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4:53 a.m. - 2002-05-03


I was laying in bed...not five minutes ago...thinking "Man...okay! That's what I'll write about!"

I get out of bed. I pee. I go to the kitchen and get my first Diet Dr. Pepper out of the fridge. I take my medicine. I sit down here.

And now...nothing.

For the life of me, I cannot remember ... what made us think that we were wise and we'd never compromise.

Sorry. I meant I cannot remember what I was going to write.

First sign of old age ... a good pee erases your memory bank.

Somebody hand me my colostomy bag, please.

So yesterday I get this email from the wife, saying we have to have an early dinner because she has to go back to work at 6:30 to have a discussion with her boss and his supervisor.

His supervisor is this woman that Susie has never gotten along with. This is the woman that chopped Susie's annual raise down from 3% to 2.6% because Susie cares more about her family than her job.

The woman also nixed Susie's annual bonus for two years straight. Susie's been with the company for eight years and the first six years she got bonuses. Now ... nothing.

Making matters worse, her new boss is a lazy bastard. Every day he leaves work for several hours, saying he has to go mow his yard or get his car washed or clean up his lake home.

Seriously. These are some of the excuses he's used in the past to leave for the day at 1 p.m.

The guy has the spine of a gingerbread man. He kisses this female supervisor's ass like it was made of candy and makes no bones about it. He has to. His work ethic is horrible and the only way he can hold on to this cushy job is to kiss ass.

He's been with the company about eight months. Susie...eight years.

He got a bonus of $3,100 last month. Hasn't even been there a year.


He told Susie that he was thinking about taking that money and investing it in stocks.

Susie told him that's what she used to do when she got bonuses ... before HE came on board.

She said it went right over his head.

Anyway, they had a meeting last night. She got home about 8:30 and said it went well and she feels better about her job.

But she didn't want to discuss what happened or what was said.

Which makes me think ... she's back out on the streets, hookin' for crack.

My wife is a TV movie of the week. "Susie...Portrait Of A Crackwhore Housewife".


Which...since she was gone for a few hours last night ... meant serious bonding time between Andrew and I.

Have I told you how Andrew enjoys humping anything and everything now?

I try to dissuade it. If I catch him laying face down on the floor with the remote control beneath his crotch, I go and grab the remote and start flipping channels.

If he's humping a toy, Daddy wants the toy.

So last night, he's humping the phone.

Let me clarify, my son doesn't make a big production out of his humping of household products. It's not like he's Prince down there on the floor, belting out "Darling Nikki" and slamming his hips into the telephone like a miniature Ron Jeremy.

He just finds something on the floor that looks like it'd be nice to rub his crotch on and he lays down on top of it. For the most part, he lies still, but occasionally you'll see his baby ass wiggle.

And I don't think it's sexual. I guess I'd better clarify that too. He's not falling in love with the phone or the remote control. I guess it just feels good. Even with a diaper on, there must be some satisfaction going on there or he wouldn't be doing it.

So anyway he's laying on the floor last night peacefully. With the phone underneath him. His face is buried in the carpet and he's murmuring something that only makes sense to him.

The phone rings.

This kid jumps about a foot in the air. You seriously had to be there, but in all honesty, I don't have room for all of you in my home so some of you would have had to read it here anyway so let's just all be content with that for the time being.

I'm laughing at the kid, who was shocked at first, but after seeing Daddy laughing,now he's laughing.

So we both laugh and laugh.

Then I answer the phone.

It's Grandma.

Well holy hell! It's Grandma calling to tell us that she will have five grand for us tomorrow and to be ready to use that as a downpayment on the new home.


It's Grandma. Calling to tell us that she's all moved into her new home and that next week she will be able to watch Andrew just like she used to.


Wrong, Granny.

You're not watching Andrew until you pay us the money.

Naturally, I didn't say this. I'm a big ol' Puss Factory when it comes to confronting my elders.

But the fact is...if we're having to pay someone else to watch Andrew, I want that someone else to watch Andrew. If not, it's money down the drain.

If Grandma wants to come over and watch Andrew, it costs us money. $25 for the daycare that wasn't used ... plus we have to feed Grandma lunch...and my no-good, shit-smelling, asshole brother-in-law as well, since he comes over at lunchtime to raid our pantry and eat whatever he likes.

So no go, mofo.

Keep your stale cigarette smelling asses at home, unless it's to grace our doorway with a big oversized check for $6,100 like a surly Ed McMahon.

You know...that's what I'm going to tell her anyway.


You just watch.

I'm going to tell her alright.


So yesterday was Andrew's 18 month birthday.

We had a large celebration full of cake and ice cream and gifts.


We had burnt frozen pizza and let him hump the phone. Same damned thing.

He had to go to the doctor for his 18 month checkup and the doctor said he's in the top 20th percentile for weight.

I think that's right. Basically...80 percent of children his age weigh more than he does.

In other words, my kid is scrawny. Slight. A real sissy boy.

The doctor said not to worry about it. He's healthy. He's just burning off a lot of calories because he's one active little sissy boy.

I think it'd be kinda cool if he stayed slim and trim. Alabama is the number one state for overweight people. Our license plates say "Home of the Fat Asses" on them so that should tell you something right there.

If he stayed at an average or below average weight, sure...he might be picked on by the fat kids at school. Calling him names like "Slimmy". Or "Mr. In Shape" or even worse ... saying things like "My God...I can see your abs!!"

Yes ... even if my kid is able to walk around in public with his shirt off and his belly not hanging over the waistline of his pants, I'll still love him like he was an obese little jelly-eating bastard with stretch marks on his chins.

We may need to go to family counseling to get past this roadblock.

But we're strong.

We WILL survive.

That's it.

I'm hungry and must eat some breakfast.

Susie's driving to Georgia today to attend some meeting. Probably a crackwhore convention or something. I dunno. So she's gotta be on the road by 7 a.m. which leaves me in charge of getting the kid in gear, fed, dressed and to daycare.

So I've gotta get dressed myself and all that jazz, blah blah blah.

You all have a great weekend. I've got massive amounts of yard sales to go to in the morning...the first weekend of May always finds our city besieged with community yard sales and stuff. So I won't be updating tomorrow morning.

Maybe Sunday. But at some point, I've got to write my "Ed" recap for Television Without Pity.

So maybe not Sunday.

Maybe not ever.

Alright...I'll be back.


Just...not tomorrow morning. That much I already know.

Peace out.

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