Sunday, November 28, 2004


Yesterday I partied with Jim The Baby Nephew in his bouncy seat. His father was DJing on LimeWire in the hizz-ouse, and we were dancing to “Yeah!” by Usher, which is entirely appropriate music for a seven-month-old, in particular the following lyric: “So gimmie the rhythm and it'll be off with they clothes, then bend over to the front and touch your toes/We want a lady in the street but a freak in the bed to say, Yeah! Yeah!”

Jim has a disturbingly good sense of rhythm for a white German Catholic baby. Clearly he was switched out in the hospital. In any case, it was refreshing to dance with a sober guy who had absolutely no designs on grabbing any portion of my body; Saturday night regained its sense of normalcy, however, when my partner threw up on me.

Jim also has the rather upsetting habit of waving his white diaper cloths around over his head. The first time I caught him doing this, I shut him down fast, on the grounds that it made him look French.

I am fascinated by the sight of my sister as a mother and her husband as a father. Julie can give Jim things that Country The Brother-In-Law cannot. Country The Brother-In-Law can give him things that Julie cannot. And I can give Jim things that neither one of them can, such as a pony.

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