BJ AND THE BEAR

So I did this wedding Saturday night and it was my first wedding that was attended by a TV star.

I'm talking a REAL TV star, not my local weather guy. I've done weddings where the local weather guy and 6:00 news lady showed up. Wasn't quite the thrill you'd expect.

Naturally, it's difficult to stand there with your area's #1 weather guy eating chicken fingers and meatballs 30 feet away from you and NOT get on the microphone to say "YOU SOOOOO FUCKING SUCK, WEATHER GUY!!" for the sole reason that you can.

Even if you like the guy.

Never hurts to just chastise local figures because you can.

Anyway ... really big star and here he is.

Okay ... at this point you're wondering "Which one's Uncle Bob and which one's the really big star because they're both handsome Hollywood types who make my panties tres moist."

Well, just to satisfy your curiosity ... I'm the handsome devil on the left ... the one who looks like he's dropped a total of 12.5 lbs in the last month!!!

(thankyew thankyew thankyew)

The guy on the right was in the #1 DVD movie last week.

And his claim to fame was playing not once but twice in the granddaddy of all the prime-time reality shows.

And he was also named one of Cosmopolitan's hottest hunks in America.

And believe this, bitch ... the guy wanted HIS picture taken with ME!

True dat!!

...Well ... not really.

But he did say it was nice to meet me.

And in my warped mind, I'll accept that as meaning "It's my lifelong dream to meet you."

On January 27th, we embark on a 7 night cruise to the Western Caribbean.

We'll visit Cozumel, the Cayman Islands, Haiti (where I'll try not to have gay sex with teenage heroin-addicted runaways ... but it'll JUST BE SO TEMPTING!!) and ... my favorite stop ... Jamaica, mon.

I'm going to walk off that cruise ship at 8 a.m. with a huge sign made of neon poster board that says "GANJA, MON???"

Then I'm going to sit on the beach all day and smoke a doobie the size of my leg until it's time to get back on the ship.

And then I'm going to pull my chair up to an all-you-can-eat buffet and start eating my weight in french fries.

VACATION'S ALL I EVER WANTED!
VACATION HAVIN' TO GET AWAY!
VACATION, DON'T ARREST ME JAMAICAN COP!

Oh ...hey.

These stupid doctors and all their stupidness.

Remember about a month or so ago, I went and had the doc violate me anal-style with his finger, a plunger, several Pez dispensers and a medium-sized grandfather's clock?

Well they took blood too.

And they're finding things in my blood that are concerning them.

My blood looks like the Hudson River after the Dave Mathews band had just sailed through it.

It's FULLL of shit.

Anyway ... they sent me for a stress test.

Stress test's are not pretty my friend. If you've never had one ... here's what they do.

They put you in a completely dark room and then people in Halloween masks come in and start making loud moaning sounds while you're strapped to a chair in the middle of the room and they're saying things like "I'm going to eat your foot" and "We hear you like your butt violated" and things of that nature.

Then, just as you're about to scream bloody murder, a nurse runs in and checks your blood pressure.

She then deems it too high and then you go get pictures of your heart done in this machine that's like a cross between an MRI and an iron lung.

That's a stress test.

So they ran me through it twice because they couldn't get good pictures of my heart.

My heart is the Mary Kate Olsen of hearts. It's always hiding and demanding "no pictures please".

Soooooo ... Thursday I go and get a heart catherization done so they can get a decent pic of the heart.

Great. Shove a camera in my heart. I ain't got nothin' better to do that day anyway.

Then next month, here's a doozy.

My kidneys are not filtering properly.

Believe me, I've had a talk with 'em. The old "ship up or shape out, kidneys" talk.

No go.

Kidneys do what they want, when they want.

They're the gang bangers of my internal organs.

The doc said that according to his amateur kidney knowledge, my kidneys' functions are beginning to diminish.

So he's sending me to a nepherologist (sp?)

A kidney doctor.

And if it's bad news and my kidneys are just little organ hellions, they're going to put me on some medicine to try and piss off the kidneys (no pun intended).

And now we all know why Uncle Bob hates going to the doctor!

Ya'll have a good one.