FOR THE LAST TIME...THE POOL GODDESS HAS NOT INFILTRATED MY FAMILY

Ahhhh...

You know...I try my best not to preach to you people and tell you how to live your lifes, but if you can ever find someone else in Diaryland that is dumb enough to make a wager on a sure thing like who might be "The Mole" on a TV series when it's completely clear who "The Mole" is and this person agrees to update your diary for you for two days straight....by God....do it.

That said...thanks to Weetabix for entertaining you guys the past two days with a completely fabricated story arc about my brother-in-law and eventually my wife being seduced by the Pool Goddess.

For those of you still scratching their heads to the point of temporary bleeding of the scalp ... that was all fake and not written by me.

I knew the Weeter could pull off impersonating me. Our styles are somewhat similar except for the fact that she kicks ass while I do a decent job of faking the whole kick ass thing.

And kudos to those of you who smelled a moldy, decaying rat almost immediately. There's just no fooling you adorable little pinheads, is there??

The biggest news that's happened since I've actually updated is that my evil, horrible, mean-assed boss Wendigo has turned in her notice at work and tomorrow will be her last day as my boss.

This makes me sad. Because as evil and rotten as she may be, she's still one of my best pals and the absolute best boss I've ever had, ever.

She's going to start working at our local Chamber of Commerce, doing all sorts of cool things for them. It's a job I'd kill to have but hey...they offered it to her first, so she gets it.

I'm going to miss her horribly and hate that she's going, but I'm always for someone bettering themselves and this job sounds like it will better her. So as a friend, I'm happy for her. But as an employee it sucks.

So everyone wave bye to Wendigo.

Byyyyyyyye Wendi.

She announced her resignation on Monday so Monday at lunch, she, myself and Edweird went to Tony Roma's for lunch to get the lowdown on her leaving.

I pretty much knew about it for a few months now but was sworn to secrecy. I knew she had went on the interview and tried to talk her out of leaving as much as I could, but I knew in my heart that she'd probably be happier with this new job than she was being my boss.

Meanwhile, Edweird was in the dark on the whole affair and was kinda sorta shocked out of his gourd. After all, it was Wendi who had brought us both on board from our days as a team at the newspaper.

Now...

I can't say that I received BAD service at Tony Roma's.

But it was a comedy of errors that I won't soon forget in getting my food.

It all started when the waitress took our drink order. I ordered a Diet Coke.

"Is Diet Pepsi okay?" she asked.

I felt frisky.

"No, it's not," I said. "I ordered Diet Coke."

"We don't have Diet Coke," she replied.

"Well, there's a Walmart right behind here," I said calmly. "I suggest you run over there and get me a Diet Coke."

Now, I only do this to watch the girls' faces. I don't mean any ill will towards them or anything. It's a joke. A nasty one, but a joke nevertheless.

The girl looked at me blankly. That's when I smiled and said I was kidding and I actually preferred Diet Pepsi to Diet Coke, which I do. She seemed somewhat relieved but was also wary of the fact that she could be dealing with a major asshole that would ruin her day.

I ordered a Buffalo Chicken Salad. I asked her if that came with cheese on it and she said no. I said good, because I couldn't eat cheese.

Edweird and Wendigo ordered their food.

Our food comes out.

She brought me a Buffalo Chicken SANDWICH.

I laughed and said she must have misunderstood me...I ordered a SALAD... not a SANDWICH.

She apologized and took the sandwich back to the kitchen.

Edweird and Wendigo began to eat their meals slowly because it's impolite to eat while I'm sitting there waiting for my order to be fixed.

A few minutes later, she brings me a Buffalo Chicken Salad and walks away.

This salad has cheese on it.

Edweird and Wendigo know how I get when something with cheese on it is presented to me. You know how the Hulk turned green and his shirt would get all ripped? I suffer from the same affliction, except I get all red. And I have to physically tear my shirt to shreds rather than rely on my bulging gut to do all the work.

I finally flag the waitress down and try to explain this (ha-ha) comedy of errors and that I felt bad over the whole Diet Coke/Diet Pepsi flap and now it looks like I'm paying for the little joke.

She apologizes yet again and takes the salad to the back.

At this point, Edweird and Wendigo realize that it's fruitless to wait around for me to get my order prepared correctly and dive into their lunches head first.

Finally, the salad came back...no cheese.

I ate it.

Damned good salad.

We had ordered from the six dollar lunch menu. So when the bill came, I was expecting a six dollar salad.

It was like $7.92.

I almost called her over to the table to point out the discrepancy, but figured I had been a big enough pain in the ass to this poor girl and just paid it all.

And learned my lesson. When the restaurant doesn't have diet Coke, just smile sweetly and say "Just bring me whatever you want, Sugar."

Your home update.

Because you want a home update. You're dying for a new home update. You're squealing in desire for a new home update.

Well ... you're squealing in desire for something. And since I can't give you what you want ... your home update.

Well....they FINALLY got my shower fixed yesterday, almost a week after they said they'd finish it.

Now I have NEW screw-ups to contend with.

They put the wrong door on my office. My office is supposed to have a big fancy Glass French Door so that when you see it, you go "Wow. Is Donald Trump renting space from you guys?"

Instead, I've got a plain old wooden door.

And they poured the concrete for our back patio yesterday.

Scratch that. They poured the concrete for HALF OF THE BACK PATIO THAT WE ASKED FOR yesterday.

In the floor plan, the patio extends a certain length.

We told the builder that we wanted it extended all the way to the back of the garage and the builder said "No problem".

Did he do it??

No.

Sure it's "no problem". Nothing's a problem when you DON'T FREAKIN' DO IT.

Brain surgery is "no problem" to me. Because I don't have to perform it.

To the best of my recollection, I'm going to try to make a list of all the screwups on our house so far.

1) They put the wrong garden tub in. FIXED.

2) They didn't make the shower big enough. FIXED.

3) They didn't put two shower heads in. FIXED.

4) They didn't put two shower controls in. FIXED.

5) They put a window where a door should have been. FIXED.

6) They put the wrong door on my office. NOT FIXED YET.

7) They only gave us half the patio we asked for. NOT FIXED YET.

8) They put the wrong door on the garage. NOT FIXED YET.

9) They used the wrong mortar to brick the house. WILL NEVER BE FIXED.

Other than that, they're doing a bang-up job. All of the brick should be finished today and of course ... they still have plenty of other things to do before the house is complete and I feel quite sure there will be many more screw-ups that will send my blood pressure racing. But at least I feel confident that with every screw-up performed, at least they're getting fixed.

But I'm having to go out to the house every single night now to check on their progress. And THAT'S beginning to suck.

So kids...if you ever have someone build a house for you, learn a lesson from your old Uncle Bob. And that is ... don't do it.

Anybody wanna buy my Brandon doll from Beverly Hills 90210?

It�s never been removed from the box�untouched by human hands.

Ever since Jason Priestly broke his freakin� back in that car wreck this week, I�ve kept one eye on CNN, waiting for the guy to croak or something so my doll will go up in value.

Now, apparently, he�s not only going to live, but fully recover.

According to Entertainment Weekly, Priestley�s manager says the actor will race again.

According to Priestley, ..."Owwwwwwww!! Jesus God�IT HURTS JUST TO FUCKING BREATHE!!!! Let�s concentrate on me being able to BREATHE WITHOUT BLEEDING INTERNALLY before we start talking about me racing again, you fucking leech!!�

That's it. It's good to be back, even though I'm not exactly in top form.

Then again ... was I EVER in top form?