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	Saturday, November 27, 2004
	

	
    <br>
    9:45 AM<br> 
    <strong>Wild, Wild Winona</strong><br /><br />Minnesota, not the singer nor the clepto actress.<br /><br />I've got a few minutes before checkout.  Surely I'll go over that time.  I just returned from I thought was a good idea - to go get my car left at he club last night.  Factor in that it was about a 30 minute walk and that is was snowing and the good idea quickly became a shitty one.  Now my socks and shoes are wet as is my stocking hat, drying on the lamp attached to the wall near the bed.<br /><br />Instead of a long story about last night, how about some bullet points?  It's easier on both of us I think.<br /><br />-I arrived here early, maybe 4 p.m.  Showtime was at 8:30.  I checked into the hotel and they told me where the club was.  I guess I passed it on my way to the hotel.<br /><br />-I got to the club, the Black Horse, and immediately laughed at the marquee along the road: FREE COMEDY FRIDAY.  It's nice to see people put a price on my dream.  Pay nothing and laugh anyway.<br /><br />-The guys who run the joint are nicknamed OC and Frenchie.  I thought OC was short for O'Connell or something similar, so I asked him.  "Nope.  It means outta control," he told me.  "I've had lots of surgeries from doing dumb shit when I'm drunk.  Like swimming down stairs."  Apparently he does this when chased by cops or other such authorities.  "Why don't you try swimming in a lake?  This is Minnesota, you've got 10,000 of 'em," I suggested.  I knew that would be used in my act later that night.  Frenchie wore a bandana instead of a beret and had no accent.  I never got the meaning of his nickname.  They then told me that I could eat for half price at a pizza joint in town, so I went there.<br /><br />-Pizza place was called Za Za's and was near Winona State, the college in town that hold like 7,000 students, according to a student at Za Za's drinking a pitcher of beer alone.  Laura, the bartender, wore a shirt equal in fabic quantity to that of a wash cloth.  And I loved it.  She was under 21 with a cute face and a great smile.  That all made my calzone filled with sausage, green and banana peppers, and onions that much better.  I invited her to the show but she worked 'til 11.  She also wore a yellow Lance Armstrong bracelet and then told me she just bought 30 of them on e-Bay.  "You have to have every color to match every outfit," she claimed.  I didn't even know they came in different colors.  I signed a CD for her and took a picture.  Well, a guy at the bar, actually he was visiting with a buddy and they were both from near where I grew up, took the picture.  I made sure he got all of Laura's body in the shot.  You need to incorporate those little things to make the small town experience fun.<br /><br />(Well, I added some more from the night in Winona.  Unfortunately, technology sucks major cock sometimes and my additions were never added nor saved.  But I will say that Friday night ended in the driver getting a DUI.  I didn't know him or the other 2 passengers, one of which had warrants out for unpaid parking tickets - allegedly.  As the driver was doing some sobriety tests, the other guys said that if the driver gets a DUI he won't be able to start his new job.  "What kind of job?" I asked.  Come to find out he had just graduated from the police academy.)
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	Tuesday, November 16, 2004
	

	
    <br>
    9:30 PM<br> 
    <strong>A Prisoner In My Own Home</strong><br /><br />I knew it wouldn't take too long.  But what I didn't know is that pretzel crumbs would be the catalyst for the first one.  That's my bad - everyone knows Bavarian-sytle pretzels are impossible to eat and not get all over.  Crumbs get in the cracks and crevices of couches and chairs along with getting on the floor, the carpetless hardwood kind especially.<br /><br />Looking forward to watching a <em>Curb Your Enthusiasm</em> re-run, I grabbed my box of pretzels and headed toward the living room.  Earlier in the night I mentioned to Erin that it would be on later.  Since she was also a fan of the show I figured we'd both watch it.  However, she was glued to the tube for <em>The Amazing Race</em>, so I didn't think she would join me.  She had moved into their bedroom to watch <em>Race</em> while I flipped around the channels.<br /><br />I don't remember exactly how she said it but her message was loud and clear that I wasn't going to eat "that" on the couch.  And she was right, especially because I had eaten such a pretzel last week and it probably landed on and in the couch and the chair.   It's their furniture, it's their TV, their PC on their desk beside their filing cabinet with their pictures everywhere.  If I was either of them I wouldn't want someone eating a messy fucking pretzel on their furniture whether they want to sell the shit or not.  But I'm a stubborn German prick who's always up for a good shouting match.  I rarely lose those thanks to the vocal cord gods.<br /><br />But I knew it would be this way.  I told everyone and their mother that it would be a miracle if we all survived 'till Christmas.  That's over a month away and a cruise with Erin and John and their friends - yes even on a cruise and on land seperate from the continental United States - even the friends aren't mine.  Sure I know them and have become friends with many of them through knowing John, but like the pictures on the wall, the towels in the linen closet, and the table in the dining room, they're not mine.<br /><br />The argument wasn't that heated.  She claimed that I never clean the place and I reminded her that I wasn't the one with the the domesticated zoo.  Then it went to the who washes whose dishes and the typical roommate not pulling his or her own weight bullshit.  That's some shit that I'm fuckin' sick of.  Not from her or John or any of my laundry list of former roommates in particular.  I'm sick of this way of life altogether.  When I'm on the road, it's my show - literally.  I drive how I want, where I want, while listening to what I want.  I use as much of the covers or as many pillows as I want - or as the hotel will allow.  Then I come home to be the third wheel and have to wait to pee or put a request in to have the TV at 4:30 p.m., clearly PTI time.<br /><br />This isn't what 30 was supposed to look like.  Sure, it would be different if my roommates were comedians or the Swedish bikini team, but they're not.  And I'll even bet that if some hot blonde with a sexy accent pranced around this place in a thong I'd get sick of her dirty dishes and rice cake crumbs, too.<br /><br />"Nice tits.  Clean this shit up!"<br /><br />But I just may have to suck it up through the end of the year.  What a concept!  Me shutting my fucking mouth and cutting back on the bitching and whining?  Seems virtually impossible.  But so does living in my own place on my laughable comedy income.  Can you say a second or even a third job?  <br /><br />Then there's the parking tickets to pay off and the Christmas presents to buy.  And yes I'm buying a few.  I'm fuckin' sick of saying "hopefully next year I'll have money to get you something nice."  If I keep up with the shitty attitude and horrible joke writing, I'll never buy anything but calendars as gifts.  Or maybe if things go well I can buy them before they're 75% off and give them as actual gifts with wrapping paper and all the fixins!<br /><br />Erin knew that I would write about this.  Hell, I knew it way before her.  I just didn't know when.  She figured I would cast her in a bad light, but there's no need for that.  Granted, this is my Website and I can write whatever I want, but why?  Who really reads this shit?  Nobody cares where I have shows or what happens in my life?  Hell, I barely care where the shows are and since nothing good happens, I rarely fuckin' care.  Like the pretzel crumbs, it's all on me.  Did I think I'd have a married couple and their 4 pets as roommates as I approached 30?  Not a chance.  Okay, so it may seem like a great sit-com or lame reality show, but the only real reality is that it's my life and my fault that it's where it is.<br /><br />I spent over an hour today watching 60-second clips from the new season of <em>Comedy Central's <strong>Premium Blend</strong></em> that debuts this Friday night.  Although I didn't know most of the comedians, I did know a handful.  And while they're watching themselves on TV with all their family and friends gathered around to congratulate them, I'll be alone and bitter, wondering why my would-be clever take on hotel bathrooms hasn't landed me on television.  <br /><br />It's late and this has been one big rambling pile of shit.  Even bigger than the two piles of cat shit on the floor near my bedroom yesterday morning.  Time to remove the headphones that helped me "watch" some free DVD porn and get to bed.  Such a classy guy I am.  I wonder if Martha Stewart has it this good?<br /><br /><br />
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	Saturday, November 13, 2004
	

	
    <br>
    9:36 AM<br> 
    <em><strong>Home Sweet Home</strong></em><br /><br />Scraps from chicken wings and a small, unopened plastic cup of ranch dressing sit beside me on a paper plate.  A bottle of "Fit & Active" Ranch salad dressing sits in the middle of the carpeted floor beside a 2-liter bottle of presumably flat caffeine-free Diet Coke.  A box of white clothes, mostly socks, underwear and tee-shirts, sits below the TV.  Behind the door is a mountain of laundry that could be hiked if so desired.  I just lifted some white typing paper and saw it was resting on a bowl of now stale popcorn.<br /><br />This is my sister's bedroom.  She's neither fit nor active, very far from each actually.  But I guess she's trying.<br /><br />Pulling into mom's driveway I saw the largest collection of garbage she's ever had.  To her it's not garbage, quite the contrary actually.  To her it's a treasure chest piled with broken picture frames, dirty shoes and some stranger's stained apron.  How on earth the neighbors haven't called the city to complain is beyond me.  They all have to drive past this house to get to theirs, looking at all the junk and wondering "What ths hell is their problem?"  The neighbors may not know that it's just my mom's problem.  All I want to do is help.  But I can't.  I take it upon myself to throw some of the stuff away, which I find ridiculous since it was in the trash in the first place.  Many, many times she brings home the garbage, it sits outside, gets rained on for months and then eventually gets throw away.  Again.  Because mom's not the most mobile person, I try to sift through the junk and get rid of it.  Again.  Once I did this and she came home, began crying and went out to our garbage to pull things from it and put back in the heap outside the front porch.  And there it would sit for months until she threw it out.  Again.<br /><br />There is not an empty chair in kitchen.  They're all filled with boxes of stuff, most of which do not belong to us.  The space between the huge countertop-island  and the kitchen table is blocked with a stroller and more boxes of junk.  You can't walk through the way you should be able to; you have to walk all the way around to get by.  It's pathetically unacceptable.  But my stepdad seems okay with it.  He just left for a hunting trip with his brother.  On his way out he felt compelled to show me that the word freight was spelled "e-i" instead of "i-e," and he recited the "i before e" song.  He called me Mr. College, even though I had only graduated from a community college some 8 years ago.  Now I'm telling dirty jokes across the country.  What the hell do I care?<br /><br />Mom just got home.  I'm grabbing some free lunch and heading to the city to pick up Katie.  She's going with me on the road for a few days.  Tonight's show is in Muskegon, Michigan, about 3 hours away.  Tomorrow we drive a regrettable 8 hours north and through the Upper Peninsula for a casino show on a Sunday night.  It's got to be squeaky clean, so after I say hello and tell them where I'm from, I'll be going nowhere fast.
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	Wednesday, November 10, 2004
	

	
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    6:52 AM<br> 
    <img src="http://www.shaveyourhead.com/2004_Pictures/June1st/1104_Tara.bmp"><br />Don't say I never gave you anything.  Hope you enjoy some of this American Pie!
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	Saturday, November 06, 2004
	

	
    <br>
    9:31 AM<br> 
    <strong>Dorthy May Not Be In Kansas, But We Are!</strong><br /><br />After an 8-hour drive through Illinois, Missouri and into Kansas, shop is set-up in a Comfort Inn.  Sue's across the parking lot since there was no room for her in this inn.  She didn't want to save money and share my room.  It was probably a good idea on her part - I've been walking around naked the entire morning, drinking coffee and Gatorade while surfing the net and flipping through the TV.  That reminds me - this place really sucks.  Sure they have wireless Internet, a decent and free continental breakfast, but there is no ESPN.  Nada.  Zilch.  I'm just a few miles away from the universities of Kansas and Kansas State and I got no SportsCenter or College Gameday.  Ridiculously unacceptable.<br /><br />Our trip began around 7:30 a.m. yesterday.  Sue pulled into mom's driveway in her brand new silverish Saturn Ion.  My stuff was piled in the middle of the drive and was quickly toss into her car.<br /><br />I snagged a half-dozen bottles of water that mom had sitting outside.  Although they were atop a broken table mom picked outta the garbage, I'm hoping the water was store bought.  A 64-ounce bottle of fruit punch Gatorade and a bag of cookies also accompanied me, both donated by my girlfriend, Katie.  <br /><br />Some discussion took place over who would do most of the driving.  Sue assumed I would since I drive so much for comedy.  I had no problem with that.<br /><br />"I was going to call you to bring some DVD's," I said to her.  "All I have is some porn and <em>When Harry Met Sally</em>.  It's all my sister had."<br /><br />"Your sister has porn?" Sue shockingly questioned.<br /><br />She was kidding, knowing me all too well and that any porn belonged to me.  The night before I'd asked my sister, Lauren, if she any DVD's.  Harry and Sally, a gift I had given her last Christmas, was all she had.  That and some <em>Friends</em> DVD which I opted against borrowing.<br /><br />Sue manned the temperature in the car.  I've always felt that the driver controls both the heating and cooling systems as well as the audio apparatus.  That's why I drove alone most of the time, especially on long trips.<br /><br />"Are you warm enough?" she asked.<br /><br />"Sure," I said, "if you want to bake a turkey in my lap."  I was hot under my long-sleeved thermal shirt with a Fenway Park t-shirt over it.  My pants, ones mom pulled from the trash, were insulated, a tannish cargo style and seemingly rain resistant pair.<br /><br />You know I could recap the entire car ride, but who really needs to read that.  Check that, who really wants to?  How 'bout just the highlights?  Good.<br /><br />Sue's one of the most supportive people in my comedy career.  She laughs all the time, especially at me.  Initially I thought it was just me but then I saw her laugh at others in my company.  How dare her!  Still, she comes to many of my shows and always has something good to say about a new joke or even some Derenger classics.  I know, I know - how can I have classics when I've never been on TV and am without an agent and dental insurance?  I don't know.  My classic jokes are simply the ones that work all the time whether I'm telling them to the deaf, the blind or the mentally challenged.  The last group finds me the funniest.<br /><br />We talked a lot on the trip.  At least when I wasn't sleeping.  That happened twice for sure.  A third nap was attempted but never completed.  You're probably wondering how I could sleep so much?  Well my friends, Sue drove the entire way, all 8 hours and change.  Even when I stopped in the comedy club in Columnbia, Missouri for about 20 minutes she sat in the car and waited.  I've yet to sit my behind in the driver's seat.  <br /><br />Conversations ranging from pedicures to on-line dating to lying about work took place.  Sue was supposed to be working Friday.  She called to tell them she had to leave early for the wedding since she was driving members of the bridal party.  Total bullshit, especially since there ended up being no wedding at all.  The bastard she was all set to meet never called her, but she felt compelled to follow through with the trip since I booked the shows to ride with her.<br /><br />"I'll call that asshole tonight when I'm good and drunk," I told her.  "We'll tell him what fun he's missing out on in Kansas."  Having never been to the state for anything more than a fill-up, I wasn't certain much fun would be possible.<br /><br />She fiddled with the heat again.  It was much warmer in the afternoon than it was when we left.  I was sweating at this point and too lazy to take off a layer of clothing.  Complaining seemed a better alternative.<br /><br />"It's hotter than a bear's nuts in here."  She laughed tremendously hard, even spitting some Diet Coke on the steering wheel.<br /><br />A bag of candy was in the backseat.  I guess it was left over from Halloween.<br /><br />"There's no chocolate in here," I announced as I ravaged through the sweets.  "This sucks.  Oh wait, there's a Sugar Daddy.  That's good enough."  We both indulged like we were 12 all over again.<br /><br />I had assumed that Sue would stay in my hotel room.  But she wanted nothing to do with that.<br /><br />"I want my own room," she said.  "Fine, if you want, but that's stupid.  You can stay with me and save some money."  I was thinking that while on the inside I was doing summersaults, knowing I would be naked and watching DVD porn the whole time.  <br /><br />The room I had was arranged through the comedy venue.  The only rooms they had open were those reserved for the comedians.  Sue had to stay across the parking lot in the Days Inn.  What a way I have with women.  I get one to drive me all the way to Kansas in her brand new car and then she pays for her own room in a completely different hotel than mine.  I don't have to rub shoulders or cuddle or anything.  I felt bad so I paid for dinner at a local steakhouse where you threw peanut shells on the floor.<br /><br />Sue was slap happy at dinner, laughing louder than ever at my stupidity and sarcasm.  As she cut some warm bread served miunutes after we sat down, she lost it.<br /><br />"Oooops, this is your knife," she said as she spread butter on a piece.  "Sorry."<br /><br />"Sorry?  It's not like you took my knife and scraped bugs off the windshield with it."  Her laughs act as fuel for the fire and I keep on delivering.  Or at least trying to.  Sometimes they fall flat and she lets me know that.<br /><br />(Speaking of which, the Saturday night show begins in under an hour.  Time to get ready.)<br /><br /><br />Jerimiah Bullfrog's is the venue.  It's a huge sports bar with an upstairs, tons of TV, video games and pool tables.  When I first walked in I figured the show was somewhere in the bar where I had looked.  But it wasn't.  Rather, it was in the back in its own room.  And what a room it is.  Easily one of the best looking weekend/one-night rooms in the country.  Now how would the people be?<br /><br />The crowds we good, nothing special either night.  The staff was outstanding and the people of Kansas were very warm and friendly.  I sold 4 CD's.  That's how I'll measure shows now, by how many CD's I sold.  Sometimes you do it by how packed the crowd is, how they react, how the new material went over, if they bought you drinks during your set, if you met a girl after the show and scored with her, if you scored with one of the staff, and how much merchandise was sold.<br /><br />Selling stuff can also work against you because you can have a great set and sell nothing afterwards but that nothing is what you take home with you.  In an ego-driven, self esteem ridden biz, literally selling - or not - selling yourself and your product can make all the difference.<br /><br />On Saturday Sue and I visited the campus of U of Kansas, or KU as it's known in these part.  It was a gorgeous day, temps around 80 and sun shining everwhere.  We drove around the campus for a little bit and then I went inside of Allen Fieldhouse where the basketball is played.  That's what KU is known for.  Some of the NBA's best have come from KU including the great Wilt Chamberlain.  Their retired numbers hung from the rafters along with the championship banners from the conference and NCAA appearances.  They won the National Title in 1988, led by All-American Danny Manning.<br /><br />Seeing places like Allen Fieldhouse makes some trips that much better.  Sure there was no one in there, literally no one, but I had seen the place so many times on television that walking through the building was special.  I heard some rumblings but didn't want to draw attention to my gawking.  I just wanted some pictures.<br /><br />The KU football team was playing Colorado right down the street.  We drove by and stopped atop a parking garage that overlooked the field.  The beautiful day probably brought out some people who weren't football fans, but you just had to be outside.<br /><br />It also brought out the war protesters.  They were outside of a bank just off campus but near the main drag of bars, shops and eateries.  The police cars and their flashing lights were in full force as well.  One protester, a guy, probably a young student, was running from a cop when we approached the scene.  I tried sticking my camera out of Sue's sunroof to record the chase but remembered I had barely any memory left.  The cop looked outta shape and the guy was wearing all black, baggy clothes.  I assumed he was a pot smoker.  Combine that with the overweight cop and you had a chase that didn't last too long I bet.  It was like something you saw on COPS and we were right there.  Although we never saw the guy get caught, the 30 seconds of running was enough to excite use.<br /><br />About 8 kids got cuffed and put in a police van.  We had parked nearby and walked back to the scene.  Signs were held high.  One read "War is not a moral choice."  Another had the total deaths of Americans and Iraquis in the war.  I didn't vote for Bush and don't agree with our troops being over there, but I don't stop traffic and get arrested over it.  I agree whole heartedly with freedom speech and expression.  Hell, I need them both in what I do, but do you think the President or any law abiding citizen is going to think differently when they see a tree-huggin fat chick with hairy armpits and purple hair making a scene.  How 'bout they just shower, shut the fuck up and get outta the street.<br /><br />We had seen enough and walked to find something to eat and a souvenir.  We wanted something local versus the food you can find anywhere in America.  After a long walk down Massachusetts Avenue, we crossed the street and went to Buffalo Wild Wings.  Sue got a burge and I got boneless wings.  Nothing wild about us.  <br /><br />As we crossed the street I mentioned about us jaywalking.<br /><br />"I hope it's no big deal here.  They're call the Jayhawks.  I think they can Jaywalk."  Not really comical genius, but it who cares.  I liked it.<br /><br />The KU football game wasn't aired on TV because they don't get a large enough turnout.  We were on the KU campus and had to watch the rival K-State Wildcats on the big screens instead.  No big deal, but it just seemed odd.<br /><br />We hit a gift shop after lunch.  I always like to buy something on a big time college campus.  Yesterday'ss choice was a Kansas Nursing shirt.  I wore it during the show last night.   <br /><br />"I saw this lady breast feeding and that's why I bought it," I told the crowd last night.  In all actuality I just wanted something obscure.  I don't think the nursing students or their parents even wear the shirt.  I then asked the cashier how the nursing shirts sold.<br /><br />"About the same as the rest of 'em," she claimed.  I didn't believe her for a second.  I saw a ton of Jayhawks apparel all over campus and not one thing had nursing on it.  Not a hat, a shirt, some pants or even NURSING on the ass of some shorts.<br /><br />Well, it's about that time to pack up and hit the road.  There's still 27 minutes left of continental breakfast.  It's been fun times here in Kansas but it's over.  Off to click my magic slippers and head back to Chicago.<br /><br />
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	Monday, November 01, 2004
	

	
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    7:26 PM<br> 
    <strong>Free Food ... Again</strong><br /><br />I'm just home from enjoying a free meal.  It wasn't just any free meal, though.  It was courtesy of the Alumni Relations Department at my community college.  Kelly Meyers, the assistant director of the ARD, contacted me about playing their annual banquet next March.  It's a big pay day but I'm unsure that I have the appropriate material for a bunch of scholastic dignitaries; I'm used to drunks from Wisconsin who belly laugh at my perversion.<br /><br />Tonight's dinner was reminiscent of Monday nights spent in similar fashion years ago at JJC.  When I was the student trustee to the Board of Reps, I ate dinner once a month with the Board.  Although I didn't do much in terms of being an active Trustee, I enjoyed the perks: free meals, free parking and trips across country.  Nine years have passed since I was a starving student who craved a hot, free meal.  Now I'm still craving the same meal and driving a across country on my own dollar.<br /><br />Dinner was finished and the regular meeting began.  They introduced me as a guest of the Board.  About 15 people were in attendance, some whom I knew but most I had never met.  Originally I was asked to submit a tape sampling my work. Having nothing clean enough and not any local shows, Kelly suggested I come to dinner and do a brief show.  Now it's in their hands.<br /><br />It was weird standing before strangers there to judge me.  I wasn't nervous as I know my strenths and weaknesses.  Public speaking is easy, but doing it to win over people looking for some politically correct comedy is tough.<br /><br />I talked for about 10 minutes and exhausted every clean joke I had.  With them not drinking or smoking, with the lights lit to full blast, with it being a Monday night before one our nation's biggest election days ever, with all that against me, a comedy club comedian, I thought it went okay.  They laughed out loud a few times and stared like a zombie at others.<br /><br />"I also write for the Herald News," I announced.  "My most recent humor column was in yesterday's paper actually.  Did anyone read it?"<br /><br />Nothing.  Not even a 'well sometimes I read your stuff but not yesterday.'  I acknowledged their interest in my writing and then they collectively laughed.<br /><br />"When are you playing locally?" Kelly asked.  After I gave a beat-around-the-bush answer due to my uncertainty, I remembered that earlier in the day I confirmed a weekend of work nearby.<br /><br />"In January I'll be playing in Orland Park," I told them.  Just then Kelly and Mandy, the Board President, began writing. But they were the only ones.<br /><br />"Nice to see all of you care so dearly," I joked.  With serious conviction.  Mandy laughed and announced that she wasn't writing about me.<br /><br />"I just remembered I had to feed the dog.  You said park and it reminded me of him. Sorry."<br /><br />I took me free pens, notebooks and bright purple Alumni shirt and left.
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	Sunday, October 31, 2004
	

	
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    11:25 PM<br> 
    <strong>3 Cats, a Dog, and My Buddy's Wife</strong><br /><br />Sounds like the makings of a great sit-com, huh?  Stay tuned.<br /><br />The first weekend surviving with my new roommates has come and gone.  And it wasn't really that bad.  Staying out of the apartment a lot helped make that possible, though.<br /><br />I arrived home Friday afternoon and John and Erin were out, only the three cats and Marley were here.  Marley's their 3-year old Chow-Shepherd mix.  And he's a barker.  I entered slowly to announce my arrival, uncertain as to who would be home.  Marley greeted me with some barking that continued for what seemed like 5 minutes.  No big deal to some, but to me anything more than 30 seconds was too much.<br /><br />"Shut the fuck up," I said to myself and loudly enough that he could hear me if he really cared.  Being a dog, I don't think he did.  I just settled myself in my room and went about my business.  Having come in the back door and since Marley was in closer to the front, he didn't come right up to the back door.  He stayed back and barked at the stranger he hadn't seen since March when I visited Phoenix.  Back then he barked every time I came to their house and even every time I entered the backyard through the gate from the neighbor's.<br /><br />"Hey dumbass," I'd said to him in Arizona, "I was just here.  You ate some hamburger from me, remember?"  But he hadn't so why was I to think that he'd know me some 8 months later.<br /><br />I tried to make friends with Marley since John and Erin weren't home and since I didn't know when they'd be home.  There were some dog treats on the counter.  I shook them toward Marley, sitting about 50 feet from me and not willing to make a step my way no matter how nicely I said his name and patted my leg.<br /><br />"Come on now.  Come here," I repeated like we were old pals from back in the day.   But he didn't budge.  He kept on sitting between the front door area and the living room.   At that point I began to panic; it was 4:15 p.m. and like Dustin Hoffman in <em>Rainman</em> who freaked out if he didn't get his daily fix of Judge Wapner and the <em>People's Court</em>, ESPN's <em>Pardon The Interruption</em> was on in 15 minutes.<br /><br />I began to layer myself in old jeans and long underwear.  I figured he would bite me if I approached him to watch TV.  But I would ready myself to enjoy 30 minutes of the greatest television of today.  I had a wooden bat by my side and taped heavily with athletic tape to keep it from breaking further if used to hit a ball.  I figured a 50-pound dog, as long as he wasn't flung 90 mph from a pitcher's mound, would be nothing in comparison.<br /><br />Just then, as I put on my fourth pair of pants, some cargo ones mom pulled outta the trash, John called.<br /><br />"Yo," he said, like the black man he's not.  "What's up?"<br /><br />"Nothing.   I just got home a few minutes ago."<br /><br />"Cool.  We just ran some errands and are on our way home.  Should be there in a few minutes," John said.<br /><br />"By 'a few' do you mean before 4:30?  PTI is on and your dog needs to let me watch it."<br /><br />John assured me they would be home with plenty of time to spare.  Relieved, I disrobed back into a normal PTI-watching outfit and putzed around in my room until returned home.<br /><br />Marley was informed twice that I watch PTI every day at 4:30.<br /><br />"Only weekdays as long as golf isn't on," I told them both.<br /><br />The rest of the weekend was okay.  Aside from Marley snipping at me once and barking nearly every time I moved to pick my nose, it wasn't that annoying.  The three cats took a liking to my room, each in their own unique way.  Bailey hung out as her leisure; Zora nestled herself on my computer chair and on a blanket; and Ci Ci stayed away for the most part, although I found her sitting atop a blanket on bed when I got home tonight.  Scared and bothered by my presence, she leapt from the bed and found a new napping place.<br /><br />Erin unveiled a Betty Crocker-esque side I was unaware existed.  She made a delicious Mexican lasagna for dinner Saturday night and then followed that up with a hot breakfast Sunday morning.<br /><br />"Very impressive," I said to her.  "I'll cook next weekend.  Where do you want your pizza from and what kind of milk do you like in your cereal?"<br /><br />Maybe it won't be so bad after all.  I'm also yet to step in cat puke or be begged to take Marley outside at 4 a.m.  
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