THE FAT LADY WON'T SHUT UP

Lately, most of the shit I'm dealing with in my real life is boring middle-aged white guy bullshit that if I were to even attempt to bore you with, you'd hit your Bookmark button faster than ... I dunno. I'm not up for any witty metaphors right now.

Faster than a baby sneeze??

Do babies sneeze fast?

I can't remember. Andrew's seven now and frankly, I don't follow babies around at the mall to monitor their sneezing habits.

Anyway, since I haven't written anything here in a while and I feel the need to put something here, we're just going to do some random thoughts rather than me try and go into a long drawn out story with no payoff at the end.

I can't even begin to describe it. I love his "look". I mean yeah ... technically he's a dirty fucking hippie. And I look like an overweight Republican jackass so I should shun the little bastard rather than embrace him.

But his voice, his look, his demeanor ... I guess what it is is I think he's the most marketable of all the American Idols this year.

I can see this guy selling a lot of CDs or MP3s or whatever the kids are buying these days.

I can see his face on posters on teenagers' walls.

I think he's America's best choice for an Idol.

Jesus H.

And you wondered why I haven't written anything lately???

I've gotten dull as dirt, Butch.

Next topic.

Indie.

Not India.

Indie ... short for Independent Labels.

Never had much use for it in the past. But Arcade Fire changed all that.

You know Arcade Fire. The best band on the planet?? Yeah??

Of course you do.

So I've been listening to a LOT of Okkervil River, Breathe Owl Breathe, The Hold Steady and Of Montreal lately.

A year ago I was really heavy into the blues.

Is this what a mid-life crisis is all about?

I'm really cranky lately and I've gotten to the point where I don't take a lot of shit off people anymore.

This kinda backfired on me last week when I FINALLY got my car out of the shop where it had been for THREE FUCKING WEEKS to fix the damage detailed in my last entry here.

Long story short, at the end of the first week I called the Body Shop and asked when I could pick up my car.

They said "Early next week".

Second week I call 'em on Tuesday.

"Where's my car?"

"It'll be ready at the end of the week."

By now you know ... it wasn't ready.

Third week ... I'm pretty pissed off.

Granted, I have a third vehicle which I was driving. But I wanted MYYYY car.

So I called mid-third week.

"Where's my car?"

"It'll probably be ready Monday."

"Um, no. It WILL be ready by Friday. You've had my car for three weeks. I want my car back. On Friday."

It got a bit more uncomfortable than that. But I was a little bitch boy about it.

And by God ... I got my car back on Friday.

They apologized for it taking so long and went into a long song and dance about why it took so long, blah blah blah like I fucking care.

And I felt stupid while listening to a guy nearing retirement age apologizing to me like I was going to fire him and take away his pension.

I was all "It's okay. It's over. I have my car. I'm happy."

I felt like a jackass.

Usually when I treat people like shit, they turn around and treat me like shit too.

I wasn't used to this new way of doing things. Yell at a guy and actually light a fire under his ass to get things done.

So yeah.

Jeez.

Nothing like watching guys get sodomized right before nodding off into slumberland.

To say my dreams have been strange lately would only be scratching the surface.

I was never any good at Paddle Ball.

You know ... the little rubber ball attached to a wooden paddle by an elastic string that you hit over and over again?

I was reminded of this on Easter morning when Andrew got a Paddle Ball from the Easter Bunny.

"How does this work, Dad?" he asked me.

I stared a hole through Susie who had dared to bring the goddamned contraption into our home.

"I don't have a clue,son. Your dad's about as coordinated as a baby's sneeze when it comes to Paddle Ball."

I gave it a shot and about put my own eye out.

Fuck paddle ball.

Fuck it I say!!

My weight loss has hit a horrifying plateau.

I had lost 27 lbs in about three months and then ... BOOM! Couldn't lose any more.

I haven't gained any more, which I guess is nice.

But I've got about 734 lbs to go.

I've noticed when I don't eat dinner and snort a couple baggies of heroin, I tend to lose a pound or two but then I gain it right back as soon as the withdrawals start.

Man.

That was a stupid thing to say.

For the record, I'm not on the smack nor have I ever tried it.

Sheesh.

I have truly forgotten how to write as Uncle Bob.

Cool with that?

Me too.

Adios.