GRANDMAS FROM HELL

Ahhhhh....Monday.

Or...as my German friends are probably saying right now..."Montag".

Christ. I DESPISE fucking Mondays.

Had a decent weekend though. I mean...once you get past the fact that the boy has another ear infection which means another "every waking moment is pierced with shrieks and screams from a six month-old baby" weekend has come and gone...well damn...all that's left is a decent weekend.

Yep. Another month...another ear infection.

It's almost time for the doctor to suggest tubes in the kid's ears. I'm going to opt for straws in the kid's ears, stop by McDonalds and do the minor surgery my own damned self.

But I'll give him credit ... his fussiness was short lived and really only came in bursts throughout yesterday.

...Mostly the times when I wasn't around the house.

Tee hee.

What a coincidence ... oui??

Alright...recap of the weekend since I didn't update yesterday (baby was crying...wanted to be held...sorry...he takes priority over you guys...) and Saturday's entry was a throwaway because I was in a hurry ("Ed" recapneeded to be written...sorry...paying gigs take priority over you guys...)

FRIDAY

Pretty non-eventful day at work. Everyone wanted hamburgers for lunch but wanted me to grill them. Being the almighty grillmaster of all space and time, I agreed to cook the masses hamburgers. They turned out wonderful, everyone fell to their knees and humbly bowed before me as I wolfed down a burger and told them all to get up. They finally did, but they still looked at me as some sort of grilling God, which I don't mind, but Christ...I really hate signing the autographs for my co-workers.

Sheesh.

Left work about 2:30 because I was bored with nothing to do.

Went home where Grandma was watching Andy. Andy had just laid down to take a nap and Grandma was waiting for my niece and nephews to be delivered to the house, because she was watching them for the weekend while my brother and sister in-law went to a marriage retreat seminar thing.

Are they having marital problems???

Hell if I know. Like I care.

So anyway, I ask Granny if she'd mind if I went outside to do some yard work since it was about 96 degrees out and dogs were passing out in the streets from the heat.

She said "go for it, you fucking imbecile".

So I changed into t-shirt and shorts that showed off my pale, manly legs and stepped outside to start trimming shrubs.

I was outside a total of about 0.3 seconds before my armpits became soggy swamps of sweat.

The in-laws pulled up about ten minutes into my work. I went inside and checked with Grandma to see if she was leaving yet or if she could stay, entertain the kids with some Play Station and Internet Porn and let me continue working.

She told me to continue working. Something tells me she was peeking outside from behind a curtain and they were all laughing at me as I sweated my balls off in the stifling summer-like heat.

It took me two hours, but I got every shrub that wraps around my house whittled down to box-like shapes, all the same size, all the same look.

I then turned the sprinkler system on and collapsed in my front yard like a beached whale in a red t-shirt.

Cars drove by, honking their horns and kids screaming "Are we at Sea World already, Daddy??"

I just laid on my back, lifted one arm and shot them all birds. Fuckers.

Went inside, showered, told Granny and the kids to get the fuck out of my house NOW, BEEYOTCHES and waited for the wife to get home.

Wife got home...hungry. What to eat...what to eat...

I went and got us some KFC because the Mrs. wanted it. I ate one piece of chicken before I had the overwhelming urge to shit my guts out.

Shat my guts out. Shoved my lower intestines back in and gave silent thanks to Colonel Fucking Sanders for tainting his chicken meat with various diseases.

Went to bed with the stomach ache from hell and slept for eight hours.

SATURDAY

Got up ... felt like I had eaten bad chicken, stumbled to the computer, tossed up a shitty "Things You Don't Know About Me" diary entry that should have let you guys know that I was a slacker but apparently didn't, and began writing my "Ed" recap.

Four hours later...the "Ed" recap was finished and my day could begin.

My nephew (the 13 year-old porn surfing/Backstreet Boys fanatic) needed his picture taken downtown at the Southern Poverty Law Center, which is like the mecca for Civil Rights fans. He had to write a paper on it for school and had KNOWN that he needed his picture taken down there for the last month, but waited until the last minute to tell anyone.

Since his parents were out of town at a crumbling marriage seminar (I don't know if they're divorcing or not), and Grandma doesn't have a digital camera (Grandma needs her smokes, kids), it was up to dear Uncle Bob to go downtown and snap a couple of shots of the pervert in front of the Center.

I drive downtown to meet Granny and Nephew. Get down there and all the streets are blocked off.

What the....?

Oh yeah. I haven't told you guys because it hasn't meant a whole helluva lot to me.

The CBS tv-movie "The Rosa Parks Story" has been filming in my city now for the last month or so. It stars Angela Bassett as Rosa Parks, Cicely Tyson as somebody else, Martin Luther King III as Martin Luther King II and me as the angry bus driver who tells Rosa to "Get to the back of the bus, NOW, beeyotch!!!"

Okay. I'm not really in the movie. But I think I'd make a pretty damned good bus driver.

So anyway, yet ANOTHER movie about Rosa Parks is being made in our city, making this about the two millionth movie about the woman. Hey, good job Rosa and all...but do we have to watch a new movie about the woman every five minutes?!?

Anyway, I finally found Granny and Nephew, walking down the street and trying to find a way to get into the blocked-off areas to no avail. Y'see...when a movie's being shot about the 1950s, the last thing people want to see is an old lady and her grandson in the background, wearing a Backstreet Boys t-shirt and a mumu and waving at the cameras. It's kinda ... movie law, grandma.

So Grandma is freaking out and wondering what to do.

I solve the problem with three easy words.

"Come back tomorrow".

I haul ass from downtown and leave Grandma and Nephew choking on my dust.

Run home, get dressed and we went to a wedding. The wedding was for the daughter of my campaign manager for my Biggest Rat campaign last month.

I took my video camera for the hell of it, because the mother asked me one favor...to run up to the balcony and turn on a video camera that would be up there already.

Rather than screw up somebody else's camera, I decided to take my own and do BOTH cameras.

Then...once I got there, I decided to play Steve Spielberg and stay up there, zooming in on shots, etc.

So I stayed in the balcony while Susie and Andy sat below.

Did the wedding. Didn't tear up because I didn't know the people that well.

Went to the reception at the Officer's Club at the local Air Force Base (yahoooo!!....that's sarcasm).

At the reception, I happened to still have the video camera, so I decided to do something that I had read soon after I tied the knot with the Mrs all those years ago ... I walked from table to table, videotaping the guests giving the new couple best wishes, good luck, etc.

I was sorta...well shit...I was VERY proud of myself for doing that. Here I am, some schmoe that doesn't even KNOW the couple other than meeting them once at church ... and I had the balls to walk up to tables of people who I had never seen in my life, stuck a video camera in their faces and said "Say something to the happy couple".

Naturally, the old fuckers at the wedding had no idea what was going on, which kinda got unnerving. I'd poke the camera in Grandma's face and she'd say stuff like "What am I doing?? I'm not a good speaker. What is that in your hand??"

...It's my penis Granny, and this is a video camera. Now start talking before I jap-slap yo' ass, wench.

Some people refused to be on camera, including the groom's grandmother. I tried to explain to her that this was going to be on the end of their wedding tape and if Grandma was on there, they'd cherish the tape forever because Grandma looked to be on her last legs anyway, so in ten years or so they can pop this video in and say "Remember when Granny died right after our wedding?" and then they'd both laugh when her face showed up on the TV screen saying stupid shit like "What am I doing? Who are you?"

Grandma still didn't want to be on the tape. Fuckin' uppitty bitch.

But, I got about 20 minutes of other guests wishing them well, probably about 50 people or so. I ended it with the two fathers, the two mothers and then the happy couple themselves. My campaign manager (the bride's mom) broke down and cried on camera, saying how happy she was, blah blah blah. It was quite touching really and didn't look a bit forced, which was cool.

The happy couple...the bride started crying too as they got all mushy talking about how happy they were.

It'll be a great way to end their video. Plus, it was something that I did behind the couple's back, so they don't even know it was done. It'll just be something that they can come home to and go "Ohmigod! This is soooo great!!"

I hope anyway.

Anything less, and I'm doing some serious ass-kicking.

SUNDAY

Andy was sick and crying.

He cried.

And cried.

I went to church by myself to get away from the crying.

Came home, Andy was crying.

Andy then slept.

We all slept.

Grandma brought nephew over for me to take him back downtown because I have a "Press" sticker on my car, because I'm a member of the "Press".

Went downtown, told the cops who I was, and they let us through the roadblocks.

Damn. Talk about your ego trips. Cops letting you just walk onto a movie set because they think you're important and all.

Snapped some photos of the porn surfer in front of the building, got back in the car and listened to another 20 minutes worth of how easy it is to beat the "Pokemon" gameboy game.

Christ kid...I get it.

Made spaghetti for dinner, because Susie has a sore throat and needed something soft for dinner.

Cleaned our bedroom.

Put Andy to bed at 10:30 and let him cry himself to sleep for the first time in his six months alive. It was kinda heartbreaking for both of us, but as I told her, he wasn't in any pain (I doped him up like Jerry Garcia before laying him down), and he was just fussy and trying to keep himself awake.

Ten minutes of screaming and then finally ...silence.

We went to check on him after five minutes of silence. He was baby snoring and seemed quite content.

Daddy rocks.

Daddy rocks.

Cubs win! Cubs win! Cubs win!

Which brings us to right here, right now.

Currently making CDs for our road trip which takes place Thursday-Sunday.

Paul McCartney disc right now. I figured it's something the whole family can enjoy.

I'm sure Andy will find something to bitch about it though.

That's it.

I'm outtie.

Hope your weekend was more eventful than this.