ONE OF THOSE ENTRIES WHERE YOU CAN TELL I'M ONLY WRITING BECAUSE I HAPPEN TO BE AWAKE

It's so cold in this house this morning.

Every day I open all the windows in the house about 10 am because it's been so damned lovely here lately.

I also turn the AC/heat off when I do this, remembering to turn it back on at night when I close the windows.

I forgot to turn it on last night.

It's so cold in this house this morning.

I admit that I am quite the conniseur (sp?) of frozen pizzas.

And I have finally found the perfect frozen pizza.

It is Fruschetta's (sp?) fire brick supreme pizza.

It's square.

And you bake it straight on the oven rack.

I know every frozen pizza box tells you to put the pizza directly on the oven rack.

But I never do.

Fer chrissakes ... I don't wanna have to clean my oven every time I cook a pizza, y'know?

But this one ... you HAVE to cook it straight on the oven rack.

It's so damned good.

As they say down south, it's so good it'll make you wanna slap yo' mama.

I have no idea what that means.

But they say it down here.

And I just nod my head and stare at the people when they say it, thinking "What the hell is wrong with you?"

I watched two movies yesterday because I work at night and this week I'm only working one night and I'm not contributing to the financial influx of this household like I should be but that's okay because my wife just got her annual bonus check for 2003 and it's sufficient to say that the bills are covered for a month or two.

First, I finally got around to watching "Zoolander".

It was okay. I think I giggled at a few spots.

Then ... and only because I love the bad movies ... I watched "Freddy Got Fingered".

It was only five bucks at Walmart and I figured "Gosh. I've heard so many bad things about this movie. It has to suck moose teat!"

And it was actually better than I thought it'd be.

Not MUCH better.

But I laughed out loud at least five times and I wasn't expecting that at all.

Each of the times were when this little kid kept hurting himself or having others hurt him.

I love watching little kids performing slapstick with fake blood involved.

If that ain't comedy, what is?

Went to the dentist yesterday.

My dental assistant is just TOO NICE.

She's so nice that it's annoying. She wants to ask about the family and then prod me into telling her stories about Andrew and such.

I'm all "just clean the teeth lady ... I've got Tom Green movies waiting on me at home".

And she's all "Have you taken Andrew to the zoo yet?"

Yes, I took him to the zoo.

A bear fucking ate him alive.

Thanks for bringing up a painful memory, bitch. Now start scraping molars before I get all Matrix on your ass.

Sheesh.

Hummitty hum hum hum.

Andrew is REALLY starting to worry me.

The kid is smarter than everyone else in his class at daycare.

He's three and can read so much. Yesterday I went to pick him up and he wanted to read all of the other kids' names to me.

Jacob. Isaac. Hunter. Chad. Madylyn.

He knows them all.

He's really freaking his teachers out. Every day they're pulling me aside.

"Do you know Andrew can count to 20?" the teacher asked me the other day.

"Yes," I said. "I'm sorry."

"This is stuff he's supposed to learn at kindergarten," the teacher hissed. "We were going to teach them how to count to ten today and he zipped past ten and went to 20."

"I'm sorry," I said. "We're doing everything we can to discourage him from counting at home."

He can now write about 60% of the alphabet. And he can write the word "Frog" but the letters aren't exactly in order. He hasn't figured out the whole "left to right" thing yet.

And he can count to ten in Spanish.

And he can do a cheesy impression of Donald Trump, rolling around in his own wealth.

So why does the kid still insist on shitting in his pants?