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8:27 a.m. - 2002-08-14

OKAY ... THIS IS WHERE MY LIFE GETS KINDA WEIRD...

So the Pool Goddess.

I spent the entire day at work yesterday wondering what was up with my Brother In Law and the pool goddess. Ok, not wondering specifics. I was trying very violently to prevent the mental image of my Evil Brother In Law poking his little cocktail frank into the curvaceous wonder that is the Pool Goddess. But the dynamics of it. It was right up there with the Shroud of Turin in Great Mysteries of Mankind.

I put Susie on the case. I mean, I couldn't exactly waltz over to the Pool Goddess as she sunned herself by the crystal waters of the pool and say "So, did you like getting your groove on with my Brother In Law?" But when I imagined it coming from Susie, it seemed ok.

Mostly because she's not me.

It was my turn to pick Andrew up from Day Care, so when I got back to the apartment, Susie's car was already in the parking lot. Andrew and I walked into the apartment and found Maggie sitting there licking her butt. No sign of Susie.

I put a Wiggles tape in for Andrew and then proceeded to start making dinner. Chorizo sausage and bowtie pasta tossed with mixed vegetables, if you must know. And I might add that I had absolutely NO urge to say "Oooh, it's so gooood!" like that cooking freak Mr. Food. I was pretty impressed with myself though.

I finished making dinner and Susie still wasn't home.

I set the table. No Susie.

Finally, I started to feed Andrew because while I can wait for her to finish with her crack whore overtime, Andrew simply cannot. He's just a little boy and doesn't understand the dealings of Pimp Daddies and Skank Ho's.

Finally, I heard the door open and Susie slunk into the kitchen, looking flushed and with a big smile on her face.

"Where were you? I made dinner." I asked curiously.

"Oh, did you? That's great! How's Andrew today? How's my big boy?" and then she proceeded to make baby talk to Andrew with him looking at her as if to say "Yo, M, what gives with the infantilisms, huh? It's not like I'm 14 months old here or anything. You be cramping my style, aiight?"

See, we got him out of our gangsta neighborhood just in the nick of time.

Susie sat down to eat and ate like a beauty pageant contestant the night after she gets voted Fifth Runner-Up and tanks the swimsuit competition. Although I guess that competition is now called Physical Fitness. Edweird always liked to call it "Best Mammaries".

I just watched her in awe. I've never seen her put down so much food. I was actually afraid to reach for seconds for fear that she might snap at my hand and growl. It was like watching feeding time at the wolverine exhibit at the zoo.

Finally, my delicate petite blonde wife wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and said "That was delicious, UncleBob, thank you. Did you make dessert?" Then she burped a huge frat boy belch and unbuttoned her jeans.

I shrugged off her odd behavior and began to quiz her.

"So, where were you after you came home."

"Oh, I stopped by the Pool Goddess' apartment. Remember, you asked me to find out what was going on?"

Curses! I HAD asked her to find out. Of course, I hadn't asked her to come back and act like John Belushi in the cafeteria scene of "Animal House". I seriously wouldn't have been surprised if she had huffed up a bunch of cottage cheese and spewed it out over the dinner table.

"So, what's the score with Evil Brother In Law and the Pool Goddess?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. Actually, we really didn't talk about that." She broke into a guilty grin and then quickly hid it once again. "We just, um, you know. Talked. She's so nice!"

That's when I noticed that Susie's shirt was on inside out.

"Hmmm.... so you talked, huh? About what?"

Susie then proceeded to elaborate into this long tale about how the Pool Goddess was trying to get her son into a different school system and the problems she has at the PTA with another woman. Probably because she attends the PTA meetings in a lime green bikini, I'm thinking.

Susie began to talk far too long and give so many details that I began to be suspicious. I mean, she normally is quite an animated conversationalist but it seemed like she was giving too many details.

Then she gave this satisfied little sigh and I think I saw her shiver...just a little bit.

I hate to think such things. I hate to even entertain such thoughts. I mean, I'm an honorable church-going man. I try to think the best about everyone. Well, maybe not my knee-humping in-laws. But seriously...

I think the Pool Goddess biffed my wife.

I'm starting to be very afraid. I think we moved into the David Lynch Apartment Complex. I think the Log Lady lives in the apartment across the courtyard. I'm afraid to go swimming now. I mean, Susie is, by all counts, completely heterosexual. She likes to drive stick, if you know what I mean...and if you don't, then you're reading the wrong diary.

I think the Pool Goddess has some kind of irresistible pull. Maybe it's gravitational or pheromonal or something. I'm afraid. I'm very afraid. Not only am I afraid that she'll turn me into some addle-brained drooling love slave, I'm afraid that she'll make a man out of Andrew before he's potty trained.

That house can't be built fast enough. I'm about ready to tell them to screw the double-controls on the shower and just give us a garden hose out back. I mean, this IS Alabama, it's not that out of the ordinary.

Oh God. Susie just popped her head in and told me that her mother is coming over to swim this weekend.

The horror. THE HORROR!

But then, maybe Grandma will be like the Anti-Pool Goddess, with her varicose veins coursing over her white hairy grandma legs. Maybe they'll have some kind of show down.

As God as my witness, I don't know whether to hide in the apartments or take pictures for the tabloids. But then, I don't know if I want to be responsible for making half of the Nascar-watching trailer park residents bleed from their eye sockets.


Ok, Weetabix here, and consider my Mole debt paid. Damn, that shit was hard. I make a lousy Uncle Bob. I could only resort to sensationalistic hyperbole. There can be only one... or something. And Heather was still all Moley. I'm just saying.

And now is the time on Uncle Bob when we dance.

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