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5:24 a.m. - 2003-10-29


So tonight we take Andrew to his first concert ... The Wiggles.

These four guys that totally creeped my shiznit out when I first saw them have captured my family's collective heart and wallet and we're going to be jamming away in the next-to-the-last row of the Atlanta Civic Center to the hits "Fruit Salad", "Hot Potato" and the classic "Five Little Ducks".

I've tried to tell Andrew that we're going to see the Wiggles but he isn't that impressed because he can watch the Wiggles whenever he wants on TV.

This should be most amusing.

Well ... at least $96 worth of amusing.

I'll admit, I cried at the season finale of "The Joe Schmo Show" last night.

To see this nice guy get totally overwhelmed with the fact that everyone around him is not who they say they are ... that just tore my shit up.

Naturally, I didn't cry as much as the actual Joe Schmo did. My God. I don't think a man has cried that much and that hard on television since the days of Jim and Tammy Faye Baker.

Speaking of crying, I guess I was ragging yesterday because I cried a bit in the car yesterday, listening to that new Barenaked Ladies song that I told y'all about yesterday ... "War on Drugs".

I originally thought the song was about a woman who was mentally ill and finally killed herself.

Now I'm thinking that she gets mentally ill because she's a drug addict.

I dunno.

Whatever the case, it's just a beautiful f'n song and it moved me to tears.

And I swear to you, I listened to the song about 30 times yesterday.

You'd THINK I'd be immune to its lyrics by now.

But hey ... blame it on these freakin' out-of-control hormones.

Speaking of doing stupid things like crying in rush hour traffic and crying in front of your toddler who thinks he did something wrong to make Daddy cry as you try to explain that it's not him, but this goddamned reality show for men on TV ... I told a co-worker yesterday about Uncle Bob.

I've got a lunch buddy named Megan. She and I go to lunch probably 3-4 times a week together.

Yesterday, we're just driving around town running errands during lunch and she said that I should think about writing humor based on the silly emails we exchange back and forth throughout the day.

I told her that I used to write a humor column for the local paper for several years.

She said I should still be doing it.

So I told her about my recaps for Television Without Pity.

She doesn't watch much TV and knows nothing about the site.

So I mention this online journal thing but do NOT give her the address because I'm not a total idiot even though I play one here.

Luckily for me, she was driving and was more focused on the road than me sitting in the passenger seat, babbling about having a nifty little online diary like a breathless pre-teen.

She probably thinks I'm some sort of internet perv now.

I just hope she can keep a secret.

Because the less real life people that know about Uncle Bob, the better.

Speaking of which ... I've been approached by two different sources who want to give "Uncle Bob" even more exposure.

One is a website that is trying to put together all the journals/blogs/diaries in the state together.

The other is a project that will remain kinda hush hush right now because I don't wanna jinx it.

I've turned down being a part of the "Statewide Diary" website because I don't want people saying "I KNOW THIS GUY! I HAD NO IDEA HE WAS SUCH A FREAK THOUGH!"

The other project wants to know if they can use my real name in association with this site.

I'm hesitant about that.

The last thing I would ever want is for all the people in my real life that I have poked fun at over the years to find this site and read what I had to say about them without me being able to explain myself first.

Nosy neighbors, in-laws, family members, co-workers, etc.

Still, I feel this project has the potential to be really big and a chance for me to ummmmm...make a name for myself and not Uncle Bob.

We'll see.

Maybe I should turn the whole thing over to my hormones and see what they say.

...You know...if they could ever get out of "Sob Mode".

For those of you who are still sending me photos of yourselves wanting to be the model in the magazine and billboard ads that I assisted in finding, you can stop sending them.

First off, because not a single one of you sent me a shot of yourself flashing your boobies. That's just wrong. If you want to be a model, you have to show boobies. It's a given in my book.

Second, because we've found our model and are doing the photo shoot this morning.

Actually, we're doing shoots all day.

I'll attend the first couple of shoots which is kinda neat. Apparently, they want my opinion on things.

"Should she being looking skyward?"

"Should she smile or look solemn?"

"Should she lose the blouse?"

Meanwhile, I'll be sitting in a Director's chair with a backwards beret and sunglasses on, smoking a French cigarette through a long plastic filter and throwing temper tantrums like I'm actually important.


And crossing my legs like a woman.

Because that just SCREAMS "Artistic wunderkind!"

Alright ... this is the first of three incredibly long days for me.

And I've got to be on my way.

Peace out.

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