UNCLE BOB AND THE SPICOLIS INVADE ATLANTA

Miss me?

I know you missed me.

I know you missed me bliiiiind.

...Just felt like doing a little Culture Club before we kicked this puppy in the ribs and made it welp.

No update yesterday. I'm sure some of you saw that. Lemme just say...

Uncle Bob was one tired mofo wofo.

For your thrilling entertainment, I shall document my weekend right now.

Saturday, we took a caravan to Atlanta to jam out to the Spicolis in their Atlanta debut.

They were excited (The Spicolis).

I was tired (Uncle Bob).

We left our city at 3 p.m. for their 10 p.m. show.

Atlanta's only 2.5 hours away.

It was a good thing that we left early. We really needed that 4.5 hours so we could sit around around a pizza restaurant doing nothing.

Well ... actually ... I hadn't taken into consideration that we were travelling with four women.

Four women who were drinking mucho beer-o.

Four women with extremely tiny bladders.

Four women who saw every single gas station bathroom for 112 miles.

By the time we actually arrived in Atlanta, the band had about 2.4 minutes to set up their equipment and start jamming.

Actually...it was longer than that. Maybe three minutes.

Lemme shed a little light on this whole "Buckhead" situation first though:

I've never been to New Orleans or any other city that lets people just roam the streets drunk as hell. So for me ... this was indeed a culture shock. Sort of like finding out your mayor is a transvestite. Okay...nothing like that. But...have you ever pictured your mayor dressed up as a member of the opposite sex??

Do it.

Right now...do it.

Pretty funny, huh??

So anyway...Buckhead is full of two things ... beautiful people and freaks.

The beautiful people walked around and silently demanded that everyone mentally undress them.

I did MY part and mentally undressed as many as possible.

The freaks walked around and silently demanded that everyone respect them for their originality.

Ooooooh...a pierced eyebrow. That is SOOOO non-conformative. You are wayyyy OUT THERE, Captain Kirk. We're just gonna have to send a rescue crew out there and try to bring you back to normality, Mr. Eyebrow Ring.

...That ... my good looking and well scrubbed friend...was sarcasm.

So that was fun, watching the freaks and gorgeous babes prance up and down the street.

...And NOT walk into the bar in which we were at...

The Spicolis rocked. Pure and simple.

I videotaped the whole thing and actually did a decent job. By the end of their show, I was doing all sorts of different camera angles ... holding the camera down at their knees and pointing up ... you don't see Spielberg trying that shit, do ya??

...I'm a master film director after my very first film.

Go me.

It's pretty cool, because I stayed sober the entire event.

Yup. Sober.

You know...if you count "not drinking alcohol" as being sober.

I mean...if you count "smoking a joint or twelve" NOT sober...well then...I guess I wasn't sober.

BUT...in my defense ... I handle pot much better than I handle alcohol.

AND ... it wasn't my pot. I don't buy, keep or smoke pot anymore.

Well...okay. I SMOKE pot still...but only if somebody else has it, I'm in Atlanta, they ask me to smoke it, they ask me to please not Bogart it, they ask me to please give the joint back, they chase me down the street as I'm laughing loudly, keeping the joint away from them, and they pull me out of a nearby fountain, gather up whatever clothes of mine they can find and take me back to the club in restraints.

But ONLY in those circumstances.

I mean...I have my morals, don't ya know??

So anyway ... okay...the whole mood of the diary entry may change now.

I WAS FUCKED UP.

Heh.

Well....not FUCKED UP (capitalized) but maybe just a little fuked up without the caps and the "c".

Which...explained my sudden desire to rival Spielberg during my shooting of the film "The Spicolis Destroy Atlanta".

So anyway ... as busy as Buckhead was, as many people as there were walking up and down the street ... only a small trickle of people were bothering to come into the bar to hear the band.

At first, I was saddened by this. I sat at a table with my head in my hands and just cried loudly.

...Then the guitar player came up, clapped me on the shoulder and said "Uncle Bob...dude...maintain the buzz, man."

Ah yes. Maintaining the buzz. How stupid of me. I'm over here, crying for Argentina even though Argentina clearly doesn't want to cry for me ... and I'm losing my buzz as well.

So I wiped those tears away, stepped outside the club and videoed all the gorgeous woman with lotsa cleavage which made me feel much better.

(Lotta boob jobs in Atlanta, if ya ask me. I didn't walk up and squeeze each one, mind you ... but they sure did look fake.)

Anyway ... there was a point here...and that point is...I stayed sober and taped the band, their friends and their girlfriends as they were all unsober.

I'm sure they'll all be a bit embarrassed when they see this tape.

Especially Kevin (a friend of the band), who was sooooo drunk he was doing this strange, STRANGE dance in front of the band like he was possessed. I got several close-ups of that.

I GUARANTEE you ... when he sees the tape, he will NEVER dance in public again.

Very few heterosexual guys pride themselves on their dancing abilities. We only dance for two reasons...1) We're drunk off our asses or 2) We're trying to get laid.

Kevin knew he wasn't going home with any of the band member's girlfriends ("Hmmm...should I go back to a hotel with the drummer or go home and screw this goofy guy who dances like my grandfather trying to remove a goose from his ass??"), so he was obviously drunk off his ass.

I call it ... the highlight of the tape.

Anyway...the crowd for the band completely sucked, but the management wanted the band to come back on a better night. So that's cool.

I doubt I'll be going back. 'Cause I'm STILL exhausted today.

We left Atlanta at 3 a.m. for the journey BACK to Montgomery.

The band and their gals were staying overnight in Atlanta.

I needed to get back to Montgomery for church and a baby shower yesterday.

So I poured the Kevin brothers (two guys...live together...both hippie freaks...both named Kevin...hence ... The Kevin Brothers) into my car to keep me entertained on the journey home.

Ummmmm....they kept me entertained alright. I don't even REMEMBER the ride home.

Kids...don't drink and drive.

Don't smoke pot and drive.

Hell...just don't drive. You kids think you own the damned road anyway just because you have pubes and a license. LEAVE THE ROAD TO US OLD SCALAWAGS!!! GET OFF IT!!! HAVE YOUR PARENTS DRIVE YOU EVERYWHERE!!!

Do as I say ... and not as I do....got it??

Anyway...got the Kevin Brothers home at about 5 a.m. which is ususally when I wake up.

I slept for 3.5 hours and went to church.

I prayed for forgiveness for my night of smoking pot and shooting zoom photos of women's cleavage for the amusement of The Spicolis.

God said we were cool.

I thanked Him.

He said "Don't mention it."

We mentally high-fived and now I'm absolved.

Came home from church and passed OUT.

Woke up at 4:45 in the afternoon, groggier than a frog on valium.

I grilled a couple of ribeyes, baked a couple of potatoes, transferred the Atlanta tapes to videotape for the boys in the band (they say that I'm their all-time favorite...I'm a Super Freak, superfreak, I'm superfreaky...owwww)and went BACK to bed.

I ALSO:

Watched a few minutes of "Welcome To The Dollhouse" last night. Damn...I love that freakin' movie. It has to be one of the best films of all time.

Helped the wife carry in all the gifts from her baby shower. We got a buncha cool stuff. Still no baby stroller or car seat. But we still have one more shower to go.

That's my weekend in a nutshell. A rather LARGE nutshell...but it's a nutshell, nevertheless.

Now then...if you don't mind...I have to go read a text book of some sort.

It's my punishment for smoking the wacky tobacky Saturday night.

...Gotta get those brain cells back somehow ...

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QUESTION OF THE DAY

What is the wildest thing you did all weekend?