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5:43 a.m. - 2001-08-14


So yesterday, a girl at work asked me to help her out and email a client to let them know that they had to get a quote to us before Friday because their book is going to press then.

So I emailed the client, kindly reminding them that the deadline was approaching and we would appreciate their cooperation in getting the quote to us.

I then emailed the girl in the office and told her I emailed the client, threatening to "kung fu" the client if they didn't wise up and send me the quote and that there would be hell to pay if they didn't have it to me by the end of the day.

The girl in the office FREAKED OUT and emailed me back quickly saying "PLEASE TELL ME YOU DIDN'T DO THAT."

I had to email her back and assure her that I wasn't that stupid and that it was a JOKE.

She was relieved to say the least.

It's funny to me because I keep forgetting I'm New Boy and haven't really shown my mischievous side yet. In meetings, I sit there quietly and nod my head at appropriate times and that's all my co-workers see of me.



(They aren't REALLY mortal fools....that was just me funnin' again...)

Get home yesterday afternoon and my mother-in-law wants to tell me every goddamned thing she knows about stem cell research.

Y'know...THAT'S what I really want after a long day at the come home and have my mother-in-law regale me with every boring fucking fact she may have stored in her dull little pinhead.

"Did you know stem cell research can help find a cure for arthritis?"

"Fuck no, Grandma. Nobody said shit about that!"

"It's true. And did you know that in two years, with stem cell research, they should be able to find out why some babies are born with irregular heartbeats and freckles?"

"Holy fucking shit, Grandma! Please tell me more! I'd much rather stand here and listen to you blabber on and on than take that shit I've been looking forward to for the last several hours!"

"Well...did you know..."

"Look Granny...can the propaganda. I don't give a flying fuck about stem cell research. All I give a shit about is the day I find out I've got cancer/heart disease/acid indigestion that SOMEBODY has been on the ball long enough to give me a fucking cure. Other than that, they can research the SHIT outta those stem cells and I DON'T GIVE A FUCK. It does NOT concern me at the present moment and WON'T concern me until I need the help. I don't even know what a fucking stem cell it like a prison for cherry stems? I don't know and more importantly, I don't care. So pack your bags, Granny, get your ass out of my chair, hand me my son and take your talk radio-listening ass OUT OF MY HOUSE until Friday when I will welcome you once again with open arms and faked enthusiasm. Capiche, Granny....CAPICHE???"


That's how it went alright...


Goddamned Andy.

Bless his heart, he's a lovable kid from 6 a.m. until 10 p.m.

But from 10 until 6 ... I don't wanna be bothered with him.

You have a crib, son. You have a nightlight, a blanket, all your Winnie the Pooh shit, a fresh diaper and a couple of books. You're on your own for the next eight hours. If you have any questions, save them for 6 a.m. In the meantime....SLEEP DAMN YOU....SLEEP!


2:30 this morning.


Susie and I look at each other.

"I don't give a shit," I said. "He's crying it out tonight."

By 2:40, It's a full-on "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!"

Susie finally gets up and goes to check on him.

Apparently, his diaper leaked and he had wet his bed.

He's wearing these nighttime Huggies that are guaranteed to get every drop of urine that may flow out of his body from 10 p.m. to 6 a.m. and make it evaporate into thin air.

I mean...that's what the fucking box says.



...I'm suing the Huggies corporation. I'm sick of this shit. By the end of the day, Huggies will have changed their name to Bobbies, because that company will be MIIIINE.

By 3:30, his sheets were changed and he was back asleep ... after a healthy dose of Tylenol Cold medicine that I injected in his veins with a hypodermic needle.

...I ain't taking chances with it getting in his bloodstream orally anymore. To quote Pope John Paul the Second..."Fuck all dat shit."

Maybe it was Ice-T that I'm quoting. I always get the two mixed up.

So Susie and I are slinking around the house like slugs today. Somebody has to take him to daycare today and both of us are saying it's the other's turn.

I have a feeling I'll be the one carting his groggy ass there. At least he'll be quiet the whole way there...still reeling from a shot of Tylenol at 3 a.m.

Oh more thing.

Yesterday, Grandma had the nephews and niece over here while she watched Andy.

My militant niece had to be taken somewhere to play volleyball yesterday.

So Grandma had to load up the three kids and Andy into her car and take the niece to volleyball practice.

She had a car seat for Andy...that wasn't a problem.

...She didn't have a key to the house to lock it up.

She didn't know what to do. She didn't want to leave the house unlocked.

So she left Porno Boy here alone for 20 minutes.


When she told me this, I nearly freaked the fuck out.

I wanted to say "You left Porno Boy all alone in a house with a cable modem?!?!?"

I thanked her and ushered her out of the house as quickly as I could.

I sat down at the computer and brought up Internet Explorer.

I clicked on "History".




Unshaved teens.

Shaved teens.

Teens that should have shaved but didn't.

Teens with razorburn.

Teens with shaved coochies but hairy asses.

Teens with cigars.

Runaway teens with milk mustaches.

Bored teens.

Pooping teens.

Teens with Really Bad Eyesight.

Teens and Dogs.

Dogs and Cats.

Teens getting it on with Umbrellas.

Every damned perverted website you could think of was included in this long list. These were sites that would make smack-addicted crackwhores go " way would I do THAT shit."

Porno Boy.

Give him 20 minutes, he will thoroughly disturb you.

Now for the really gross part...

...My "N" and "M" keys are sticking on my keyboard...



Have a great day!

...Oh...and get off of my cloud too.

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