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6:47 a.m. - 2001-07-15

MY SON ... THE STUD

You again?

Oh hi.

Soooo...uhhh...yesterday was not the typical lazy Saturday, so at least I have some stuff to write about today.

First off, I was reminded soon after I finished writing in this here diary that you there are reading that we had committed to helping conduct the last day of Vacation Bible School at church.

But I have a yard to mow...

...Too damned bad. We're committed.

So we go to church. Andy and I sit and listen to our interim pastor (who I can't stand, but just can't put my finger on why) talk about Lydia and how she made purple cloths or some crazy assed shit like that. Suffice to say, I'd rather have been cramming toothpicks in my eyelids than having to listen to this woman prattle on and on about purple cloths.

Finally, Andy picked up on my vibe and started getting loud while the lady told this story. So I scooped him up off the floor and we started to head for the nursery.

"Oh no," the interim pastor said. "He can stay out here, I don't mind if he talks."

"No," I said. "He needs a nap." And I kept walking toward the nursery.

So we go to the nursery which is full of toys. Suddenly, naptime turns into PLAYTIME, DADDY!!! So he beats on some toy that makes a lot of noise for about 30 minutes, while I sprawl out on the floor and try to rest.

Susie comes and gets us and tells us it's time to go to the old folks home so that all the church kids could sing their songs that they had learned all week in Vacation Bible School for a new audience.

Okay. I did NOT want to go to the old folks home. Old folks creep me out something fierce. Especially ones in nursing homes because you never know when they're shitting their pants. They can be sitting there, smiling and nodding their heads...with shit oozing out their Depends.

...Creeps me out, I'm tellin' ya.

Sooo...anywhoo...we get there and the old folks flock to Andy, because he's the youngest one being brought through the door and they thought they'd corrupt him by rubbing their oldness all over him.

And when I use the term "flock to Andy", please don't think I mean they converged on him like vultures on a dying man. "Flocking" to an old person means they either slowly wheel over to him, slowly push their walker toward him or slowly crawl on their old bellies to him like human snakes.

I kinda freaked and handed Andy over to Kelly, one of the girls from church and walked away. So the old folks went to Kelly instead of me.

The kids started their little program which completely sucked, because these kids can sing like the dickens at church when it's just THEM. Put them in front of a strange audience and they clam up like Gary Condit in front of a TV camera. (Two Gary Condit jokes in two days...I'm pathetic)

So the "program" consisted of mostly Susie and the other kid's choir director singing while the kids stood there and swayed to the tape-recorded music with their fingers in their mouths, trying desperately to not look the old folks directly in the eyes.

I noticed one older woman making fun of the music. She had a sour look on her face and was bobbing her head like those little plastic animals you used to put in the back window of your car whose neck was on a spring.

I thought to myself, "How rude to make fun of this program!"

Until I realized she had Parkinson's Disease and couldn't help the bobbing of her head. That head bobbed when there wasn't any music.

Crazy head bobbing lady.

The kids finished up their little program and we all started walking out of the building, trying hard to not let the old people touch us.

Susie was walking out and asked one of the old ladies "How are you doing today?"

The old lady said "I don't know."

I found that kinda amusing. Then again, she may have been hard of hearing and thought Susie asked "Do you wanna get laid?"

So we walk back to church (the old folks home is a block away), and it's my turn to serve the kids pizza.

We had cheese pizza and pepperoni. Simple as that. One or the other.

So I'm walking around with a tray full of slices of pizza on paper plates, asking kids what do they want.

One little boy says he wants sausage. I tell him he can have pepperoni. He wants sausage. Hey, the Amish want microwaves. We can't always get what we want, kid. Eat the fucking pepperoni pizza before I shove it down your goddamned throat and pull it out your ass myself.

I'm so good with kids.

After lunch, I took Andy outside where the kids were running around acting like animals, running through sprinklers, slip 'n' slides, dipping these big assed wands in some bubble mix and blowing these huge assed bubbles.

Andy loved watching the bubbles. The wind kinda picked up and I took him and we stood in the middle of the bubbles being blown our way.

As a big bubble floated toward him, I held him so the bubble came right toward his face.

The bubble popped in his face, getting soap in his eyes and making him cry like I had just pulled his leg out of its socket.

Yep.

Father of the year, right here.


We left VBS and went home where Andy proceeded to pass out for several hours after a full day of Daddy getting soap in his eyes and being mauled by the elderly.

Once he woke up, we went to the mall to get me some new clothes and Mama a new purse.

Did that in record time. We went to the card shop in the mall to get my sis and our nephew birthday cards.

We're looking at cards, Andy's in his stroller, doing God knows what when I hear two girls squeal "He's so cuuuuuute!!"

I look up and it's two hot young ladies.

One wearing her Hooters waitress shirt.

Yes.

My son charmed the hell out of his first Hooters waitress.

To say I'm proud would be an understatement. They leaned down and tickled his feet and he (thankfully) gave them his full dimpled smile and then covered his face to show that even though he's a handsome baby, he's still shy.

They wanted to know how old he was and then the Hooters girl said "I just want to take him home!"

Ummmmm...that's fine Hootie. But Daddy's part of the package too.

They walked away from us and I was temporarily disappointed because it dawned on me that Hooter Gal was merely "saying" she wanted to take him home...she didn't really "mean" it.

Ah well.

It still gave me a sexual fantasy scenario that I won't be letting go of anytime soon.


Went out to eat to Longhorn Steakhouse. I love their cajun prime rib, so that's what I ordered.

It was deelish and then some.

Andy was perfect. He sat in his high chair and flirted with everyone in sight. I think the whole Hooters thing built up his confidence.

One couple came up to us after they were done eating, wanting to know how old he was and then saying how most of the time, when they see a baby like Andy be seated in their section, they cringe. But Andy was a perfect baby the whole time and that we should be proud of him.

I sooooo wanted to mention the Hooters girl thing and say "Now THAT'S something to be proud of!" but I didn't.

Finished our meals, went to the grocery store to pick up stuff to cook for tonight's Church Fellowship Dinner (I'm cooking jambalaya...Susie's making Death By Chocolate....YUM), and came home just in time to catch "The Perfect Storm".

This weekend has been kinda a Mark Wahlberg film festival weekend. We watched "Fear" and "Three Kings" on Friday night (I passed out fifteen minutes into Three Kings) and then last night's "Perfect Storm".

I was under the impression everyone lived in "Perfect Storm". Now I know that not everyone lives.

I guess the storm wasn't so perfect after all.


So those were the highlights of yesterday.

Today should be much more boring. But ya never know. The perfect storm could hit and I'd die.

Wouldn't THAT be a cool entry?

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