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5:24 a.m. - 2003-08-20

UNCLE BOB'S TALES FROM THE SWAMP

I was thinking seriously about writing a song revolving around that doctor who was decapitated by an elevator door.

But then I thought to myself "Do I really wanna be pegged as the guy that writes country songs about people who die in really strange ways?"

And I guess that there's worse ways a person can be pegged.

But I don't have the time to write a song today.

So I'll just write a title of a song about a guy who was decapitated in a malfunctioning elevator.

I call it "Wait, Open The Door, Wait, Wait, Bitch, Open The Door, Holy Shit, Open The Door, No You Stupid Tramp, Hit The Door Open Button, Door Open, Door Open, Oh Holy Shit, Stop This God..."

I'll get around to writing it someday.


Speaking of songs and dead guys ... looks like they've found yet another Elvis song.

Where in the hell do these things keep popping up?

You have to almost believe that one of us could go up in their attic right now, move a couple of boxes around and find an old reel-to-reel tape with a forgotten Elvis song on it.

And who the hell keeps buying these Elvis discs year after year?

The record companies keep issuing Elvis discs with one new song on them and then the same old shit for the rest of the disc.

And yet people buy 'em.

"Aw man...I've gotta have this one...it's got 'Love Me Tender' right after 'Hound Dog'! I ain't never heard those two songs back-to-back like that before!!"

Poor Elvis.

He's been dead for 26 years and people are still screwing his bloated corpse.


So I'm watching "Queer Eye For The Straight Guy" last night.

It's a pretty good show. No complaints here.

Except they had a bald guy on there last night that they were making over. How dramatic of a change can you get with a bald guy?

Gimme a long haired guy with a straggly beard. I wanna see a MAKEOVER, dammit!!

The best they could do with this guy is toss a beret and shades on him.

Ooooooo...big change!

The best part about this show??

Taping it.

Or buying it when it's inevitably released on DVD.

Because in 15-20 years, the fashions that they're wrapping these guys in will be so outdated and prehistoric that the show will be hysterical.

See, if this show happened in 1976 and you were watching it today, wouldn't you be howling as these gay guys were forcing some guy into platform tennis shoes and a KISS t-shirt with sequined jeans?

I know I'd be giggling like a retarded schoolgirl.


Bought two DVDs yesterday because I had a mild case of DVD Fever.

Got "Bowling for Columbine" and "The Commitments".

Haven't seen Columbine but I have heard a few decent things about it. And since I'm pretty much anti-guns, I figure I'll enjoy it.

I'm not so much anti-guns as I am anti-bullets.

Because guns don't kill people...bullets kill people.

And I LOVED "The Commitments".

I saw that movie in the theater and cheered like crazy during parts of it.

Naturally, during the sad parts so people thought I was clinically insane.

But that movie has some AWESOME music in it that just makes me want to get up out of my chair and iron or something.

Maybe even tap my foot.

I'm telling you ... it's BOSS!

(Okay, c'mon...when was the last time you heard anyone use the word "boss" to mean "great"?)


So I was at work yesterday and walked up to the receptionist's desk to get a Fed Ex envelope, right?

And there's this goofy looking guy standing there talking to her.

"Hi, how are you?" he says to me.

Naturally, I'm on the defensive here.

"I'm....fine?" I said nervously.

"He wants a job here," the receptionist says.

"You people need a man up here," he says.

"I'm a man," I say in my defensive tone.

"Well," the guy stumbles. "You need MORE testosterone up here!"

Okay ... to the best of my knowledge, we weren't interviewing for any positions. And the other gals were looking at him from their offices and cubicles and giving him the weird eye for the straight guy.

So I sensed trouble.

"We don't need any more men up here," I sniffed. "So hit the road, Jack."

"Hit the road Jack," the receptionist repeated with a cackle, because she's not all that bright.

I walked back to my office and I thought that was that.

About an hour later, the guy returns.

Okay...you're thinking he brought a gun with him and I'm writing this from a hospital bed, aren't you?

Wrong.

He brought a platter of brownies with him.

I hear a ruckus up front and then I see the guy walking from office to office, offering brownies to all the women I work with.

They're skeptical about this because this guy is a total stranger and borderline lunatic.

What he is TRYING to do is to worm his way back to my boss's office so that he can beg for a job.

He walks past my office which is right next door to the boss.

He stops and looks at me and decides whether or not to offer me a brownie.

And he keeps.

On.

Walking.

Okay...now it's war.

The bitch doesn't offer me a brownie...the bitch ain't gettin' a job.

Before he can make it to the boss's office, our new salesgirl calls out "You need to leave the brownies at the receptionist desk and go!"

Go new girl! Go new girl! Go! Go! Go new girl!

Dejected, Psycho Brownie Boy lumbers back up to the front of the workplace, puts the brownies on the receptionist desk and leaves.

I wasn't going to have one because I figured they were laced with PCP or something that would make us all relaxed so we'd hire the guy and then wake up the next day wondering what we'd done.

But they looked so damned good.

So I had one.

They weren't as good as they looked.

And for some reason, they made spiders crawl out of the pores on my arms all night long.

Damned arm spiders.


Went to Ruby Tuesday's for lunch yesterday with New Girl.

We both ordered the salad bar.

Sat down and bit into a cherry tomato that tasted rotten.

"This cherry tomato tastes like ass," I said to New Girl.

The foreign looking guy in the booth behind me turned around and said "I did that! I'm responsible for that bad tomato!"

Damned Al Qaida taking responsibility for EVERYTHING.

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