WELCOME TO GRANNYKILLERS ANONYMOUS

It's official.

I'm killing Grandma.

It could happen today, but it's more likely to happen tomorrow after her week-long babysitting stint is over because as we all know by now, it's all about me, me, me and I don't want to have to stay home from work to babysit my own child.

Came home yesterday and Granny's on the computer while Andrew's in the back yard trying unsuccessfully to blow bubbles and crying.

"He just started crying," she says, hopping up from the computer all alarmed because she hadn't heard me come in.

"It's okay," I said. "I'll take care of it."

I go outside and hang with the little one and we blow bubbles for about 30 minutes.

We go back inside and Grandma's still on the computer.

"I think I messed something up," she says.

I go into the office and see that she has somehow gotten the tool bar that's normally on the bottom of the screen all along the left side of the screen. It's no big deal but after several years of having it on the bottom of the screen, it takes a while to get used to having to click on everything you need in a DIFFERENT FUCKING PLACE.

I've had this happen once several years ago. I can't remember how I fixed it.

So she calls Shithead, my brother-in-law, to see if he can talk her through it.

He can't. Not over the phone. So he decides to come out to the house to fix it by hand.

No. Wait. It's NOT that big a deal. We...we...we can survive without having Shithead here to fix it. Really. I'll buy a new computer. Anything but Shithead.

An hour later, here's Shithead.

He fixes it in about 20 seconds and then wants to know what's for dinner.

Ah yes. Of course. Shithead wants dinner.

Shithead ate two hamburgers and a cookie sheet full of fries and then nudges Granny off the computer so he might be able to get some quality porn-surfing time in before he makes the long trek back to their computer-less home.

We retire to the den to watch "Survivor". Truth be told, it was Granny who first turned me on to "Survivor" during the first season. She demanded to watch it while over at our house because she was into it. I wasn't.

Now it's my favorite show. And she hates it.

"This is so stupid," she says. "Why did those girls take their clothes off?"

"Because they know that if they show their bodies to the horny guys, the horny guys won't vote them off the island," I say. "It's psychological warfare."

"Well they didn't have to do that," she sneers.

(Obviously, she doesn't understand that Heidi's a brainless twat who should have been kicked off long ago and has only made it this far due to her cleavage)

So we get to watch "Survivor" with Granny running negative commentary while the sweet sounds of Shithead self-stimulating himself to orgasm serenade us from our office in the background.

SAMPLE:

GRANNY: "This show is so stupid. Why would people even go on it?"

SHITHEAD: "Unnngh! Unnnngh! Uh! Uh! UNNNNNNGH!!!"

Shithead does a half assed job of mopping up his semen off our computer chair and bids us all a farewell.

This prompts Granny to bolt for the office to be the next on the computer, knocking Andrew out of her path in the process.

So Shithead's gone and Granny's out of our hair and back in the office.

Susie and I clean up the kitchen and the den while Andrew watches a video.

At 9 p.m., it's "Sorority Life" time. Since I recap "Fraternity Life", I almost find it necessary to watch both shows since they're starting to cross-over.

Each week, I watch the shows on the television in the office. That's my ritual. We have four televisions in our house, but I like the one in the office when I watch the shows that I need to recap. I shut the door to the office, turn the lights down low and can focus on the show.

But...the computer desk is in the office as well.

Which means...sorry Granny...but your 15 hour day of surfing the web has to come to an end.

Now, I'm not going to come right out and TELL the woman to leave. I'm hoping that she gets the drift when I tell her that I recap these "shows" for the internet.

She says "okay".

And then keeps surfing.

Technically, she can sit there during "Sorority Life". I don't care. But when "Frat Life" comes on, I'm furiously scribbling notes at 90 mph.

She surfs quietly during the "Sorority Life" half hour.

It's not until "Fraternity Life" starts that she REALLY has the desire to offer her running commentary on how MTV is poisoning our youth's minds.

"This show is stupid," she says after watching 30 seconds of it. "Why do you watch it?"

"I get paid to watch it," I say, scribbling furiously.

"How much do you get paid?" she asks.

"Enough to cover Andrew's daycare," I retort.

"Wow," she says.

Thirty seconds of silence passes.

"Why are they trying to steal a chicken?" she asks.

Now.

In my head, the words "SHUT YOUR FUCKING YAP, YOU YAMMERING DECREPIT FUCKASS!!" keep rolling around.

But out of my mouth, the simple phrase "I don't know" comes out.

Finally, during a commercial break, she's still yapping about the show.

And I grow some balls.

"I kinda need some quiet here," I said. "I really have to concentrate on what is said throughout the show."

"Oh," she says, obviously hurt. "Well, I'll just go to my bedroom then. Good night."

And she gets up and leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

That's when the guilt starts rolling across my body.

I'm not sure if I hurt her feelings or not since I haven't seen her since then.

I just hope that she's not so pissed that she boils Andrew or anything like that.

The nephews are definitely coming over today.

We got the call last night.

So I took Jenny's advice and set controls on the content of what can be seen on my computer which is described here.

That certainly works, but as Danelle points out in a subsequent post, it limits EVERY site that you look at. Including Google. You have to basically type in a password for every page.

And since Granny uses the web like a flu sufferer uses Kleenex, that won't work. I just want to filter out porn sites...not EVERYTHING.

So before I leave for work today, I'm going to leave strict orders for Grandma to keep Pervy off of the computer because he tends to look up undesirable sites.

It certainly wouldn't kill these kids to go outside or even...gasp....read a book.

Goddamned kids...

You know...while watching "Sorority Life" last night, it dawned on me.

I have vagina envy.

Specifically in the fact that women can cry whenever they want.

No matter what the situation, a woman can cry and nobody blinks an eye.

Whereas, when a guy cries, it's like catching your parents having sex. You know that it takes place behind closed doors, but you really don't ever want to have to see it.

There are some women who cry and get all ugly as they do it.

A few tears sliding down a cheek that's being dabbed with a Kleenex...that's okay.

Outright bawling accompanied by choking sounds and gasps...well...that's just ugly.

But I can't count the times I wish I could just cry in public and not be ashamed.

And sure...many of you women will say "But U.B....it's alright for men to cry. Let it out. Just let it out."

To them I say "You're wrong, dumb ass."

You don't WANT to see me choking and gasping during a chick flick in the theater.

You don't WANT to see me crying because my steak was cooked more "done" than I wanted it at a restaurant.

You don't WANT to see me squawling every time I get cut off in traffic by an elderly butt monkey or a gang-banger with 50 cent busting out of his speakers.

Men are tough.

We don't cry.

Which is why I envy you gals.

You buncha damned proud crybabies, you.