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3:42 a.m. - 2003-10-30

Due to an extremely busy schedule that I've got going on, it's not even 4 a.m. yet and I'm already late. With that said, today's entry will be one of the few guest entries that I've done. Today's entry will be done by my son, Andrew who can not only read, but is a damned good writer in his own respect. Andrew has promised me that he's going to get up later and write his review of The Wiggles concert last night. Y'all enjoy.


Yo yo yo, where my dawgs in tha hizzouse?

This is Andrew, or as I like to call myself, the son of the fat crybaby fuck. And Dad said he wanted me to write a review of that Wiggles show he dragged my ass to last night. So here ya go, Pops.

Yo, first off, lemme preface the night with some history.

Yesterday, I was at daycare because my parents aren't rich enough to stay at home wif my ass and this bitch ass motherfucker Phillip pushed me down on the playground.

Long story short, I got my first splinter off a wood chip.

I was all like "Awwww snap! This bitch hurts!"

I walked around the rest of the morning with my hand to my chest. I wouldn't let those crazy assed daycare bitches look at it. They was all "Lemme see Andrew...lemme see your hurtie".

Fuck that shit and back yo' ass up, Granny.

I ain't showin' nobody nuttin'.

Bottom line ... the bitches hoodwinked my ass and three of them motherfuckers had to hold my ass down to remove the splinter.

I was a tough motherfucker though. I fought it the entire way.

They got most of the chunk out of my hand. But I still got a piece of wood under my skin that you could make a coffee table out of.

My old lady's talkin' smack about takin' my ass to the doctor today to have him pull the splinter out.


Bitch ain't got enough money to keep my ass outta motherfuckin' daycare where I be gettin' manhandled by motherfuckin' mongoloids, but she can throw money down to get a motherfuckin' doctor to remove a gotdamn splinter out my hand.


So anyways, my ass was in no mood to go to no gotdamn Wiggles concert.

But you know my old man. Once he gets it in his head that he's spent $100 to humor my fuckin' ass, it's time for my ass to perform like a grateful lil' bitch.


Well fuck that.

Why don't you save some of dat money Pops and take my ass outta daycare.

Anyway, we gots ta drive to motherfuckin' Atlanta G.A. for this shit.

I'll be frank wi' cho ass.

I was kinda into the Wiggles around '01.

Listened to 'em a bit in '02. But shit, give my ass a break. It was either the Wiggles or that gotdamn "Farmer in the Dell" shit in the car.

And say what choo want about the Wiggles...but that "Farmer in the Dell" shit will drive yo' ass crazier than a pit bull on acid.

I'm more into motherfuckin' Blues Clues and Bob da gotdamn Builder than them fucked-up Wiggles.

And bitch...don't eeeeven get me started on that hottie Dora the Explorer.

That bitch is FIIIIIIIINE.

Santa brought me a life-sized Dora doll last year. I acted like I wasn't impressed, but secretly?

...I bang that bitch nightly in my big boy bed.

Yo, so anyway, we get to the show like an hour and a half early cuz my old man is all (ahem) "We have to arrive early at our designated destination in order to beat the traffic and partake in a particularly satisfactory parking space".

I dunno what that big bitch has tol' you people here ... but he's a lame fuckin' daddy. More on that laters.

So they let my ass run around inside with the 5,396 other snot-nosed brats until about five minutes til the show starts.

We get inside and these fuckin' seats my Dad is so proud he got?

We's at the next to the last motherfuckin' row.

These weren't the "nosebleed" seats.

These was the "eyeball hemmoraghing" seats, motherfucker.

So not only is my ass in dire pain from this motherfuckin' splinter lodged in my hand, my ears are poppin' and my head is throbbing because we so far away from the stage.

I'm all like "Daddy, motherfuckin' please! My hand hurts and I can't even SEE the motherfuckin' stage. Let's get outta here, dump Mama at the mall and go find us some fine-assed Atlanta ho's."

My daddy ain't havin' none o' dat shit. Tight-assed motherfucker dropped $100 on this shit and we's STAYIN' gotdammit.

This instrumental music starts and every gotdamned parent in the hizzouse is singin' along to "Hot Potato" and shit.

I'm all like "What the fuck?"

Then the curtain rises and it's the gotdamned Wiggles.

At least I think it was the Wiggles. Shit. It coulda been the Golden Girls in Wiggles shirts and my ass wouldn'ta known the difference on account of these motherfuckin' seats.

So I sit there and I don't smile.

I don't dance.

I don't do jackmotherfuckin'shit.

I sit there on my ass and try to watch this shit unfold.

I'm suckin' my fingers cos I'm jonesing for a blunt right about now. First motherfuckin' concert my ol' man drags me to and ain't nobody smokin' no weed up in dis bitch.

Wha' up wi' dat??

These bitches start up the show wi' "Rock A Bye Yo' Bear".

Ain't that some shit?

Startin' a rock show up with a motherfuckin' lullaby.

And of COURSE, the first line of the song is "Everybody clap".

And everybody in the motherfuckin' audience claps.

Except my gotdamned gimp ass 'cos I've got a splinter the size of Ron Jeremy's cock in my hand and it hurts to even THINK about the motherfucker, let alone sit there clappin' my ass off like a motherfuckin' mental patient.

My ol' man's all "Clap Andrew! Clap Andrew!"

What the fuck?

Show me somethin' my ass should risk some serious motherfuckin' pain by clappin' for, motherfucker and maybe, jes' MAYBE I'll clap fo' yo' raggedy ass.

I turn around to give my dad that "Are you fuckin' crazy?" look that I gots perfected and get this ... the bitch has got these tears wellin' up in his motherfuckin' eyes.

Y'all don't know this shit, but ever since I was born, my ol' man has been a motherfuckin' tear factory.

The bitch cries at EVERYTHING.

The other night we's watchin' the motherfuckin' Joe Schmo Show and his ass is all "Boo hoo hooo" watchin' the shit.

A gotdamned reality show.

And the bitch is cryin' like Halle Motherfuckin' Berry.

Now the motherfucker wants to embarrass my ass gettin' all weepy at a motherfuckin' Wiggles show.

Son. Of. A. Bitch.

I quickly looked away from the motherfucker and stared at the stage, suckin' my fingers and hopin' if anyone saw my ass, they'd think the fat motherfucker abducted my ass and wasn't really my old man.

It was right around then I smelled it.

The fat motherfuckin' kid next to me shit his gotdamned pants.

I gave him a look that said "Bitch PLEASE! Don't be shittin' yo' motherfuckin' pants up in this bitch!"

Too late. The motherfucker had done the damage. And his mama just sat there like she didn't smell the shit. For another gotdamned hour, I had to smell this fucktard's stench.

I really shoulda bit the motherfucker while I had the chance.

After a while, the motherfuckin' Wiggles bring out all their friends and the kids in the crowd went positively apeshit.

They had Captain Feathersword and Dorothy the Dinosaur and Wags the Motherfuckin' Dog and Henry the Gotdamned Octopus.

Meanwhile, I'm sittin' there, suckin' the shit out my fingers and wonderin' if I'm seeing the Wiggles or "The Iggles" as the sign on the stage would indicate.

Great seats, dad. Wow. You da man. When Bob the Builder comes to town, you my Ticketmaster, dawg.


Then, there's a part in the show where you take a rose to Dorothy the Bitch Assed Dinosaur 'cos the bitch loves eatin' roses.

I'm up for this shit. Fuck, I woulda volunteered to have my scalp gnawed on by Sammy Shitsispants next to me if it meant I'd get to get out of my fuckin' chair.

But the Wiggles fucked me on this one. Greg comes on the microphone and said for everyone to stay in their motherfuckin' seats, hold their roses up and a gotdamned DANCER will come get the rose.

Son of a bitch.

I waved that rose in the air like a little pussboy until some dancer who I ain't never seen on no fuckin' Wiggles video bounced all the way up to our seats and snatched it out of my hands sayin' "Thank you, friend!"

Look, bitch. I ain't yo' gotdamned friend. I brought the fucking rose for DOROTHY, not yo' raggedy motherfuckin' ass. You make sure you get that shit back to Dorothy or I will reign down on yo' head like motherfuckin' acid motherfuckin' rain, bitch.

The highlight of my evening was the crackhead next to my mama.

This bitch had to be eight years old if she was a motherfuckin' day.

Her ass didn't sit down all motherfuckin' NIGHT. She was up doing every fuckin' dance these assholes were telling her to do.

Hot Potato? Check.

Pointing your fingers and doing the twist? Check.

Wiggly Groove? Motherfuckin' check.

Bitch was strung out on some heavy duty chocolate or some shit. She was blowin' my fuckin' mind. Ain't nobody that old gettin' into no Wiggles shit. Gotdamn. The bitch had TITTIES, for chrissakes.

I'll give my old man credit.

The motherfucker packed my Thomas the Tank Engine book in my diaper bag.

That shit came in handy halfway through the show when I got bored and started reading.

No shit.

My ol' man was all "Andrew, watch the show! Watch the show!"

Fuck off, motherfucker!

I gots me a book here dat I'm tryin' to finish. Motherfuckin' Thomas is all lost and shit.

Step off, bitch.

Finally, at the end, my fat assed ol' man lifts my ass up so I can at least see SOMETHIN' of the stage while the Wiggles do their medley at the end of the show.

You can see the book in my hand. And you can see the wall right behind us, proving that we was in the next to the last motherfuckin' row. Meanwhile, I'm trying my damndest to feign interest in the show while my ol' man dances around like he's Lord of the Motherfuckin' Dance or some shit.

He's such a motherfuckin' faggot sometimes.

We leave, and the old man throws my ass in the car because gotdamn...we gots to get out of there ASAP because my ol' man hates waiting in traffic after a show.

We get out of Atlanta and this kind motherfucker stops at McDonalds to get my ass a Happy Meal.


Like that shit's go' give me back the last five hours of my life or somethin'.

I start eatin' the shit and my Dad's all "What'd you think of the show, Andrew? Did you like the Wiggles, Andrew? Did you have a good time, Andrew?"

I finished my french fry, thought about his stupid gotdamn questions and finally just said "Wiggles".


That's all that really needed to be said about that motherfuckin' shit anyway.

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