now, the building really REALLY stinks. I told Edweird that it made me want to walk out to where the art department is located and say "Is someone burning a bag of ass hair out here?"

For some reason, that phrase just cracked me up.

Sadly, I'll probably never have a reason to use it other than the collard greens situation from earlier. And I just blew that one.

My life sucks.

Not really. Just thought I'd toss a little melodrama in there.

So ... I LOVED "Oz" last night. It rocked.

And tonight's a new "Fear Factor". I'm sure it will rock.

And tomorrow night a new "Scrubs". I have no doubt it will rock.

And Wednesday night...new "Ed". Rock, rock, rock.

Thursday night? The season finale of "Survivor". Need I say more? It will rock INFINITY!

Then Friday night...ummmm...well...there's no reason to believe it won't rock. So let's just say FRIDAYS ROCK!!!

Saturday night will provide me with a break from the non-stop rocking that I'm undertaking all week.

Then next Sunday? New "Oz".

And the vicious circle keeps spinning.

You know...if I actually had a life, I might be fairly interesting.

For the last several months, Andrew has been saying "I do!" to everything we say.

"Andrew, do you know who the biggest crybaby in the house is?"

"I do!"

"Andrew, do you want me to take you back to the hospital and chuck you into a dumpster out back?"

"I do!"

"Andrew, who in this family likes to stick their tongue in the dog's butt?"

"I do!"

I think you get the picture.

So this has been our neat little Stupid Baby Trick for several months now. I ask Andrew a question and he answers it and everyone gets a chuckle which makes Andrew chuckle.

So anyway, yesterday at church, the usual lady who watches him was out sick so a young couple watched him for the hour that church was in session.

I went to pick him up out of the nursery afterwards.

"Boy, he sure likes to say his name, doesn't he?" Sam asked.

"Huh?" I said, caught totally off guard.

"Andrew. He keeps saying 'Andrew'," Sam pointed out.

"No," I laughed. "He's saying 'I do'. Not his name."

"No," Sam, the father of a four year-old girl said. "He's saying his name. Listen to him."

I looked at Andrew.

"Andrew," I asked. "Do you know where good little children go when they die?"

"I do!" he gleefully replied.

"You see?" I said to Sam.

"You see?" Sam said to me.

Hmmmm. Now that you mention that, I could see where the naked ear would hear "Andrew". But I'm convinced he's saying "I do".

Then again...why would he be saying "I do"? We're always calling him Andrew and never really use the phrase "I do" around him.

And it was at that point I realized that the boy has been saying his name for the last several months and we've been pronouncing it "I do" right back at him rather than saying "Andrew".

This would explain his general pissiness with me over the last few months. I'd be a little ticked too if my father kept insinuating that I stuck my tongue up the dog's ass on a daily basis.

Boy is my face red!

Not from embarrassment. It's probably the high blood pressure. But still...it's red.

You know what really sucks?

Having an 11 day vacation, working three days and then getting a weekend off.

That weekend seems puny after an 11 day vacation. It's kinda like having sex with a supermodel and then cornholing the family pet. A weekend is a huge letdown after a vacation of that magnitude.

I feel like I got nothing done this weekend. I don't even feel like I got a weekend. I feel like I got a few minutes away from the office and then it was right back into it.

That's the last 11 day vacation I ever take. It's too tough to readjust to the working life afterwards.

My business trip to Oregon has been extended by a day.

Whereas I WAS going to leave Sunday the 27th, I'm now leaving Saturday the 26th for Oregon.

The reason? Cheaper rates. And the fact that I'm going to be travelling all day long and it just makes sense if I'm going to be travelling backwards two hours in time that I have a full day to recover from the travelling and rest up in the hotel room on Sunday. Plus it will give me a full day to scope the place out, map out all the different appointments that I've made and know how to get to each of them as well as see the city.

But man. I am going to MISS my little boy. Big time. This first business trip is going to be the hardest. I keep telling myself that. Being away from him for a week is going to hurt.

Susie? I can handle a week away from her. No sweat. She's a big girl, she can take care of herself.

Andrew's a different story. I just hope he's good for her and doesn't cry for his Daddy. That would crush me.

I'm getting choked up just thinking about it.

Time to go back to work.