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6:05 a.m. - 2008-10-01


I just never have the fucking time to update this bitch anymore, huh?

I just looked and it said the last update I did was 17 days ago and I thought "That's good! I'm just Johnny Blogger over here!"

I honestly thought it had been months ago since I blogged.

If it's any consolation, I have started numerous My Space/Facebook/MOG pages and none of those have been updated either.

For those of you longtime readers (and those of you who just started reading but have read every single goddamned thing I've written here), we went to Texas about 10 days ago.

I think I wrote about it here, can't remember, but we went because one of my notorious nephews (one of the "Knee Humpers" from days gone by) got married and I DJ'ed his wedding reception.

I am happy to report that none of my nephews hump my knees anymore. That may be because they range in age from 17-27 now and let's be honest ... there's not many 27 year-olds who still carry a torch for their uncle's knee.

It was kind of strange because apparently there's not many DJ's at wedding receptions in Texas.

Either that or nobody at my nephew's wedding had ever seen one because I was treated like a three-headed monkey at the reception. People pointing and "oohing" and even a little "ahhhing" being murmured throughout the crowd.

I kind of got into it with my nephew the day before the wedding because he was insistent that I played the heaviest of heavy metal at his wedding reception.

His argument was that the whole wedding and reception was catered to his bride, and he wanted just ONE THING that he could have as his own ... that being the music at the reception.

I'm talking about bands I had never heard of. The only band I had heard of was Sepultura (spelling??? Help me out metalheads).

I had to take him aside and explain to him that this wedding reception was inside of a church, there were going to be old people there (specifically, me) and they don't want to hear this fucking noise.

Hell ... nobody above the age of 17 should be listening to this shit.

He fought me a little bit until I explained that I'm a goddamned professional DJ and I knew what the fuck I was doing by 86ing his musical choices.

"Believe me dude," I said, trying desperately to sound young and hip. "You'll thank me someday."

Sure as shark shit ... the people at the reception's average age was one day away from being forced into a retirement home.

One old guy in the corner was proudly crowing about how he invented dirt. THAT'S how old these people were.

So I played the same "all ages" show I normally do when brides and grooms can't agree on the music and everyone danced and had a great time.

That was the reception.

Now then, this wouldn't be an Uncle Bob entry if I didn't bitch about my in-laws, so here goes.

My brother-in-law has cruise control in his vehicle.

But he refuses to use it.

A drive to Dallas, Texas averages about 12 hours from my little suburb.

Fifteen and a half hours after we left our house, we arrived in Dallas.


Two reasons, simpleton.

One ... we traveled in a small caravan ... me behind my brother-in-law.

He fluctuated between 55 mph and 90 mph the entire time.

After about seven hours, you start to become hypnotized by the road.

At that point, a normal human being would turn to his wife and say "Honey, take the wheel, I'm going to rest my eyes."

Not me and not my wife. She drives like a dead grandmother. She slams on the brakes when she sees flies heading towards the windshield.

Second ... my in-laws travel EVERYFUCKINGWHERE with their two little mutts.

These dogs must have bladders the size of dimes because they stop at EVERY MOTHERFUCKING REST STOP FROM ALABAMA TO TEXAS so the dogs can sniff around for other dogs' piss before they piss a squirt out.

And it would probably be okay if that was it. Sniff, piss, get back in the vehicle.

Not my in-laws.

Every fucking rest area is cause for celebration!!

C'mon!! Get out of the car and let's get caught up on the last 15 minutes that we've been apart!!!

Unfortunately, for my in-laws, the only things they had to talk about were the wacky hijinx that the dogs were getting into between rest areas.

"Oh you should have seen little Scooter!" my sister-in-law would say while scratching this stinky mutt's ears. "She was yipping and barking at that truck we passed!!!"

A quick rest stop poll here ... who really gives two fucks, let alone one fuck??

Not me, Kemosabe.

I just want to get to the hotel room and pass the fuck out.

Anyway ... they drive me fucking nuts sometimes and it's time for me to go wake up the Mrs and the kid and if the Mrs comes in here and sees that I'm blogging about her family again, she'll demand I don't post this.

So I'm hitting "Send" now because I don't want the last half hour to be for naught.

But remind me sometime to tell you about my other brother-in-law.

The one in Texas.

The one who doesn't believe in air conditioning.

Holy shit, that guy's a piece of work.

Then again, he had a hand in birthing four knee humpers.

Why am I shocked he keeps his house at 97 degrees?

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

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