GOD BLESS WALMART...OR AT LEAST DO SOMETHING WITH IT

Yesterday we decided that we were going to take Andy to Walmart to get his pictures taken for his one year birthday/Christmas pics.

Yes...Walmart. Home of low, low prices.

The plan was...since I didn't go to church yesterday (still recovering from my FREAKIN' HEART SURGERY, GOD!!! CUT ME SOME SLACK, O HOLY ONE!!!), I was to be showered and ready to go by 12:30 when Susie, Andy and Melissa showed up.

At 12:30, Susie and Andy showed up.

"Where's our niece Melissa?" I asked.

"She stayed behind for some sort of youth group thing," Susie explained.

"Sooooo...we're still going to Walmart?" I asked.

"Oh no," Susie scoffed. "We have to wait here for Melissa. Michelle is bringing her here after the youth group."

I kept my temper in check because I didn't want Andy have to watch his Mama whoop my ass.

"So what's the deal?" I asked.

"Well...Melissa should be here by 1:30 or 2," she said. "Her family is coming by here to pick her up...."

Shit.

In-laws.

Dammit, dammit, dammit.

"...and then we'll go to Walmart. Except I have to be back at church by 4:00, so we'll have to hurry."

So...we feed Andy and laid him down for a nap at about 1, Susie laid down for a nap and I was pretty much wide awake by this point, so I decided to stay up and wait for Melissa, then the inlaws to show up.

I downloaded several cover songs of Radiohead. I now have more versions of "Fake Plastic Trees", "Creep" and "Paranoid Android" then I could ever want. If each one was worth $100, I'd have several thousand dollars in MP3s and you would all be jealous, saying "I wish I had thought of that first, so that I would have some money. Curse you Uncle Bob! Curse youuuuuuu!"

Hey. Calm down, dude. They're NOT worth a hundred bucks apiece. Sheesh.

About 1:50, Melissa shows up. I get to the front door before she rings the doorbell and wakes Andy up.

Go me.

We're sitting in the den when Maggie starts barking her g-damned head off and I utter those words that have become my mantra lately "I want that dog dead."

I try to hurry to the front door to let the inlaws in before they ring the doorbell. However...I just had some FREAKIN' HEART SURGERY and can't make it to the door in time.

Our 10 year-old nephew is always the first to the door because he's the only one who's thin and doesn't sweat like a whore in church on his way from the van to the front door.

Our 10 year-old nephew has a habit of ringing the doorbell right around 74 times each time they show up. That's his signature. You can try to tell him not to do it, but that's like telling Dan Rather not to say anything stupid at the end of his broadcasts...the dumbass is going to do it.

"Ding Dong Ding Dong Ding Dong Ding Dong Ding ....WAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! Ding Dong Ding Dong WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!"

"You ignorant little fuck," I mutter under my breath as I go to open the door.

"Hi Uncle Bob," he says as he squirms right past me.

"You woke Andrew up," I say sternly.

"Good! I want to play with him!" he says.

The rest of the tribe slowly make their way in, hugging me like they hadn't seen me in years when I just saw them all on Friday, and before that last Saturday. Hug, hug, hug...be careful of the leg. I just had FREAKIN' HEART SURGERY.

So they come in, wanna plop down on the couch and watch some NFL game.

Andy's awake and crying. He's obviously wanting the boob.

"What's wrong with Andy?" the 10 year old asks.

I was tempted to say "He doesn't like you and your family and wishes you would all leave," but I didn't.

"He's hungry," I said, hoping they would understand that Susie's about to whip a boob out and it might be kosher if you all freakin' left.

Ummmmm...we have the father (Susie's brother), who's a class A pervert according to his collection of porn videos. He ain't going nowhere if he gets a glimpse of his sister's hefty boobs.

We've got the porn surfing nephew. You think HE'S going to give up a chance at seeing an honest-to-God boob, even if it's his Aunt's???

So they stay firmly planted.

Susie slings Andy on her chest, whips the boob out and shoves it in his mouth about as discretely as I've ever seen her do it.

The inlaws sit there and watch. Because it's a beautiful thing and it's also a big milk-engorged boob and they're all pervs.

They don't leave until about 2:30.

Susie says that there's no way we can get to Walmart, get his pics taken and get me back home and her back to church before 4.

I agree.

So we decide to do it after her meeting.

After her meeting, she gets home at 5:15.

"Andy needs a bath," she says.

Fine. Let's bathe him.

Fifteen minutes later, Andy's dressed to the 9's and ready to go.

We get to Walmart, expecting a huge line of people.

One family. Mother, father, six year old daughter....and one month old son.

The family wants Christmas pictures done of the two children. And Mother SPECIFICALLY wants the one month old boy to smile.

Excuse me??

Speaking as a parent with a full year's experience under my belt now...NO KID IN THIS WORLD can smile at one month old. If they DO manage to smile, you can expect a thick gas emitting from their diaper momentarily.

Well, in the words of this ignorant, IGNORANT mother..."Fuh dah shiznit!"

She wants her baby to smile.

So this poor Walmart photographer who's probably pulling down $5.35 an hour goes to great lengths to make the baby smile.

...For one hour and 15 minutes.

I wasn't livid. But I was close to it. Every time that stupid assed mother turned her head my way, I clearly sighed, looked disgusted and rested my head on the shopping cart's handle as if to say "Come on you stupid assed idiot...we all KNOW your kid's not going to smile."

Finally, and believe me, I was watching...the kid stopped crying long enough and looked like it was about to sneeze.

*SNAP!*

That was the picture the mother had wanted. It sure as hell wasn't a smile. It looked like a cross between shock and discomfort. But the stupid assed mother was happy with it. Happy that she had taken up the photographer's time, our time and now the family's time behind us. She ate up so much time that the photographer was turning people away because she was now so backed up there was no way they could get everyone's pictures taken tonight.

So we get in there next. And for some ungodly reason...Andrew knew what was going on and became a HUGE ham.

He clapped and played Pattycake. He smiled and smiled and smiled. He laughed. He posed. He acted like a complete natural for this photographer.

We shot some pics, changed his outfit and shot two more.

Then...all hell broke loose.

For some reason, Andrew was tired of all this smiling and posing. He was ready for the photo shoot to end. Had he been Madonna, somebody woulda been fired by this point, because he adopted a total diva attitude.

Still, there were two more pictures to be shot.

We hugged him. We let him play with toys. We bought him French Fries and Chicken McNuggets.

And every time we put him back down in front of Santa looking through a window at him, he cried.

Still, there were two flashes where he stopped crying long enough to give us a smile.

And we got those captured.

Sooooo...how can you see all these pictures, including the two in front of Santa where he was the world's most professional baby??

Like you had to ask...silly wabbit.

Go here to see the world's most adorable baby.

The first seven pictures are from last night.

And he's allllll mine!!