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3:23 p.m. - 2002-01-08


I love days when I'm so busy that the day just flies by.

Of course, EVERY day could be like this if I allowed it. But I'm pacing myself here, dude. Deal with it.

So anyway, the gal that makes travel arrangements for employees here gave me the latest.

I'm going to be leaving here on Saturday instead of Sunday like originally planned to go to Oregon. We save something like $200 for the company if I leave a day early and plus it's an ALL DAY adventure which I don't think I'd want to take on a Sunday. Then I get to my hotel room about 11 p.m. which is 1 a.m. my time and about four hours past my bedtime. Then I have to get up the next morning and find my first appointment where I'll be seriously delusional and asking questions like "What the hell's going on here?" and considering those to be "insightful".

So if I leave Saturday, then I have all day Sunday to get situated and check out the booming metropolis which is Eugene Oregon. I think I like that idea better.

Anyway, I was presented with a list of hotels in the area. Everything from a Best Western near the University of Oregon's campus to the Doubletree Hotel which is mid-level swank at its best.

"Pick one," she said.

My eyes shifted to the Doubletree Hotel.

"I'll take the Doubletree," I said.

"Pick another," she said.

I picked the next most appealing.

"Pick another," she said.

I got the picture. I had to keep picking until I got down to the Best Western.

"I'll take the Best Western," I said glumly.

"Smoking or non?" she grinned.

I'm actually looking forward to this trip. At first I was bummed because I knew I'd miss my baby. And as much as I love my kid, I will miss him.

But here's what I WON'T miss.

* Being woke up at 2:30 a.m. by shrill screams.

* Yelling at the dog for stealing the baby's food.

* A 21 lb. kid standing on my testicles for several hours on end.

* Being able to watch a television show and follow the plot without constant squealing and grunting.

* Eating a meal without having to pick food up off the floor every 30 seconds.

* Taking a shower without having a baby pull back the curtains and laughing at me.

* Dirty diapers.

* Wearing dark clothes without any peanut butter stains on them.

* Getting on the computer for longer than five minutes without a baby grunting at me to pick them up and place them in my lap so they can chew my wrist pad and throw everything on the desk to the floor.

* Being able to sit in a chair without a shirt on and without a baby trying to stuff my nipples in his mouth.

Oh...who am I kidding?

I'd trade it all to have my kid there with me.

Sooo...are you as bummed out about Wendy's Dave Thomas dying as I am?

I mean, the guy meant nothing to me. Absolutely nothing. I found his commercials corny and only slightly amusing.

But he seemed like such a nice fella. The kinda guy a fat kid would want for a grandfather so he could eat all the hamburgers and Frostys that he wanted for free.

Rest in peace, Dave. We hardly knew ye. know...except for those commercials. But I doubt they were really an accurate gauge of your personality. So technically, we hardly knew thee.

It's really amazing I don't get calls to offer more eulogies than I do, huh?

Yo, how about this little nutjob who flew his plane into that skyscraper in Tampa?

I'm sorry, but I laughed my ass off when I saw the "damage" he did.

This is my impression of that little wacko a mere 60 seconds before his death:

(clears throat and gets into dramatic mode)

"Well, this is it. I'm going to end it all. They're all going to be sorry now. Yessirree Bob. That Tricia Adams in my homeroom? I bet she cries. I bet she cries and wishes that she had been nicer to me and not laughed at me that time I fell down in the cafeteria. Yep. I bet she just cries like a baby. I'll show them all. When I get done with this mass destruction, they'll wish they never heard the name Charles Bishop. They'll all rue the day they laughed at me. DEATH! DESTRUCTION! HONOR! DEATH! DESTRUCTION! HONOR! Osama was right ... Americans are a bunch of capitalistic swine who deserve to be taken down a couple of notches. And when I crash into this building and destroy a large portion of the Tampa economy, they'll all wish they had treated me better. I will singlehandedly destroy this city. FEAR ME! FEAR CHARLES BISHOP! There's the skyscraper! Here goes! Here I come Satan! Here I come!!! Here I............."


(sound of a window breaking like a softball was casually tossed through it)

"......sonofabitch. Is this Heaven? It looks like an accountant's office."

(sound of a 15 year-old kid slumping over a Cessna steering wheel and slipping into unconsciousness before dying an embarrassing death)


I either need to be doing eulogies or one-man plays off Broadway. It's never too late for a career change.

For those of you curious about my earlier entry today, there WAS in fact a photo of my son completely naked on it.

It was a serious lapse of judgement on my part. What I found innocent and cute could have easily been interpreted as kiddie porn.

The whole humor behind the photo was the way it was taken. My boy was naked, backed up against a cabinet that somehow made his baby pecker look about eight inches long at first look. Once you looked more carefully, you could see he was hung like his old man, i.e. hung like a snake.

I still think it's one of the cutest pics I've ever taken of the boy and it's definitely one every one of his girlfriends will have access to as he gets older if I can help it.

Just to prove he's not a hermaphrodite.

I think that was always one of my biggest worries when I was dating. That I would unwittingly end up with a hermaphrodite.

Because that's not the kinda thing that people broadcast. Nobody wears a t-shirt saying "I'm A Hermie and Proud". It's something that I'd want cleared up on every first date I ever had.

ME: "Soooo...what do you do for fun?"

DATE: "I dunno. Go to the movies. Watch TV. Talk on the phone to my friends."

ME: "Ever fucked yourself?"


ME: "Nothing. Seen any good movies lately?"

DATE: "Ummmm...I saw 'Somewhere In Time'. That was a great movie."

ME: "Did your penis get hard watching it?"

DATE: "WHAT?!?!"

ME: "Nothing."

And so on and so on.

Luckily, I was fortunate enough to never actually date a hermaphrodite. To the best of my knowledge anyway. There were a couple of "women" that wouldn't let me get past kissing on our first date. Those are the ones I'd never call back because ...well...they obviously had something to hide if they wouldn't let me under the sweater or into the jeans. And I wasn't about to waste my money or time on somebody with both reproductive organs. So it was "Adios, Sweetheart" if I hit a brick wall during the heavy petting.

Which is how it should be. We as men have a right to know if you're packing more than just heat down there.

Am I right??

Damned skippy I'm right.

Alright...back to work for me.



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