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10:41:17 - 2001-01-17

MY BABY'S ALL GROWN UP AND LEAVING HOME

Buenos tacos, my friend, how in Hades are thee?

Hey ... I'm just glad it's Wednesday and I got a chance to sleep in.

(Bob looks at the clock ... 5:12 a.m.....Bob grins a well-slept grin)

Susie just informed me that today is Andy's official first day of daycare.

I'm sad.

Bummed.

Depressed.

Suicidal.

Okay ... I'm just sad.

I guess because either I didn't know today was his big day ... or I hadn't listened to her when she told me today was his big day.

Either way ... I'm sad. I feel like a mother bird who's pushing her baby out of the nest to watch it fly. Except I don't have as many feathers on my ass and I'm not going to be watching my kid crack his head open on the pavement when I push him out of the house.

Sad, I'm tellin' ya.

_________________________________

On the flipside of that ... they're leaving at 7 a.m. and I don't have to be at work until after 9 a.m. So I finally get a few hours of peace at home by myself...one of the first times since November.

I think I'll spend it showering and getting ready for work.

Wheeeeeeee!!!

_______________________________________

Yesterday, during a lull in the hectic day, Mattie Gee and I decided we were going to take our paychecks to our individual banks, then stop and grab a burger to bring back to the office.

A simple plan. Be gone 15 minutes ... max.

Our drunkard of a boss had different plans for our little break.

"You goin' to the bank," he drawled. "I need y'all to stop and drop off two payments for me."

At two banks that we WEREN'T planning on going to.

So now...we had four banks to go to and then stop and grab a burger.

But wait. There's more.

"Ah need y'all to stop at Waffle House and get me a bacon and egg sandwich with lettuce, tomato and mayonnaise."

Okay.

I do NOT do Waffle House.

I don't remember if I ever told you people or not, but I used to manage a Waffle House back in the mid-80s.

I had only stepped foot in one on one other occasion. The smell of the place is enough to bring back bad memories.

But...because he's our boss ... well ... it's hard to say ... "Hey Pops ... I know I'm going to the bank to deposit a check out of your pocket into my account and that's cool. But I REFUSE to stop and get you a sandwich."

So we agreed to now go to four banks, Waffle House, then stop and get a burger.

Three stops had now grown to six.

Mattie Gee elected me to go into Waffle House, place the order for the sandwich and wait.

Fine.

I went in, smelled the smell of waffle batter and almost hurled.

I placed the order and sat down like the toothless waitress instructed me to do.

Then they promptly forgot about my order completely.

Twenty minutes later, I ask about my sandwich while all the employees are standing around with their thumbs up their asses.

"Oh. We must have forgotten about that," the waitress said. "I'll put some fresh tomatoes on that sandwich to make up for it."

Oh, fucking joy.

I finally got the boss's sandwich, which is not called a bacon and egg sandwich with lettuce, tomato and mayo ... It's a BLT deluxe, you dumbass.

It's pretty humiliating when a toothless Waffle House waitress gets a laugh at your expense.

______________________________________

To make up for the debacle ... the boss brought in some snacks.

Some snacks from Israel.

No shit. These were little bags of "chips" from Israel. Apparently the boss's wife is tutoring some Israelis on how to speak English as a second language and to show their appreciation, they gave her some of these snacks.

Okay ... first off they looked like really old Cheetos. I wasn't about to try any, since I'm a picky eater.

But somebody opened a few bags and my curiosity got the best of me.

No wonder Israelis are always fighting. Their snacks make them mean as piss.

The first "snack" I tried was a bacon flavored twist.

It tasted like whore ass.

The second "snack" was a peanut flavored puff. Like a Cheeto, but brown and reeking of a bad peanut.

I STILL can't get the taste out of my mouth.

The third was a Strawberry flavored puff. I stopped after the peanut and declined the strawberry.

Ugh.

I'm getting nauseous just thinking about it.

So I'll stop thinking about it, hokay?

______________________________________

Today I sell the car to the dumbass.

I've gotten a little flak from some of you over my mistreating of the dumbass in this diary.

Guess what???

No apologies, newbies.

The reason I give this kid so much grief here is A) He'll never see it and B) he's a dumbass.

He dropped out of school because he "needed a break".

Lame excuse. What he means is "I wanna lay around the house all day and smoke weed and make my parents take care of me."

He says he's going to go back someday and get his GED which is even more ignorant, because you have to pay for a GED when a regular diploma is free.

...AND....he's buying my piece of shit car SIGHT UNSEEN.

I can't really belittle him for smoking weed. I smoked weed for over 20 years. I smoked it like a fiend.

BUT... I was still an active member of society, I held down good jobs (you know...if you consider Waffle House a "good job") and my parents were still proud of me.

Some people can handle the weed.

Others have to drop out of school and society in order to continue smoking it.

The sad part is, the kid seems to have a smidgen of intelligence. But he squandered it all away when he dropped out.

Now he's mopping up blood and puke to pay for his weed and my shitty car.

I guess ... in a nutshell ... I hate seeing kids throw their life away.

...Or at least ... I'm telling you people that to pacify the pacifists.

Only I know the truth.

__________________________________

I think I'm going to a media day for Buckmasters today.

Every year, a bunch of stars come to town to hunt deer and stuff.

It's usually a bunch of sports stars, but there's also music and movie stars.

I can't remember everyone that's coming, but I know the lead singer from Three Doors Down is coming.

They sing a song called "Kryptonite"??

I'm going because a bunch of wrestlers are going to be there.

Those names I remember.

Bam Bam Bigelow, X-Pac, Curt "Mr. Perfect" Hennig and the Harris Brothers.

Last year, my boy Jamie went and hung out with Sid Vicious (who just broke his leg the other night in the most grisly accident ever shown on television) and Bam Bam.

I said last year that I would definitly go this year.

So, I'm going.

I'm going to try to get the wrestlers to put me in a headlock for a picture.

And if I do ... you'll be the FIRST to see it.

Yeah buddy.

Like you give a shit.

__________________________________

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