SICK MY ASS...YOU ON A JOB INNERVIEW!

Wendigo and I just got back from a delicious lunch at Tony Roma's.

I had the buffalo chicken sandwich, which is always a taste treat while Wendi opted for the bacon and swiss grilled chicken sandwich.

I made it her birthday lunch since her birthday was almost a month ago and I never did take her out for it then.

We talked about Edweird who mysteriously didn't show up for work today.

His girlfriend called him in sick.

Hmmmmm...

So we sat at lunch and discussed why he would be going on a job interview today when he specifically told us both that he would need a ride to the auto shop to drop off his '73 El Camino to get the rust stains painted.

We must have discussed his having a job interview for five minutes before I came to the realization that maybe he was actually sick and not on a job interview.

Stranger things have happened...sure. But why is it that when someone calls in sick, the first thing you think is "They've got a job interview", not "They're sick"?

Maybe it's because we, as Americans (and dim-witted Canadians...and some Australians, Swedes, and Botswanians), have been programmed to not believe a damned word each other say.

I dunno.

Good lunch though. Two thumbs up!

So, with Edweird gone, I've actually managed to get some work done today.

I'm writing my story on the music corporation who's name rhymes with "Tony". You know..."Tony" music..."Tony" Play Station...etc. It needs to be 800 words and I'm up to 675, so I figured I could take a break and update this beeeeeeyotch.

One of the profile editors came running breathlessly into my office this morning, semi-freaking out because there was one story left to be done for the San Jose book which goes to the press next week.

"Can you interview the guy and write the story today?" she asked me.

Ahem.

Who the hell did you hire, lady?

I ask you ... WHO THE HELL DID YOU HIRE...LAYYYYYDEEEEEE???

...You hired the superstuddiest damned writer in the free world, babes ... that's who. The guy who is a writing machine. The guy who can kick ass in the mosh pit of journalism and update his online journal twice a day during the week.

YOU HIRED ME, LADY.

ME.

Of COURSE I can interview the mayor of a city and write a story about that city in the same day.

I AM A WRITING FREAK!

BACK AWAY FROM ME...I AM RADIOACTIVE AND FULL OF SEX APPEAL!!!

....I'm not saying my writing always makes sense. Sometimes it's full of just pieces of crap like this entry has been so far. It's just that...well yeah...I can do it. Go ahead and set up the interview.

(Uncle Bob climbs down off his desk, takes a swig off his warm Dr. Pepper and continues)

I received a few emails from people this morning a bit disgruntled over my last entry where I attacked my nephews.

Uncle Bob no like his inlaws.

This should have become fairly obvious to anyone who's read this stupid shithole of a diary.

You people don't fully grasp on what I'm dealing with here.

I say my nephew...9 years old...is "potentially gay" because he enjoys sucking the dick.

I mean...isn't that reason enough for the label??

Okay...I'm kidding. To the best of my knowledge, the boy doesn't suck the dick. I mean...he COULD. He's just never sucked my dick, never sucked a dick in my presence, never came up to me with semen all over his upper lip, bragging about sucking a dick and has never sat at the Thanksgiving table after everyone's eaten, clapped his hands and said "Alright...who could use a good dick sucking right about now??"

None of that's ever happened.

BUT....the kid does take a highly unusual interest in watching Andy get his diaper changed every chance he gets.

It's really strange. He'll be intent in some Play Station game and somebody will say "Andy needs his diaper changed."

BOOM!

That Play Station controller hits the floor and my nephew is standing on the side of the changing table, drooling and rubbing himself furiously waiting for naked Andy time.

Soooo...you know...that's how I draw the conclusion. For a little boy, he takes great interest in watching my little boy get his diaper changed.

I won't be leaving him alone with my baby anytime soon...let's put it that way.

As far as Porno Boy being overweight...well sonofabitch...this kid is built like a port-a-potty for midgets. He's short and big around and doesn't make any effort to lose the weight.

Neither do I, but it's not ME we're talking about here. So BACK OFF ME!!!

Anyway...

The kid is lazy, he sits around the house all day, eats and watches TV. When I was his age, my Mom forced us to go outside and ride our bikes or climb trees or pull the claws out of cats with rusty pairs of pliers or go beat up kids who liked to watch little boys get their diapers changed and moaned while it was being done.

I hated you Mom.

Thanks.

Oh...and I even got an email taking me to task for badmouthing Gawain and his desire to act ten years younger than he really is, playing all these Star Wars games on his computer like a total dweeb and seeking comfort in the fact that he's somewhat more intelligent than your average six year-old.

For the last time let me just say, if I was gay, I'd let Gawain burrow himself deep inside me.

I love this guy.

He's a furry, temperamental bastard ... but he's still a beautiful person.

When I take shots at Gawain here, it's because I know that he's in on the joke enough to know I'm just playing with him.

...Or am I??

DUM-DUM-DUMMMMMMM!!

Keeerist...I'm boring myself now.

You gotta figure...if I'm issuing a half-assed apology to Gawain ... it's gotta be a slow day in Bobville.

That said, I'm going to strangle this puppy now and put it out of its misery.

Fare thee well, my fair weathered friends.

Let's go crazy. Let's get nuts.