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06:03:53 - 2000-04-17


Anudder lazy weekend.

I keep telling myself, I only have seven more months of lazy weekends ... and then that shit's gonna end.

Which is really ironic (thanks God). Now that my body is starting to get the aches and pains of becoming older and I want to start slowing down, it's time to raise a kid.

The Big Man does indeed have a sense of humor.

And no... I'm not talking about me, you moron.

Let's cover the highlights of the weekend in brief form.

* The wife worked on the computer most of the day yesterday, trying to do our taxes.

Since day one, she's been in charge of our money situation. She pays all the bills and does the taxes once a year. She was the great student in school, I was the guy who found creative ways to cheat.

She's STILL not done with the taxes and has to finish them sometime today.

She's the procrastinator from hell. We always get like $500 back from our federal tax. Which is a decent chunk of change, but she always puts off doing the taxes until the deadline day.

It panics me. While she's sleeping like a baby right now.

* We thought up a cool way to tell her family that she's pregnant.

See...her Mom and Dad got divorced in 1980. Her dad is happily remarried while her Mom is still bitter as hell and will not be in the same room as the man.

He's coming to visit on Wednesday with his new (19 years though) wife. Susie wants EVERYONE to go out to eat on Thursday night INCLUDING both her mother and father to tell them that we're having a baby.

So...what she's telling each sibling and parent is that we have some big news to tell everyone...

...We're moving to Seattle in six weeks.

We're not really. But that's to get people to the restaurant.

Now...we're telling each sibling individually beforehand and telling them to keep it a secret and "only they know" that we're going to be moving.

Sooo...everyone showing up at the restaurant will already "know" that we're moving and be kinda bummed about it. Plus, they all think they're the only one in on the secret, when in fact, they all know but were told to keep it secret from one another.


That part is for us. I just want to see all the fake looks of surprise when Susie says "We're moving to Seattle!!"

I mean...they already know we're moving, but they all have to act surprised and happy.

THEN ... Susie will bait and switch them.

They'll all be sitting there and Susie will say "But that was just a lie to get y'all here...really...we're pregnant".

And then of course, confetti will fall, balloons will drop and church bells will ring, because that's what happens every time we tell people we're pregnant.

There. A balloon and a fistful of confetti just feel from my ceiling as I typed that.'s a fun little prank we're playing on her family. But it's the only way we could get her mom and dad in one place at one telling them we have a big secret. And then telling them the wrong secret.

Plus...this way she can tell the Church on Easter Sunday when the place is packed full of sinners who don't normally come to church but will assist in reveling in our little bundle of geriatric joy.

* I'm still as sore as a two dollar whore.

My legs feel like I've been run over by a '79 Chrysler product. Take your pick which one.

This comes from sitting Indian style for a two hour period while wedged into a tight compartment between my sofa and my bookcase on Saturday afternoon, clipping out old columns of mine for a scrapbook that my kid will learn to hate in his later years.

I skipped mowing the yard yesterday because my legs hurt so bad.

Oh. And my back too.

Basically, I felt like I had let Rosie O'Donnell be on top all night long.

Which of course, wouldn't happen because I'm not Rosie's type.

I have a penis and some rather large testicles.

Thus...not her type.

Trust me...I worked in comedy in the early 80s. I could point fingers like Nixon during the Watergate trials if I wanted to. Rosie's no big secret.

I'm HURTING I'm telling you. If I'm taking potshots at the Queen of daytime TV (eff you, Oprah) I MUST be in some serious mamma jamma pain, kiddies.

* I'm looking into becoming a pill popping freak.

I somehow think if I could get my hands on some pain relievers, my life would somehow be complete.

I've never been much for pills. I took some in college. Somebody gave me a Xanex like six months ago and I puked until my lower intestines started curling up.

So I don't know Jack about pain killers. But right now, I could pop 'em like Liz Taylor, baby.

* I was sad that "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire" wasn't on last night.

I am the absolute KING of Pop Culture.

I SWEAR TO YOU if any of you ever get on that show...put me down for any Pop Culture Phone-A-Friend guy and I won't let you down.

Rock music is a cinch. Television questions are simple to me. Movies are to a certain extent.

I just grew up on a steady diet of entertainment magazines (my aunt bought them constantly, and I was ALWAYS over there...always hated to leave).

I am practically a freak about it. I get calls constantly from people I rarely hear from, asking me obscure entertainment questions and I just blurt out the answers.

Seriously...a radio station in town calls ME to get the answers to trivia questions.

I've never missed a single entertainment question on "Millionaire".

Alright. I've missed a few.

But the big money slide right through those.

I knew which rap group used to have a member named Luke Skywalker.

I knew who directed the "Bad" video for Michael Jackson.

I knew the only president to ever appear on "Laugh In".

Each of those questions were worth either $250,000, $500,000 or one million.

That knowledge comes natural to me.

It's downright scary. But it's natural.

I know I'm not the only buffoon out there who knew the answers. But the answers come as natural as 2+2 for me.

Oh. 2 Live Crew, Martin Scorsese and Richard Nixon who said "Sock It To Me, Baby".

* Finally...we read on the Internet yesterday that our baby now has the beginnings of fingers and toes at 11 weeks.

Naturally, I wanted to teach the child how to shoot a bird as early as possible.

So I showed him the middle finger.

As close as I could get it to the uterus.

After that, we tried to shoot for twins.

I shot, I scored.

...And my son is waking up to a face full of goo this morning.


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