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5:49 a.m. - 2001-10-08

IT'S A SAD DAY IN AMERICAN HISTORY

Yesterday, our country made history as an unprecedented event took place that threatened to change civilization and mankind as we know it forever.

...The Emmys were cancelled.

Now...how in the hell am I ever going to feel all jubilant seeing David Hyde Pierce walk that aisle for the third ... maybe fourth time? There was a chance that little brat from "Malcolm Is The Middle" could have won Best Actor...wouldn't that have been a helluva acceptance speech?

Sadly...we'll never know. The people at the Emmys were so ticked off at playing second fiddle to a hillbilly from Arabia that they've packed up their star-studded bags and gone home.

And today, America grieves.

Perhaps I'm the biggest griever of them all.

Grieve with me folks. It's okay to grieve in times like these.

You know...Walter Cronkite was supposed to open the show. What is our government thinking? That old Walt will just live forever??

I have an answer for you...he won't. Just because he's defied the odds and lived to see 147 years old now doesn't mean he'll be around to blow out 148 candles on that sheet cake.

It's a sad day in American history when we're left in the dark on who would have won best supporting actor in a TV-movie or miniseries.

A sad...sad day.


So...apologies all around for not updating a single time this weekend, but my big fat butt was busy alllll weekend.

Care to know HOW busy? Let's divulge, shall we?

FRIDAY AFTERNOON

I left work an hour early to go pick up my chest X-rays at a local hospital. I was under the impression that the people at the hospital had runners who would deliver my X-rays to my doctor who would then get a chance to look at them. That's what I thought the guy meant when he said "We'll deliver these chest X-rays to your doctor and he will call you with the results in 7-10 days."

Well guess freakin' what?

WRONG!

They called the other day saying "You ever coming to pick up these X-rays, Fat Boy?"

I was all like "I thought you guys delivered them."

The girl laughed so hard she snorted.

"No Senor Dumbass...you have to pick them up and go through a painfully long process to do so."

So I went over there Friday to do so.

I go to the counter and the wormy little punk behind the counter gives me a little grief about it.

"Did you call ahead to get the X-rays?" he asked.

"No, you guys called me and told me to come pick them up," I said, with a hint of pissed-offness in my voice.

The guy says "Just a minute"....and then I watch him walk out a door.

I happen to be looking out the window and the guy's walking slowly through the parking lot. Apparently, he had the X-rays in his car.

As it turned out...he didn't. He was walking to the building where I originally had the X-rays done. And when I use the term "Walking" what I mean is he was limping very slowly. The guy was walking like he had a microwave up his ass.

I was unnerved. I could have drove to the other building and picked them up myself. Instead, I've got the guy from "My Left Foot" crawling to the building to pick them up.

Fifteen mofo minutes later, Limpy walks back in.

"Here's your X-rays," he says with all the enthusiasm of a man strapped to the electric chair.

"Thank you," I say because I was raised to be polite even in stressful situations.

He doesn't say "You're welcome" or "Kiss my ass" or "I'm one depressed clubfoot."

Nothing.

I muttered "Asshole" under my breath once I made it safely to the parking lot and left.

Got home...my sister Kristi was already here. She was playing with Andrew who was a little overwhelmed that a total stranger was in his house, playing with his toys. He handled it well for a baby though...no biting anyway.

We picked up Reverend Brian and the four of us went out to dinner for Brian's 30th birthday. We ended up at a Mexican joint where we had a pretty good dinner. At the end of it, my sister told our waiter that it was Brian's birthday, hoping for a free dessert.

The waiter ran to the kitchen with an urgency as if Mexico had just been called to war. He returned a minute later with all his waiter buddies, a big sombrero and a huge chunk of fried ice cream in a tortilla shell.

They slapped that sombrero on Brian's head with a force that almost left him with a concussion. Then they sang some crazy Mexican birthday song.

LOUDLY.

They took some whipped cream and covered his nose with it while they sang at the top of their lungs.

Brian sat there with a goofy grin on his face. You haven't lived until you see your pastor wearing a sombrero and whipped cream dripping from his nose.

They finally sang "Happy Birthday" and since they didn't know his name, they called him "Pancho", which cracked me up.

After that humiliation, we went to Barnes and Noble so Brian could enjoy an espresso which he never drank because he was too busy pointing out every single book he'd ever read in the store and giving a brief review of each.

...I think the margarita went to his head. He was sure acting like it.

We picked up our kids who had a good night and then went home, where I sat with my sister as she surfed the web like a fiend since she doesn't have a computer at home but really, REALLY wants one. For now, she's content to come visit here every six months and monopolize mine.

...Which explains where I was all weekend....NOT on the computer.

SATURDAY

We woke up to a rainy morning.

Rainy mornings apparently make my sister feel domestic. She wanted to clean the house.

Susie handed her a mop. No, Kristi explained...she wanted to clean out closets and throw our things away.

Ummmm...excuse me, Martha Stewart Jr. Those are OUR THINGS that you want to throw away. Back off now and nobody gets hurt, capiche?

Susie quickly diverted Kristi's attention by announcing our annual huge crafts fair in a local park.

Kristi agreed this would be fun and would help get her out of her domestic funk.

We showered, got the kid bundled up...and then went outside to the coldest temperatures and drizzle that we've had since winter.

Naturally, I chose to wore t-shirt and shorts because I was convinced the drizzle would taper off and the temps would rise.

Nope. It STAYED 63 degrees the entire time.

I was shivering like an epileptic having multiple orgasms by the time we got back to the van.

Andy was bundled up so tightly he couldn't move, except for his face which got whipped with sharp winds and off-and-on drizzle the entire time. He was about as happy as a pitbull being slapped repeatedly in the face.

We went to a local deli for lunch. Then we went to my bagel place to get a dozen bagels for this week's breakfasts.

Now then...on my diet plan, it says that a bagel has 2 carbs in it. This is fine. Two carbs out of 18 per day...I can handle that.

I'm allowed 4-5 carbs per meal.

While picking out the bagels, I casually asked if they had any nutritional information on the bagels.

The girl said sure and handed me a sheet.

Gulp.

Each bagel has FIVE FIVE FIVE carbs in them.

I've eaten a bagel with every breakfast and nearly every lunch for the last two weeks thinking they were only TWO carbs.

This explains my drastic non-loss of weight, I guess.

I was depressed.

Susie...on the other hand...got angry.

At me.

She could not BELIEEEEEEVE that I hadn't checked into this beforehand.

I was apologetic. I had no idea. I was told by my dietician that bagels had two carbs. I took her word for it.

So basically...our diet has been majorly screwed up since the get-go because of these bagels.

So now I eat half a bagel each morning. Which wouldn't fill an ant up. But it's gotta be done.

We arrived home to find this guy I hired tearing down our shed in the backyard.

He quoted me the price of $35 to do it.

This was before his partner quit on him, he got stung four times by yellowjackets in my yard, his truck broke down, a 100-lb weight dropped on his foot and he had to borrow his brother's truck and come tear it down in the rain.

I gave him $100. He seemed genuinely happy to be dealing with someone who knew the crap he'd had to go through to finish the job.

And I was glad the job is finished.

Saturday night we went to my favorite new restaurant, Copeland's.

I had blackened chicken. I ate a third of the portion that they brought me, taking the rest home for other meals like a good little dieter.

We came home and my sis and I stayed on the computer, downloading songs for her to have on CD.

I ended up making her five CDs worth of music...we downloaded over 100 songs for her. She was giddy. She couldn't believe it was all free and kept thinking we were going to get a bill for all this.

She's pretty bright.

But you wouldn't know that from watching her try to operate a computer.

SUNDAY

We woke up and Kristi and I went for a morning walk. She's in much better shape than I am and was walking briskly the entire time.

My shins felt like I had screwdrivers being hammered into them, so I wasn't as spry as she was. At one point, she got tired of waiting for her big brother to keep up so she asked if it'd be okay if she went at her normal pace. I said sure.

A cloud of smoke appeared and she was gone.

Meanwhile, I hobbled home like Mr. X-ray Guy with hemmerhoids.

Got home, had some breakfast...if you can count half a bagel, half a banana and half a cup of yogurt "breakfast"...and then talked about getting ready for church.

We watched some TV and talked some more about getting ready for church.

We then downloaded some more songs off the Web and then brought up getting ready for church again.

By the time church started, we were still at home, discussing who's going to shower and who's going to watch the baby.

So...no church.

Kristi left about noon, I laid down to take a nap since Andrew had protested the fact that we took him out in the wind and rain on Saturday.

Naturally, he waited until 1 a.m. Sunday morning to begin the protesting and didn't quit protesting until after 2 a.m.

The whole time, we rocked back and forth with me saying "Shhh, shhhh, shhhh" while he screamed loudly that his bronchial system was all out of whack in baby language.

Soooooo...I was cheated out of several hours of sleep Saturday night.

I napped for two hours yesterday. I napped so long, we apparently went to war and several Afghani civilians were killed while I napped.

We went to Toys R Us to get Andrew a new Diaper Genie since his old one broke and the house smells strongly of three-day-old baby shit.

We then went to church, where I had another meeting where nothing was accomplished and Susie taught little kids to sing "God Bless America" while Andy vomited all over the nursery.

We came home, I grilled a chuck roast and fixed baked potatos, mixed veggies, baked beans and grilled pita breads (which I forgot about while they were on the grill...helpful tip...pita breads don't need to grill for 15 minutes....it's more like ....oh...one minute or so).

Ate dinner. Turned on the TV and saw the Emmys were cancelled because we had gone to war.

It's a sad, sad day for Martin Sheen today.

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