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5:16 a.m. - 2001-04-09


Boo yah.

That, in case you couldn't figure it out, is a very tired and uninspired BOOOOOOO YAHHHHHHH!!!!

Yesterday was a pretty ummmmm...I dunno...I'd say "fucked up day", but only parts of it were.

In church, we had to do that reading thing for Palm Sunday. I have no idea what it was called, and I have no idea what it was about. I knew my parts in the little "play" and that's about it. If you were to ask me what it was about, I wouldn't have a clue.

We read from books, but there were TWO LINES that I had to memorize without using a book because we incorporated actual PROPS for me to use while saying afore-mentioned lines.

My two lines?

"This is my body, given for you. Do this in rememberance of me."


"This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you."

When I did the "body" line, I had to hold up a sub roll and break it in half. Yep. The body of Christ was a sub roll. A hoagie. I'm sure Christ was just thrilled about that.

Then when I did the "cup" line, I had to hold up a cup with both hands.

Before hand, the preacher asked if I knew my two lines. I rattled them off perfectly, because I had been saying them repeatedly for hours before hand. He was impressed and told me that if I wanted to, I could take my book of lines up there in front of everyone with me, and place it on a music stand.

I felt confident I didn't need the stinking book.

When it came time for my lines to be recited in front of the congregation, I pulled a "Cindy Brady".

(A "Cindy Brady" refers to the Brady Bunch episode in which Cindy went on a local kids TV Quiz show and froze once the cameras went on, staring blankly into the camera)

I did okay with the body line. Busted that hoagie wide open for all to see.

The uhhhh...cup line....well....I went blank.

A long dramatic pause to begin the line. And then the line went...

"This cup is uhhhh...full of blood. I'm going to pour it out now. Covenant."

Not quite what I was supposed to say. But I was drawing a total blank.

Other than that...everything went great. As long as I had my lines RIGHT in front of me, I was cool.


Except for the fact that my pants were falling down in front of everyone.

They were a pair of new pants that I had bought on Saturday. I hadn't tried the pants on, because trying on clothes in stores is for sissies. Just buy the damned things and move on. That's my motto.'s not my motto ... it's more my credo.

Anyway ... we had to keep getting up and reading, then sitting down. Get up. Sit down. Get up. Sit down.

My pants started slowly sliding down my hips. They were about two sizes too big for me. I discovered this minutes before leaving the house, but I thought if I tightened my belt, there shouldn't be a problem.

Uh huh. That's what I thought alright.

About the sixth time we had to get up, I could feel my pockets around my thighs. If I had been wearing Joe Boxers, I woulda looked like a gang member. Since I was holding a notebook with all my lines in it, I couldn't reach down and hike my pants up like Barney Fife. So I held my book at waist level, using my wrists to hold my pants up while I read.

The choir behind me got quite a show though.

Those pants are going back to the mall today, buster.

After church, we came home and all three of us napped.

I woke up and decided to go to the store. I was in the mood to grill out some ribeyes and we needed a few other items so I thought I'd do the grocery shopping.

"Where's the checkbook," I asked Susie.

"In my purse," she said.

I got in her purse, grabbed the checkbook and took off for the store.

I took my time, grabbing this and that, filling up the cart.

I get to the checkout lane, put my groceries on the conveyor belt and reach for my checkbook.


Oh ha ha ha.

Susie wrote the last check on Saturday and didn't bother to put new checks in the little vinyl book thing.

Oh ha ha ha.

"Ummmm...I don't have any money," I told the cashier.

She stared at me blankly as if to say "Then why the fuck are you trying to buy groceries, homeless guy?"

"I can run to the ATM at the mall and get money," I said. "What can I do with these groceries?"

"Put them in one of the checkout lanes that aren't being used," she said wisely.

So I did. And hauled ass out of the store and ran to the ATM machine.

I got some money, drove back to the store, went in, got my groceries and got back in another long line.

By this point, a LOT of the frozen food was thawing rapidly.

I went back to the same cashier who I've been to before. This gal loves to chit-chat.

I was buying my niece a "Sweet Sixteen" birthday card. Whaddayaknow....the cashier got the same card last year when she turned 16.

Wonderful. Please bag my thawing groceries there, Miss Talkalot.

Oh...honey nut Chex Mix...that's my favorite.

Peachy. My groceries are turning rancid. Could we please get them bagged up so I can get them in the freezer?

"I haven't tried this cereal. Is this any..."


Of course...this is what's going on in my head. I don't scream at teenage cashiers.

Finally, the transaction is complete and I peel out of the parking lot, burning rubber like only a mini van can.

Got it home and Susie asks how it went.

"Oh fine," I said. "I waited in a long line to get checked out and then realized YOU wrote the last check yesterday!"

"Oops," she says.


I wanted to hit her with a frozen pizza, but the pizza was limp and room temperature and I don't hit my wife anyway, so that plan went out the window.

Susie puts up the groceries while I prepare to mow the yard, since it was one of the few days where rain hasn't been pouring down.

My nosy next-door neighbor pulls up.

"How dedicated are you to this Biggest Rat contest," she asks.


"I'm dedicated," I say, not really issuing a limit on my dedication.

"I'll give you fifty dollars if you mow my yard," she says.

Okay. I HATE mowing my own yard. Hate it, hate it, hate it.

But mowing someone ELSE'S yard?!?


But...fifty bucks is fifty bucks. So I said yes.

It kinda irritates me that she can't be like everyone else and just GIVE a donation. Nooooo...she has to get something in return.


So I finish mowing the yard and get ready to mow hers.

"Oh I don't want it mowed now," she says. "Maybe in a week or two."



I just busted my ass as quickly as I could so I could get your yard mowed and get dinner on the table before the sun went down.

You rabble scrabble nosy next-door neighbor.

Her dogs locked her out of the house. She had put them in the back room of the house because they wouldn't stop barking while she talked to Susie and Andy and I mowed the yard. The dogs kept jumping up on her patio door and managed to flip the lock switch, thus locking her out.

She couldn't figure out how she was going to get back in.

"We've got a key to your house," I reminded her.

Ah yes.

So I had to go let her into her house. Yay. Fun, fun, fun.

That's it for my afternoon story.

Watched "Jackass" last night on MTV. Susie finally watched more than fleeting moments of it. I was shocked at how hard she laughed at it. Except for the projectile vomiting scenes which made her queasy.

Today's our 13th wedding anniversary. Thirteen years ago, a sweaty and nervous Uncle Bob said "I do" and got hitched.

It's been a great 13 years, with the last one clearly being the best one.

We're not planning on doing much of anything...we've grown out of that stage.

Hell. I even bought myself an anniversary card, because I KNEW she'd forget to get me one.

Our big "date" is going to the doctor's office this afternoon to have Andy's ear infection checked out to make sure he's all better.

Our anniversary dinner? Leftovers.

I need to send her some roses at work though.

Just for putting up with my stupid ass for 13 years.

It's the least I can do.

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