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7:30 a.m. - 2002-02-06

MY WET HOT AMERICAN ASS

If I could have any wish, I'd wish that I wasn't so damned stupid when it came to picking out movies to obsess over.

Ever since I read about the movie "Wet Hot American Summer", I've wanted to see it.

Of course, the movie never came to my city, so I had to wait for DVD. There was a reason the movie never came to my city which became obvious upon watching the movie last night.

Christ almighty...this was one stinkeroo of a flick. I laughed out loud exactly twice. Granted...those two times I laughed pretty hard. But other than that, this was the kinda film that would have Japanese torture experts wincing in pain.

Wait...I laughed out loud three times. I forgot one time.

I guess I just expected more from it.

Kinda like you when you clicked on this link today, huh?


Andrew's dancing now.

If you can call it that.

He's shown a few dance moves before. He's done the "deep baby knee bends" that most kids do. But now he's come full circle and is doing "Soul Train" moves to "London Bridge" and "Old McDonald".

And when I say "Soul Train" moves, I mean he's now doing deep baby knee bends accompanied by the flapping of arms.

These dance steps crack him up. He just stands there, laughing hysterically flapping his arms and doing the deep baby knee bends.

Meanwhile, I'm thinking we may need to look into some special education classes for the boy.

He has his little musical table which seemed like a great idea at Christmas but has quickly turned into the bane of my existence. That kid has found the "demo" button on the table and keeps his music playing CONSTANTLY now. He'll hit the button, songs will play, he'll dance, the music will stop and he'll run over there and hit the button again.

CAN'T STOP THE MUSIC!!

Meanwhile, we stare at him like he has fried chicken coming out his nose.


I finally figured out what to do with telemarketers.

...I give the phone to Andrew.

He's 15 months old now and LOVES to talk on the phone. It's by far his favorite toy. When the phone rings and caller ID says "Out of Area", it's telemarketing.

So I hit the power button and hand the phone to Andrew. As soon as the telemarketer starts talking, Andrew thinks it's Grandma and he starts babbling away into the phone until the telemarketer hangs up.

This pleases everyone in the house. Susie and I no longer have to deal with telemarketers. Andrew gets to talk to people on the phone. And the telemarketers can sit and wonder just why the hell they answered that blind ad in the newspaper.

It works for me.


That's it for me. If you haven't checked out Cosmic Crayola's quest yet, do so now. Some of you ladies and cross dressers may be able to help a unique cause.

The kid's up and sounds like he's dancing out there. I'd better go supervise the chaos.

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