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8:26 a.m. - 2002-09-06

COOL YOUR JETS, NANCY DREW...UNCLE BOB IS STILL ALIVE

Seems like we have a few super sleuths in the audience that think that Uncle Bob hasn't been writing all the recent entries that you've been reading for one reason or another.

Sorry to disappoint you, but with the exception of the two entry-long infamous "Pool Goddess Seduces My Family" saga...it's been all me.

I know I said that Weetabix wrote the whole "Explain Gayness To Me" entry yesterday, but that was just to channel some of the heat that I was getting for writing it over to her as a joke. I received quite a few emails from gay men who were offended by the entry even after I tried to say that I wasn't gay-bashing and had nothing against them. I was tired of dealing with that, so I said Weeter wrote it. She was more than happy to deal with a few disgruntled gay men in true Weetabix-style for me.

Some of you think that it wasn't me because Tad the Builder has entered the picture once again, working on my house. I'm shocked by that too. When I said Tad had been "fired", I didn't mean from the company, I meant from working on my house, because that's what the owner had said.

To the best of MY knowledge...the owner of the company stepped in to put a fire under the workers' asses and it worked. In the last three weeks, my house has taken ENORMOUS steps in being finished. And since it's back on track now, I guess Fred the owner felt comfortable putting Tad the Builder back in his position of screwing up details on my house left and right.

Regardless of the reasons ... I met Tad out at the house yesterday morning.

He mapped out the upcoming week for me as far as things done on the house.

Today, the vinyl floor in the kitchen gets put down.

Monday, we get carpet.

Tuesday, we get the sod in the yard.

Wednesday, they run through the house, cleaning it up, touching it up and getting last minute stuff done.

And by next Thursday...this damned house will be ready to rawk.

We close the following Monday. But something tells me they may want to move that date up to a week from today.

Susie says no. She doesn't want to pay a mortgage and rent at the same time. I agree wholeheartedly. The crackwhore business is down and we're pinching pennies right now.

But it's cool to think that in a week, my house will be completely ready.

Way cool.


I'm using that Colgate Simply White stuff or whatever.

Been using it for a week. It's like Wite-Out for your teeth. You dab it on and in two weeks, your teeth are amazingly white.

It's been a week.

My teeth aren't amazingly white.

Originally, I came up with this idea in the late 70s. I thought that some dentist needed to invent a Wite-Out type of device to paint your teeth. I called it "Toothpaint".

I mentioned it to my dentist at the time who didn't take me seriously because I was a high school kid. Nobody takes high school kids seriously because they're retarded.

If you're a high school kid and you're reading this ... sorry, but it's true. Wait until you get in your 30s. You'll be amazed at how much people listen to you and respect your opinion.

Even being in your 20s suck as far as respect goes, unless you're a whiz kid and own your own successful business or something. But all the people in their 20s are on drugs or something. Especially the ones who pierce their faces. Helllooooo?? You do understand that nobody takes you seriously when you have a nail driven through your lips...right?

Anyway. Just felt like getting crotchety there for a minute and pissing off the younger folk. It's my nature, don't ya know?

So stay away from Colgate Simply White until further notice.


My car is giving me fits.

The other day I drove it and the "Check Engine" light came on.

Gee...I'd LIKE to check my engine. But I'm driving home right now and that can't be done.

Plus, since I know absolutely jack shit when it comes to mechanics, I woulda popped the hood, stood there and had an awkward conversation with my engine on the side of the road.

ME:"How's it going, engine?"

ENGINE: (silence)

ME: "The little light inside told me to check you. You doin' okay?"

ENGINE: (silence)

ME: "You need a drink or anything while I'm up?"

ENGINE: (silence)

ME: "Alright then. You take care. I'll see ya later. Tell the little light inside to fuck off for me, alright?"

So Wednesday I think it was ... Edweird and I drove out to the house at lunch to make fun of the workers in the 97 degree heat for not finishing high school and having to be bricklayers in Alabama in the heat of the summer.

We did that and were driving back to the office when my Water gauge shot up to "H" for "HOTTER THAN HELL" and the little water light came on.

Naturally, I panicked because I'm a man who should know what to do in this situation, but as I've already explained ... I don't have a clue.

Edweird turns the heat on and rolls down the windows. This makes me want to punch him in the face repeatedly because it's only slightly cooler than Hell outside.

He explains that we're drawing heat away from the engine and keeping the engine from exploding, sending tiny little mice on their tiny little wheels scattering everywhere, thus rendering my engine useless.

We get back to the office, pour water in the little reserve tank and everything's cool.

I drive home that day and it starts to get hot, but I make it home alright.

Yesterday, I drive out to the house in the morning. By the time I get there, the car's overheating.

I fill it with water and I make it back to the office before it overheats.

At lunchtime, I decide that I'm going to beat the system.

I take the car to the local oil change place to get the oil changed.

"The car's been overheating lately," I say casually. "Can you take a look at the radiator for me?"

When you use words like "overheating" and "radiator", it makes the mechanics think you know a thing or two about their job and they're less apt to rip you off. That's a tip from your old Uncle Bob.

The guys take a look at it and say I need my radiator flushed at the tune of $59.99.

Sounds like a bargain to me, Skippy. Flush that rusty bitch out.

They flush it out, putting all new fluids in there for me.

I drive away, laughing at their gullible nature and chug chug chug down the road.

I make it about 12...maybe 13 feet before all the fluids evaporate in my car and the little water gauge zips back up to "Hotter Than Hell".

I scream "Sonofabitch!" so loud that my windows shake.

I call my wife and tell her that I need to take the car to her mechanic friends. Her mechanic friends love her, but can't stand me. They always take care of her car and always patch mine up enough so that it works for a few more days without a problem but then something completely different happens like all my tires fall off at once or something.

After work, I drive to the mechanic place.

I get there and there's no cars in the parking lot.

I ask a girl at the gas pumps if George is in.

"They moved!" she says, and then gives me direction several miles away to their new location.

Keep in mind...it's almost 100 degrees outside. I'm driving around with the windows down and the heat blasting in my car, trying to get to where I need to go before my engine goes bone dry.

To make a long story somewhat shorter, just as I find the place, my car sputters and stops on me. I manage to coast into a parking space where my wife is grinning and waving.

"How come you didn't tell me that they moved?" I asked her.

"You never asked," she answered.

So my car's in the shop.

I'm really hoping that it's a head gasket. That would cost $800 and would be coming at a perfect time now that we're trying to save money to buy stuff for our new house.

Whee.


On the news just now, they announced that the police had an undercover raid on the apartment complex that Susie and I once lived in when we first started living together back in 1986.

They arrested 60 people for drug possession. The owner of the complex had called the police numerous times to report gang activity in the complex.

I'm glad we don't live there anymore. But it was a great place to live in the 80s. Once we moved, it went downhill.

Speaking of which...on the front page of the local newspaper yesterday, there was a big hooplah about the city getting ready to build low-income apartments at the entrance to the subdivision that we just moved away from this summer.

The same one that I told our Nosy Assed Neighbor would be a ghetto in less than five years and she told me that I didn't know what I was talking about.

The article mentioned that these apartments would house nothing but trashy gang members and drug dealers (according to one of my old neighbors) . Apartments would start at $150 a month.

Soooo...my old neighborhood is getting ready to have several more gang members and crackwhores move in.

Looks like we got out of there just in time. Now NOBODY is going to want to invest in a crappy little house in that neighborhood.

I can't help but think what must be going through Nosy Assed Neighbor's mind today.

I'm guessing that she's rethinking that whole plan of selling her home for twice what she's actually going to get for it.


I guess I kinda owe you guys a big announcement, huh?

I think it was Wednesday or so when I said "I've got a big announcement and I'll be making that announcement by Friday."

And yet...no announcement has been made. And for those of you keeping track ... today's Friday.

The truth is ... hours after I wrote that I had an announcement, I found out that the announcement would not be made. I was waiting on someone else's news which turned out to be "There is no announcement to be made."

So here I am. With a big wad of egg on my face. And even some bacon in the corners of my mouth.

I have a few very small announcements I guess I could share.

I have decided to write a book.

That's not really news since I write books for a living. But this book will be stuff that I am GOOD at writing, which is essays about everyday experiences.

Kinda like a diary of sorts in paper form.

The only thing I'm grappling with is do I want it to be "Uncle Bob-style" which would be full of words that I'd be embarrassed to have my mother read. Or do I want to go back to the "Newspaper Style" where I keep it clean so that everyone could read it.

I'm leaning toward the clean. When I was a comedian, I was told by one club owner that I had a chance at major success if I would just work a bit cleaner and take out all the "F-words" in my act.

I tried it for a little bit and did okay not cursing on stage. But I just felt more comfortable swearing.

Then again...I was a young 23 years old and times have changed.

Now...17 years later ... I've decided that I HAVE to try and write a book. I don't want to be on my deathbed without having given it a shot.

I was always told that I had what it took to either be a successful comedian or singer. I dabbled in both and did pretty good at each of them, but I quit before I became financially successful at either of them because I didn't look at them as long-term jobs.

But writing? That's been the constant in my life. I WROTE jokes for my stage act. I WROTE songs to sing. Today I WRITE coffee table books. I WRITE this website each morning.

I've got literally hundreds of newspaper columns that I've written that aren't copywritten yet. Once we move in the house, I plan on tooling around on them and fine-tuning them, making them funnier than they were originally .... finding an agent that I can trust and that will get my foot in the door with a publishing company .... and go from there.

I hope that was a big enough announcement for you guys. It's probably even bigger than the original announcement for most of you.


Gadzooks...what a boring entry today.

Sorry. I'm really tired this morning and wasn't into getting this caught up.

I guess I shoulda bet Weetabix that the sky was blue or something and had her fill in for me, huh?

Tee hee!

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