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17:50:38 - 2000-03-13


I had to write a story this week on Mahatma Gandhi so I ended up doing research on him via the Internet. I found out some very interesting facts about the Thin White Duke.

You may not have known that Gandhi walked barefoot most of the time, which gave him large calluses on his feet. He starved himself, which, in turn, made him very frail. And with his odd diet, he suffered from bad breath.

Which ... if you think about it ... made him a super callused fragile mystic plagued with halitosis.

Thank you ....GOOD NIGHT!!!!

(Uncle Bob grins maniacally and walks straight off the side of the stage and into a wall, passing out in a pool of blood.)


Sooooo....How was your day?

That's great! Mine???


Heh...I'm just a' playin. C'mere. Come sit next to me.

(Uncle Bob gestures with his head to a spot on the sofa next to him and pats the cushion).

I'm gonna tell you about yet another shitty job of mine and make you THANKFUL ....oh dear Lord...SOOO thankful that you will get down on your KNEEEEES and thank the Lord (PREACH, BROTHA!!) that you ain't NOTHIN' like your dear, sweet Uncle Bob (PRAISE THE LORD BROTHA BOB!!!) That's right brothers and up your heart and BELIEEEEVE that what I'm about to tell you is God's Holy Word (HALLELUJAH, BROTHA BOB!!).

I was once Burger Boy.

And not just any Burger Boy. Burgers that my peers ate.

In college no less.

Yep. While at the University of Tennessee, Uncle Bob worked in Sophie's cafeteria, one of the many cafeterias on campus.

Actually, for some reason, I did a ton of different jobs in that cafeteria, although I liked being Burger Boy best. Basically...I didn't have to literally flip burgers...they came through a flame broiler on the conveyor belt and dumped the burgers into stacks in a pan at the end.

What I did was ask everyone what they wanted on their burger and then made it and also dished out fries.

A simple enough job. At first, I was demeaned by it. I mean...I was one of those poor souls whose daddy wouldn't pay for college.

But ... in Dad's defense... he said he'd pay for my college if I could get above a 1.0 GPA. Never happened, since I was a party animal 24-7 back then. Most days I attracted a lot of attention to my gig as Burger Boy simply because I was still half crocked from the night before.

By the't drink alcohol and don't do drugs mumble, mumble, mumble...

By this point in my life, I had learned how to flirt and flirt successfully. I had amassed enough platonic female friends to ask them what works in flirting and they had tons of pointers for me.

Basically, I don't HAVE a tremendously deep voice, but I can switch to "Sexy Midnight Hour Deejay" voice in 0.5 seconds. When you combine that baritone with the simple act of looking a girl in the eye, smiling and simply saying, "Hello darlin'. What can I do for you?" as long as you carry yourself confidently and don't have a monster zit between your eyes, you just gave that girl a simple thought.

"Hey. Burger Boy ain't so bad."

Lemme tell ya something there, Slick ... I started that job with the lowest self esteem surrounding my occupation.

I mean ... c'mon....I was fuckin' Burger Boy, man.

But I put my heart into that job. When it got busy, Burger Boy got busy.

And when it got slack ... Burger Boy became Joe Stud in a hairnet.

Seriously though...I DID get a few dates through that gig, as strange as it may sound. I guess I was adorable when I was drenched in mustard and ketchup.

In fact...ohmigod....I haven't thought of these girls in years...Karen and Sharon...they were two HOT friends that every guy in school knew. They were inseparable and I didn't know anybody that didn't fantasize about them.

Burger Boy got to hang out with them on occasion. Never had sex, but they loved to sit and let me be their personal comedian all night.

Ya see...everyone loved the Burger Boy. The Burger Boy was stupidly funny, he didn't give a shit what people thought of him and he made damned good burgers ... considering they were frozen beef patties on a conveyor belt.

But dammit...I CHALLENGE YOU to find a better person who could ketchup a burger PERFECTLY by hand each and every time.

No can do. Burger Boy is, was and always will be the King of Kondiments.

You. You there. Sitting at your computer monitor reading Uncle Bob's diary and grinning like a baboon with a new heart.

I can out-condiment you any freakin' day of the week.

Don't even think twice about it.

The King, I'm 'a tellin' ya...

Anyway...I had a good time doing it. I guess it wasn't as shitty as I originally thought. It's taken me damned near four hours off and on to write this stupid entry ... it's supposed to serve as my humor column this week.

Thank God I have hours to tinker with it.

You, dear Diarylander, get the rough draft.

Kinda like a collector's item of sorts.

... If anyone out there were to collect complete and utter shit...

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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

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