Ivan, I hate you not just for the millions of dollars in damage you've cause throughout your trek through the States and islands, but because you made my family come up here and drive me fucking crazy yet again.

It's 3:37am. I'm deep in Dreamland when I hear some erratic knocking at the door. I decide not to answer it and roll over to go back to sleep. Then there's more knocking followed by a muffled "Karsh".

It's Death-Phoenix. More precisely, it's Death-Phoenix, Ma'dea, Smokedawg, Yes Man, and Estranged Aunt. God must hate me.

They file in telling me how they've ran from the rain and hopes it will be better here in Atlanta. Death-Phoenix kept me up wanting to talk. She said that she has no power back home and probably won't have any until the 25th. Her old place, which is where Smokedawg is living now, sustained massive amounts of water damage and is virtually unlivable now. There goes the tattoo parlor. Not wanting to leave them alone in my apartment, I call in sick on Friday to supervise.

Now if you didn't know about my family before, I'll clue you in now. Death-Phoenix sticks to her guns on most issues, especially how her son(s) should live and provide for her and all that jazz. One's a gay neurotic and the other's a jail-hopping thug. Trust me, she could've done a lot worse. She doesn't care for my soymilk, non-red meat/non-pork diet one bit, and when I wasn't looking, she tossed out my Boca chicken patties and soy milk saying I needed to get some "real food".

Ma'dea, whom I love dearly, is about as short-sighted as a Christian can get. Anything she doesn't (or won't) understand is "the devil". Including my kiwis and artichokes which she maliciously cut up and threw away because "the thorns scared her". The only food she'll eat nowadays are McDonald's hamburgers. "Good All-American food" is what she calls it.

Smokedawg smokes a lot. I tell him not to smoke in my apartment and he wants to fight me. It's really not that serious…two ass whuppings later, that is.

Yes Man sits about two inches away from the television when watching it. No comment.

Estranged Aunt wants to go out and party. "Where the clubs at? I'm tryin' to go get my jiggy on!" she says while shaking her fat ass to an imaginary beat. Keep in mind she's 45 and don't need to be in anyone's club getting anything on.

The few moments of peace I've been able to gather this weekend have been from them going on their McDonald's excursions. There's also a Moe's nearby me, but they won't eat any Mexican food unless it's from an Ortega box or Taco Bell. And there's the grocery store, but Ma'dea doesn't trust East Indians. The last time I went to dinner with her, she called our East Indian busboy a "terrorist". The Blacks, I tell ya.

They finally all left on Sunday evening and I got some good sleep in for a change. Death-Phoenix called to tell me that she still has no power and that she'll have to stay with Ma'dea and Yes Man. As will Smokedawg and Estranged Aunt.

Did I mention that Ma'dea's brother Jessup (whom she can't stand), his wife Witchy Woman and their three spawn Gooey, Suey and Puey are coming up to live with her now since their house was decimated by Ivan?

Somehow, I'm predicting there'll be another hurricane in Alabama pretty soon.