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7:42 a.m. - 2002-11-10

I KNOW I SAID THAT STRIPPERS WERE MY KRYPTONITE BEFORE...BUT I WAS LYING

Here's an important fact for your data bank about Uncle Bob...A grilled cheese sandwich is my Kryptonite.

I cannot go anywhere near a grilled cheese sandwich. I hate everything there is to hate about it ... from the texture to the smell to the look to the taste. I will not be in the same room as a grilled cheese sandwich.

So what could POSSIBLY be worse than a grilled cheese sandwich to me?

Hmmmmm??

I'm serious...there has to be something worse than that.

Okay...how about a regurgitated grilled cheese sandwich?

Hmmm....yeah...I'd have to say that would be worse. A regurgitated grilled cheese sandwich. Yep. That's turning my stomach just typing it.

Okay...let's take it a step further...what in GOD'S NAME could be more disgusting for me than a regurgitated grilled cheese sandwich??

Oh...c'mon....there's GOT to be something worse than that for me...THINK, PEOPLE....THINK!!!!

Give up??

How about a regurgitated grilled cheese sandwich coming from my DOG'S esophagus?

WOW!!!

You people are GOOD!! I'm actually QUEASY!!!

Now then...let's say that my dog is puking chunks of grilled cheese sandwich that she ripped from my son's hand last night all over my brand new home...at what time would this be the most INOPPORTUNE time to be vomiting?

Anybody??

You there. You in the back of the class. Do you have a winning time?

You say 3:13 a.m. on a Sunday morning??

My gosh!! WE HAVE A WINNER!!

Yes...3:13 a.m. on a Sunday morning is without a doubt the worst time for my dog to be puking up a grilled cheese sandwich that she stole from my son the night before!!

How do I know???

....grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr......


So Andrew and I went to the zoo yesterday while Mama went to one of those parties where wives look at all these decorations for the house for about ten minutes and then spend the next two hours talking about their husband's penis or whatever women do at these seemingly boring-assed looking home decorations parties.

I thought this would be a dream come true for Andrew who LOVES watching the animals on his Baby Doolittle tapes.

We get there and the first thing we come up on is the Atrium with a bunch of ducks and swans and flamingos in there.

Andrew's LOVING the ducks. He's talking to them, quacking at them, the whole nine yards.

We stay in there for about 15 minutes. I finally convince him that there's even COOLER animals than ducks at the zoo and we move on.

Next are the spider monkeys. He looks at them for a few minutes, says "Bye Bye" really loud and we move to the goats or sheep or whatever the hell these animals were. Sorry...I didn't grow up on a farm, for Pete's sakes.

We then look at a fox. Then some giraffes. Then some lions, tigers, chimps, and zebras.

The kid could care less. One animal looks just like the last one.

Y'see...all he wants to do is....DANCE!!

There's a cafe at the zoo that's kinda up on a hill and surrounded by the most exotic animals.

In the middle of the place is this round stage that attracts toddlers like magnets. The kids LOVE to get up on this stage and march or dance around. Personally, I think there's some kinda mind trick going on here because I've never seen a kid get up on that stage and NOT dance around.

It's weird.

Anyway, so that was his favorite part of the Zoo trip ... getting up on the stage and dancing his tiny toddler ass off.

At one point, he had to sit on the steps to take a breather since he had two young ladies that were sharing him as a dance partner. I sincerely think these ladies had the hots for him. There's nothing quite as appealing in an older man who knows how to remove his own diaper...even with his pants ON.

Yes, my son's a smooth operator.

I mean...check it out. That lil' girl in the yellow is just LUSTING after my son. Begging him with her eyes to get back on the stage for a little more dirty dancing and I'm not talking diaper-wise either.

Afterwards, we went for a long train ride around the zoo, where I attempted to explain the birds and the bees to the boy. I told him that girls like that only want one thing. Well...two actually. They could either want your penis or your pacifier. Either way, they're looking for something to suck, Mister and eventually that sucking moves to your wallet where you'll have to pay for it the rest of your lives.

So now we've officially had "The Talk".

I figured, what the hell? May as well get it out of the way now.

Naturally, he was more interested in looking at the trees on the train ride.

But I think he got the gist of what I was saying.

I know the family in front of us did.


I was just reminded that I have to teach Sunday School this morning, so I'd better go.

Maybe I'll eschew the Bible stuff and give them "The Talk" too.

My mission this weekend...scar as many children as possible with facts about life.

Four year-olds have no business believing in Santa anyway.

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