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2:41 p.m. - 2002-05-04

NOW THERE'S NOTHING LEFT FOR ME TO BITCH ABOUT

A quick little entry.

Guess who called this morning to tell us that she has $5,000 in her geriatric little hands with our name written all over the bills?

That's right...Grandma.

She's still $1,100 in the hole, which I would be more than happy to write off as a bad investment, but Susie insists...no...she is going to FORCE her mother to pay us back every penny, interest and all.

I do believe I've married a member of the Gestapo. I guess that time I caught her naked wearing only a Hitler-like mustache fashioned of duct tape and goosestepping around the bedroom should have been a bigger warning sign to me than I originally took it.

Apparently, the five grand is in cash. There's no telling how my shifty, no-good, 65 year-old mother-in-law came across five grand in cash and we don't WANT to know.

We just want the money before she gives it all to some guy in a Walmart parking lot who promises her that if she gives him the money, he'll be back in an hour with triple the amount.

So for the first time in my life, I'm welcoming my mother-in-law into my home with open arms later today.

...And the woman had BETTER remember the money. If this is another ruse ("Oh...I uhhhh...I left the money on top of the car as I pulled out of the driveway and it allllll blew away!"), she will NOT make it out of this house alive.

Trrrrrrrrrrust me. And don't think I'll be the one inflicting pain ... Susie's so wound up over this, she may still chop her mom's head off and put it on a stick, painting her own face with her mother's blood as some sort of tribal gesture. And that's even if she DOES pay us.


Went to the big annual "First Saturday in May" yard sales today.

Andrew made out like a bandit.

I know it's cheesy, cheap and sleazy...but the kid practically got his entire Christmas inventory today for less than thirty bucks.

He's got a big vinyl Pooh clubhouse that will look perfect in his playroom. He can go in and out of it and it can serve as a sanctuary for him to hump all his toys in, away from his parents' concerned and worried stares.

He got some thing ... Tykes Peak or something. It's like a Lil' Tykes race track for cars that go through a big mountain.

Several Sesame Street books. A Fisher Price garage with all the cars and cool people to go with it.

And some other junk. All of it in great condition and it all looks brand new.

My parents asked me a few years ago of all the Christmases I has experienced, which one was the best? I remembered one year where I got a ton of toys and named some of them off.

Every single toy was bought from some guy my dad worked with second hand. My parents had a rough year that year and all of my toys were hand-me-downs.

And I didn't know any better. Those things don't matter when you're a kid. It's quantity, not quality.


I think that after more than two years of writing in this diary, I experienced more traffic yesterday than ever before.

Why?

Four words...

Lisa Lopes Autopsy Photos.

In describing rotten.com, I used those words as something that the site had to offer.

God bless Google. Apparently there's a shitload of sick fuckers out there wanting to see the results of a washed-up rapper going through the windshield of her car.

In my attempt to top yesterday's cavalcade of new visitors, I'd like to offer these Google-endorsed phrases to suck in new and unusual readers:

"Janet Reno naked".

"Michael Clarke Duncan's massive weenie."

"Spiderman shot his spider wad on my belly"

"Sarah Michelle Gellar abnormally hairy topless photos"

"Phyllis Diller's cellulite-ridden ass."

"Michael J. Fox's pathetic attempt at masturbation photos"

"Queef Busters"

"Severed Penis Recipes"

There ya go.

Welcome aboard, new Army members!!

I tricked your sick ass into visiting my website! I'll have all the photos that I hinted at above available sometime this week, so keep checking back in!

(...suckers!)

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