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5:35 a.m. - 2001-11-01

Gadzooks...what a depressing Halloween night.

I need to send a special shout out to Osama...YO OSAMA! MY HOMIE!! THANKS FOR SCARING THE SHIT OUT OF AMERICAN PARENTS AND NOT LETTING THEM PARTICIPATE IN A TIME-HONORED TRADITION, YOU RAGGEDY ASSED MOFO!!

The kids in our city were originally told not to trick or treat. Then, under fire, the police chief gave them the go-ahead. Because we're supposed to be going on with our business and being Americans, blah blah blah.

Well, what's more American than trick or treating, Jack??

Errr...I'm not sure. But it won out last night.

We got our first group of trick or treaters about 6:15. I think there were six kids. By the time my fat ass got to the door to shovel out candy, most of them had walked away. I forgot that trick or treating is a time consuming event, and if you have to stand at a door for longer than ten seconds, it's time to move onto the next house. Especially when the police only give you a two hour window to do it and there's only about three houses on the entire block handing out candy.

So when I opened the door, the kids came barrelling back to my doorway.

...Until my dog Maggie started barking at them.

Being black kids, these kids hauled f'n ass away from Maggie. By the time I could say "She won't bite you," most of them were at the mall.

They slowly came back, every single one of them whimpering.

What is it about black kids and dogs? I don't think I've ever seen a black kid that wasn't scared of dogs. White kids have no problems with dogs. Black kids act like you're pointing a flame thrower at them when a dog comes on the scene. I've never understood that.

And for God's sakes...leave your "Uncle Bob's a Racist" emails in your own damned email box. I'm just making an observation here, it's not a racist statement you dumbass.

Anyway, one little boy was so scared that it was actually kinda cute. As I gave handfuls of candy to all the kids, he was standing there trembling saying "I'm scared of dogs, please hurry!"

I bet he pissed his pants.

I'll just bet he did.

This was said as Maggie was sitting comfortably in the house. She wasn't even barking or in their sight. But this little boy was just shaking. I felt bad for him, but it was also kinda funny, and the funniness was what I decided to enjoy rather than the sadness.

That was the first group.

About ten minutes later, a tiny little boy in a Wolverine outfit came to the door. He might have been 2 or 3 years old. He gave me a muffled "Ticker Teat" from behind his mask and held his bag out. He barely opened his bag and probably couldn't see much of anything from behind that mask, so I had to open his bag for him and gave him a handful of sugary treats. His dad waved and I thought to myself "I sure as hell hope Osama doesn't rob me of a Halloween night on the streets with my boy in a few years."

He was our second guest.

The third and final trick or treaters came a few minutes later. A witch and a Powerpuff girl. They petted Maggie and took their treats and wandered off into the night.

And. That. Was. It.

I was shocked. Two years ago it was a constant barrage of kids. We live in a pretty residential neighborhood. But fear has taken over and parents don't want their kids wolfing down Anthrax Bars.

So I'm looking at a plastic pumpkin full of Kit Kats and Smarties.

I haven't touched them.

I'm such a fine lad with oodles of willpower.

Maybe some of the kids took the police chief's advice and went to the churches for some clean fun activities.

...And absolutely no candy. At least...our church didn't hand out candy at our Fall Festival Sunday. Kids got pencil erasers and Blues Clues keychains.

In other words, bags o' crap.

I'm beginning to think that maybe the kids stayed home to watch "Ed", America's favorite television nice guy.

As recapped by me.

On Mighty Big TV.

Look for another thrilling recap soon.


So hey.

I ummmm...I thought I haven't lost much weight lately.

I got on my usual scale at the grocery store last night.

I've now lost 13.5 pounds.

And THAT was wearing a heavy coat, heavy shoes, light pants, lighter shirt, thick socks and soiled underwear.

So take about 3 more pounds off for clothes and more soiled underwear than you care to imagine.

Okay...take a pound. I was just kidding about the soiled undies. I was going commando last night. Swinging like a jungle vine, I was.

Anyway...that was a pleasant surprise. Losing 13.5 lbs. in about five weeks.

I'm tellin' you guys...losing weight is easy for me. It's all a matter of eating healthy, eating smaller portions and getting my ass up each morning to walk for 35 minutes.

You could be right there with me if you'd make the same commitments.

But you'd rather whine about how overweight you are and how much you hate it.

I coulda walked 100 feet in the time it took me to type that last sentence.

MOTIVATION IS THE KEY, PEOPLE!!!

That's it.

Screw this Uncle Bob shit.

A life of motivational speaking is in the cards for me.

Eat my dust, Chubby. I'm hitting the road.


So the site SHOULD be problem-free now.

And ... it was all my fault.

When I copied the HTML document that Lisa made for me, I conveniently copied most of it ... but not ALL OF IT.

I left out the bottom part.

Which would explain some of y'all's incessant whinings about "not being able to see you, Unkie Bobby!"

Just as I was about ready to put a bullet in my brain, Lisa emails me to tell me that I was a major dumbass and had not copied all the HTML.

Ahhhhhh.

Thank you oh grandwebmaster Lisa. You have made everything brighter for everyone in the internet community.

Now I can go forward and continue to rack up some amazing awardage from all the little awards sites who shower people with awards with names like "Best Damned Diary That's Really Blue and Fully Functional".

Or "Best New Diary Layout That Doesn't Burn Our Corneas".

Or "Best Writer On The Website 'unclebob.diaryland.com'."

Thanks Lisa. You rawk, girlfriend.


I might be switching jobs at work.

I talked to my evil boss Wendigo about it yesterday.

I'm a decent enough writer. But I've been doing it now for ten years without a break.

And I think I'm burning out.

This site is different. There's no pressure here. I write what I want. If you don't like it, kiss my tasty, hairless white ass. If you like it, kiss my tasty, hairless white ass.

No seriously. Kiss it. Nibble it. Caress it. Read it poetry.

Just, for God's sakes...pay attention to my ass, people!!!

Anyway, I've gotta make a decision next week. Do I want to be a writer? Or do I want to be an editor?

The choice. Is up. To me.

Well...not really. It'll have to be run by other people, I'm sure. The other people will all go "Ewwww! That guy that's lost 13 pounds wants to be an editor?!?"

That's 13 and A HALF pounds, people. And maybe...MAYBE I want to be an editor.

We'll see.


I have the day off today to prepare for Andrew's birthday party today at 3.

I have to go pick up his cake and some balloons.

I have to get the other kids' gift bags ready.

I'm going to try to run Andy by my office since only a few people there have ever met him and the ones who haven't are curious to see what a baby looks like at 1.

I'm excited.

My little boy is 1 now.

I woke up at 3:45 and couldn't get back to sleep this morning.

I just laid there and thought about this last year and what was my favorite moment with the kid. The one I'll always cherish.

And it had to be the first time I heard him laugh on March 31st.

Even though it was my sister that made him laugh, just to hear him giggle melted my heart.

There have been several other moments. The actual birth doesn't count, because that was too cool to even be included. When he sat up for the first time unassisted was pretty neat. Recently, when he said "Da-da" and reached out for me...pretty cool as well.

And even more recently, every time he sees me eating yogurt or popcorn, he makes a beeline for my chair, lifts his arms to be held up and then helps me eat my nutritious snacks with fervor.

I love this kid.

He truly makes me complete.

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