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17:42:58 - 2000-02-25


Ummmm...okay ... I feel a little weird ...

I got an email today from a friend. To make a long story short ... somebody across the country saw this diary who I have never met. This person saw that I was from Alabama, apparently did a little bit of digging, which truthfully, didn't take much, and found out what I did for a living (which will NEVER be referred to again here). This person then emailed her friend here in Alabama and asked if they knew or had heard of me.

As it turns out, the person in Alabama DOES know me and is an acquaintance of mine in the media.

This person then e-mailed a close friend of hers, who is also a close friend of mine to tell her about my diary. This close friend already KNEW about my diary and, in fact, even has her own diary here, but keeps a much lower profile than me.

I understand this isn't as traumatic as Dirtygirl's father reading her diary. But still ... I feel weird.

Violated in a way, but not really.

I'm not mad at ANYONE here. Not even at myself. Hell...I welcome all three of the parties involved to keep reading the diary if they're getting a chuckle out of it (Hi Jennifer!)

I just feel strange.

Walt Disney said it's a small world after all.

Anyway, I'm slightly embarrassed, but it's my own fault. As this person who found the diary said ... if she wrote the kind of stuff that I write about and was in the job that I'm in, she wouldn't be throwing my employer's name out there.

Very good point. Hell...a DAMNED good point.

A number of rash ideas went through my head when I found this out.

First, I thought ... the jig is up. Now I have to go back and write the generic "ha-ha" crap that has made my other site so lame lately. The stuff that won't offend anyone.

Then I thought I'd go the Dirtygirl route and get a new diary and those that wanted the addy could email me and the rest could figure it out eventually.

Ya know what I finally decided?

Fuck it all.

As my dear friend Popeye once said "I yam who I yam".

Let's keep two things in mind here. First off ..."Uncle Bob" is not the same guy who writes this. "Uncle Bob" is a character. name's not even Bob. Duh.

The guy who writes this keeps Uncle Bob in his head. Twice a day (three times if yer lucky) I let Uncle Bob out to wreak havoc on Diaryland.

I repeat ... I am NOT Uncle Bob.

I HAVE masturbated, had wet dreams, bad sex, one night stands and smoked pot.

But that does NOT make me Uncle Bob. That makes me just like 80% of most men out there.

D-love? Banky?? Scud??? Schlomo?? Guys ...BACK ME UP!!!

I am a guy wasting time right now until his wife gets home. Then they're going out to eat, come home, compete against each other on "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire" and probably hit the sack at 10 p.m.

Bottom line....I'm a nice guy with a vivid imagination who needs to get a little more anonymous here. ALL of my stories here have been true, unless they're just too bizarre to believe, and at that point I hope you know I'm pulling your leg.

Yes, I take my responsibility as an active member of my community seriously and would hate to lose my standing because of this goofy little journal.

I'm not being threatened or anything here. But the thought of the wrong people finding out about these incoherant ramblings does spook me a bit. So I have to cover my tracks more.

I'm not sure how to go about doing that, but I'll figure it out.

All I wanna say is I'm just tryin' to have a little fun here.

That's all.

(Uncle Bob will be back next time with a thrilling entry about the time he tried to pierce his own scrotum!)


I dunno...I think it'd be cool to have you as my Uncle Bob ...

Tell me you love me. Or tell me I suck. Totally up to you.

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Have you read these?

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