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5:30 a.m. - 2001-06-04

HAIL, HAIL, THE GANG'S ALL HERE

I don't know why I'm embarrassed to admit this ... but we have a gang member living on our street.

I've known this for about a month now. The kid has lived on our street for about four years and I used to make extremely small talk with him when they first moved here and he was about 11 or 12 years old. I'd be walking Maggie and he'd say hi and I'd say hi and then I'd keep walking because I didn't wanna be known as the guy in the neighborhood who spent an inordinant amount of time speaking to young boys.

About a month ago, my nosy neighbor mentioned that all the other neighbors had told her that the kid was now a full fledged gang member. I had seen a number of BMWs with their stereos cranking that gangsta rap shit pulled up in their driveway ... but never really gave it much thought.

Saturday night, at 2:30 a.m., there were apparently five gunshots fired at the kids house from a passing car. Cops were called, they came out and told the neighbors to watch for suspicious cars and to report them.

This has the neighborhood up in arms.

And guess who they're turning to in order to help save the day and the neighborhood?

I'll give ya a hint...it ain't Nosy Neighbor. And it sure as hell ain't Batman.

I got the call last night from N.N. She had heard the gunshots, as had all the other neighbors.

My ass was too busy snoring to hear shit at 2:30 a.m.

Anyway, they want me to call the police department since I know a few cops down there. They want police monitoring our street more closely. And if the police refuse or don't do it ... they want an editorial in the newspaper saying "The Gangs have moved to the East side of town".

(The East side of town is the more affluent side of town, which is where I live. Not that I'm affluent. But the West side of town is more notorious for raising little gang bangers)

So sometime today I've got to call down there, tell the cops that I live on this street and if something isn't done, I'm going to write something that will have the city in an uproar, because EVERYTHING and EVERYBODY is moving to the East side to escape the gangs ... and now the gangs are following everyone to the East side.

It's NOT the kinda thing the Mayor or the City Council wants to read ... believe me. They're trying to attract businesses to the East side...and they sure don't want this kinda stuff getting out in the papers.

So today we see just what kinda influence I have with the police department.

For the sake of my neighborhood ... I hope it's a good one.


Wow.

I just got my morning newspaper and I see that there's some kinda light that can clean the blood of the HIV virus.

Which means ... I think ... that there's finally a cure for HIV.

Can I get a "whoooohooooo"??

Can I get a piece of ass thrown my way, now???

Orgy at my place. Bring your own whipped cream.


I don't put too much credence in the fact that this is the end-all, be-all cure for AIDS, because it's not high up on the front page.

Nope.

High up on the front page is "Afternoon rain brings relief".

Ahem.

Duh, you stupid motherfuckers.


Oh, the other night, police thought they found a bomb in a local shopping center's parking lot.

They found a tool box in the middle of the parking lot. They evacuated everyone from the shopping center, called in the bomb squad, the bomb squad carefully tinkered with the tool box and found it to be ... a tool box.

Uh-huh.

And I've got to call these jackasses and ask them to patrol my street a bit more frequently.

(Uncle Bob slaps his forehead and says "Doh!")


We had our monthly evangelism meeting at church yesterday afternoon.

These things are getting more and more bizarre as the months go by.

Each month, we talk about the same damned things ... a brochure for visitors, business cards for members and a banner to hang up that will say "Share the Love With Others".

Because I'm the only one in the group that has an inkling on how to turn on a computer ... I'm the one saddled with all the work.

So each month, I take them something for everyone to look at and study and give their opinion on.

Yesterday, I took the proposed business card to the meeting. Passed it around and said I needed input on what to do to make it more appealing since I had spent roughly 30 seconds on the thing.

They loved it.

Don't do a thing to it.

"How about our logo on the card," I suggested.

Oh yes. Put the logo on there.

"How about putting the Sunday School times on there," I suggested again.

Oh yes, of course. Put the Sunday School times on there.

"Should we maybe put a biblical verse on the card," I asked.

Definitely. Definitely put a biblical verse somewhere on the card.

Alright you jackasses.

When I ask for input, I don't mean I should be the one giving input. I want YOU to be giving me input.

I swear.

It's almost like they're scared of me or something.

Maybe it's the tattoo of "Born To Raise Hell" on the front of my throat that's intimidating them.

I dunno.


I'm taking Andy to work with me today.

He has a doctor's appointment at 10:30, and rather than take him to daycare and then go pick him up from there, I'm just taking him to work, let him sit and watch me work, then we'll go to the doctor, then daycare, then I'll come home and call the police department and then WAIT IMPATIENTLY for my "new boss" to call me and let me know that I'll be receiving the salary that she told me I'd be getting, as well as that ultra cool office she showed me. If I get those ... I'm turning in my two week notice tomorrow.

If not, she can KISS MY BLACK ASS!!!!!!

She ummmmm... she reads this diary, y'all.

My new boss reads this diary.

And she STILL wants to hire me.

Go figure.


My dog's ass.

I know I haven't reported on it much lately. After her ass surgery a few months ago, I quit giving her any chewy meaty treats like Beggin' Strips, and her ass stench went away.

While in North Carolina last week, I accompanied my buddy to a grocery store where I saw these new snacks ... "Naw'Somes".

They looked like they were crunchy snacks, so I bought them.

Uh-uh. They're meaty.

Therefore ... my dog's ass smells like New York City's sewer system exploded.

She knows it stinks. She keeps sitting on the carpet for like two seconds, then laying down and licking the spot that she just sat on.

I tell her to quit licking the carpet. All that does is bother her.

I slap her butt and say "STOP!" She stops to turn around, glare at me, and then goes back to licking the carpet.

I know she's trying to get the stench out of the carpet and I appreciate that.

But Gawd. It is SOOO NASTY when she licks her ass stench out of the carpet.

Now she's just staring at me. Giving me a look that says "Hey pal ... I'm just trying to help here. This house smells like dog ass."

Duh.


Alright ... I's got shit to do. Put gang members out of business, wait around for jobs, entertain the baby while trying to get work done.

Talk to ya later.

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