FORGIVE ME FATHER, FOR I HAVE SINNED...

It's confession day at Uncle Bob's.

My first confession ... my little boy is the wimpiest wimp ever.

The first time I noticed this was two weeks ago. I didn't say anything because I was hoping it was an isolated incident and deep down he was really a tough little boy and not a scared little one year-old sissy.

Last week it happened again.

Last night...again.

What has turned my once macho baby into a sniveling wimp?

...The show "The Weakest Link".

He used to love the show. When Susie would say "You ARE the weakest link...GOODBYE!" he would laugh and get all giddy.

Now ... well...lemme just tell ya the story.

Two weeks ago, I'm sitting in my recliner, Andrew's playing peacefully on the floor with his toys and "Weakest Link" comes on.

At the very beginning of the show, the eight contestants are shown backstage conversing. Some ominous music is playing and the announcer gives some spiel about "These eight contestants are all trying to win up to one million dollars...."

This part FREAKS my boy out badly. He squeals like Celine Dion with her foot caught in a beartrap.

The first time he did this was hilarious. He was playing near the TV. That voice started and his eyes grew huge as he crawled across the room to the opposite corner of the television with a terrified scream coming from his lungs. I had to pick him up and calm him down as he stared horrified at the television. Once Anne the host came on, he calmed down. But that announcer's voice put the fear of God in him.

Last week, he did the same thing. It terrified him.

Last night, we're eating dinner while he's playing near the TV as the 7:00 hour rolls in.

"Let's see if he's still scared of the Weakest Link guy," I whisper to Susie.

Susie had no idea what I was talking about. She had yet to see Andrew's terrified look.

Sure enough, he's sitting there, playing with Pooh and that voice started..."These eight contestants...."

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!

For a second he was frozen in fear. Then he shifted his crawl into overdrive and was over to the dinner table in 2 seconds. Susie picked him up and he was actually trembling. But once the game began he was fine.

It's kinda like a stupid pet trick. It's hilarious to watch because whatever emotion he's currently displaying just drops and is taken over by panic.

Last night, I confessed to Susie that I think he got that from me.

When I was four years old, the original "Batman" series with Adam West was my favorite show. I loved "Batman" and never missed a single episode.

But maaaan...I HATED the Joker.

I had to brace myself for episodes containing the Joker. That guy scared the holy bejeezus outta me. I remember my back stiffening up every time he came on the screen.

I'll never forget after one particularly thrilling episode of "Batman" (that didn't contain the Joker), Dad told me to get up and change the channel.

This was before televisions came with remote controls. I know, I know. I rode a dinosaur to school each day too.

I get my four year-old butt off the couch and walk over to the television just as the announcer says "Next week...on 'Batman'..."

Just then...a close up of The Joker's face took over my TV screen with him howling that diabolical laugh of his.

I freaked out.

I ran back over to the couch, scared to death to get near the television while The Joker was on.

I'm willing to bet that I'm not the only one who was terrified by the Joker. I'm also willing to bet that this generation's fear of clowns can probably be traced back to Cesar Romero's chilling portrayal of The Joker scaring the shit out of millions of children over the years.

Anyway...Andrew is a wimp.

And we're going to have to start muting the first 60 seconds of "The Weakest Link" to prevent him from having a baby heart attack.

Confession #2:

I suffer from a slight case of Road Rage.

Normally, I'm an even-tempered guy. It takes a lot to rile me up.

And usually, a really shitty driver in front of me does the trick.

Last night, I'm driving home. It's dark. It's been raining all day, the roads are slick and there are large puddles everywhere. It's the type of conditions where if everyone drives safely, nobody gets hurt.

Unfortunately, I get behind some teenage moron who's got his precious little cheerleader girlfriend riding with him.

Actually, I wasn't behind him. On a three lane highway, I was in the middle lane, he was in the right turning lane to turn right.

He didn't want to turn right.

So he swerved in front of me, getting in my lane.

And hitting my car.

I felt the hit. I heard the hit.

And this kid just takes off.

Now...this pisses me off.

I begin flashing my lights at him and catch up to him.

He's now pulled over into the far left lane and I catch up to him on his right side.

I roll down my window, stick my middle finger out and begin yelling "FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!" at him.

He and his precious little whore do the same, except they're grinning like idiots.

We get to a red light and I make the motion to roll down the window.

They do.

"YOU HIT MY CAR!" I yelled.

"I didn't hit your car," the punk says.

"YES YOU DID! THERE'S DAMAGE TO YOUR CAR!!" I yelled.

The kid freaks out. His girlfriend gets this serious look on her face. Ohmigod. There can't be damage done to the car. This is DADDY'S car. And if they bring the car home to Daddy and he sees damage on it ... ohmigod....that means there'll be no more handjobs in the back seat for a month! Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod.

This kid swerves into oncoming traffic AGAIN to pull over into the Walmart parking lot and survey the damage.

Since I'm in the right lane, I pull into the church across the street from Walmart to turn around and go beat the shit outta the kid.

I decide to go to Mattie Gee's, which is only a block away and was my original destination to begin with.

I get there, get out of my car, check the front of the car.

No damage whatsoever.

Apparently, I hit a puddle just as he swerved in front of me. With me slamming my brakes and hitting a puddle, it FELT like I had been hit. Hitting a puddle would also make it SOUND like I was hit.

But I wasn't hit.

Still, the look on that preppy little fucker's face was priceless. I wiped his silly smirk off his face in a heartbeat when I told him his daddy's car was damaged. His girlfriend went from a grinning, middle-finger waving whore to a scared little puppy with one sentence yelled at them in rush-hour traffic.

It was so sweet that it served as ample restitution for him driving like a total idiot.

Keep in mind, I normally wouldn't have rolled down my window to flip somebody off like that and yelled at them. But I honestly thought I'd been bumped by this moron.

Ususally I just sit behind the wheel and call the drivers every derogatory name I can think of, cursing their miserable existence.

That usually works for me anyway.

I went into my old chat channel haunt last night.

To the best of my knowledge, I hadn't been in there since late 1998. But one of my old buddies, Arrogance, was in there so we chatted for about 15 minutes.

It was good to "talk" to him. But the channel has really gone downhill. Where at one time it was several dozen people coming through there in one night, now it's just Arrogance and Steve and Steve's never really there, he's just always stayed logged on in the channel. I used to joke that Steve had probably died sometime in 1997 because he never said anything. But he had "ops" and wasn't about to leave and lose his ops.

...Operator privileges. Ops.

After I logged out of the room, I started thinking about why I ever left in the first place.

First was the soap opera crap going on. You had this person not talking to this person and this person always coming in and starting trouble and that person always hitting on every new girl that came in the channel and running them off and it just got to be annoying.

Second...man...did I ever hate those IM's or whatever they're called. I come to the channel to talk to everyone. But it was nothing to have six or seven separate windows where I was supposed to engage in six or seven different conversations with six or seven different people. And five or six of those people had nothing to say.

THEM: Hi

ME: Hi

THEM: You're funny.

ME: Thanks. You're boring.

THEM: :)

ME: Seriously. You're boring. Leave me alone.

THEM: You're funny.

ME: We've discussed that. Now leave me alone.

THEM: What are you doing?

ME: I'm trying to talk to everyone else in the CHANNEL right now.

THEM: You're funny.

ME: Eat my shit. Ha. Ha.

THEM: :(

...You get the picture.

So those are some of the reasons I left the chat rooms behind and moved into Diaryland.

I like it here better anyway.

God bless Diaryland.