BOBDAMMIT

So...today's our 14th anniversary.

Sadly...anniversary's are hardly important to us anymore. We know we're going to be together the rest of our lives because we're too dependent on each other to ever be independent.

We both can't imagine what life would be like without the other one. Nor do we want to imagine it.

We both feel guilty about being the one to die first and leave the other one alone on this world. I have already given her my blessing to remarry as soon as possible if I were to ever die. I don't want her being alone, I don't want my son to grow up without a father figure.

She, on the other hand, has never given me that same luxury. I think she wants me to be mopey and lonely for a long while if she were to die.

I've already picked out men for my wife to marry if I were to die tomorrow.

She can marry Steve...the lonely Chinese guy at church who's 56, doesn't date, has never been married and is slightly effeminate.

Or she can marry Tom Cruise.

Those are her choices. That's it. I'm not being flexible on this.

Anyway, rather than focus on life post-me, I guess I should be focusing on the here and now.

I didn't get her anything for our anniversary and she didn't get me anything. That's how it is. That's how she wants it.

I asked her Sunday night what she might want.

"A new house," she said. "Once we get in there, you can buy me something."

Isn't that great?

I mean...I ALREADY bought her a new house! Signed the papers and everything!

Tee hee!

I get outta this one scot-free!

Of course ... I'm not as easy to please.

I want "Mulholland Drive" on DVD which comes out today.

I haven't seen the film, but David Lynch is my favorite director and it got some pretty good reviews, so I think I'll like it.

So Happy Anniversary to Me!! Here's a DVD of some really weird shit!!!

Isn't that the 14th Anniversary gift? Really weird shit?

I dunno...I've gotta check my anniversary list.

Yesterday, the house went on the market officially.

And we actually had one realtor bring a couple by to look at it.

We weren't home at the time, and have no idea if they liked it or not. But if the steaming pile of shit they left in the middle of the living room was any indication, I'm guessing they're not going to buy it.

Maggie was made into an outside dog yesterday, since (as expected), Grandma and my loser brother-in-law "haven't had time" to move in to their new home yet.

Yes, they started moving in two weeks ago.

No, they're not all moved in yet.

I married into the slowest combined family in history. The only thing these people can do quickly is borrow money from us and slurp down my ice cold soft drinks.

For those of you wondering...my loser brother-in-law used to come over and polish off 2-3 Coca-Colas per visit back when I drank them. When I switched to Diet Dr. Pepper, I thought those days were over.

Hell no.

He doesn't care what he drinks. If it's cold and it's free, he'll drink as many of them as he can get his pale fat hands on.

I hate him. But we are not here to bury Caesar. We're here to talk about my damned brother-in-law and his penchant for ruining my life.

Anyway...the dog's still here and is SUPPOSED to move in with them this weekend.

If they're not moved in this weekend, I'm taking her to the humane shelter.

Today it's supposed to storm all day and I HAVE to leave her inside because the backyard floods and floods badly. If anyone comes to look at the house today, they're NOT going to buy it because the backyard's going to be flooded and there's going to be a howling dog behind the utility room door, howling and scratching at the door like a werewolf with an attitude.

I have to write on a piece of paper "Dog in the laundry room...will NOT bite."

I dunno. Today's going to be a total washout when it comes to selling the house. I may as well put a sign on the front door saying "You WON'T buy this house. Go to the next one on your list."

Damned mother nature.

Damned mother in law.

I actually believe my in-laws HAVE moved in but don't want us knowing this because they told us they'd pay the $7,100 as SOON as they moved in to their new home.

And they're hoping that we kinda forget about that $7,100. They want us to get so wrapped up in our new home stuff that we just casually forget that we need that $7,100 to buy a privacy fence and new furnishings for it, thus letting them off the hook.

Ain't gonna happen, you idiots.

I got home last night and our big trash receptacle was still full.

This was NOT good.

Here in our city, every home gets a big trash receptacle from the city to deposit our trash in. This trash is picked up every Monday and Thursday.

I happened to load mine down with all of the dirt, gravel and cigarette packages that were in my gutter in front of my house on Sunday. That's normally a job that a city's government would take care for them, but we're in Alabama, and that ain't gonna happen, you idiots.

So the trash can weighed about 200 lbs. when I left for work yesterday morning.

And weighed the same when I came home last night.

I was pissed. Madder than hell. Pissed shit damn pissed, I was.

How could it get any worse???

...Nosy Assed Neighbor coming outside to revel in my pissed-off state.

"I don't know why they didn't pick up your trash today," she said with a devilish grin.

"Because it's too heavy," I snapped, not looking her in the eyes because it would lead me to jump the fence and strangle her.

"I thought that was their job, to pick up the trash," she said.

"Me too," I said and then added "You told me on Sunday to put all that dirt and gravel in there and they'd pick it up."

Which she did. She stood right there and said that her lawn boy puts all the trash in her receptacle, weighs it down good and heavy and they always take it.

But mine weighed as much as Rosie O'Donnell. There was no way those garbagemen could have lifted it and put it in the truck.

"So whatcha gonna do?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said angrily. "I'll have to make some calls I guess."

What I did was went out there with a shovel and several dozen garbage bags and put a little dirt and gravel into each bag, carefully stacking each bag on top of each other in a pyramid by the curb.

That's really appealing when you're trying to sell a house. Luckily, it'll only be out until Wednesday morning when it should all be picked up.

I hate my garbagemen.

Not as much as I hate my neighbor.

Or my brother in law.

But believe me...my garbagemen are off my Christmas list as of yesterday.

I bet they're upset now.

Yet another senior citizen died at church yesterday.

Oh just fucking great.

Another old fucker who I've never met who's been homebound since World War II croaked and now I've got to call the other old folks in the church as a gentle reminder that death is inevitable and it's coming after them next, lurking outside their front door like a carjacker with a tire iron, waiting to bash them over the head.

Oh, this deacon shit sucks. I thought it was all glory and spotlights, getting to stand up in front of everyone each Sunday and acting all high and mighty and better than they are because I'm a damned deacon and they're a lowly pew-sitter.

Uh-uh.

So I make the rounds of calls. Thank God for caller I.D. and answering machines because the first two always check the ID, see it's me and know I'm calling to tell them that another old fucker who never came to church that we've never met has died and it's just another funeral they can skip.

It's the last five people that are the tough ones.

Specifically....Dot.

If I ever meet Dot in the flesh...if she's ever allowed to scurry out of her old folks home unescorted ... I'm liable to beat her to death with her own walker.

I hate Dot.

Not as much as my garbagemen.

Or my neighbor.

Definitly not as much as my brother-in-law.

But there's a genuine dislike for the woman in my bones.

ME: "Hello Dot. This is Uncle Bob."

DOT: "Who?"

ME: "The guy that calls you to tell you that people died from church that you've never met and then you pretend to get all upset and ask me to lead you in prayer just because you're lonely and have nobody else to talk to and want to prey on me like a lion on a mouse."

DOT: "Oh. How are you today Uncle Bob?"

ME: "I'm a bit on the pissed off side, Dot, so we're going to make this quick. This lady Esther died. She was Lori's mother. You know Lori. She's the one whose daughter, husband and father all died last year."

DOT: "Oh my goodness!"

ME: "Yeah yeah. My sentiments exactly. You ready to pray?"

DOT: "Oh my goodness, yes! Let's pray!"

ME: "Heavenly father ... why do you do this to me? I'm a good guy. I know I take your name in vein and all sometimes, but seriously...you need to get over that shit. I wouldn't care if somebody put the word "damn" behind my name and used it. Hell...I'd take it as a compliment. So if that's what you're still pissed off about ...let it go, dude. Anyway...I need you to kill a few people for me. Most specifically...my brother-in-law. My life sucks with him around and it would be so much better if he were dead. Do what you can there for me. Second...my neighbor. I can tell that she's going to try and sabotage my home getting sold by talking to potential buyers and pointing out the things wrong with my home. If you were to kill her dear Lord, I could probably get out of this hellhole quicker and then you can turn the neighborhood to complete and utter shit and it won't matter anymore. Have at it. Third, my garbagemen. I wish I could give you specific names, so you don't kill the wrong garbagemen, but that's almost impossible because I've never spoken to them because they're garbagemen and I'm not. But they're trying to keep me from selling my house by leaving a big green can full of dirt in front of my house. I mean seriously...how am I supposed to sell my house like that? So, you know...off them...off the neighbor...off the brother in law and for your sake...what the hell's taking so long with you not killing my dog?? This dog's had cancer twice, is severely obese, has farts that smell like she's decomposing inside and hobbles around like Dot on all fours. For your sake...put her out of her misery already. Plus, her death will help me sell this house, and you know how important it is for that to happen. What's the holdup here? Do you want something out of me? I mean, c'mon...tell me already. I can't read your mind. I'm not Uri Geller down here. Cough it up. What do I have to do to get you to kill all these people and dog so I can get my dream home? Sheesh. Anyway...it's in your name we pray. Amen.

DOT: "Amen."

ME: "Oh yeah...and how about a stroke or two for Dot? She's overdue for one."

DOT: "Amen."

ME: "Shut up Dot."