[Slam the browser shut now if you don�t want a first-half-sour-puss�d view this evening�but I feel all bright and sunny after having typed it� So. Wheeeee!]

DaBoy and I have an interesting pair of next-door-neighbors (not the ones with the same initials�as previously mentioned.)

These two are our local Ken and Barbie dolls.

They grew up in Orange County, they�ll die here�She drives a convertible and is (don�t be shocked now) deeply and truly blond. He drives a massive freaking 10-gallon-per-mile Suburban Uselessness Vehicle. I am sorry if you own one in the wrong portion of the world, but seriously, I grew up (Vermont) where four-wheel-drive autos made sense in every aspect of their nature with a full five seasons (mud being the worst of the bunch for motoring about.)

He spends far too much time drinking with his buds. She sits at home drinking with hers or listening to Rush at top volume (falsetto bands hurt DaSauce�s head.)

He has (not joking here) three big screen TeeVees in his living room�all lined up in a row (and the frigging S.S.Minnow parked out front for the past three months�but that is another story.)

Why? [You ask sensibly.]

Well�[me looking confused.]

He says it is to watch concurrent games during various �ball seasons. [His wife, Tiffany, looks deeply put-upon when one brings this up.]

She (no matter the weather) washes her little black convert-A-bull Wednesday and Saturday afternoons. She always wears the same bikini top�and thank god for her I-beam-suspension in there�as it wouldn�t hold real units to save its poorly threaded little life.

He has a pattern as well. Friday nights and Sundays all his buds come over and they play the most amazing groaners a cover-tune band could conceive of annoying the block with�and they play a seven song set generally for a couple of weeks�and then change it. As far as anyone knows they have never played in public and have been doing this for the past decade or so�

Today the pattern changed. They had someone else on drums and vocals. Thus, methinks, they played the only tune that poor human could sing (in the loosest possible definition of the word sing.)

The tune was by the now-deceased John "Flying Home Built Aircraft While Drinking? Sure!" Denver.

They played it at least 20 times between quarters (on I�d guess two play-off football games?)

So. In honor of having survived that�DaSauce should probably feel enormously better by decomposing (at least one verse, with apologies in advance) that gawd-awful tune.

[OK. The preceding was deeply edited for the faint of heart�as it was not only violent in content but pretty gross as well. I�ll leave the final chorus for you to enjoy as that�at least�was low on the ICK scale. You�ll thank me for having played censor. I promise.]

*SoCal Schmos make me groan�send them to their final home, Nome, Alaska

Oh-those-bastah�ds, send them home, SoCal Schmos�*

Onward?

His-Astonishing-Little-Boy-Ness and I built a desk for his (rebuilt from parts I had recently ganked from mine) ahem, "new computer." This will be his first �It�ll really be just mine, dad, right?� machine.

Desk-building from an Office Despot $89.00 flat-box-special is an experience to begin with�doing it with a five year old �helping� every step of the way? Profoundly Patience Pulling N� (yes,) Priceless.

In just under three hours of �help�--we got it done. I only got testy once�and assumed (poorly) that was not something he noticed as I took it out on a bent piece of metal that needed to be remangled into position. He had an amazing time playing with wrenches, flat and Phillips heads, toggles, keyboard-drawers, and hex-keys.

I am JOB. I promise.

Tonight after tucking-his-little-white-boy-with-ginger-hair ass into his bunk�he said, �Dad. Thanks for letting me do the desk with you. It was really a blast�and you didn�t get all that flustrated did you?�

I kissed his freshly washed noggin and grinned. �No pal. And next time, it�ll be even more fun�for both of us. Practice works, buddy.�

His response? �I am pretty lucky, you know? I�ll be able to tell everyone that comes in the house and asks �whose desk is that?� that it is mine�and I built mos� of it.�

Each and every effort is worth it from my completely-smitten-with-this-kid P O V.

--DaDenverDeservedIt

or

--SmilingSauce