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5:01 a.m. - 2001-06-19

WHO WILL WATCH MY BABY?

Yeeeeeowwwwww.

Crisis at the Uncle Bob household.

Apparently, our day care lady had her appendix removed in an emergency hospital visit Sunday night.

This means she's out of commission for six weeks.

After Susie got off the phone with her last night, we stared at Andy. Andy stared at us. The idea crossed my mind that we could take Andy down to the bus station and leave him in a bathroom stall and then in six weeks call the bus station and see if anyone had turned in a baby.

I think Andy read my mind because he started crying non-stop.

So we're kinda screwed. In three weeks, I start my new job and I'm sure they frown on people taking their vacation on their first day.

Susie can watch him for a few days, but certainly not for six weeks.

Most hotels in our town frown upon us renting a room and putting him in there with a bag of Fritos and some smokes for eight hours a day.

Grandma can watch him on certain days of the week, but then there's other days of the week when the FOX news channel has important breaking news and she has to stayed glued to the set all day, bitching about the Democrats.

Nosy Assed Neighbor has stepped up to the plate and said she can watch him the third Wednesday of next month. Bravo Nosy Assed Neighbor! You're a fucking life saver!!

Susie says we will make it and this certainly won't be the worst crisis we ever face with this kid.

Which really sucks because I was hoping it was all downhill from here.

...rabble scrabble day care lady...


Well, I am now the most hated man in my office.

I went from being everyone's friend to the scourge of the earth.

This is AFTER I've turned in my two-week resignation. Which apparently has something to do with my recent drop in popularity.

The general consensus is that our cheap-assed, drunk-assed boss is going to try to keep the paper going WITHOUT replacing me, thus pocketing my salary and insurance costs in his own pockets and just dividing my job up amongst the five remaining employees of the business.

The man is clearly insane. Or just drunk as shit.

When he bought the business, there were four people there who wrote.

Now it's down to just me. When the other three quit, he never replaced them. He just kept giving me their work load.

Did I mention he didn't increase my pay??

Well, he didn't.

Did I mention I hadn't had a raise since he bought the newspaper?

Well, I haven't.

Did I mention that's the reason I'm leaving? That this drunk-assed bastard has no idea how to handle his people, talk to his people or keep his people motivated by occasionally rewarding them with a raise that will help keep them up with the cost of living?

Nope. I just painted a pretty picture of working for the perfect drunk-assed boss like going to work every day was equivalent to laying down in a bed of roses.

...And being supervised in that bed of roses by a drunk bastard who couldn't trim a beard to save his life.

There.

I said it.

My boss has the most unruly beard in all of Alabama.

And I feel relieved to have finally admitted that in print.

Even though he'll never see this.


Sooooo...I came close to killing Grandma yesterday.

I came home at 1 p.m. for the day in order to write my columns and nap because I'm an old man and I need my naps.

So I get home, Andy's asleep and Grandma is watching her Fox News Channel.

"Goddamned Democrats," she says as a greeting.

"Goddamned Democrats to you," I say.

Then she goes on a tirade about how the Democrats rule the house (awwwww yeah!)now and it's not right because a Republican president should have a Republican house, blah blah blah, look at me I'm an old lady who just discovered politics, blah blah blah, I have nothing better to do with my life than bitch about the government, blah blah blah because Rush Limbaugh is my God.

Blah.

That last blah is what woke Andy up from his deep slumber. Andy let me know he was awake with his piercing screams.

"I'm gone, Sweetie! Have a good day," Grandma says as she hot-foots it out the door and I'm left with a screaming baby in my arms and a buttload of work to be done.

...rabble scrabble Day Care Lady AND Grandma...

So I spent the afternoon letting Andy bite me all over my upper torso. The nibbling was cute at first when he had two teeth on his bottom jaw. Now he has four on top to go with the two on bottom and when he clamps down, the shit hurts like a teenage broken heart.

I didn't get shit done yesterday, so I had to get up at 4 a.m. this morning while the vampire baby was asleep to get my column written. It's all about how babies are able to manipulate you into doing what they want. It sucks like a new vacuum cleaner.

Thanks Granny.

Sure hope I don't get fired for writing an unfunny humor column.

Actually, I guess I do hope I get fired.


These last two weeks at my job are going to be very sweet indeed.

If knowing that they were my last two weeks wasn't enough, my drunk assed boss is on a two week Alaskan cruise. So my last two weeks will be spent with him completely off my back.

I literally feel like I'm on vacation. I show up for work, but I don't give a shit about anything there anymore. I don't have to cater to the boss's every whim or get up from my desk to walk over to his and show him for the 7,000th time how to cut and paste into a document because his alcohol-soaked brain can't retain such simple information each week.

I'm taking Friday off to go to Nashville to see my sisters, niece and nephew and to pick up some of my nephew's toys for Andy. My nephew is 7 now and has outgrown his baby stuff. So Andy's now the proud owner of a shitload of toys to chew on.

If I need to sit at home with Andy over the next three weeks, I can do that as well, because my boss isn't in the office and even if he was ... WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?? FIRE ME?!?!?

I LOVE being a short-timer around the office.

This fucking rawks.


Our secretary at work was barely speaking to me yesterday. I know she's pissed that I'm leaving and I kept trying to get her to realize that me leaving is the best thing I can do for my family.

So she goes outside crying as I'm talking to her and I follow her outside.

Well...apparently it wasn't me she was so damned upset about. Which was kinda a blow to the ego, but it's only my secretary here, not Miss America so I wasn't too taken aback by her revelation that for once she wasn't crying over me.

As it turns out ... her husband's having an "affair".

I was kinda shocked because I've seen her husband. This ugly bastard's lucky his wife is fucking him, let alone some other woman.

Then...the more I let her talk about it, the more I realized that this woman wouldn't know an "affair" if it smacked her in the face.

Apparently ... her hubby went to his local tavern and sat at the bar to drink his nightly six beers.

A woman sat down next to him and struck up a friendly conversation.

They have some things in common.

Hubby comes home and tells my secretary that he sat and talked to a woman all night (he got home at 9:30) who he had a lot in common with.

And, in my secretary's warped mind...that was an "affair".

I didn't mean to laugh in her face, but I did.

Repeatedly.

And I told her not to worry. Would she be upset if he had talked to a guy all night that he had a lot in common with?

No, she said.

Then you're just mad because your husband had a friendly conversation with a woman?

Yes, she said.

There's no helping people like that.

I'm just glad I married the most understanding and patient woman in the free world.

It certainly makes life a bit easier to live.


Alright...I can't think of anything else snotty to say, so I'm splitting this joint.

Sayonara you maniacs.

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