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10:37:29 - 2001-03-01


Oh update on the whole cheerleader scandal that I told ya about yesterday...

The girls and guy that posted the pic on the teacher's computer weren't suspended, they were EXPELLED.

For those of us who have been out of school for a while, that means they can't go back until fall.

...Like any of them would want to go back to that school...

Yesterday at work, because it was a slow day, a few of us sat around and tried to come up with bumper stickers to commemorate this unholy event.

I came up with most of them. And after a while, they all started sounding the same.

"My money and my bisexual cheerleader daughter go to Blah Blah High School."

"My kid may not be an Honor Roll Student but at least she's not plastered all over the internet chomping down on her buddy's snatch."

"My public school kid has pictures of your private school kid NEKKID!" (Courtesy of my boy Eddie Lavoie)

"Honk if your daughter sucked mine off on the Internet."

I can't remember the others right now.

Your loss.

Yeah... right.

So last night was Ash Wednesday services at church.

Without sounding too ignorant ... what the hell am I supposed to do now?

I know I'm supposed to think about God more ... I guess I can do that.

God, God, God.

...Okay ... that's done...

But what else? Am I supposed to fast? That ain't happenin'. Love ya God ... Best Friends Forever and all that...but you ain't gettin' my Nutter Butters, pal.

Hands OFF the Nutter Butters, o heavenly Father.

I'm supposed to give up something for Lent. Something that will remind me of God because I've given it up.

Here's a list of things I think I could give up for Lent:

* Sneezing hard opening my hand and saying "Hey y'all...check THIS out..."

* Most dairy products.

* Excessive stapling.

* Throwing pencils into the ceiling.

* Diet Mountain Dew.

* Prank phone calls.

* Tetanus shots.

* Tic Tac Toe

* Running other drivers off the road and pistol whipping them.

* Oatmeal.

* Knock Knock jokes.

* Toasted Foccacia with Olive Oil.

* Whiskey Sours.

* The constant urge to sing "Hello Dolly" in the shower.

* Cleaning my feet.

I think that's about it. That's all I've got in my life that I'm willing to give up.

And I'll tell ya...I have NO IDEA what I'll sing in the shower if you take away my "Dolly".

So ANYWAY...there comes a part in the service last night that Reverend Brian is going to put ashes on our forehead in the shape of a cross.

I'm a little apprehensive about this. I hate getting up in front of other people at church to do anything.

BUT everyone else was doing it, so chances were pretty good I wouldn't be the only idiotic looking guy there.

Here's the sticky part (literally)...

I hadn't showered in about 12 hours. My forehead and face in general felt greasy from the day.

Had I known he'd be groping my forehead last night, I would have at least showered for the guy.

Thank God the guy is nothing like me. He put the ashes on my forehead and didn't recoil in horror, screaming "YOUR FOREHEAD IS SOOOOOO GREASY!!!"

...Naturally...I would have done this...

After the service, we were all kinda standing around and I had Andy in my arms. As usual...everyone wanted to make a fuss over him which is cool. They all wanted to see him smile, so I balance his butt in my right hand, hold his chest securely in my left hand and try to make him smile.

This was a new position for Andy. As far as he was concerned, he was floating in mid-air and about to land on his baby ass.

So...he FREAKED.

I'm trying to get him to smile and all of a sudden little old ladies are accusing me of child abuse.

I hug him close to my chest and let him know he's safe there. He calms down instantly, but is still apprehensive about what Daddy might do next to freak his ass out.

Susie and I drove separate cars to church and she needed to stop and get diapers on the way home. She had Andy with her and he was a fussy little guy.

So I said I'd stop and get the diapers on the way home.

I stop by the drug store and go in to get the diapers. Diapers are on sale...$9.99 a pack.


I buy four packs. It didn't say there was a limit, so I grabbed as many as I could carry. I thought that if the cashier said I couldn't have that many, I'd tell them I had quadruplets and sometimes life ain't fair, kids. Now sell me the damned diapers.

The cashier looked at me funny like..."Gee...your kid must be full of shit."

I was super nice to her because I wanted these diapers at this price. I was saving almost three bucks per package ... I'll do damned near anything for 12 bucks.

The other cashiers were looking at me too. I think they were all waiting for the cashier to tell me "Only one package of diapers per customer please", but she didn't.

I paid for the diapers, left and drove home.

I got home, put the diapers on the floor and Susie cracked up.

"What's so funny?" I said.

"I sent you to the store with those ashes on your head," she said. "And it looks like a swastika now."

I checked it out in the mirror. Sure as shit...I looked like a clean-cut, better-fed Charles Manson.

...Now there's yet ANOTHER public establishment that I can never return to again.

No wonder they were looking at me funny.



This isn't one of my favorite songs in the world ... but I was listening to it yesterday and the chorus is just soooo damned beautiful that I listened to it three times in a row, singing along like a lounge singer.


If you want to read my gal Wendigo's version on our night out on the town the other night, click here.

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