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6:18 a.m. - 2001-08-05


I have to spend six hours in church today. If there is a God, don't you think He'd save me from such a predicament?

It's the first Sunday of the month, which means...meetings, meetings,MEETINGS.

Christ almighty, I HATE church meetings.

I have to be there at 7:30 a.m. for Men's breakfast. That lasts about an hour to ninety minutes.

I have to be a greeter today, which means I stand at the front door with a fake smile plastered on my face handing out today's church bulletin and saying crazy-assed shit like "Good morning!" and "Oh what a pretty dress!" for about 30 minutes to every single bastard that walks in the place.

Then there's the actual church deal at 10:30. I figure I'll catch a catnap at that point.

That gets done at noon. But since Susie has to talk to every single member of the church after church, we usually get out of there at about 12:30.

That's five hours.

Then my evangelism meeting at 4. I'm supposed to have business cards, fliers and new packets for new church members ready today.

Guess what I've actually got ready?

If you said "nothing, Uncle Bob, you're a slacker of infinite proportions" you're absolutely right.

BUT in my defense, the evangelism board is full of old people who never offer to do SHIT for the church. Every time the leader says "Who can help make business cards?" everyone looks at me and waits for me to volunteer.

Sorry peeps. I have a fucking life. I can't do EVERYTHING for you people.

I'm pissy because I haven't done anything for the meeting. So I've already got my defense mechanisms working overtime, ready to get my claws out at this meeting today and attack the first person who says "Well Uncle Bob, you've had a MONTH to get these business cards done..."

Hey...ya know what, you old fucker?? You've had a LIFETIME to learn how to stay off my ass!! I oughtta cut your ass right now (Uncle Bob pulls out a switchblade, and gets in a crouching position, slowly circling the old fuckers). Maybe I didn't have time to do the business cards because I'm at a NEW FUCKING JOB, old fuckers, ever take that into consideration, hmmmmm??? Maybe I don't have access to a Macintosh like I used to and maybe I can't make business cards on a PC because I don't know how. HAVE YOU EVER THOUGHT OF THAT, OLD FUCKERS???

Actually, it'll be like every other meeting and we'll just blow off the whole business card deal when I say firmly "I'm still working on it."

The good thing about having nothing but old fuckers in your group...they don't know the first thing about computers and for all they know, you could be working on a business card layout 24-7 for a month and still not have it complete because "you know those wacky computers! They're all so slow!"

Old people.


They're so gullible.

Went looking at houses again yesterday afternoon.

We went to this hilly area north of us which is really nice. There's a huge garden area that these rich people built a few decades ago that is kinda a tourist attraction in our area. Anyway, this garden area sits on top of a small mountain (i.e. hill) and there's several homes that you pass on the way to the gardens.

Very wooded, very quiet and serene, very cheap homes with lots of room.

Susie did NOT want to even look at houses up there. She thought they were out of our price range and didn't want to be that far from the city.

Now all she wants is to live up there, after I timed us getting back to the city (8 minutes)and she saw the peacefulness of homes in wooded lots with no cars driving by with their loud "thump, thump" music blasting out.

That's really why we're moving. We've gotten way too many assholes that think we all REALLY wanna hear the latest Jay-Z CD at 140 decibels, shaking the windows in our home as they drive up and down our street.

In the Gardens...the neighbors don't go for that shit. You'll get your windows shot out by some cranky redneck if you pull that shit up in the Gardens, homey. Here's a suggestion...back dat azz up about ten miles to Montgomery and blast yo' shit for somebody else muthafukka, before yo' ass get so many caps popped in it, you go' thank yo' ass is a muthafukkin' beanbag.


God...I can't WAIT to move. I'm giddy as hell.

We were looking at real estate books yesterday while mastubating (I'm tellin' ya...these are our new porn!) and I came across an angel.

My boy Jimmy.

I've known Jimmy since 1984. We worked together at a Blockbuster music store, selling records back when vinyl was king and CDs were for the nouveau rich.

Jimmy has been the lead singer for damned near every single band that's ever been formed in this godforsaken town. I was always the "Chick to his Prince" which should tell you how far back we go. That phrase means that I was his devoted friend (Chick Huntsberry) to his rock star (Prince). Chick's no longer friends with the real life Prince, but that little trivial tidbit never affected me and Jimmy's friendship.

Anyway...I had completely forgotten that Jimmy is ALSO a real estate agent.

My buddy Jimmy, who I love and a real estate agent.

It's one of those things that always slips my mind when I talk to him. I think of him as a rock star...not a real estate guy.

Now I think of him not only as a real estate guy, but the real estate guy that's going to get me a great deal on a house I really want and not fuck me like every single other real estate person in town.


My life is good.

Unfortunately ... it's time for me to get in the shower for my big assed church marathon.



My life sucks now.

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