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8:23 a.m. - 2003-01-07

TOSS IN PROJECTILE DIARRHEA AND WE CAN CALL IT A PERFECT EVENING

About 4:30 yesterday, I began getting a splitting headache. What I'd call a "blinding" headache if someone were to ask "Can you describe your headache in a way other than 'splitting' that would make it sound incredibly painful?"

So I leave work at 4:55. I snuck out. This is frowned upon at my place of employment. Never mind that I arrived at work a full half hour before I was supposed to ... that doesn't matter. The fact that I left early...big no-no.

But I couldn't stand it anymore. I couldn't look at my computer screen. I had to get to daycare before 5:30 and pick up Andrew and take him home so I could rest my eyes.

I get to daycare at 5:25.

Three screaming boys ages 2 and under. Not upset...they're doing the happy screams.

This sent my blinding headache into a nuclear headache, if in fact there is such a thing.

I grabbed Andrew, backhanded the other two kids across the face for daring to shriek in my presence and we took off towards home.

I get home, pop in a Wiggles tape for Andrew, soak a washcloth in cold water, wring it out and lay down on the couch with this washcloth over my eyes and forehead.

Andrew's not happy about this because he feels strongly that EVERYONE should watch the Wiggles while they're on the television. Never mind the fact that I've seen this tape umpteen billion times by now and can tell you exactly what's going on the screen as I hear it ... he wants me to watch it too.

So I lay there and pretend to watch it to appease him.

Finally, he gets so absorbed into his tape that I quietly put my washcloth back over my eyes and lay there.

I'm in a state where it's not exactly a dream state, but I'm not fully awake. Somewhere in between.

Suddenly, I hear a voice say "Uncle Bob".

I bolt upright, freaked out beyond any socially acceptable levels of freak out.

Standing above me is Pervy.

I naturally greet him with the universal greeting of "Oh shit!"

"Hey Uncle Bob," mumbles his half-deaf father. "Did we catch you at a bad time?"

"How did you get in here?" I asked, leaning more toward an awake state than a dream state.

"We have the combination to your keyless entry," he says.

I silently ask God to damn my wife for giving them the combination so that they can freak my ass out.

"Do you mind if we leave Pervy here tonight?" he asks.

Seeing as how I had had a three week reprieve from Pervy, I had completely forgotten about the kid. Now that they had driven 20 miles to deliver his androgynous ass, I felt like I was on the spot.

"That's fine," I said. "But try to get back here as early as possible. I'm not feeling well and we were GOING to call it an early night here."

"We'll be back by 8:45," the Pervy Dad promised.

And he left with Sissy Boy, the Pervy-in-Training.

Oh … while they’re standing there, Maggie (my dog) decides that she wants to coat the entire kitchen floor with a thick yellow bile. I have no idea where this bile came from as she hadn’t eaten in over 11 hours. But there it was … dog vomit everywhere.

Hi! Here’s your nephew that makes you extremely uncomfortable … sorry you’ve got a crippling headache, but would you mind trying to clean up dog puke while your crying son refuses to leave your arms? You can?!? GREAT!!! Here’s some paper towels, ear plugs and Aleve…go to town, Chip!

After cleaning up the puke, I sit down where Pervy has began to dissect the Wiggles tape that was in the VCR.

"This sucks," he proclaimed. "These guys are gay."

I bit my tongue and stayed silent, trying to ignore the creepy tub of shit.

"I can't believe you let Andrew watch these guys," he said with a sneer.

I bit my tongue, but WANTED to say "I can't believe your dad doesn't beat the holy fuck out of you every time a new family member tells him that they caught you surfing for Japanese rape and torture photos on their computer."

A few minutes passed before Pervy once again piped up.

"This is boring," he said. "Can I go get on your computer?"

THAT took the cake.

After he's been told he can NEVER get on the computer again because he looks up "inappropriate" (i.e. disturbing and disgusting) porn sites....the big ignorant halfwit asks to get on it again.

Had I been at full strength, I would have laid into him until he cried.

Instead I said "No, you can't. We've talked about this. You are not allowed on our computer."

He started sulking.

I wanted to say "Look you stupid dipshit. The entire reason you're here is because your own damned parents can't trust you to stay home by yourself for two fucking hours a week, because they're scared to death you're going to coat their keyboard with sticky baby batter while you jerk it to pictures of teenage Japanese runaways with their terrified faces covered in Japanese businessman shit. Now, before I give you a goddamned punch in the face that will more than likely send your fat ass sailing through a wall, shut the goddamned fuck up."

...But I didn't.

So he sat there quietly until the Wiggles were over.

Once the Wiggles were over, I tried to turn the channel over to "Wheel of Fortune", Andrew's favorite game show.

Oh hey...what do you know? The cable box isn't working.

It's stuck on Fox.

I turn the cable box on and off ... nothing. Still the Fox channel.

I change channels on the TV, the cable box and the VCR.

One channel on every station. Fox.

Well, ain't this a kick in the nuts.

I go to check the internet connection. Of COURSE, it's down. The internet is down 90% of the time that I attempt to use it. It was down yesterday morning, all day Sunday and wasn't working this morning.

So I call my cable company. I'm now officially pissed. My head is aching, my son is being clingy and wants my full attention, my perverted nephew is sitting on my couch badmouthing my toddler son's choice of entertainment, my wife's in Florida having a wonderful meal in a nice restaurant and I think I may have started my period.

It's the WRONG FUCKING TIME to be dicking around with me and my cable.

I call the cable company and get an automated message saying that they apologize for the inconvenience but they're working hard to give us a better product and because of that, cable's going to be down until tomorrow. They don't mention the internet which is smart because they don't need to sugarcoat that shit...just come right out and say "We give lousy internet service" and save me the hassle of having an anuerysm.

So I make the announcement to Pervy that the only cable channel we have all night is Fox and I hope he likes "Boston Public" and "Joe Millionaire".

He grunts. He'd much rather be surfing for naked Korean chicks strapped to walls in dungeons and having hot apple pies being tossed into their crotches.

He watches "Boston Public" while I tend to the boy, feeding him and playing flash cards with all the energy of a corpse.

We watch "Joe Millionaire". For all the hype this show's getting, I found it kinda boring. Then again, I have trouble enjoying it when I have a freakish little pervert sitting on my couch and badmouthing women.

"All women want is a lot of money, so they can go out and spend it," this sexist fucking pervert says.

I remain silent, figuring if I don't add to the conversation then the conversation ceases to exist.

He watches a bit more of it and then says that when he gets married, he's going to MAKE SURE that the girl he marries is marrying him for himself and not his money.

This cracked me up to no end on the inside. I couldn't let it show, because it's just not polite to be the first to tell a 15 year-old kid that his family lives at the lowest poverty level possible and that he probably doesn't have to worry about fighting off golddiggers at this stage.

Plus ... most women probably find him physically, morally and socially disgusting.

He said some other things that really demeaned women. Nothing too disturbing, but just trying to sound like an old hand at dealing with women. Mostly about how they're after money more than anything.

Finally at 9:10 (always the punctual ones), Pervy Dad and Sissy Boy are standing in my kitchen after letting themselves in.

They break tradition and only stick around for about five minutes rather than the usual 20-30 minutes where Dad consumes as many of my soft drinks as possible in that time frame and eats any leftovers that we may have from dinner.

They leave. I get Andrew in his jammies and bring him to bed with me where he crawls under the covers like a big boy and we read a few books together.

He dozes off fairly quickly and I transport him to his bed, go back to my bed, turn out the light and pass out.

THEN...THEN...THEN....Susie calls.

She doesn't have much to say past the fact that she misses us and loves us.

But it was just enough to cause me to stay awake until 2 a.m. this morning because once I'm woken up, I can't get back to sleep.

I got up at 5 to write this.

It's now 6:02 a.m. and I have to leave here in an hour, getting myself and my son ready for the day.

Is it Saturday yet?

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