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6:20 a.m. - 2002-01-16

I MISSED MY GAY CALLING

Yo.

Running late here, but actually got up early. Andrew started crying at 4 a.m. and at first we both just kinda laid there, wondering in our heads who was going to get up with him.

Finally, I said "I'm giving him two more minutes to go back to sleep. Then I'll get up with him and if he wants to be up now, then dammit, he'll be up now."

Susie thanked me.

Two minutes passed. He wasn't crying like his tongue was caught in an electric can opener, but he was crying. So I went to get him.

"Time to play, Big Boy," I said as I lifted him out of his crib.

We went to the den, got a few toys and played. Andrew was quite content to be jabbering away, talking to his toys and playing cars and trucks with me.

Meanwhile, I was sympathizing with Andrea Yates as I stared at the clock. 4:15 a.m.

He played until 5 a.m. and then wanted something to eat. I fixed him some bacon, pieces of a bagel and some Teddy Grahams and chocolate milk.

He gave everything but the bacon to our dog Maggie. Laughing the entire time.

At 5:30, we turned on the television and watched "Bear in the Big Blue House". Rather ... he watched it. I rested my eyes while he squealed gleefully.

At 6 a.m., Mama came to the rescue and took over. I got up off the floor, walked into a wall, put on my whitestrip and stumbled here.

I can tell I'm just going to be one big barrel of fun today.


Speaking of whitestrips, I wrote yesterday about how they make me lisp which brought up memories of when I was a tiny little pup who lisped like a gay snake.

I got an email yesterday that mentioned the eerie similarity of my entry with a story written by David Sedaris about his lisp.

For those of you who don't know (I didn't), David Sedaris is a famous writer.

I was given a link to the story in question. While the guy wrote about having a lisp as a child, I didn't really see the similarities. He had a lisp and had to have a speech therapist teach him how to speak properly.

Same with me. But other than that, I couldn't find any other similarities.

Still, I don't want anyone thinking I'm plagiarizing here. To reiterate...before yesterday, I had never heard of David Sedaris, never read any of his stuff and I really did have a lisp. Sedaris used his lisp to further his standing in the gay community while I grew up to be straight and managed to lose my lisp at an early age.

Which is probably a good thing, because I don't think I'd be very good at gay sex.

I think I could nail the whole "acting like I'm gay" thing. I could swish. I'm pretty sure I'd kick ass at sashaying. It would be no problem to call everyone "girlfriend" and cackle in a high pitched voice. I could do all that.

But when it came time to stick a penis in my ass? I think I'd have to bow out gracefully. Same with the whole oral sex thing. I haven't really studied too many penises in my life, but I think I'd have a problem stuffing one in my mouth. Plus...what's the big thrill? Why should I worship another man's penis when I already have my very own? I can assure you, I'd get a much bigger thrill out of showering attention on my own penis rather than another man's schlong.

So ... to sum up ... I'd make a killer gay virgin. I could act all gay, but when it came time to make out and have sex, I could get all coy and giggly and run away.

Basically ... I'd be Mango from Saturday Night Live. Really gay, but never actually having the sex.

Yeah.

That's me alright.


Did you hear about The Diarylander who's giving away cold hard cash on his site??

Trust me folks...it's true. Click on the above link and read all about it. Anyone can win and I'm going to give it my best shot. Plus...he has this ultra cool picture on his site. I have to give a link to it herebecause it really REALLY creeped me out. As he said, stare at the doorway in the back corner of the picture. You really have to look closely to see what it is. Eventually after a minute or so, you'll see it and when you do it will freak you out.

Trust me.

And while you're there, see if you can score some of his cash. This is the real deal, peeps.


Oh yeah.

Once again, some dipshit...and I'm about 99 percent sure I know who it is this time...is signing people's guestbooks using my name to insult them and hurt them.

I really don't sign many guestbooks but when I do, I write something positive. I never cuss anyone out and get rude with people. Like I told someone yesterday ... that's not my style. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I believe all this online journalling should be a positive experience, not a negative one.

Still, there's a few dumbasses out there whose lives are so pathetic that they get a perverted little kick out of pretending to be me and acting like assholes.

It's ignorant, but it's pretty much par for the course when you're dealing with a boring little high school boy whose intelligence is reflected in his poor grammar, atrocious spelling and lack of any sexual outlet in his life other than his abused and ashamed hand who would rather wrap itself around a red hot brick then this kid's shriveled up penis one more stinkin' night.

So once again for the umpteenth time... if you get a message in your guestbook from me (yawn), don't pay any attention to it and delete it.

Some people love running unfunny jokes into the ground. And this guy happens to be one of those people.


I've been getting so much work done at the office lately that it just ain't funny.

Yesterday was a great day. GREAT DAY. A CEOs-of-major-worldwide-corporations-calling-me-to-gush-over-what-a-great job-I-did-writing-about-their-businesses kinda day.

The CEO of a professional baseball team based in Philadelphia for the last 100 years called to tell me how great I was.

Let me state here ... I am my own worst critic. I think everything that I type ... with the strange exception of the Brad diaries ... is crap.

That includes Uncle Bob. That includes my Mighty Big TV recaps. That includes the stuff I write every day at work that I get paid decent money to do.

I've written very few things that I'm honestly proud of. I'm proud that my name is on the cover of two books now, with several more coming out this year. But I'm not proud of what I wrote, just the fact that I'm on the cover.

Weird, huh?

I just keep waiting for the day when someone speaks up and says "This guy...can't write worth a shit."

At that point, my head will finally fall and I'll go back to managing a Waffle House or something.

Yes, when it comes to my professional writing, I have the self esteem of a fat kid with polio.

But everyone else seems to think I do a decent job.

And they're the ones paying me the bucks to do it.

So I guess I must be doing something right.

Anyway...I've gotta go fix breakfast.

Peace out.

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