HAPPY FIFTH OF JULY!!

Hey...did I forget to kiss you little bastards good night yesterday or what???

Sorry...a HOUSEFUL OF SCREAMING IN-LAWS will do that to a guy.

So...happy 4th???

Same old shit here...quick rundown of the last few days for those of you who HAVE to know my every single fucking move...

(Yeah...I'm starting to feel like I live in a fishbowl...so what??)

Monday...nothing. Absolutely nothing happened. It was my deadline day and I flew through it. Where my normal deadline day ends about 8 p.m., I wrapped this bad boy up by 4 p.m.

Happy dance???

Anybody????

Coo'.

(Uncle Bob does his now-trademarked happy dance, adding a bit of a tango to it at the end for dramatic flair)

One awesome thing about Monday...the Texas brood made it into town ... AND DIDN'T STAY HERE FOR THE NIGHT!!!

Extra-SPECIAL Happy Dance???

Anyone????

Coo'.

(Bob does his Extra-SPECIAL Happy Dance which he normally reserves for holidays and large parties.)

So Monday, I got home at 4:30 p.m. and rather than facing a houseful of kids and screaming parents, I had complete silence.

For some UNGODLY reason, the inlaws from Texas decided to stay with Blanca and her family...in the house that should be condemned because they don't throw their trash away and haven't cleaned house since the 80s.

...They won't make that same mistake twice. ALL THREE KIDS AND MOM decided it was at Uncle Bob's CLEAN house where they would be setting up camp until Friday.

It was pretty funny ... my sister-in-law had to sleep in a chair over there, because there was too much shit in the living room to make her way to the sofa. It would have meant several hours of shifting things around and finding some new empty spaces for boxes, bags of rabbit food and possibly some dead hitchikers.

Now...yesterday was a different story.

Susie and I got up early to go check out some great July 4th car sale at our local Plymouth dealer.

Susie has NOW fallen in love with the Plymouth Grand Voyager SE.

I was not impressed.

Mainly because our salesman was a former morning radio deejay.

And g-damn...did he keep reminding us of it...

Every single word that fell outta this loser's mouth was booming and enunciated as crisp as a new hundred dollar bill.

Now then...I used to be a club deejay. I can do the whole "radio voice" when I want to.

...But hey...it's real life here, folks...and I'm a writer, not a deejay. So I leave the "radio voice" in my head.

I kept wanting to tell this dipshit...."HEY...you're a fucking car salesman, dude. Drop the Y103 Morning Zoo Crew act and sell us a fucking car."

We test drove two vehicles. He rode with us both times.

...I wanted to fucking KILL him by the time we got back to the dealership. EVERYTHING he said was an attempt at trying to be funny AND LOUD.

I politely smiled at his little shenanigans at first. But by the end, I was trying to imagine just how much trouble we would get into if we were to open his door and toss him out onto the interstate at 65 mph.

Susie wanted to test drive one more mini van and I told her we couldn't because I had ribs on the smoker at home and had to get back to them.

We got in our car and I told her I HATED that guy.

She actually liked him.

Well, shit yes, Wally...of course she liked him. He was taller than me...had a full head of hair...no beer gut ... and was treating her like the most important woman in the world.

Duh.

We get home and "The Brood" shows up.

My dog Maggie went and hid. She's normally very friendly toward guests, but even she sensed there were too many of them and they were too g-damned loud for her tastes.

It actually went pretty well though. Since the violent and destructive 18-year-old nephew was left at home in Ft. Worth, it was honestly not so bad.

I had the Play Station going for some of the kids.

A Super Nintendo going for those waiting to use the Play Station.

The Internet was wide open for Pokemon and Porno surfing.

A rousing game of Jenga in one of the bedrooms.

And ... of course ... sleeping pills by the fistful for those brave enough to try some of Uncle Bob's "drugs".

No takers on the drugs.

...Fuckin' Nancy Reagan and her "Just Say No" shit...

I cooked 32 lbs. of ribs yesterday over a 13-hour period. Rave reviews all around for this new rib recipe. Then again ... we're talking about savages that drink watered-down moose diarrhea and eat Pez candy for dinner. Fucking ribs are like filet mignon to these morons.

Of course...Larry...the worst brother-in-law in the world had to show up ...

THINGS LARRY DID THAT ALMOST RUINED JULY 4TH

* As soon as he saw my (three month old) computer, he forced my 12 year old nephew off of it, and began downloading things he thought I "needed" for it. Stupid-assed screen savers and stuff. I told him VERY NICELY to get the fuck off the machine and let the kids play before I grabbed him by the nostrils and shoved my fist in his ass.

* He knocked our telephone off the wall twice, breaking it the second time. Luckily, my other brother-in-law fixed it before I could see the damage.

* He conveniently forgot to pay us any of the $6,000 that he owes us.

* He forced everyone to watch the news TWICE because he THOUGHT he might be on it because he went to a July 4th parade earlier in the day. He wasn't on the news. The camera guy probably took one look at his bloated, obnoxious ass and kept panning the crowd in a different direction.

* He thought it'd be funny to throw "snaps" at the nephews inside the house. "Snaps" are those little bundles of gunpowder that make a loud "snap" when they hit something hard. They also leave a gunpowder mark on the white walls of your den when they're thrown against the wall.

...Trust me...I now KNOW this fact ...

I seriously think this bastard is retarded. Then again...he's a fucking computer analyst ... how retarded can he be???

All in all...there was nothing worse than the norm with the in-laws yesterday. I guess I was preparing for the worst (the house "accidently" being burned to the ground) and was mildly surprised that it didn't happen.

This morning, I have three kids snoring on my sofa as I type this entry. Six more hours and they'll be right back in my face, wanting to download more Eminem songs from Napster and whipping unholy ass in "Resident Evil" for another 48 hours.

I guess it could be worse.

...But I'm racking my brain trying to think how ...

Now...if you'll excuse me...I have about $60 worth of fireworks remains to clean up out of my driveway.

Yes...Larry bought $60 worth of fireworks yesterday.

No...he still hasn't attempted to begin paying off his $6,000 loan from us.

Yes ... I'm still taking suggestions on discrete ways to kill him.