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5:02 a.m. - 2003-01-29


Soooo...apparently I'm getting pretty bad about leaving loose ends laying around and not wrapping them all up nice and pretty for you, the home viewing audience. Or office viewing audience. Or creepy person looking over the other person's shoulder at his laptop on the subway viewing audience. Wha'ev'ah.

So here ya go.


Since Andrew got the tubes in his ears nearly two months ago, he's began to actually talk a bit better, but it's not full tilt boogie.

For "dolphin", he says "Doll".

For "Cow", he says "Moooooooo".

For "Bird", he says "Buh."

For "Bug", he says "Buh."

For "More applesauce, Mommy", he says "Gimme something I can fucking actually eat that isn't made of apples, you ignorant bitch."

(I really need to start watching my mouth around the house).

All in all, he's saying a whole lot more and slowly catching on.

The other day, he handed me a kazoo and said "Do."

I'm all like "Huh?"

He says "Do."

I stare at him. Maybe he shit his diaper. I dunno.

"Do?" I ask.

He takes my hand and pushes it toward my mouth.

"Do. Do. Do. DOOOOO!!"



I put the kazoo in my mouth and start humming away. He dances a jig with a big grin on his face.

I take the kazoo out of my mouth, hand it back to him and tell him to "Do."

He puts it in his mouth, starts blowing in it, covering it in toddler saliva and dancing in a circle.


I'm impressed.

Today we take him for his first trip to the speech therapist to evaluate his speech and find out what we can do to help him out.

Tomorrow, we go to the neurologist to see if he's a normal kid who just happens to be a late talker or if he has some deeper problems.

I'm 99% convinced he's normal.

Then again, I think I'm pretty normal too, yet I frequently come up with phrases like "Cram a canary up my ass and call me Steve...damn that's some good chili!"

So there ya go.


Tomorrow Mom goes in the hospital to have her carotid artery checked out. She said it won't be surgery, yet she has to stay all night at the hospital.

Where they won't let her smoke.

This should be amusing.

She had a mammogram done last week which came back good.

She did an osteoporosis test...came back negative.

Had some other test that she passed.

She's actually in decent health if you can look past the fact that one of her carotid arteries is damned near full of gunk.


I went out during my lunch hour yesterday to find either Spot Shot or Nature's Miracle, two products you guys heavily recommended.

(We already had Oxi Clean in the hizzouse, but that didn't seem to get the spots up on Monday night).

I found some fluid made especially for pet stains and especially for our stain lifting machine.

I put that on the three dog vomit stains last night.

Now I'd say about 90% of the stains are gone. I haven't checked them this morning because it's still dark in the living room. But as of last night, a stranger would be hard pressed to point out where these stains might have been.

So that's good.


I called the vet yesterday and told him our predicament. Maggie's 13, she's having trouble getting around, falling down a lot, vomiting black stuff all over the carpet after not eating for 12 hours, dripping blood from somewhere on her body that I can't find and since I cannot afford to even buy a lunch at McDonalds right now, bringing her in there for a battery of tests is pretty much out of the question.

He said to bring her in, he'd run a series of X-rays on her, do a bunch of tests and it would only cost about $800.

(My vet is not the brightest man in the world. A true fact: He married his cousin. It was quite the scandal in the social circle 20 years ago)

I explained to him again ... I am dirt poor. I live in a nice new spacious home, but every penny I make has to go to that or to my son's medical bills. I recently had to buy a $2,000 machine to sleep with so I won't choke to death in my sleep. I'm having to go to court to fight speeding tickets because I don't have $125 to pay them. And I have ignorant anonymous assholes who go out of their way to make me feel like shit over the fact that I can't afford to take care of my dog too.

He reminded me that Maggie does have arthritis. She does have a history of cancer and tumors. She has led a blessed life and had as good a home as any dog could ever ask for for the last 13 years.

And he'd put her to sleep and have her buried for $129.30.


If I could just bring myself to put what has arguably been my best friend for the last 13 years to sleep, I'd be alright.

There's a lot more circumstances to it than what you people read here.

Deep down, I love the dog. I hate the things she does sometimes, but I love the dog.

Thirteen years ago I made a commitment to her when I took her out of the humane shelter and brought her home. And that was to give her a home for as long as she was alive.

And now I'm forced to do that as inexpensively as possible.

For those of you that think I'm a monster for not wanting to pay her vet bills, I'll make you an offer. I'll take her to the vet and have them run all the test necessary to make sure she's healthy.

...And I'll send your ass the bill.

Then, everyone's happy.

How's that?


Apparently, it's survey time at my wife's job. Everyone but her department (human resources) is asked to fill out a survey and basically take a shot at anyone else in the company.

Last year when this was done, she almost lost her job when three people said that she didn't return their phone calls.

Her defense is that the average Human Resources coordinator is responsible for 150 or so employees.

She's responsible for 1,100 employees.

She's overworked, underpaid and does the best she can do. But she and her new boss don't get along well at all because he cheats on his wife and asks her to help him cover his tracks. He's also a slacker, ducking out of the office every day at 1. He used to at least lie about it, now he tells her "I'm going to go see my girlfriend" or "I'm going hunting" or "I'm going home to watch Oprah" leaving her to handle the brunt of those 1,100 employees.

So she's pretty sure someone's going to bitch about her in these surveys.

Which means she'll be out of a job. Mainly because she knows too much about her boss' life and that could jeopardize him in the end.

She's tried to find another job but there are none in this city for her.

The one thing she's got going for her ... her boss has told her that she's going to have to work more than 40 hours a week ... but she won't be paid overtime because it's not in the budget.

She's always worked 43-44 hours. She never takes a lunch and if she does, she eats some crackers at her desk while working.

Three weeks ago, she worked 54 hours.

And got paid for 40.

So, if she gets canned like she's expecting she will, she plans on going to the Wage and Board(?) to let them know about her company's policy on overtime. You must work it, but we won't pay you for it.

This would cost the company hundreds of thousands of dollars to pay everyone that they've screwed out of overtime.

So at least we have that amusing little item to look forward to.

Oh...and she's not allowed to fill out a survey to bitch about her boss or anybody else in the company because there's only two people in her department and that wouldn't give the company "an accurate representation" of the bitchings.

So basically, she has to paint a big target on her chest, put a blindfold on and wait patiently for the gunfire to begin.

So things are sucking around the Bob household as of late.

But least I have a certain little website that brings me a slight ray of sunshine and gives me joy by allowing me to trade my used DVDs and CDs.

Of course, that site shall remain nameless because certain other people think that they should be the ones to determine what I post here each day in my OWN JOURNAL and what I shouldn't and frankly, they're tired of reading about me pimping the site.

You know the site...or should I say ...the only thing that brings me joy and gives me something to look forward to right now. The site that I was trying to help its owner get off and running and have it become a success.


As you can see, it's a real fucking peach to be in my shoes at times.

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