THE EVIL BOSS HITS THE SILVER SCREEN

Yowsa!

You guys are just TOO COOL!!

I really, really appreciate all the work you guys did yesterday, tracking down the deadbeat diaries filling up the Army.

I received 48 emails yesterday helping me out with names of diaries that haven't been updated in two months or have password protected their diaries. Well...47 emails giving me names...one email wanting to discuss my mortgage with me.

EMAIL: "So..how's the mortgage?"

ME: "Pretty good."

EMAIL: "No complaints?"

ME: "Nope. None that I can think of."

EMAIL: "Wow. Bank treating you okay?"

ME: "Dammit, Email...everything's fine. Now go away."

EMAIL: "Hey, I was just asking. Sheesh. See if we ever talk about YOUR mortgage again."

But the other 47 of you ... man...you guys helped out tremendously. And I appreciate it.

I appreciate it so much that I thought I'd repay you with...an actual diary entry!

Whooooohoooooooo!!

Dance dance dance!!

But first, a reminder...if you haven't updated your diary in the last two months and want to remain a member of the Army...update that beeyotch before Saturday, because that's when I'm going through the list and chucking all the dead weight to make room for the new ones.

I know, I know...it's rather harsh...me making you update just to keep your name on a stupid little list.

I'm a horrible person.

Sue me.

As far as your actual diary update....

Man.

Ain't nothin' been goin' on here.

Ummmmmm...Monday I had a mini-breakdown.

I came home from work and there were huge piles of clean clothes all over the sofa.

We have a big L-shaped sofa. Some people call it a sectional sofa. I call it a "sexual" sofa because it sounds like "sectional" and it made Susie laugh the first time I said it so I say it all the time now, hoping to see her laugh just once instead of wince when I say it.

...Because...saying the same joke over and over again...that tends to get old real quick.

It hasn't really hampered this diary yet. I've been using the same jokes for years...you guys keep coming back for more.

But you know...in real life and all...it's different.

So anyway...clean clothes in huge piles...

I folded them all. It took me 45 minutes to fold all the clothes.

Then Susie got home.

"Thanks for folding the clothes," she said.

"No problem," I said. "You can't hardly see the sexual sofa underneath."

I waited a beat. No response.

"I think I'm about to have a breakdown," I casually mentioned.

She wanted to know why. And I told her it's because the house was a perpetual mess. The combination of a baby who likes to drag his 3,742 toys out all over the house with a dog who has a doggie door who likes to go outside, roll around in the dead grass, then bring the dead grass into the house and roll around on the carpet and cover the carpet with dead grass with me and my diabetes which keeps me void of any energy whatsoever 24 hours a day and her who at least is trying to do a good job at keeping the house clean but balancing all that I just mentioned with the fact that she works 40 hours a week, has to come home and be a mother to the baby and the dog and a wife to me has left our home a complete and utter mess.

(Uncle Bob pauses and takes a deep breath)

She agreed and asked what are we going to do about it.

I said "Skip church for one week."

She acted like I said "Burn the baby to death in an abandoned warehouse and blame it on Satan."

She said we can't skip church. I ASSURED her that we could if we went "out of town", making those little quotation mark signs with my index and middle fingers in the air, insinuating that we wouldn't actually GO out of town, we'd just make the church think we went out of town so that we could stay home and clean our house.

Charity begins at home, right?

She was real skeptical about my plan. I'm a deacon in the church and have to be there every Sunday this month. She teaches children's choir and has to be there every Sunday from now until eternity. Pile on the meetings, the breakfasts, and everything else and church takes up a large chunk of our Sundays each and every week.

But if we CALL the powers that be and tell them we're not going to be there ahead of time, they can CANCEL Children's Choir and they can FIND someone to take my place to pass out the offering plate and communion. The meetings will go on, the breakfasts will be eaten and life will continue.

She may be going for it.

Nothing's set in stone (...except for the Ten Commandments!!! HA!!! A RELIGIOUS JOKE!!! I'm so damned witty!), but we may skip church this week and stay home all weekend to get this house clean.

Anyway, Monday night, after dinner, I cleaned out my clothes dresser and my side of the bedroom and vacuumed the house.

Which doesn't sound like much. But you hadn't seen my dresser.

I had gotten into the habit of not opening drawers to put my clothes away. Rather, I had gotten into the habit of stacking the clothes delicately in my sock drawer that I kept open year round.

I had a stack of clothes two feet high resting on my sock drawer.

I had two baskets of Susie's clothes blocking all my other drawers. These were her summer clothes that she never boxed up last fall.

I should have taken a photo of it. It was damned disgusting.

Now it looks like something out of a furniture catalog. It's pristine and perfect. Everything's folded and filed away nicely in their respective drawers.

Except Susie's summer clothes.

Which are carefully balanced on a three foot high stack in front of her dresser.

Each week, I get approximately 17,000 emails wanting to know when I'm going to toss up a photo of my evil boss Wendigo.

She literally has more fans than Britney Spears.

Short story about the Wendigo ...

On Friday, we discovered that there's a new horror movie coming out called...

WENDIGO!!

This made Wendigo squeal with delight because now finally she will receive her just due on the silver screen. Even if she is a murdering shape-shifting beast.

It's not like anyone's rushing to put out "Uncle Bob-The Movie" anytime soon. I mean...as far as our presence on the silver screen, Wendigo has me beat hands down.

So Wendigo's getting all excited about this film and says she NEEDS a poster from the movie to put up in her office.

So we surf the web, can't find a copy of the poster for sale anywhere.

...But I manage to find the director's email address.

So Wendigo decides she's going to email the director and ask for a poster.

I think of a better idea.

We take a picture of Wendigo with her car and send it to him.

He sees the picture, decides that he HAS to send her a poster and her life is then complete.

I mean...she's got the damned license plate!!! He HAS to send her a poster!!

...Oh...she looks kinda chunky there. Be assured guys and lesbians...the evil boss Wendigo is all muscle. She's just wearing a fashionable sweater that makes her look 40 lbs. heavier than she is.

So she emails the pic to the director and offers to "buy" a poster (yeah right!).

She gets an email back from the director about 30 minutes later who is so impressed with her license plate and coffee cup that he's not only going to send her a poster but several "trinkets" from the film.

Too cool!!

So the moral of the story is ... if you have a crazy nickname and put it on your license plate, maybe someday someone will see it, make a horror movie about it and you'll get a free poster!

End of story.

End of entry.

I've got a baby wanting to play with me.