current entry older entries message board contact
5:57 a.m. - 2005-04-25


A busy busy weekend.


With tornado warnings and sirens blowing through the air, the outdoor party I was supposed to do was moved inside this country club.

I was told it would start at 8 ... once I got there at 5:30.

I was previously told it'd start at 7.

I was getting TIRED of playing for these people and their back-and-forth wishy-washyness.

(These are the same people who had me play on the STAGE!OF!DEATH! from last week. It was a two-part party spread out over two nights.)

The people started showing up at 6:30 ... not 8.

So, as was par for the course, I started playing because the people were staring at me and I was staring at them and frankly, the dead silence was unnerving.

Everything went really smooth and the people danced their asses off which was cool.

The guy who hired me came up to me at about 7:30.

"Can you just give me a bill and we'll pay you sometime next week?" he asked.

This would ALMOST be fine ... if these people were local. But they were from out of state and having their convention here.

"Well," I said, trying to be nice and shit. "My policy is to get paid the night I play. It just makes it easier for me."

"Well," he says, trying to be drunk and shit. "The lady with the checkbook has already gone home and won't be returning. So we'll have to cut you a check sometime next week and mail it."

(Note: It was never "cut a check on MONDAY" it was always "cut a check sometime next week. That's what scared me.)

I audibly groaned ... right in the bastard's face ... and said "I don't know. If we can find another way to pay me TONIGHT, that'd work so much better."

He said "I'll see what I can do" and then added "Could you please play that "I'm Slim Shady" song?"

"Sure," I said ... you know ... still being nice and shit.

An hour passed.

I hadn't played "Slim Shady". That was my own little protest against not getting paid.

He came back up to me, wiping the cocaine residue from his nostrils as he spoke.

"How about that Slim Shady song?" he asked. "Have you played it yet?"

"Yeah," I lied. "It cleared the dance floor. Where were you?"

"Oh," he says. "I was up in my room."

(This is taking place at a hotel)

Dead silence between us while the music played. Finally ...

"Can you play it again?" he asked.

"I'll tell ya what, Sam," I said. "You might wanna be less concerned with hearing that song and more concerned about how you're going to pay me tonight."

"Oh," he said. "Yeah. Right."

I realize I was being a rude asshole. But this guy owed me $900. And he's basically a total stranger from another state. And I foolishly didn't give the guy a contract when I agreed to do these parties.

Ten minutes later, he comes back into the ballroom ... this time with the lady and her checkbook.

Ahhhhh ... so he had pretty much lied when he told me she had gone home.

Apparently there was another party going on in one of the hotel rooms because she was drunk and coked up and pretty messed up.

She started writing the check and laughed that it was hard to write a check when you're really really wasted.

Uh huh.

She handed me the check and usually, as a sign of good faith, I pocket the check without looking at it.

This time I looked at it.

It was for $900.

It's all good at this point.

And "Slim Shady" roared out of my speakers while Coke Boy and Coke Girl slow danced to it.

Fucking idiots.


Had to judge a grilled food contest to determine which restaurant in town made the best ribs.

Yes ... I lead a tough life.

When all was said and done, there were 75 ribs in front of me and my co-judges ... the Mayor and his assistant.

We started eating.

And eating.

And eating.

We all agreed on the best one ... meaty ribs with a bourbon sauce. My God ... just thinking about them makes me tinkle in my boxers.

The cool thing is ... while we were each given 25 ribs, it was only from five different restaurants.

So we had five ribs per restaurant, for those of you who are mathematically challenged.

I ate two ribs from each restaurant and took the other fifteen ribs home for my wife.

Which makes it sound like she's Jabba the Hutt but the ribs actually lasted us two days and she didn't sit there and suck the meat clean off the bones by herself or nothin'.

As I said ... my job. It be a tough one.


Saturday night I had a gig for a Fraternity at a state college.

I took Drunk-Assed Jamie with me because I was temporarily insane when he asked me if he could go and I said "yeah, sure".

The party starts at 7 and it's at a Country Club.

That's all I knew because my contact person never called me back or returned my emails.

We get there and the party's been pushed back until "around" 9 p.m. because the meeting they're holding before the party is going to be longer than anyone expected.


And it's going to be outside.

I don't have to tell most of you ... it was one COLD-ASSED WEEKEND this past weekend.

The temps here got down to around 39 degrees on Saturday night, mainly due to the 40 mph winds.

And while I was freezing my ass off, the girls at the party in their formal gowns with exposed shoulders and arms were about to die.

But everyone came to party.

And as soon as I put on the first song, the kids were dancing their asses off to keep warm.

They were really intrigued by my lasers, with them all taking turns dancing in the lasers' beams.

It woulda been cute if I wasn't FUCKING FREEZING.

Maybe the kids thought the lasers would burn holes in their clothes and catch them on fire so they could finally be WARM as they neared death.

I was soooo cold that one girl came up to me to request a song and I just yelled "GODDAMMIT!!!" in her face as I shivered.

She then asked for a song and I asked her if she wanted to borrow my coat since her shoulders, arms and upper boobies were exposed and her nipples were indicating that she was just as cold as I was.

"No," she said. "I've got a coat right over there."

She gestured towards her boyfriend's tuxedo jacket on the back of a folding chair.

I looked at the jacket, looked at her and said "You are IGNORANT!"

...I meant that in the kindest sense, mind you.

I just don't think she took it in the kindest sense.

Drunk Assed Jamie came in very handy indeed as he shaved about 30 minutes off the tearing-down of the equipment meaning I could get in a warm van that much quicker.

The whole way home he was babbling about how great I was and how he thought all I would do was put a disc in and stand there and stare at the people. But instead ... I actually knew how to do this and how to get reactions from people.

I reminded him that I'd been doing this for a while now ... off and on since 1985 ... so yeah ... I kinda had a grip on the job.

He then belched and passed out for the rest of the ride home.

And it wasn't until I was typing this that I recall it stating in the contract that if temperatures fall below 50 degrees while I'm playing outside, I have the option of ending the party and getting paid in full.

Son of a bitch.


I woke up to find out that a good friend of Susie's lost her husband.

She's now a young widow with two children below the age of 8.

He died of a massive heart attack at age 37 on an out-of-town business trip.

That story kinda took priority over my petty, whiny "I was soooo cold last night" story on Sunday morning.

15 comments so far
The last one/The next one

NEW!!!Come and write some BAD EROTICA with the cool kids!

My Diaryland Trading Card
Now go write a Suck Ass Poem�
Write me a note here.
Read my notes here.
Hey! Take the Uncle Bob Quiz!
What the hell! May as well take the wildly popular Uncle Bob Second Quiz too!
Thanks Diaryland
Designed by Lisa


Have you read these?

The End Of Uncle Bob - 12:28 p.m. , 2009-02-19

Losing Focus While Trying To Write A Blog Entry Is Cool. - 1:47 p.m. , 2008-12-04

Buck Up Junior, You Could Be Digging Ditches - 11:36 p.m. , 2008-10-31

That Sinking Feeling - 6:09 a.m. , 2008-10-28

Return Of The Karate Kid And His Slow Kitty-Lovin' Accomplice - 5:44 a.m. , 2008-10-22

Sign up for my Notify List and get email when I update!

powered by

Click on the button below to order the book "Never Threaten To Eat Your Co-Workers: Best of Blogs" featuring Uncle Bob.
You WON'T be sorry.


Read a random entry of mine.