Well, I'm finished with the design for now. Not too bad, if I do say so myself.

John and I didn't get to see Mr. Deeds because it was sold out by the time we got there. Since we didn't know what time my folks were coming by we didn't stick around for the next show, so we're going to try to see it some time this week.

This coming weekend is going to be busy for Sir John. On Saturday he's going to Ozzfest and on Sunday we're having his birthday celebration at Dave & Buster's. Larry's going to help me with the expenses for that particular outing, which was his idea. I wasn't surprised, he's always thoughtful like that. I would have asked FF to kick in some extra money for it but I already asked him to provide a Game Cube and any further request I might make will most certainly be met with a loud and characteristically disgusting snort.

The shocker: FF actually agreed.

Unfortunately, I think it would be a mistake to buy him the stupid thing. It's had a lot of mixed reviews, more thumbs down than up, though, and the guy I bought my PS2 from told me he has one and it basically sucks. The graphics are fantastic but there aren't many games to go with it so it gets boring after awhile. Besides, John already has just about every other game system known to man (or woman). I scraped together the money to buy most of them, Larry bought one (as a reward for helping take care of Trent when I was on bedrest - yup, my boy changed poopy diapers and everything), and FF bought one. If we ever fall on seriously hard times I'm selling all of that stuff. It's enough to keep us going for at least six months.

Shame on me.

Ahem...

A commercial, I forget for which product, triggered a song that's been playing in my head for the last two days. I've caught myself singing it under my breath so obviously it's very insidious. It wraps it's knobby fingers around your subconscious and refuses to let go. So I have no choice but to share it. It's sung to the tune of an old song called Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah.

Hello Mother

Hello Father

Greetings from Camp

Marijuana

Coke is good here

Crack is better

I'm so screwed up I can't even write this letter!

Well, it makes me laugh. My dad thought it was a hoot too, I'm pleasantly surprised to say.

G'Night.