Thursday, January 20, 2005

My son, little Johnny Gabriel Rutledge, threw up 4 times last night. Our house smells like the morning after a frat party. At least I think so. I went to community college so what the hell do I know about frat parties. We had parties in community college too. No one parties like single mom's and laid off Boeing workers. Now my my wife, Kristine Anne Rutledge, is sick. Having a two year old is like living with a petri dish. I hope I don't get sick. I'd hate to deprive the 14 chronic gamblers at the Crazy Moose Casino of a quality show tonight.

Git-R-Finished.

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