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5:37 a.m. - 2001-07-12

THE FIRST ENTRY ABOUT MY DAD'S PENIS

First off...Dad's okay. His surgery went great with no lasting effects and he was home last night.

However, every time they go into his brain and tool around, Dad's a bit wacko for the first few days afterwards.

He called me last night and I woulda sworn I was talking to a child.

"I hear Andy," he said with glee.

"That's right, Dad," I said. "Andy's in his swing and watching Wheel of Fortune."

"He's a cute kid," Dad said.

"Thanks," I said.

"I hear him!" he blurted out again.

"Yep," I said. "That's him."

He then went on a long story about how everyone in the hospital was checking out his tallywhacker (penis). Apparently, he was laying down on a gurney with his paper thin robe barely covering his goods and everyone was checking it out. He said quite a few nurses just stared at it.

Dad's pretty well hung if my memory serves me correct. I haven't seen his "tallywhacker" in a few years, but the last time I saw it, I was envious.

So Dad announces to the room full of doctors and nurses "If there's anyone here who hasn't seen my tallywhacker yet, please come check it out now."

I think he was pissed that he was being stared at. Well...not exactly "he"....his tallywhacker.

Then Dad tells me that a nurse walked over to Mom, patted her on the back and said "You lucky woman."

Yeah right.

Like MY parents still have sex.

Sheesh.

Anyway, he's doing fine. Thanks for all those that may have taken a few seconds out of the day yesterday to mentally wish him well.


I've got a new nickname for Andy...Major Poopy Butt. Ever since we started feeding that kid baby food out of the jars ... well ... just fill in the blanks there, kiddo.

I've neglected to mention that the kid is now a major Wheel of Fortune fan as well. I think it's the colors on the Wheel and the sounds of the letters lighting up. Whatever it is, he sits transfixed for 30 minutes, babbling non-stop. I try to tell Susie that he's guessing the puzzles when he babbles. Susie just rolls her eyes and wonders why she ever married me.

...It's because I had one fly Camaro when we met. T-tops, state-of-the-art factory stereo...the works, baby.

That's why, Senorita.


My third day at the job went a little better than the second one. After spending the morning surfing the Web, Wendi (who finally updated her diary after I chastised her for not updating... except she saw fit to BLAST me in it...wretched boss...) found me something to do yesterday afternoon.

Whoooohooooooo!!!

Apparently, they hired a guy to write a local book who chomped dick when it came to writing, so I was given the small task of adding stuff to a few chapters to make it more what they want.

Once I got that assignment, time just flew, baybee. Before I knew it, it was 5 p.m.

MORAL OF THE STORY: "As long as Uncle Bob has something to keep him busy, he's happy."


Had lunch with Mattie Gee and my boy Eddie Lavoie (heretofore referred to as "Edweird" because it's about time he got a new nickname, which is really an old nickname that we've called him for years, but a new nickname to you Bobheads). We're trying to get Mattie Gee a job over at our business, but he doesn't seem to be too interested. He wants to work more with computers and their intricasies rather than layout coffee table books.

Hey dude. Whatever floats yer boat, man.

Still, it was good to see him. He met us there and he was running late so I kept craning my neck towards the door to catch him coming in. Finally, our waitress said she'd help us look for him ... what did he look like?

Okay. I'm not going to sit there and describe my buddy's physical stature. So I just said "He'll be the ugliest guy to step foot through the door all day."

She said I was a horrible person.

Well duh.

So he came in, found us and sat down. And the waitress came over and kept saying that Mattie Gee should be mad at me because of what I said about him.

Like he'd care that I told a waitress he was an ugly bastard. Hello?? This guy could get any woman he wanted.

Well, that's a stretch.

But he has a good woman. So why should he care if he's ugly?


Watched "Six Feet Under" on HBO last night. I've only seen two of the episodes, but I'm just not all that impressed.

It does make me think about death a lot though. And I KNOW that if I were to die, I'd want Susie to remarry as soon as possible.

I don't want her to spend a lot of time grieving. I know she'd be devastated and I would want her to be happy again as soon as possible.

Her options are limited though. Mainly because I don't think she's got a list of guys that she's picked to nab at my funeral.

So she needs to get working on a list.

There's some good guys at church, but they're all married. So I guess she's gonna have to wreck a few homes to get what she deserves ... a good husband.

Godspeed to ya, honey!

Think I'll crawl off and die somewhere now! You're in good hands!


Dat's it. Kind of a boring day yesterday. Maybe today will be more interesting.

Only time will tell.

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