current entry older entries message board contact
5:26 a.m. - 2003-01-17

SMOKE 'EM IF YOU CAN TALK SOMEONE INTO BUYING 'EM FOR YA!

Dayyyy-ummm!!

Thanks to everyone who posted their favorite movie moments yesterday on the message board. Man...that was without a doubt, the biggest response I've ever gotten as far as asking you guys a question and you guys answering it for me. I think it was kind of a fun little experiment for everyone to describe their favorite moment, many of which I knew exactly what you were talking about. Please keep posting them, even if you've already posted one and have another. Or...if you decide to do a lengthy essay on your own site, email me and let me know. For some perverse reason, I really enjoy reading everyone's favorite movie moments. Since it's supposed to be bone chilling cold here this weekend, we've decided to stay in the house and watch movies all weekend.

Granted...we'll probably end up watching The Wiggles all weekend.

But with your suggestions, I plan on spending a few bucks at Blockbuster tonight after work and "sharing the moment" with some of you.

Yeah.

Fun.


I hope you caught "The Surreal Life" last night.

It was much better this week than last week. Mainly because they're all already sick of Corey Feldman, who I've believed from the start was the anti-christ.

Even before the concept of this show was presented over a mountain of blow in some sleazy Hollywood producer's office.

I've said it before and I'll say it again ... Corey Feldman is a walking, talking, throbbing penis.

Actually ... I'm not exactly sure I've said that before. Not in those words anyway.


Yesterday I dropped Andrew off at daycare and was driving to work when I got a sharp pain in my arm.

Being fat and 40, the first thing I thought was ... heart attack.

The pain spread to my shoulder and then to my neck.

I literally pulled over on the side of the road and clutched my cell phone. I've never had a heart attack before, but I thought "Gee, if I have a heart attack, I'm sure I'll have enough time to dial 911 and give them the specifics of where I am."

The pain stopped spreading.

My heart kept pumping.

I sat there, listening to The Ramones in dire pain.

Finally, I gave myself the okay to keep driving.

This morning, my shoulder and neck are STILL hurting.

I must have really slept wrong Wednesday night or something.

Pain, pain, pain.


Oh!

Last night on my way to pick Andrew back up, I'm running low on gas so I stop to "fill 'er up" as the gas station attendants with more sense than teeth say.

So I'm standing there...it's dark, cold, and windy. I'm not paying much attention to anything except the digital readout on the gas pump when I hear a voice.

"Yo man ... you got a couple of bucks I can have?"

I look up and there's this guy wearing an LA Raiders jacket, ski cap, baggy pants with the waistband to his knees and $18,000 sneakers.

If you were to look up "Murderous Gang Member" in the dictionary, you'd see a picture of this guy's mama next to it with the caption "I don't know where I went wrong with my baby."

I didn't have any money. I rarely carry money anymore. I could have given him several dozen credit cards. But no cash.

"Sorry," I said. "I don't have any money."

"C'mon man," the guy said, looking like I was being difficult. "I need some cigarettes."

Holy Mother of Fuck.

I'm just minding my fucking business, pumping gas and freezing my ass off and this guy ... this total fucking stranger... is getting irritated with me because I don't have any cash on me to give him so that he can have a smoke?

Fuck me sideways with a boxcutter.

Which...by the way ... this guy looked like he wanted to do.

"I'm telling you," I said, looking him right in the eye. "I don't have any money to give you. If I had a few bucks, I'd give it to you. But I don't."

Tupac Einstein starts racking his feeble brain.

"How you payin' for that gas then?" he asks.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

Now all of a sudden I'm on "Gangsta Jeopardy."

Uhhhhh...jeez Notorious D.U.M.B.A.S.S. ... with a ... credit card??

"With a credit card," I told him.

"C'mon man," he pleaded. "I just need a pack of cigarettes. That's all."

Oh. Fine. I was just under the impression that this was the most polite, yet stubborn mugging I've ever been a part of. My bad. I thought you wanted everything I owned, like most muggers. You just want cigarettes.

Oh.

Well doesn't that make all this better?

My tank is now full. I removed the nozzle from the tank and the thought crossed my mind. This kid hasn't produced a gun yet.

So I'm producing mine.

I stood there, holding the nozzle with it pointed in his direction and my finger on the trigger. Not pointed like a gun. Just there if I needed it. Had I pulled the trigger, Homeboy would be soaked in gasoline and wouldn't be smoking no cigarettes until he was naked and showered.

"I told you," I said. "I don't have any money."

The kid made a sound like "Tchhhh" and acted like he didn't have the time to be pestering my raggedy ass for no cigarette money and walked away.

I put the gas nozzle up, cranked up the car and just wished that Chevron luck because it'd be a cold day in Hell before I ever stopped there again.

Now then ... a commentary.

What is it about certain people that makes them think that they can just walk up to total strangers and ask for money and strangers are just going to give it to them?

I can understand certain scenarios. If the guy was standing there with a pregnant wife and three snot-nosed kids and his car was broken down and smoking and he needed money for oil.

Sure. No problem.

Or if the guy happened to have brought a gun and had the barrel of it at your temple and he was calling you "motherfucker" and informing you that you were about to be scrambling around on your hands and knees scooping up your brains off the concrete if you didn't give him some money.

That I can understand.

But just ... to walk up to someone and say "Dude, I need some money" like he's your child or something asking for a quarter to go play a video game at the mall ... "Dude...fuck the fuck off."

You know what the problem with America is?

Fucking Corey Feldman doesn't have enough money for cigarettes.

And that's just wrong.

0 comments so far
The last one/The next one


NEW!!!Come and write some BAD EROTICA with the cool kids!

My Diaryland Trading Card
Now go write a Suck Ass Poem™
Write me a note here.
Read my notes here.
Hey! Take the Uncle Bob Quiz!
What the hell! May as well take the wildly popular Uncle Bob Second Quiz too!
Thanks Diaryland
Designed by Lisa


CURRENT - ARCHIVES - MESSAGES - EMAIL


Have you read these?

The End Of Uncle Bob - 12:28 p.m. , 2009-02-19

Losing Focus While Trying To Write A Blog Entry Is Cool. - 1:47 p.m. , 2008-12-04

Buck Up Junior, You Could Be Digging Ditches - 11:36 p.m. , 2008-10-31

That Sinking Feeling - 6:09 a.m. , 2008-10-28

Return Of The Karate Kid And His Slow Kitty-Lovin' Accomplice - 5:44 a.m. , 2008-10-22

Sign up for my Notify List and get email when I update!

email:
powered by
NotifyList.com

HEY YOU!
Click on the button below to order the book "Never Threaten To Eat Your Co-Workers: Best of Blogs" featuring Uncle Bob.
You WON'T be sorry.

DISCLAIMER


Read a random entry of mine.