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10:04:55 - 2001-02-26


I never know when to go home.

I'm one of those people that if you invite me over to your house for dinner, or drinks, or eventually have to drop some kind of MAJOR hint to get me to leave.

Case in point, baybee...

Yesterday we go over to some friends' house for dinner. I'll call them Paul and Mary, which aren't their real names, but Paul sits at home and surfs the web all day and I'm scared shitless he'll either A) Find this site or B) Already found this site.

The reason we're going over there is because Paul has bought a charcoal grill ... and doesn't know how to grill out steaks.


What the Huh???

Paul is in his 50's. Susie works with Mary and they're good friends. I don't normally hang out with people in their 50s, but these are nice people, so I guess I don't mind.

I'd rather be hanging with my own friends, or just sitting at home chillin' like Bob Dylan. But hey ... you take what you can get.

So anyway ... since I always grill out steaks and Susie takes half a steak to work for lunch the next day, Mary has taken a few whiffs of Susie's steaks and she wanted me to come over and show her husband how to grill a steak or four.

To me, this is funny. The guy's in his 50s and can't properly grill a steak.

Grilling is one of the few things that I can actually get macho about. It's a man thing ... it's the one thing that should come to men naturally. There's fire. There's meat. What more could a guy want??

So we get over there, and Paul has spent...I LEAST $200 on grilling accessories. He had the grill mitts, the apron, the fancy chimney lighter, the apron.

Did I mention the apron??

Y'know...when grilling, there's no need for an apron. Maybe to keep your clothes from getting all smokey...MAYBE. But I can't see any other reason to wear an apron when grilling.

Especially an apron that says "World's Greatest Grill Master".

ESPECIALLY when you can't grill a fucking steak. You're a disgrace to that apron, pal. Take it off and throw it on the grill because I don't EVER wanna see you wearing such a wussy item again.

He even had a stopwatch and was following the times in his Weber Charcoal Grill Cookbook that came with his grill to a T. Put the steaks on, grill five minutes one side, six minutes the other side.

Basically ... he had gone above and beyond the call of duty for grilling.

Anyway ... my "secret" ingredient was a charcoal seasoning spice that I buy at my local grocery store.

That was it. A buck and change. Here's your fantastic steak taste, dude.

The steaks turned out really good. Mine was a little well done for my tastes, but I didn't leave anything on my plate, so I can't really complain.

So THEN we get to the point where we play "How Long Should We Stay?"

We arrived at 4. We were eating by 5. We were done by 5:30.

We made small talk at the table until about 6. Most of it was about Andy, since it was their first time to see him since he was born.

That lasted until 6:30. It may have lasted longer, but Andy was getting fussy.

So we adjourned to the den, where Andy and I laid on the floor and I patted his ass until he fell asleep.

It was now 6:32. Andy was asleep and the conversation had to pick up again.

"Banana pudding, anyone?" Susie asked, pulling out her amazing world famous banana pudding.

We all went back to the table and ate banana pudding. After that, I have no idea what else was discussed. I just smiled and nodded my head and said "I hear ya!" to let them know my ears were working.

At 7:00, Andy starts waking up.

To ME, this is a cue we should pack up and go. I've shown Paul my secret recipe for steak grilling ... we've eaten ... we've made small talk ... we had dessert ... a good time was had by most ... and the baby's getting cranky ... TIME TO GO.

Susie says it's time to feed Andy.

So I get a bottle and feed him at the table while we all watch him suck it down.

And all of a sudden, Paul and Mary realize they've made a mistake in inviting The Family That Wouldn't Leave to their home.

Andy's finished at 7:20. He sits on my lap and belches a few times.

More small talk and several hundred feeble attempts to get Andy to crack a smile are made.

It's now 7:45. We've been there approximately four hours. The small talk had gotten so forced that we were actually talking about burning Paul's apron ... THAT'S how bad it got.

I lifted Andy up to give him to Mama and I felt his back was wet.


When his back is wet, that means that Andy has filled up his diaper SO MUCH that it's leaking out the top of his diaper.


And...and ...and...oh joy of joys!!! MY SHIRT WAS WET TOO!!!

Andy had to get a change of outfits.

I got to mope about saying that my shirt was now wet and I didn't bring a change of clothes.

Finally, after about 30 seconds of bitching about my shirt, I turned to Susie and said "Mama, are you about ready to pack it in and head home?"

Paul and Mary actually got GIDDY. They both sat straight up, hands on knees and leaned in, waiting for Susie's response.

"I guess," she said.

By 8 p.m., we were in the van and heading home.

Four hours spent at a casual dinner.

I think that's too long and infringes on the people's privacy.

Susie didn't think it was long enough.

And ... if it hasn't become painfully obvious by now...I had a pretty boring day yesterday.



Okay ... you have GOT to download this. GOT TO. It will make you laugh, it will make you hum, it will make you sing, it will make you a Beat Farmers fan. You HAVE to trust your Uncle Bob on this one. Get the live version if you can ... it's rather amusing. And I dare you not to slap your knees while this song's playing. DARE YOU!!

Hubba hubba hubba hubba hubba.


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