SUGAR, WE'RE GOING TO THE DENTIST

He handled it just like I thought he would.

...Not well.

Susie took him to the dentist while I went to work and waited on the results.

She called about an hour after he went back in the dentist's dungeon.

She had to go back there with him because he was yelling for his mama.

She felt like shit as she watched parts of him getting the fillings but had to turn away a lot which scared him even more.

When she called me from her car, I could hear him crying in the background. Not hysterical crying, just whimpering.

She asked me to come home and watch him as there was no way she could take him to school.

We had discussed this earlier.

I KNEW we couldn't take him directly to school because his school is three minutes away from the dentist and it would just be cruel to say "I know you just went through the most traumatic event of your life ... now I'm dumping you out at a place you don't care for and leaving you."

So I told Susie to stop on the way home and buy him a new Thomas train for his collection which would at least brighten his day somewhat.

THEN she'd need to take him home and stay with him.

She agreed to this.

BUT ... she thought this wouldn't be the case and she'd still somehow get to go to work.

So when she found out I was right and he wouldn't be able to go to school, she called me and asked if I could come home for the day and watch him.

Which ... that wasn't the plan. The plan was for her to stay home.

Luckily, I didn't have anything to do at work as it was a slow day and I was just going to play Sudoku all day.

So I stopped at the store, bought him a new train and came home.

He was asleep in his bed.

Susie left for work.

I played Sudoku until my eyes almost fell out.

Three hours later, Andrew woke up.

Honestly, I think he thought the whole dentist thing had been a dream because he was fine with no complaints other than wanting to brush his teeth.

Yeah kid ... NOW you want to brush your teeth willfully. Smart move, Einstein.

Anyway, he's fine now.

Hell ... he's got a new train. Of course he's fine.

That's exactly what you come here for ... a recap of my kid's trip to the dentist with no exaggerations.

Yep.

I should win awards with this type of writing, Cisco.

It's called Pandora and what it does is create a personal radio station for you based on a favorite artist or song.

So let's say you like ... I dunno ... that goddamned Celine Dion song from Titanic.

You type in "that goddamned Celine Dion song from Titanic" and it starts playing music that's a whole lot like that goddamned Celine Dion song from Titanic.

So while these really shitty songs are playing through your computer speakers, you can sway like Axl Rose in front of your computer while screeching "Near! Far! Whereverrrrrrr you are!"

It's a really cool site.

Especially when you type in something other than that goddamned Celine Dion song from Titanic.

I love "The Office".

I own the BBC version of the show on DVD. I OWN IT.

And I prefer the American version over the BBC version.

Why?

It's funnier.

Bottom line ... nobody gave the American version a chance when it first started and lots of people claimed it was television blasphemy.

Those people have since gotten a life.

It's just plain BETTER than the BBC version.

There's still some loyalists who will say the BBC version is funnier.

Those loyalists are wrong.

Not to mention, slightly demented.

NBC is right for a change ... it's the funniest hour of television out there.

Y'know ... these days I'd rather watch television than movies.

Most of the DVDs I buy are television shows on DVD.

There's not any huge story behind this fact ... just thought I'd throw it out there for those of you who compile facts about Uncle Bob.

Some more facts about me:

I would never fall in love with Paris Hilton.

I'm slowly getting over a lifelong fear of Asian people.

I almost ran over a possum the other night which really freaked me out because those bastards have some big eyes and when headlights shine on 'em in the dark, they get all weird looking especially when you're not expecting a possum to just jump up 20 feet ahead in front of your car.

I have ran over and killed a friend's cat, but that was in high school.

I usually drink two Diet Dr. Peppers while typing this crap out.

Oftentimes, I have no idea how or when to end a diary entry.