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5:24 a.m. - 2001-04-12

NASTY JACKASS HO' BAGS THREATEN TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD

Cough.

So uhhhhhh...wassap?

I'm tired. I'm always tired. It comes hand in hand with being old, fat and stupid.

And tired.

I guess. Hell, I dunno. I ain't no damned doctor.

So anyway...

Spent ALL F'N DAY yesterday pounding the pavement with my campaign manager, trying to round up some cool gifts to be auctioned off in my silent auction, blah blah blah, the same shit I talk about every single day here, so let's move the fuck on.

A few words about my campaign manager. Let's start with the positive...

She's an impeccable dresser.

Okay...the negative...

JESUS CHRIST THIS WOMAN CAN'T TALK.

The first place we go to, she walks in first because I'm a gentleman and always hold the door open for my ladeez.

She waltzes in, right up to the counter and says "I'm the campaign manager for the Biggest Rat in Town and I need you to give me stuff."

WHAT.

THE.

FUCK???

Okay...first things first ... people LIKE names. Names help them put a name to a face.

NOT ONCE did this lady EVER say "I'm campaign manager for UNCLE BOB." Nope. It was always "the Biggest Rat".

THERE'S NINE BIGGEST RATS, LEANNE.

And she was short and abrupt with people. "I want stuff from you."

You have to butter people up. Not exactly kiss ass (although that certainly helps), but it helps to be nice and sweet to everyone, and not just blurt out in the very first sentence that you say that you want them to fork over cash or services your way.

EVERYTHING that we received yesterday was because I asked for it. Every business where she did the talking we were sent right back out the door.

Anyway...I love the woman to death. But she could definitely use a lesson in salesmanship.

So...what did Uncle Bob bring to the silent auction table yesterday??

Dinner for two at the Roadhouse Grill.

A nice gift (yet to be determined) from Mickleboro's, an uppitty jewelry place here in town.

Two $100 gift certificates from a video transfer place. Basically, they take your old 8mm films and slides and put them on video for you.

$500 worth of season passes to the Montgomery Ballet, including invitations to champagne receptions and reserved seating at all five ballets throughout the season.

A nice golf bag.

Three golf hole sponsorships.

Ummmmm...a cake. A caramel cake from Liger's Bakery, which is the bakery in town where all the fancy schmancy people HAVE to have their cakes from. It's a buncha hoity toity women in there that act like their cake-filled shit doesn't stink.

Baby's crying...be right back...

Three hundred and ninety-one ass pats later...I'm back.

Anyway ... we did NOT have as great of a day as I anticipated yesterday. We got a shitload of "The owner's in a meeting right now...he'll be in it until July" types of turn downs.

Today, drunk assed Jamie and I are going to local restaurants and signing them up for Hit Night, taking place two weeks from Friday.

Hopefully that won't be nearly as tough.


I did discover one important item ... when you're actually EATING in the restaurant and paying for food, they're a whole lot more likely to give you a gift certificate for dinner for two and allow you to come rob their customers for the cancer society.

The Roadhouse grill is where we ate yesterday ... I asked and BAM!! I got a dinner for two.

It's no skin off their backs. They're getting new customers in the door and they write off several meals a night anyway because nasty jackasses make habits of coming into their restaurants and bitching about the food until they get it free anyway.

We went to my fave Italian place last night...Vittorio's.

After dinner, I went back to the kitchen, talked to the owner, told him who I was and in less than two minutes, I had a dinner for two and an enthusiastic welcome to come rob his customers.

It woulda taken Leanne 30 minutes to get that far.

Anyway.

We're still trying to line up a cruise somewhere too. I really wanna auction off a cruise.

Can I throw one more "Anyway" in here?

Anyway...


Speaking of nasty jackasses ... my boy Eddie Lavoie and I went out to lunch the other day at Chili's and I was once again SHOCKED at how fucking ignorant and nasty people can be in restaurants.

We're sitting next to these three women. The women's food comes first and one of them got some Buffalo Wings for her meal.

Our meals come about five minutes later. Eddie ordered a steak pita sandwich or whatever the hell they're called.

One of the nasty ho'bags sees Eddie's food and she wants THAT.

She calls her waitress over and says she wants to exchange her wings for a steak pita sandwich.

This is after eating some of the wings.

The waitress doesn't blink an eye because she can tell a nasty jackass ho' bag from a mile away, because they all have one distinguishing trait that I won't go into here.

The waitress scooped up the ho' bag's basket of wings and minutes later brought her a steak pita.

Alright.

WHAT FUCKING NERVE!!!

It AMAZES me that people act like this in public. This isn't an all you can eat buffet, you dumb bitch, this is a RESTAURANT. If you order something, by God...eat the shit. Don't sit there and change your order midway through your meal.

The only thing I can possibly think is that either the women were employees of the restaurant on their day off or they were friends with the waitress. I saw no evidence of either of these.

Man.

No wonder restaurant prices are being jacked up. Because assholes like this lady get whatever they want and if not, they bitch that "the man" is against them.

Fuck you lady.

I AM THE MAN.

And I say...fuck you.

Fuck you in the goat ass.

Fuck you sideways.

Fuck you running.

Fuck you, fuck your wings, fuck your steak pita, fuck your nappy assed hairdo, fuck everything about you.

Fuck your family, fuck your mama, fuck your shitty assed Yugo in the parking lot and fuck your dog.

Fuck your life, fuck your shitty-assed job, fuck your beliefs, morals and values and fuck your love for "Sanford and Son" reruns.

There.

I feel better now.


Andy's got goop in his left eye.

We noticed it last night. It's all goopy, which is what happens when you have goop in your eye.

I wish I was a baby doctor so I wouldn't be worried so much about Andy's Goopy Eye (which, if memory serves me correct, was the name of a pretty awful punk rock band in the late 70s).

We may end up taking him to the doctor again today for his goopy eye.

I'll keep you informed.


Tomorrow, when Grandma watches Andy, she's bringing our two nephews who are out of school for Good Friday.

Including the porn surfer.

Porn Boy has been told he's NEVER allowed on our computer again. I'm going to remind Grandma tomorrow that he's to stay off the computer and to keep her eye on him because as soon as she turns her back, the little bastard will be typing in the word "sex" in as many search engines as he can get his grubby little hands on.


Alright...one of my Big Rat competitors is about to talk about the contest on her morning TV show ... so I'm gonna leave you guys hanging here to go watch her and play with Prince Goopy Eye.

We'll talk tomorrow.

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