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6:14 a.m. - 2001-04-08

ONE QUESTION...WHO THE HELL IS JEHOVAH?

Is it possible to have TWO great days in a row??

Why yes, grasshopper ... it happens all the time.

Slept in yesterday morning and finally got caught up on all the sleep I'd been missing for the last week. Which meant I got eight hours of sleep Friday night.

After I got this here diary caught up yesterday, I started writing my "Ed" recap for MBTV. Usually, I can crank out a recap in three hours if I really bust ass on it.

Yesterday's took me five and a half hours.

I was constantly interupted by either the phone, the baby or Jehovah's Witnesses who stopped by TWICE yesterday.

Now then, if you're a Jehovah's Witness, good for you. I'm glad you picked a religion that is not only unique, but extremely aggressive when it comes to recruiting new members.

In other words ... DON'T email me or message me saying you're offended that I talked about your religion.

But man ... Jehovah's Witnesses have to be about the most ignorant gathering of people I've ever had the misfortune of having show up at my doorstep with a shitload of pamphlets.

Just as I had gotten Andy laid down for a nap yesterday morning ...

...DING DONG!

Sonofabitch. Who could that be?

Ohhhh...try two smiling freaks dressed in suits, shoving pamphlets in my face with titles like "Are YOU Ready For Heaven?" (Not right now ... I've got cookies in the oven) and "Will God Recognize You As One Of His Children?" (Probably. I've been told I have His eyes.)

"Good morning!" the lady says, sticking her foot in my doorway. "How are you today?"

I don't know why Jehovah's Witnesses try to pretend they're someone they're not. Once you see them, you KNOW they're Jehovah's Witnesses, they're going to want to come inside, tell you all about their love for Christ and then want to pray with you while taking inventory of all your stuff that could be easily transported through a broken window while you're either at work or asleep.

I think that's what they do, anyway. I've never had a Jehovah's Witness make it past my doorway.

In fact, I always stop them before they get that spiel going.

"I'm fine," I said. "But I'm really busy right now. Thanks for coming by."

Then I go to close the door, politely kicking the shit out of the lady's foot so I can close the door all the way.

I close the door, Andy starts whimpering, so it's time for a five minute baby ass-patting fest. Five minutes later, the boy's ass has been patted 647 times and he's back to sleep.

I go back to writing "Ed".

Not TEN MINUTES LATER, the doorbell rings again.

Alright.

It's 10 a.m. Saturday morning. The Girl Scouts have run out of cookies, so I know it's not them. My nosy neighbor calls first before she comes over here to tell me how to raise my baby properly. None of my friends are up this early, and if they are, they know better than to come over unannounced.

I bitch and moan the entire time that I walk to the front door.

Holy shit.

It's the SAME TWO Witnesses from ten minutes earlier.

"Good morning!" the lady says, sticking her foot in my doorway. "How are you today?"

"I'm fine," I say. "Y'all were just here about ten minutes ago and I told you I was really busy."

They look at each other for a few seconds as if they think I'm lying and are trying to decide if they're going to beat me to death with their pamphlets.

"We did?" the other lady asks. "Well we're terribly sorry for bothering you again."

"It's okay," I said and then add JUST FOR THE HELL OF IT "I already have a church home and am not interested."

Sonofabitch.

Don't EVER make more conversation with a J.W. than you absolutely have to.

"Oh," the pushy one says. "Where do you go to church?"

I tell her and she doesn't know where it is, but wants directions. Like she's just going to drop by one Sunday morning and announce "Uncle Bob told me about you guys and I just wanted to see if he was here and wasn't lying to me about having a church home."

I don't give her directions. I tell her what road it's on and start to close the door.

"Have a great day, sir" one of them chirps.

"If you'd ever start leaving me alone, I'm sure it will be a great one."

I close the door, lock it, and stare out the little peephole, making sure they've left my property and aren't egging my house.

I finally finish "Ed" which will be posted later today for those of you Ed Heads that need to know such information, and Susie says "Let's go buy your suit."

Oh. Great. Let's go to the f'n mall.

My favorite part of buying clothes is when it's over. I HATE shopping for clothes.

First off, I'm built like a barn with legs. I'm a big boy. So I've gotta shop in the "Big Boy" department.

Although ... I'm down to 275 lbs. Yes...DOWN to 275.

And I carry it well except for this f'n gut. I've got the kinda gut that men like to come up, pat, and say "When's it due?"

Oh. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!! I GET IT!!!

...rabble scrabble idiots ...

I've got really broad shoulders too. So it's tough to find a jacket that can not only accomodate my big assed shoulders, but also wrap itself around my tummy.

Anyway ... jeez ... I find a suit at one store that I'm happy with. All black (it's slimming, don't ya know?). I get a white Oxford shirt to go with it, since a guy can never have enough white Oxfords in my book.

I've got at least a dozen white Oxfords.

Then we go to J.C. Penney's.

I don't normally buy my clothes at Penney's. But they had a one day sale yesterday and we got these candy bars that had a coupon inside that gave us a percentage of savings.

Ours was 25%. Not too shabby, I guess.

Susie went hogwild in the Big, Tall and Fat Guys Department while I played with Andy, letting him stand on top of clothes racks and making faces at him.

Susie kept coming up to us ... "You like this, you like that?"

Yeah, darlin'...love it all.

We look for extra long ties and can't find any. So we walk up to a cash register where a teenage boy and girl employee are flirting with each other.

These little FUCKS see us standing there, me holding a baby, Susie pushing a stroller full of clothes ... and they just keep talking, COMPLETELY ignoring us.

They're talking about a party later that night. "Are you going?" "I don't know. I will if my Mom lets me." "Just tell her everyone's going to be there and you'll be home by midnight." "I don't know...she probably will freak." ET CETERA.

The boy looks at us and starts rubbing his eyes rather than FUCKING ask us if he can offer any assistance.

Finally I speak up.

"Sorry to bother you two," I said EXTREMELY SARCASTICALLY. "But can you point us in the direction of the Extra Long ties?"

They look at me as if they can't believe I DARED to ask them a fucking question while they fucked off instead of waited on customers.

"I think they're over there," the boy says, hooking a thumb over his shoulder to direct me to a spot behind him on the other side of the store.

"Thanks for your help," I said...once again in a sarcastic tone.

Lazy fucking punk ass bitches.

She decides I need a new pair of dress shoes to go with my new suit.

We get a pair of ... Stacy Adams shoes.

The only thing I know about Stacy Adams is that Morris Day from the Time wore them all the time.

I have visions of me being able to get my groove on in a smooth fashion with a pair of Staceys on my feet.

So we're in the shoe department, Susie's in line and asks the kid at the counter if she can pay for ALL these clothes right there.

The kid starts squirming and tells Susie that he's not "supposed" to do that.

Okay kid...yes or no...can you fucking ring us up here, or do we have to go back to the other punk assed bitches who act like we're fucking bothering them because we want to drop several hundred dollars in this cheap assed store???

He said he can ring us up...but he doesn't have any "big" bags. So everything will have to go in small bags.

This appeases Susie.

This pisses off the people BEHIND Susie immensely.

I grab the kid and go stand on the other side of the shoe department, distancing myself from the ignorant lady at the counter paying for two pair of shorts, four shirts, a belt, two ties, a pair of khakis, several pairs of socks and a pair of Stacey Adams at the shoe department.

Fifteen minutes later, she's got every item in its own bag, the stroller is full, and the baby's sound asleep, draped clumsily across my chest.

We get in the van and Susie's hungry.

We decide to go to Jalapeno's, a local Mexican joint.

I order a "spicy" sirloin steak with grilled veggies, because the guy promised me there wouldn't be any cheese on it.

I always forget that Mexican steaks aren't the same as American steaks. Mexican steaks are about as thin as Kate Moss and cooked to a delicate well well WELL done so that they're tough and chewy.

It was edible, but PLEEEEASE remind me not to order steak at a Mexican restaurant.

We got home, Susie collapsed on the floor next to Andy and they both passed out for an hour, while I watched BROOOOOOOOOCE on HBO.

I love Springsteen. He's the ONE artist I have wanted to see live for 20 years but never had the fortune of attending a live show. So last night's concert was the closest I've ever been to one of his shows.

It was a killer show. Andy woke up during the second hour and decided to entertain me with his new high pitched squeal. Either that or he was singing along to "Born To Run" in his own rarely-imitated soprano.

Bruce finished up and I understood why people have always said his shows are like religious experiences. I felt drained from it and I had watched it from the comfort of my La-Z-Boy so I can only imagine what it's like live.

That was my day.

How was yours?

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