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5:46 a.m. - 2001-06-29

THUNDERBOLT AND LIGHTNING, VERY VERY FRIGHTENING TO ANDY

Well...ain't this great?

Yesterday afternoon, we apparently had a very violent isolated thunderstorm. While at the office, we stood out front and watched the sky as it was practically black on the East side of town (where my home is), yet sunny and warm on the office side of town.

I got bored standing around the office as I'm apt to do on my last three days of employment. So at 2:30, I made no bones about it and said I was going home for the day, eat my ass if you don't like it.

Everyone understood. Basically, my parking space has been taken. My computer and desk have been taken. I have no space to call my own there anymore. So hey...go home, dude. We don't need you here anyway.

So I drive towards the blackened sky, hitting a few patches of rain as I go.

As I get closer to the house, there's branches down from trees everywhere. Garbage cans are all over the streets. And traffic lights are blinking.

I get home and the power's out.

Oh ain't this great?

Grandma's sitting inside my humid palace. She informs me (here comes the real "ain't this great?" part) that the thunderstorm was SOOOO bad that it woke Andy up from his nap and he was TERRIFIED.

Now Andy has slept through some storms in his life. Didn't bother him a bit.

But the one yesterday must have been too intense for his almost eight-month-old ass.

She said he was screaming bloody murder for about 30 minutes while the storm raged. She finally got him to sleep and had him back in his crib.

I opened up some windows to get some air circulating and kicked Granny's ass out the door.

Checked on my baby and he was sleeping soundly now.

Whew!

Okay...

Last night we go to lay him down and he is TERRIFIED.

I think he associates the crib with loud claps of thunder now. And he don't want no part of the crib, Senor.

So last night we lay him down to sleep (we prayed the Lord his soul to keep...hope it worked) and he just SCREEEEEAMED.

He screamed for about 20 minutes. Horrified screams.

So now...my kid is scared to go to bed.

Gee.

Thanks God.

'Preciate that thunderstorm, o' Righteous Dude.


So Jack Lemmon is dead and Paula Poundstone is munching out little girls.

Gee...there's a couple of shockers.

Yeah right.

Jack Lemmon was 76 years old. It's not like he was cut down in the prime of his career. THAT woulda been a shock. It's not like he had any great movies left in him anyway. What was anybody expecting from him? "Really Fucking Grumpy Old Men?" Walter Matthau was already dead. Who the hell's left for Jack to get grumpy with? I bet he's glad to be dead. He's up in Heaven with Walter now and they're a team again, running around on the clouds and bitching about everything like Grumpy Old Dead Men should do.

And Paula Poundstone. I worked with Paula for a week in 1985, opening for her. I saw how she eyed the waitresses at the club (including my blond and busty soon-to-be wife). So I wasn't shocked that Paula had a little thang for the ladies. Here's a big Hollywood secret, people....If it's a comedian...and it's female ... it's 99% certain it's gay. The majority of female comedians are either gay or bi. Rosie, Whoopi, Paula, Margaret, Janeane....the list goes on, Sweet Cakes. They're all gayer than a San Francisco parade. Let's try not to act all shocked when we hear about them eating out their foster children, alright?


Hmmmm...what else?

Oh.

My goddamned good-for-nothing brother-in-law.

I've probably covered this before. Hell...I'm SURE I've covered this before. But yesterday just pissed me off to no end.

My brother-in-law has a thing about drinking my Coca-Colas. I buy 12 packs of Coke...keep 'em in the fridge.

EVERY SINGLE GODDAMNED FUCKING TIME he comes over here, he doesn't ask, he just goes to the refrigerator, pulls one out, pops it open and starts loudly slurping on the thing.

It unnerves me to no end. I have no idea why. Maybe it's the fact that he doesn't ask. Maybe it's the fact that no matter how long he's here or for whatever reason he's here, he automatically runs to the fridge, grabs a Coke and starts slurping.

Literally slurping. It's like he never learned how to drink from a can. Or like he's trying to be funny or something.

But it's not funny, it's repulsive.

Anyway...ever since Grandma started watching Andy...every day for lunch, my brother-in-law comes over, bringing Grandma and himself lunch.

And of course...no drinks. Because I provide the goddamned drinks.

Now then...

If he only drank one Coke with lunch, I could handle it.

This boy drinks them like he's in a fucking contest. Monday, when I came home early, he drank two cokes in a 20 minute period. I watched in horror as he guzzled one down, GOT UP FROM THE FUCKING TABLE and got himself another one and guzzled it down.

Yesterday, he apparently came to my house for lunch and drank not one Coke...not two Cokes...but (and I'm not exaggerating here) this motherfucker took SIX of my Cokes.

He obviously took some back to work with him. But I had a brand new 12 pack in the fridge, unopened...and half of them were gone when I got home.

Grandma drinks water all day. She's no problem.

But this fucking brother-in-law of mine who has owed me $6,000 for almost two years and hasn't paid a cent of it back yet is drinking me out of house and home.

And he's NOT a growing boy, as he'd like to think. He's 38 fucking years old.

I guess it's the fact that I either A) have to stock up like a motherfucker every time I go to the store or B) Go to the store every other day to support this fucker's Coke habit that irritates me.

Shit.

Everything this bastard does irritates me.

Who am I kidding?


I've ranted enough. The kid's up and watching "Rolly Polie Olie" by himself in the den and he should probably have some adult supervision, so I'd better go.

Have a good day.

I'll do my best to do the same.

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