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5:12 a.m. - 2002-04-18

HONEY...DOES THAT DOG HAVE A RELIGIOUS FIGURINE IN HIS MOUTH?

Soooo...last night Susie brings home this little statue of a religious guy.

"What's that?" I asked in my normal "What's that?" tone.

"It's a St. Joseph's figurine," my wife explained. "We're going to bury him in the front yard and he will help sell the house."

Kinda like if you bury a GI Joe in your front yard, your house will be hit by enemy war planes.

"Come again?" I asked in one of the few Southern phrases that I've managed to pick up in my 30 years of living south of the Mason-Dixon line.

"You bury him," she said. "And you say a little prayer and then ten minutes later somebody comes by with a trunkload of cash and buys our house."

Sounds good to me.

My mom calls to touch base with me a few minutes later. I mention this St. Joseph's thing and ask if she's ever heard of it.

"Yes," she said in her tone that says "You're an idiot, son." "We used to bury them every time we sold a house and it worked. You have to bury him in a baggie upside down and facing the street. Then someone will come by and buy your home."

Growing up, I thought my Mom was brilliant. Now I realize the woman isn't all that bright. She's a good loving mother and all ... but she has the attention span of a small primate which leaves her a bit clueless in some areas.

Still...I had the two women that I'm closest to in life telling me that if we bury this little plastic guy, our house was going to sell.

And at this point, I'm trying everything I can to sell this house. I received some forwarded piece of crap email the other day...the kinda thing I'd normally delete instantly saying "Make a wish and read this poem I just wrote about my boyfriend who's screwing around on me and is a total ass and I promise your wish will come true. Just read my poem. Make sure you read my poem."

I read that poem several times, wishing harder and harder for my house to sell. The poem sucked. And my wish has yet to come true.

So tonight, we're burying St. Joseph in the front yard amongst some flowers and then setting out some lawn chairs and preparing to sell the house to the first car that drives by.

I feel so Catholic.


Today at 9:30 a.m. we have an appointment with an attorney to get advice on how to handle Susie's mother.

I've told Susie that after the meeting one of us will need to call her mother and say "Here's how serious we are about getting our money...we just spoke to a lawyer who assured us that if we take this to court, you will lose and end up paying a lot more than just 20% interest on this loan. So please, PLEASE go get a loan for six grand, pay us back and let us be able to afford college for our son."

Hopefully, she will understand and do the right thing.

As God told me in the one time he spoke to me ... everyone will do the right thing.

As always...I'll keep you informed.


We went to Walmart last night to get some flowers to plant with St. Joseph and ran into one of my sister's ex-boyfriends there.

I always liked the guy. Friendly, quiet, good-looking kid.

Dated my sister for about seven years. They broke up and he met and married some girl less than a year later.

They now have a son two months older than Andrew.

So we talked for a while...small talk...chit-chat...water cooler breeze if a water cooler had been nearby...

I always wondered why the kid dated my sister for such a long period then broke up with her, met and married another woman so quickly and settled down almost instantly.

Something's fishy there.

And the thought that my mind keeps going back to is that my sister is a sexual freak.

Now...I have no idea if this is true or not. She's eight years younger than me and we've never talked about her sex life. I don't need to know and I don't want to know. She's a grown woman...32 years old...I'm sure she's no virgin, but is she like...anti-virgin? Is she some sort of dominatrix or freaky slut in bed?

Because that's her pattern...she dates guys for long periods of time and basically, they're in her control. Then they suddenly break free and within 12 months, they're married to someone else.

Three guys have done that...Kirby, Tripper and Ray.

There's a reason these guys stay around as long as they do and DON'T propose marriage. And there's a reason that as soon as they break up, they marry someone else instantly.

But I'll be damned if I can figure it out.

I guess I had the opportunity last night to ask Kirby.

"Say Kirbster...I've always wondered...what was my sister like in bed?"

But something tells me that would have come out all wrong.


We drove out to the lot for our new home to see if any work had been done on it since Saturday. Thankfully....nothing had been started. Which every day they don't start on it is another day we have to sell this house. Which shouldn't take long now that St. Joseph is hustling his plastic ass along with the realtor.

I actually wanted to see a sunset from the perspective of our new home. I wanted to see where the sun would be going down and what it would look like.

It's going to be great. The sun will come shining through one window in the whole house...the brick windows surrounding our garden tub.

This is going to be too sweet.

The neighborhood was full of people walking in the street last night. Stopping and talking to neighbors who were washing cars or doing yard work before all the sunlight was completely gone.

And everyone waved. The fact that people stop whatever it is they're doing, lift their hand up and wave at us fascinates me.

It's honest-to-goodness Southern Hospitality.

We come back to our current neighborhood where the garbageman that lives down the street stared at us as we drove by. His young daughter,probably four years old and wearing nothing but her underwear, stood at his side with her thumb in her mouth and stared at us like we were an obscene float in a parade.

"Welcome home," I muttered to Susie.

Nosy Assed Neighbor was waiting out by the fence for us when we got home. She was delighted to tell us that she's house hunting too and has found a home north of here that she's in love with.

She hasn't seen the inside of the house. But she picked up a flyer from their front yard and is going to call and make an appointment to see the inside of the house.

She then tried to talk us into moving up north of here with her.

I already know that when she engages in conversation, she doesn't listen to what the other side says, she's just interested in talking about herself.

But we had to remind her that we ALREADY bought a lot and are having a new home built on that lot.

She swears we need to move with her. We get more house for less money. And yeah, it's an older home and it's probably eaten up with termites and it's a longer drive to the city and the school system sucks and the neighborhood is not much better than the one we live in now and we'd be living near her....but seriously...we need to move there instead of the high-priced ritzy subdivision in the country that we're planning on moving to.

Yeah. Okay Nosy Assed Neighbor. Where do we sign?

Cripes.

She has absolutely no idea that she's one of the many reasons we're leaving here.


This signifies the end of Entry #999.

Tomorrow...it's Entry #1,000.

Now then...for months I had a plan. Entry #1,000 was going to be my last entry here.

1,000 entries and Uncle Bob would die. I could then sleep in an hour later each morning and concentrate on other things.

Then I remembered...I bought that damned Gold Membership.

And I'm a firm believer in getting my money's worth out of everything that I spend my money on. Which might explain why I'm about to sue my own mother-in-law.

So I guess Uncle Bob will live on past entry #1,000.

But the entry is going to be a special one.

Kinda like A Very Special Episode of the diary.

Well...not really.

But it's something that I've already started working on rather than my usual routine of just rolling out of bed and typing a bunch of words that hopefully make sense.

I'm not promising giggles galore.

But...it's just something I'm working on.

Anyway...have a great day...tune in tomorrow.

Peace out.

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