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6:50 a.m. - 2001-08-12


I have got a nauseating headache.

I've had it since yesterday afternoon. I've got a painful knot in the side of my neck from either A)Sleeping wrong or B)Holding Andy for nine hours yesterday because he likes it when Daddy holds him so he can headbutt Daddy's neck for nine hours straight.

Anyway, this headache stretches from my hairline (still respectable for my age) to the back of my neck.

And it hurts.

And it leaves me dizzy, nauseated and slightly, SLIGHTLY aroused.

Then again...f'n Kleenex gets me aroused these days...


...whew...typing that made me even dizzier...


He's been on a self-imposed sabbatical since Father's Day...almost two months off.

We were all told not to contact him and he couldn't contact us.

I really, REALLY like this guy. He's just the coolest preacher in the world.

So anyway...he's not preaching today, he's just going to come and sit in the congregation and listen to the interim evil preacher's last sermon.

She's promised us that she's GOING to cry during this sermon and it's going to be a tough one to get through.

Yeah right.

Apparently, I'm about the only person in church who doesn't like this woman.

Last week, everyone was talking about how sad it's going to be to lose the interim preacher.

I was all like..."But BRIAN is coming back!!! Don't we all love BRIAN?!?"

...Brian's my buddy. As I've mentioned here before, we discuss the fine points of such things as "Pulp Fiction", "Fight Club" and HBO's "Oz".

He's NOT your normal preacher. Which might explain why I have such a hard-on for church these days.

Anyway, he comes back today and if he sits with ANYBODY other than me, I shall be heartbroken.


I'll probably take a swing at him afterwards during cookies and lemonade.

He'd better sit with me.

If he knows what's good for him.

Last night, I got a chill up my spine because I started to think that there's a great possibility that Brian could have found this website.

I love the guy and all...but I don't want him seeing my website where I talk about threesomes, blow jobs and my hatred for all things Mariah Carey.

Y'see...a while back, he wanted to know what website I wrote for.

I didn't want to tell him because he was muh preacher and all. Finally, I told him that I reviewed "Ed" for Mighty Big TV.

At the time, "Brad Pitt" was reviewing "Ed". So I had to explain to my preacher that I was Brad Pitt.


That's ALWAYS an easy thing to do. Admit to a man of the cloth that you think you're a Hollywood superstar.

I'm damned lucky I'm not stuck in some looney bin by now.

Anyway, back then, I gave several links back to the Brad Pitt diary.

...Which now has a link to Dick Blow.

...Which now has a link to me.

...Which makes me physically ill to think that he may have somehow stumbled across this diary in all its foul mouthed glory.


I'm charitable. I'm generous. I do what is asked of me.

I don't drink, smoke or do drugs. I'm a good husband and father.

I don't break the law. I don't surf for porn. I don't masturbate unless the situation calls for it. I don't cheat on my wife.

The only commandment of the big ten that I break on a regular basis is taking the Lord's name in vain. And honestly...don't you think the Lord has bigger fish to fry than worry that someone said "damn" after his name?

I curse.

And in real life, I don't hardly curse at all unless it's around certain people.

I curse here because it's almost expected out of me.

Anyway...Reverend Brian ... if you're reading this and are offended...blame Quentin Tarrentino.

He's the one that taught me how to curse.

My dog's ass.

Geez Louise...there is REALLY something wrong with it.

Last night...the dog's acting all weird...walking around in circles and smelling like an Iranian sauna.

"Does she have poop on her butt," Susie asked me.

"Like I would know," I answered back. "It sure smells like it, but I'm not looking."

Ever since the vet shaved her ass and removed some cancerous tumors and I caught a glimpse of her nasty ass, I haven't really wanted to see it again.

So Susie lifts the tail up, looks and says "Oh dear Lord."

Apparently, Maggie still has staples in her butt from afore-mentioned surgery.

And apparently, these staples have shit all in them.

Shit-covered ass staples.

Which would explain the foul odor in the house.

Y'know...for 11 years, I've loved this dog.

But ... and this is a horrible thing to say...if she died tomorrow, I'd grieve.

...A little....

But my house would be clean and fresh smelling. There'd be no furballs on the carpet. Andy could roam around the house and not have to worry about crossing paths with the cranky old dog who wants to growl every time he gets near her.

This morning I wanted to kill her.


Andy was crying about 6 a.m. I went in his room to console him. Picked him up, sat in the glider and rocked him while patting him gently on the back.

He fell back asleep.

...Until that stupid ass-reeking dog of mine comes flying into Andy's room, tail wagging and hitting everything in sight, wanting me to get up NOW, DAD and get her morning treats for her.

This woke Andy up and he started bawling again.

I stared at my dog and told her she was a bad girl.

"Yeah whatever fat man....just go get my treats. TREATS! TREATS! TREATS!"

Damned dog.

I really want to just stand on the curb of my front lawn and throw her into the street every time a car drives by.

She's a good, loving dog. She's desperately trying to hold on to her spot as my best friend, even though Andy replaced her nine months ago.

She might still be my best friend if he was never born.

...And if she'd do something about that rotted ass stench of hers.

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