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10:32 a.m. - 2006-09-01

I AM GETTING VERRRRRRY SLEEEEEPY

Hey yeah hey so how ya doin'?

I'm home sick today with a sick little boy. We're both battling sinus infections ... at least I am. He's battling Wolverine in some video game.

Haven't updated this thing in ten days which six months ago I would have apologixed for but these days ... hey ... poop happens.

Let's see where we're at in the wonderful world of Uncle Bob.


Susie's dad died the day I last updated this bad boy.

For those of you keeping track at home ... my Mom died July 28th ... Susie's Dad died August 22nd.

And if you don't think that has our surviving parents shaking in their boots, wondering "who's next?" than you're wrong, Bucko.

Both of them were sick with cancer, which, as it turns out, isn't the laughing matter that I once thought it was.

There's bushels of drama going on in Susie's family right now. Some of the kids are going to attend his memorial service which will be in California toward the end of this month.

And some refuse to go because they didn't care for his second wife.

Susie's torn. As the youngest, she respects all her older siblings' opinions but doesn't know which side she should take.

So they're having a second Memorial Service for him here in Allybammer which will be more of a military/religious thing.

His second wife is not religious in the least.

Which would explain her whore-like ways of having affairs with married men with families and then stealing the men away and moving them across the country away from their children.

Alas, I digress.

For me, the worst part is the inheritance.

We were told about a year ago by one of Susie's brothers that when the father died, we'd see a substantial amount of money somewhere in the middle five-figures.

Seven if you toss a decimal point in there. Most people don't. However, I will not judge you if you want to include "cents" in my wife's potential inheritance. Knock yourself out, Dewey.

Anyway ... the day he died and Susie was talking to his wife, she casually mentioned that his kids got NOTHING ... until she passes away.

This kinda sucks on a number of different levels.

A) We could REALLY use the money now to help us get out of all debt but the house.

B) None of his kids really liked the second wife.

C) Now we have to wait for a woman that ... let's call a spade a spade here ... a woman that we HATE to die before we see her Dad's inheritance.

Susie's not bent out of shape about the inheritance snafu as are none of her siblings. They're all mourning the loss of their father.

Me?

I'm begrudging the fact that I'll have to continue working four jobs for the time being, trying to pay off these stupid credit card debts we racked up 10-15-20 years ago.

Word to the wise ... DON'T BUY EVERYTHING YOU SEE JUST BECAUSE YOU HAVE A CREDIT CARD.

Credit cards are EVIL.

TRUST ME.

I haven't used one in years and I'm STILL paying the interest on stuff I threw away or sold years ago.



Andrew's finally adjusting to his new school.

He's the youngest kid in the entire school. He's in a classroom with 6-7-8 year olds.

And he's the most normal of them all.

Which has me a bit worried because I'm scared he's going to make friends with the kid who yanks his own hair out in clumps and spits uncontrollably.

Then Andrew's going to think ... "Well, that kid's cool. Maybe I should start spitting on people and pulling my hair out and then I'D be cool."

He's easily impressionable, my boy is.

But we've already seen vast improvements in the boy.

Wednesday I picked him up from school and we actually had a nice conversation about his day in school.

A month ago, this is what we would have had:

ME: "How was your day at school, Andrew?"

ANDREW: (silence)

ME: "Andrew. Can you tell me about your day? Did you do anything fun?"

ANDREW: (silence)

ME: "Did you go outsi..."

ANDREW: "The Little Einsteins are small and they have to fight a biiiiig dragon."

ME: "That's good. Did you go outsiiii..."

ANDREW: "Tigger is not Pooh's best friend. Piglet is."

ME: "Wonderful."


But Wednesday, he told me about what they did at Recess, who he sat next to at lunch, the movie they watched in the afternoon ("Toto" ... I'm guessing "The Wizard Of Oz") and the books he read (Clifford).

THIS after two weeks of going to this school for "gifted children".

So we're kinda excited. The teacher said that once he gets caught up on his developmental delays he "should" be a normal kid and can transfer to a normal school.

Great.

Looks like we'll be saving up for college after all.

It's okay.

Five jobs won't kill me.


I'm seriously thinking about becoming a stage hypnotist.

Thank you, thank you. I appreciate the laughter but that wasn't a joke.

I miss the stage. It's been 20 years since I did comedy. And lately (the last year or so) I've thought about getting back into it.

Rodney Dangerfield was like 50 or something before he ever got on stage.

So I could do it.

I could.

Anyway, I've always been fascinated by hypnosis.

I've been hypnotized several times and enjoy it immensely.

And there's good money in doing it.

We're talking $1,500-$2,000 per show with 2-3 shows a week if you're good.

Lots of DJs do it to supplement their DJ income.

There's a three day seminar in Vegas in October where the guy promises you that you'll be able to walk away from it with a fantastic hypnosis show.

It'd be a little over two grand to do.

That's two grand we could put toward credit card debt.

BUT BUT BUT ... a few years ago I told my wife I wanted to get into the Mobile DJ business and we took every penny of our savings and invested in top of the line equipment.

Today we've paid that equipment off ten fold.

I'm not exactly sure what "ten fold" means but I'm guessing it means that I've made ten times the price we paid for the equipment.

If that's what it means, then yes ... I've made ten times what the equipment's cost.

So when I make a large investment, I get out there and kick enough booty to get the business to make the investment seem like petty cash.

Gawd.

I'm having a very difficult time typing today.

Must be all the Nyquil.

Anyway, I'm tired and have to lay down.

Bottom line:

Susie's dad is dead.
Andrew's doing great.
I want to make people bark like chickens.

The end.

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