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5:21 a.m. - 2002-04-12


So last night, we finally tackle...the third bedroom.

While the house is virtually spotless and has been for a week, the third bedroom has been the one room that we hadn't gotten around to cleaning. Because everything we cleaned out of the other rooms had found their way into the third bedroom, where they sat and were perfectly content to just rot.

But there was already several boxes of crap from years past in there that were already rotting.

So the Mrs. gives me orders. Here's three boxes of crap...go through them and FINALLY weed out the REAL crap and keep the crap that is sentimental.

Cool. I think it's about time myself.

Is this making any sense? Basically, I have three boxes of crap that I haven't opened in years that I have to sort through and throw away the junk.

I found all kinds of treasures.

Naturally, Susie found my printed-out pages of pictures of female friends that I used to talk to on the chat channels. Female friends in various ummmmm...positions. One particular friend in black lingerie, laying across a bed.

"Who's this?" she said. "One of your internet girlfriends?"

"Ahhh," I said, grabbing the page out of her hands. "She was. I haven't heard from her in years. These are girls I used to talk to when I went to the chat rooms."

"You don't still do that, do you?" she asked warily.

"Not since '98," I answered. "I got bored with it."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because they wouldn't send me NUDE photos, they just sent me photos of themselves in lingerie," I answered. "I wanted NUDE photos. I finally gave up when I figured they were all a bunch of teases."

"Happy anniversary to you too," she said with a pout.

"Uh huh," I said, staring at my old friend in her black lingerie before pitching the picture in the garbage.

The goldmine last night was a slew of old humor columns that I had printed out at one point about 7-8 years ago. Columns that I don't have stored on my hard drive that I thought I had lost.

I'll never read these old columns. I hang on to them for two reasons ... in case I ever get around to publishing a book, these are nice, clean columns about everyday life that would work great in a collection of my various essays and insights on life.

And the other reasons is so that I can box them up and someday, years after my death, my son can unbox them and go "What the hell is this?" and read them and chuckle and realize that his old man was a pretty funny guy in his day. And then I'll let HIM throw them all away.

Are they my legacy?

Hell if I know. I barely know what the word "legacy" means.

I also found some old song lyrics for a fictional band that I thought would someday be huge called Hot Bunny Vomit.

This was back when Mattie Gee was in one of his fly-by-night bands (not like his current band The Spicolis, who are so super bad, they open for the likes of Vanilla Ice and Tone Loc), and I was smoking a LOT of weed and thought that if we combined forces...his musicianship and my penchant for writing lyrics ... we could have one helluva fictional band in our heads.

I'm telling you people...the group Hot Bunny Vomit was by far one of the best fictional bands I've ever had the honor of being in.

I had the songs all written. The albums already named. The stage costumes already planned (Cherry red patent leather cowboy outfits).

The first album would be called "Debut Album". The tracks on the album were:

"Hey! Who Killed My Mother?"

"Radishes and Wristwatches"

"Nazi Babes"

"Theme From A Teenage Suicide"

"Whippin' The Spunk"

"I'm No Homo"

"The Amazing True Adventures of Pete The Invisible Mailman"

"Net Surfin'"

"Slammin' The Proverbial Ham"

"Nudist Camp Riot"

"Ice Cold Women"

"Mariah Carey Must Die"

Mattie Gee never liked the name Hot Bunny Vomit and always opted for the fictional band to be called "The Bunghole Manglers". Since the fictional band was my idea in the first place, I stood firm on its name, but was willing to have "Hot Bunny Vomit aka The Bunghole Manglers" show up on all the fictional marquees.

Now're probably all sitting there saying to yourselves "Uncle Bob...please...share some lyrics with us from this fantastic fictional band. We cannot survive without them."

Okay. Here you go.


Mariah Carey Must Die

There's no reason for her to go on

She scares grandmothers, dogs and Tim Conway

And I think that may be going too far.

Mariah Carey Must Die

She's on MTV way too much.

Maybe it's because she's married to the president of her record company.

Isn't that reason enough?

Here's a list of other people I think should die

Dick Van Patten for his talentless work

Yvonne De Carlo 'cause it's about time

Magic Johnson so my cards will go up in value

O.J. Simpson for that terrible crime

Billy Graham just outta curiousity

Burt Reynolds for cheating on his wife

Most of the folks in New York City

And the fat girl from "The Facts of Life"

Strike one

Strike two

Strike three

You're dead.

Keep in mind...this is avant-garde music. This isn't a Top 40 pop hit by any means.

No, no, no...if you want a Top 40 pop hit, look no further than the smash classic Hot Bunny Vomit tune..."Ice Cold Women".



Alright...I'm a sick bastard with an overactive imagination.

These are "songs" I wrote several years ago when I smoked an ounce of pot a week.

There's a REASON the band stayed fictionalized.

But you know...if there's anybody out there that'd be interested in a fictional reunion tour of Hot Bunny Vomit ...we have an album in the can called "Bob" with another hit single "I Know You're Not My Cousin (But I Love You Anyway)".

You know...if the interest and money is's the Vomit.

Have a good weekend. I'll be cleaning out more trash like what you just read all weekend.

Peace out.

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