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5:12 a.m. - 2005-03-09


After several days of moping around the house, clutching her throat and saying things like "I think I'm dying", Susie went to the doctor yesterday.

The doctor took one look at her and said "You have syphillis".

She then asked him to look at her throat at which time he changed his diagnosis to strep throat.

She called me at work yesterday to relay this newsflash.

"I've got strep," she said hoarsely.

Honestly, I thought she was crying and said she had to strip.

"Are you crying?" I asked. "And why do you need to strip?"

After we repeated this exchange about 19 times, I finally understood what she was saying.

So now she�s bedridden until Friday.

Always the compassionate one, I asked her if I could bring anything home like some orange juice, chicken soup or an eight-inch erection to soothe that ragged throat of hers.

(C'mon ... her throat's numb anyway and you can't really catch strep through your pee-pee ... can you?)

So I pick up Andrew and we go home and all the way home I'm trying to explain to Andrew that Mommy is very sick at home and she needs to sleep and we have to be quiet and leave Mommy alone.

Naturally, this piques the kid's interest because he wants to see just HOW SICK Mommy really is.

Mommy is looking and acting like she's on her deathbed. She's wrapped up in several blankets on the bed, there's mounds of Kleenex everywhere and all she can do is moan.

So Andrew wants to lay down with her and snuggle.

I have to physically pick Andrew up and remove him from the room.

This makes him cry because now he REALLY wants to see his Mommy because his Daddy is being mean.

Susie wants him far away from her because this crap is apparently contagious.

Daddy's barking at him because he's crying loudly.

So the kid's confused.

So I picked him up, gave him a hug and tried to think of a way I could tell him that Mommy was sick and couldn't be near him.

"Andrew, honey," I said. "Your mommy doesn't love you anymore. Not one teeny bit. She said she never wants to see you again and hopes you rot in the deepest bowels of Hell at an early age. Daddy, on the other hand, DOES love you and I wish you'd spend the rest of eternity with me, especially when I get really old and can no longer successfully wipe my own ass on a continuous basis."

This worked because he hung out with me the rest of the evening as we watched "The Lion King".


Andrew's on this huge "Lion King" kick right now.

He has to watch the DVD at least once a day.

When he was sick last weekend, we watched it three times on Friday and four times on Saturday.

I freakin' HATE the Lion King now.

And, because I have a kid who's rooted in fantasy, we have to pretend that we are lions quite a bit.

I am "Father", the father of "Simba".

Andrew is, of course, "Simba".

But, because this is Andrew's first stab at role playing, our conversations mostly go like this:

ANDREW: "Father?"

ME: "Yes, Simba?"

ANDREW: "I'm not Simba, I'm Andrew."

ME: "I know, I thought we were playing "Lion King"."

ANDREW: "I'm not Simba."

ME: "I know. But you called me 'Father' like Simba calls his Daddy."

ANDREW: "I'm not Simba."

ME: "Fine. Whatever."

It's hard for me to believe that less than a month ago I was still Piss Boy.

Especially hard to believe when I was asked yesterday if I wanted to attend a town hall meeting tomorrow.

With the President of the United States.

While tickets are limited to congressmen and organized groups for this meeting, the boss (formerly Da Boss, but I love the guy so much I can't keep calling him that. He'll get a new nickname in the future, but for now ... the boss)managed to secure me a ticket to cover the event ... if I wanted to.

I saw "Fahrenheit 911".

So naturally ... I declined to be anywhere near the prick and told the boss to give it to our freelance photographer who'll get better pictures anyway.

Plus, I had already agreed to participate in a media competition at the Rodeo Thursday afternoon.

I've never been to the rodeo and have no real desire to attend.

But I never miss out on their media competitions because they pay us cash to do ignorant stuff.

This year, it's a Karaoke contest.

And I am the Karaoke Sensai.

So ... here's my plan ... the President is here which has most of the local media salivating to be at his meeting.

People are going to pick the President over the Rodeo Challenge because most media doesn't want to humiliate themselves by getting on a stage in front of their peers and belting out awful renditions of "Rhinestone Cowboy".

I do not have this fear because I OWN "Rhinestone Cowboy".

(Both literally and figuratively)

So the competition will probably be thin at best with most of the media on the other side of town.

Which gives me a better chance at winning the money.

While most of you probably think I'm an ignorant dick for passing up the President for singing Karaoke ... maybe if I wave the winning prize of two portraits of Benjamin Franklin under your nose, you'll see my point.

Uh huh.

Money talks.

And bullshit holds Town Hall Meetings.

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