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5:54 a.m. - 2001-04-19

IS THAT A DOG'S APPENDIX IN YOUR POCKET OR ARE YOU JUST GLAD TO SEE ME?

I've gotta admit ... I've watched this "Weakest Link" show for the past three nights and ummmm...I think I might like it.

I can't STAND the hostess. That phrase "You ARE the weakest link...g'bye" is soooo ... shit...there's not a word for it. I HATE it, but I LOVE saying it. When she says it, I cringe. But when I tell Baby Boy Andy that he's the weakest link of the family, it cracks both he and I up.

Because...you know...technically, the kid weighs like 17 pounds and has the motor skills of a dead cat. My wife is a weakling and has never been in a fist fight in her life, but I feel pretty confident she could whip my baby's ass.

Anyway ... the show is fast paced with more trivia than any other game show on the air right now, and I dig trivia so there ya go...my fascination with this show has now been neatly dissected and laid out before thee like an open book.

Christ. Lemme move on and discuss something else rather than a stupid game show.


I got that autographed football from the University of Alabama yesterday!!!

WHOOOOO-HOOOOOO!!!

(Uncle Bob does his Glad-To-Have-Gotten-His-Autographed-Alabama-Football Dance, which is similar to his The-Andy-Griffith-Show-Is-On Dance, except there's less arm waving involved)

It's really a cool football. Crimson and white leather with the school logo on it. And he signed it "Roll Tide, Coach Fran".

Roll Tide!

I'm giddy!

Actually, I don't even like the team, but I'm hoping to get upwards of $200 for it.

My campaign manager wants to raffle it off at the silent auction. I've already advertised it as being one of the auction items and told her it's kinda late to be changing the rules of the game and that everyone should have a chance at getting it.

She's hellbent on making it a raffle item.

I'm hellbent on yelling at her ass in front of everyone at the auction if she tries it, thus severely dampening the mood at the shebang.

But hey...it's in my hands now. So I can finally exhale.

*siiiiiigh*


I still have to get the other football...an Auburn football from Auburn University.

My veterinarian has one and is TRYING to get me my own, but TOLD ME that he would give me his and he would get the new one.

He TOLD ME this.

So yesterday, I finally catch him at his office to see if he can give me the football by Friday.

I get there and ask for the Dr. The girl up front says that he's in surgery, but I'm welcome to go back to the surgeon's room and talk to him.

Um.

Okay.

I go back to the surgeon's room and there's a dog strapped to the table on its back. A pretty dog...may have been a Sheltie or something.

The dog is OUT. Gassed up. Sound f'n asleep.

Its tongue is hanging out its mouth, which is a really funny sight.

So I smile. I mean...a cute dog, strapped to the table, tongue hanging out the side of its mouth...this strikes me as funny.

...Then...I see all the blood.

This is like "Doggie E.R."

The doc is performing surgery on this dog. There's a sheet on the dog's chest, so I don't see the actual HOLE in this dog's abdomen...but I see blood all over the dog's fur and that sheet.

It freaked me out.

"Hey Uncle Bob," my vet says. "How's the Big Rat doing?"

"Ummmm," I say very ummingly. "It's going good I guess. I'm kinda freaked out right now, being in a surgery room though."

The doctor laughed.

"Never thought you'd see this part of the hospital, did you,"he chuckles.

No. No, I didn't. These people who are always so friendly up in the front of the office, answering phones, looking up my files ... here they are now, drenched in blood, shoving tubes up dog's asses and generally giving me the willies.

I tried to talk to him, but I couldn't take my eyes off the dog's tongue. The dog looked like a cartoon of a drunk dog.

Anyway ... the doc REALLY wants to get me my own football rather than giving me his.

Ummmmm...I have two days left before I need that football, Doc. I really NEED THAT FOOKING FOOTBALL!!

THEN...he proceeds to tell me that he won't be able to chauffeur us around on Hit Night next Friday night.

He had already told me that he would drive us around town in his big assed RV with speakers on the outside and a karaoke machine that we could be singing on as we pulled up to the restaurants. Tacky, gaudy and cheesy.

I thought it sounded great.

Well now...one week before the actual event, he bails.

Okay.

That's fine.

Oh. By the way ... may I go ahead and FREAK THE FUCK OUT NOW?!?!?

The ONLY thing he came through on was his donation of a free teeth cleaning for my silent auction.

Other than that...he was the mayor of Letdown City.

Sooooo...now I have to come up with a vehicle that can take us from restaurant to restaurant to rob places. Where am I going to find a vehic..........

.....Wendigo.

A few months ago, during a night out on the town, Wendi told me that she could ask a friend of hers who owns a limo if he would take us around town in it for Hit Night.

My vet said he had this RV and would take us in that, so I went with the RV.

NOWWWWW...I REALLY needed this limo.

So, yesterday, I go by Wendi's office after leaving the Vet's office with visions of drunk dogs dancing in my head.

Wendi has three books she's donating to the silent auction. Awesome.

I drop a STRONG hint for her to call her buddy and see if we can get that limo for Friday night.

Personally, it'd look cooler for gangsters to get out of a limo, rather than a tacky RV with people crooning "You've Lost That Loving Feeling" out of speakers on top of the thing as we pulled up in the parking lot.

And PLUS...

Are you ready for this???

The guy that owns the limo??

He's an ELVIS IMPERSONATOR.

Not the same one that came to the press conference on Monday. Yes...I'm ashamed to admit ... my city has more than ONE Elvis impersonator in it.

Soooo...how surreal would it be for a limo to pull up, driven by Elvis, and carrying a band of gangsters and pimps who jump out of the limo and rob restaurants?

ANSWER: Pretty f'n surreal.

It'd definitely be more entertaining that that horrid "3000 Miles To Graceland" anyway.

Sooooo...Wendi...I KNOW you're reading this....

...Don't forget to call Elvis.


Went to Outback Steakhouse last night for one reason ... to get a free dinner for two to auction off.

I don't go there much for two reasons. First, it's always more crowded than a Backstreet Boys concert and Two, the steaks are WAYYYY overpriced for what you end up getting.

But I REALLY wanted to get the free dinner. So we went.

We get there at 6:30.

The wait...on a freakin' Wednesday night...was 30 minutes.

Jeez Louise.

Andy started getting pretty fussy after 20 minutes. His ear infection isn't completely gone, so he's still in a little pain.

We're desperately trying to calm him down because I know how I've always hated going to restaurants and there be a crying baby in there and me thinking "Why didn't those people just hire a sitter to watch their kid?"

Well...because "those people" just wanted to come in and have dinner and go home...nothing worth hiring a sitter for.

Duh.

Anyway, we finally get seated, Andy's cool because he's sucking his own toes, and the waitress comes by.

"Can I see the manager," I ask.

I love doing this. The waitresses always freak out, racking their brains trying to think what they've done wrong when all they've done is taken our drink order.

The manager comes over, worried sick that I'm going to complain about something, so she's got the biggest damned smile you'll ever see plastered across her face.

I introduce myself, tell her what I'm doing and ask for a dinner for two.

"Oh, I can't authorize that," she says. "Come back tomorrow and talk to the big manager."

Alrighty!

I just paid $40 bucks for two steaks when I would have rathered gone to my FAVORITE steak place and gotten bigger steaks for $30, and there's nothing you can do for me.

YIPPEEEEE!!!

LET'S PARTY!!!

Awww...truth be told, they were damned good steaks, and worth the money.

I'm just trying to be pissy because that's what you expect from me...pissiness.

Anyway...I've gotta go. I got more stuff yesterday for the auction, my campaign manager pissed me off more times than I can mention, my whole life sucks, blah blah blah.

There, you're caught up now.

Take care.

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