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6:19 a.m. - 2005-06-30


Andrew's latest phrase is to deem everything in his path "ridiculous".

"Andrew, do you want some yogurt?"

"I don't want yogurt. Yogurt is ridiculous."

"Andrew, are you ready to take a bath?"

"I'm not taking a bath! Taking a bath is ridiculous!"

That kinda crap.

Except ... he can't pronounce the word.

He pronounces it "Eee-dick-wooo-us".

For the longest time, I had no idea what he was saying. He'd say something was eeedickwooous and I'd be all "Huh?"

Then one day he was watching a Pooh video and Tigger used the term and Andrew repeated it and the proverbial light bulb went off over my head and then it popped and shards of imaginary glass went flying everywhere.

It was eeedickwooous, I'm tellin' ya.

Now that I have successfully cemented my standing as the world's most paranoid blogger, I decided to test the waters yesterday at work.

"Did you guys see in the news where that blogger got fired from that airline?" I asked the employees.

They all looked at me funny.

"What's a blogger?" they said in unison.

I pumped my fist in the air and pulled it back down quickly so it was at my shoulder's level.

"Yesssssss!!" I hissed in quiet victory.

I found out that the two busiest days at the store are Mondays and Fridays for obvious reasons.

Everyone picks up their tuxes on Fridays and returns them on Mondays.

The other three days are what they call "Hang around and stare at each other" days.

Sure, we get the occasional customer who comes strolling in and needs a tuxedo for some reason or another.

And they apparently ALWAYS have the urge to tell you what they need it for.

"I need a tuxedo," they'll say. "I'm going to a fundraiser on Saturday."

"I'm hosting a game show in Guam on Sunday."

"I'm really wanting to look good at a funeral on Monday."

"My wife is into this new role-playing crap in the bedroom and she wants me to be her personal sex butler on Tuesday."

"I'm dying on Wednesday and really want to shine in the casket. Can I rent one for eternity and you guys just bill me?"

It's mind-boggling. I guess renting a tuxedo is just such a big event in people's lives that they feel the salesguy needs to know the whole backstory on their business.

Do gynecologists go through the same thing?

"I'm going club-hopping with my girlfriends on Saturday and I need you to scoop all the yeast out ... you know ... just in case."

"I've been sleeping with my German Shepherd lately and the other night I ... I ... just check me, okay?"

Somehow I doubt it.

The next door neighbor's baby had a setback yesterday.

He's got pneumonia and one of his lungs collapsed.

I'm a pessimist by nature so my wording may be a bit insensitive here ... but if this kid makes it through all this and grows up to be a healthy little boy ... he better NEVER give his parents any crap because he's already put them through hell and back.

Like someone else said "If he pulls through this, he's going to be the meanest kid on the block."

His parents are being so strong which just amazes me.

I'm a basket case everytime Andrew gets the sniffles.

I know, I know.

It's just so eeedickwooous to be like that.

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