I would like to say that I'm sorry that I haven't posted in a while. Heck, I am sorry I haven't posted in a while.

But not real real sorry.

I've been busier than a:

1) one armed wallpaper hanger
2) 50 cent whore at mardi gras
3) Michael Jackson in a daycare center
4) one-legged man stomping out a grass fire
5) fire inspector at a Great White concert
6) one-armed taxi driver with crabs

You choose which one you like best, but the point is that I've been busy.

Heck, here's my last seven days.

Saturday Feb. 26:

My nephew's struggling in ninth grade Algebra. I cannot invent / create a cure for cancer. I cannot and will not invent a new diet free of beer and red meat. I will never be the guy that comes up with next year's pet rock or tickle me Elmo or whatever's hot next Christmas.

I can, however, kick the shit out of 9th grade algebra.

I stink at Geometry. I even had to invent theorem 69 to avoid failure by getting partial credit in high school. Theorem 69 says:

All angles, arcs, and other measurable things are congruent and equal because I say so.

(Teachers ALWAYS give partial credit in geometry, especially if you're creative and a brown-noser).

Anyway, I am a ninth grade algebra God. I hadn't touched it since right after college until a friend of mine was studying for her GMAT a couple years ago, and she needed help. That test reminded me that algebra is my bitch, so why not help where I can.

So, my nephew's struggling and I can help. So I did. We busted ass for about two and a half hours and he went from "why do I have to do so many practice problems?" to "why don't we just finish the chapter right now rather than take a break?"

I nearly wept.

We got thru Chapter 8 that day and had a nice time playing Mailbox that afternoon.

Saturday night:

Went to Brad and Carol's house for a party. They just moved in a little while ago and, along with their new son Aubie (just kidding), they live next to Kerry and Tom.

We had a good time and had food and drinks and laughs. Around 10:30 or so, Molly and Heather decided it was a good time to leave and take my 8 year-old nephew Jack home. Todd and I decided to stay.

I should stop here. I will not tattle on anyone else, but I was a mess. Shitfaced is not a strong enough word. I don't know a strong enough word. I am still mad at myself for being that drunk, and it was seven days ago. THAT should tell you something.

Sunday:

Cracker Barrel with the Thomas', only we got started late, had a 30 minute wait, and by the time we got our food, I thought Todd was gonna chunder in his scrambled with cheeses.

Next stop: Home-the sofa-nap city.

Except I couldn't nap. Too hungover. I wished I was in a coma.

The plan was to work on Chapter 9 with Nick, only I couldn't shake the cotton in my brain loose to help him. So I made him do one problem from every section in chapter 9 (which he assured me he understood), and he got them right.

High five, baby. Now it's back to the sofa. Someone help me.

3pm: A quick break from my nausea when Caca, max and woo-woo come over for Heather and Todd's Birthdays. We sing, light candles, pass out four slices of cake, and everyone splits. Hooray!!

Dinner and sweet sleep couldn't come fast enough.

Monday:

Drive to Anderson in the rain to update and patch computers. Left at six fucking a.m. It's 100 miles door to door, so 200 round trip is three plus hours, and I've gotta try to fit 10 hours of work into six hours so I get to see my daughter today.

My highlight was passing all of the Craftsman Truck and Busch Series cars on their way back from California. I love those rigs.

Anyway, I busted ass, skipped lunch, still felt a little shaky, but finished by about 3:30 and headed home in the pissing rain.

About even with the Mall of Georgia exit, traffic stopped. Stopped. There was a vehicle entrapment in the woods on the east side of I85. I hate that stuff, but the car had passed me doing over 90 in the rain with out of state plates. I was not surprised.

Home. Exausted. Ate. Played with Lauren. Put her to bed. Went to bed.

Tuesday:

Nothing to see here. Just working. Move along.

Oh, except we went to Red Lobster for Todd Thomas' birthday, and that ruled. Lauren loved the lobster tank in the lobby, and she loved her chicken and fries and sprite and the lobster carcasses. She liked how they bowed.

But the best part was in the car as we were pulling into the parking lot. We rode together in Heather's car and as we turned in, there's a neon lobster on the building (obviously). Lauren doesn't really know the difference between one shellfish and another, so she yelled out "Aw crab!!" which sounded a lot like "Oh CRAP!" to everyone else in the car.

Good times.

Wednesday:

Work. Overslept. Got up at 6:25, which is when I am normally arriving at work.

Anyone that knows me knows that I hate HATE to be late. To anything. It doesn't matter if it's a girls varsity basketball game. I hate being late.

Oh, and since my boss was going on vacation, he was early, so he knew I was late.

Mind you, I wasn't late for work. I work 8-5. But I was late for me. And it's still irritating.

Thursday:

Home from work after having a finance person "leave to pursue other opportunities" so I had to disable her stuff.

Got home to the joyous news that the Cooley family (of Cooley's Pizza fame) was coming over for dinner and a little web design consulting by my bride.

Baby Emma and Lauren played, although Lauren is reluctant to share with kids littler than her, but we're working on it.

We then busted out the Cooley's Pizza (one greek, one pepperoni and one barnyard, which is a Molly creation: Original white minus tomatoes and add steak, so it's white pizza with bacon and steak. YUM!!!)

Andy had to run into work (for 20 minutes....laugh here) and Courtney and Emma and Molly and Lauren and I played. It was great. Emma kills me.

Sidenote here. In the last two weeks or so, we've found a channel called "Boomerang" which, in the evenings anyway, features The Flintsones, The Jetsons and Scooby-Doo. The thing is, Lauren LOVES Scooby-Doo. Loves it. I hate it. Always have. I have never ever found an episode of Scooby Doo remotely entertaining. And my daughter loves it.

Maybe that's what they're talking about when they say a parent's best revenge is their grandchildren.

Friday:

I've been on the phone for two and a half with our distribution center trying to get the fucking spyware software to work. I am five minutes from driving up there and fixing this myself. At least that way I could be home by 5pm with another 80 bucks in my pocket.


So you see? It's not like I've been sipping pina coladas while some naked island princess massages my nether regions. It's tough going in the real world, and I'm in it.