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6:03 a.m. - 2003-06-04


Why do women refuse to put the toilet seat back up?

I'm having to write a letter of recommendation for a friend ... Diaryland's own Casca ... who I used to work with.

He was one of the ones who was unceremoniously slapped out of a job when my former workplace finally admitted defeat and locked their doors, essentially owing millions of dollars not just to their employees but businesses nationwide.

He's almost got a lock on a high school teaching position in Georgia ... he just needs three letters of recommendation and he's in.


ME writing your letter of recommendation.

I just hope I can do it without letting a "fucker" slip in.

"Casca is an amazing worker and one slick fucker. Oops. I mean, he's one crazy bastard. Dammit. Just hire the lazy sack of shit."

I cooked the most gawdawful spaghetti sauce yesterday.

Yesterday morning I threw all this stuff in a crock pot, put it on low and let it simmer all day.

Got home last night and the house smelled like a bear had taken a dump in our kitchen.

Apparently, according to Susie, the Italian Sausage that I used in the recipe was roughly six years old and had been buried back in the freezer in hopes that it would eventually get so much frost burn on it that one of us would have the common sense to just throw it away.

Not me.

I tossed it in the spaghetti.

The sausage tasted like burnt human flesh. Like I had stumbled upon an airplane crash, reached in through the broken cockpit window, snagged some burnt pilot face flesh, took it home, added a jar of Ragu and called it "spaghetti".

It was disturbingly bad.

So I fixed Susie several lunch plates with the remains of the spaghetti.

I'll be damned if I'm eating the shit.

We bought Andrew his own potty chair on Sunday.

He loves this chair.

He won't go potty in it. But it's become his favorite chair to read and watch TV in.

I'm beginning to think that this whole "parenting" thing isn't my cup of tea.

We started him in his new daycare this week.

The lady in the daycare says that he does okay while he has something fun to do. But then, just out of the blue, he quits doing what he's doing and goes to sit in a corner and cry softly.

He refuses to eat anything while he's there. This isn't exactly shocking since the kid eats four Pringles for dinner and is full.

He eats like a bird.

You know.

One without feathers and a beak that resembles a human more than an actual bird.

I watched "About A Boy" Saturday night while laid up in bed wacked out on every kind of cold medicine that we had in the house.

And I cried.

I cried like a bitch.

I'm pretty sure it was the cold medicine because while the movie had its sad moments, it's basically a comedy.

It struck me kinda funny because ... well... remember yesterday I told you guys about the kid I intimidated who ran into my rental car because he was making out with his pimply-faced girlfriend at the red light?

This "crying jag" took place about 2-3 hours after that.

I'm sure that kid was still thinking about me and what a freaking jerk I was.

...while I laid in bed with tears rolling down my face over a stupid Hugh Grant movie.


I'm one intimidating sonofabitch when I'm a' boo-hoo-hooing over Hugh Grant.

Oh hey!

You know how sometimes I ask you guys to do me a favor that really doesn't seem like much but it means the world to me?

If you guys could go here and go down about a quarter or so down the page where it asks you to vote for "local band" and write "The Spicolis" and then leave your name and address and all that junk at the bottom of the page, I will have one happy hippie neighbor on my hands.

Mattie Gee's band (The Spicolis...duh) really wants to win this coveted award so they can say they're Montgomery's favorite band and get t-shirts printed up that say such a thing.

So like...take about two minutes out of your day, do this and leave the rest of the things blank with the little dash in them. That would make Mattie Gee really happy and I bet I could cajole him into writing a guest Uncle Bob entry thanking each and every one of you.

Except his penmanship sucks whale shit.

But you wouldn't really know that because I'll clean it up for the diary entry. it!


And finally, have you seen the amazing Star Wars kid video yet?

Personally, I like the remix version.

That kid really has a future.

...In custodial services.

I wonder if he needs a letter of recommendation written?

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