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5:30 a.m. - 2003-02-04


So Susie and Andrew are now going to Kindermusik classes where the children get to dance and sing and play and have fun. And apparently the mothers play poker or something. I dunno, I haven't attended the thing.

Which...leaves me with Pervy.

That's right. That's what my babysitting services have now come to. A one-on-one meeting of the minds with Pervy.

So he's dropped off at my doorstep.

His younger brother, the Sissy Boy wants to stay with us. But since Susie and Andrew aren't home, I make it quite clear to his father that I only babysit one creepy little freakin' moron at a time. One's bad're not going to saddle me with both your children while you get to go do something you want to do every single Monday night. I've never (and will never) asked them to watch Andrew while Susie and I go out.

So Pervy comes in and wants to know if I want to play Scrabble with him. We go through this every single week. He got a Travel Scrabble game for Christmas and tries to get me to play. Each week I'm too busy either cooking dinner or cleaning or doing something that I want to do instead of play a game with him.

I told him I couldn't. I was cooking dinner. Grilled chicken breast, grilled veggies and baked potatoes.

So he pouts.

I ignore his pouting because it's not my job to pamper the guy. He's 15 almost 16. He's talking about getting his driver's license fer chrissakes.

As I've said here before...when I was 15 I wanted nothing to do with my Uncles. I stayed far away from them and anyone else over the age of 16.

But Pervy relates better to people older to him. Probably because they're not constantly trying to beat him up.

So I'm cooking and he's looking at the latest batch of DVDs that I got from Swappingtons.

He had the testes to ask if he could go watch "Jeepers Creepers" on my computer DVD.


"No Pervy. Once again, you are not allowed to go on the computer ever, ever, ever again for any reason."

"Not even to watch a movie?"

"That's right. The last time, all you were going to do was 'watch a movie' and you veered away from that and went to and rubbed your chubby in my computer chair like a little freak. So no."

"Can I watch it in the den?"


"Why not?"

"It's rated R and you're only 15."

"My parents let me watch R-rated movies all the time."

"Oh. Well then, by all means...throw 'Showgirls' on. And while you're at it, take those pants off and stroke your deformed man-boy meat all over my sofa because by God, I'm sure your parents allow that too."

(I wanted to say that. I didn't. I gave him the tried and true comeback, passed down from generation to generation)

"I don't care what your parents do and don't do. You're in my house and you're not watching an R-rated movie."

(It's a sad commentary that I had to reverse some of the facts in that statement. His parents DO let him watch R-rated movies at home and have since he was 10 because they're too lazy to direct him away from the television. It's up to ME to be the one to say "You're not old enough yet" while his parents simply don't care. And I'm not delusional...I know that pretty much every 15 year-old today has seen at least one R-rated movie. That's a sad commentary in and of itself, but I'm not going there today)

So he spots my "Get A Life" DVD. For those of you who never saw it, "Get A Life" starred Chris Elliott and was on FOX about ten years or so ago. The show about the 30 year-old paperboy? Yeah, that one.

I decide that since it's an old sitcom, he can watch that. No harm there.

...Except to my ears.

This teenage boy has a shrill laugh that makes his voice go incredibly high. Glass-shattering high. It's this "hee hee hee hee hee" thing that makes your skin crawl. His laugh has been known to make grown men dig at their eardrums with an icepick in order to crudely remove them from their ear canals so that they would never have to hear that sound again.

I didn't think the kid would find the show all that funny. I was quite the stoner when the show was on television and found it uproariously funny while reeling from the wacky weed. Now that I'm sober and watching it, I can tell you ... the show is strictly for stoners.

So my nephew is sitting on the couch hee-hee-heeing his ass off at every line uttered on the TV screen.

I'm in the kitchen on my knees, silently gripping my ears, trying to keep all the blood from rushing out of my head and make a mess on the kitchen floor that I just finished mopping.

Mercifully, the end of the show comes in 25 minutes. I'm writhing on the kitchen floor like a fish out of water and he's slapped his knee so many times it's bruised.

Susie finally came home and I grabbed Andrew, took him to my office, closed the door behind us and we had Daddy time until dinner was ready.

Speaking of Andrew...this kid is learning stuff quickly all of a sudden.

This weekend he learned the words "Juice", "Up", "Banana" and he finally figured out that Maggie is, in fact, a dog.

This revelation delighted him to no end. He had an honest to God DOG in the house with him.

So now he's hugging Maggie and petting Maggie and laughing at everything she does.

He's finally connected to the dog.

Which makes it hard to put her to sleep now. rules, kids.

I've always let you guys use my message board in any way you saw fit. Ninety-nine percent of the time, everyone was civil and intelligent.

Every now and then, I get anonymous messages from people that think they can use it to say whatever they want because they'll know I'll leave it up there.

Not anymore.

Yes, I'm censoring what is posted on the message boards and my notes page as well.

That's why they both come with Delete functions.

Somebody used my message board yesterday to call me an ignorant hillbilly redneck (I'm from Illinois...not Alabama) and said that my son had Downs Syndrome.

I removed that message. And his follow-up message where he pretended to be someone else agreeing with himself.

Either that or two people were using the exact same ISP address. I tend to think that it was the same person, but once again...I'm an ignorant hillbilly redneck.

I do not leave messages like this on other people's guestbooks and I'm not allowing them to be left on mine.

These same people get their panties in a wad, saying that all I want is positive messages praising me on the message board.

That's not true.

There is an amazingly written rebuttal to my entry yesterday by a Jeff Marks that really made me think long and hard about what I wrote yesterday.

I'll admit...I'm not an expert on NASA and what it does.

My entire rant was really aimed at the media and the president who decide what constitutes a "national tragedy".

Seven astronauts dying is a tragedy, but not a "national" tragedy.

Millions of people losing their jobs and inching closer to homelessness because the economy's going to hell ... to me THAT'S a "national" tragedy.

(Speaking of which, if you still disagree with me and haven't checked this story out yet, I suggest you do so. It's written by a person far more intelligent than I am and says exactly what I was trying to say on a reputable website)

I don't like to be told what I should and shouldn't be grieving over.

Anyway, if you want to call me names and call my son names, from here on out you'll have to do it via email.

Where it's not so anonymous and you can't hide behind your little wall.

And also...I have some dear friends that use my message board quite often.

But these dear friends can sometimes use nasty comments towards others to get their points across.

I'm not allowing that anymore as of today.

Messages like this one that I received yesterday...

Hey-- your a fucking idiot. Maybe they should send your ass up in space and rid us of your constent imature entrys about things you don't know shit about. They were pasionete about what they did-- so what if they knew it was dangerus? You entered a mariage that is all in hell and carry on habits that destroy your health and self-estem. so you have no room to talk. Let them be rememebered in peace and spare us your "knowlege"...I'm sorry to see there are humans like you on this planet..and even sorrrier that I know it. Fuck off.

I don't need to read that kind of thing anymore. Especially from someone who doesn't even know who they're talking to.

Regardless of what you read here on this diary, the fact is that I'm a peaceful man in real life. I do not court confrontation and I'm really pretty laid back. This diary is not always my true feelings ... it's just a place where you guys can get a kick out of reading the rantings of a crazy man.

And I'd like for the message board to reflect that. I want everyone in Diaryland and outside of it to get along. There's enough hate in the world without us going out of our way to perpetrate more of it towards each other.

You can say "Well...what about you and Pervy? You show a great deal of hate towards Pervy each week!"

I've got one question for you...

How can you be so sure that there even IS a real Pervy in my life?

I've made no bones about it...not everything you read in Uncle Bob's diary is for real. While most of it is based on fact, it's embellished for entertainment purposes.

None of you know the real me. You may think you do, but you don't.

I may not even have a son.

I may not even be married.

I may not even be a man.

You simply do not know.

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