MOMMY, WHAT'S WRONG WITH THAT GIRL'S FACE?

Hello my little dim-witted buddy. The Gilligan to my Skipper. The Shaggy to my Freddy. The ...the...the...Chrissy to my Janet.

How the hell are ya??

So...last night...my pregnancy cravings continue and I beg Susie to take me to the new Steak 'n' Shake.

The fact that I can get in the car and in five minutes be at Steak 'n' Shake just blows my leetle fucking mind, man.

I mean...it's more mind blowing than the Internet really. S'n'S has always been my favorite fast food joint, mainly because we never had one here in town and it was always a treat when we found one and ate there on trips.

So we go.

On a Monday night at 6 p.m.

And even though the place is new...I didn't expect to see a crowd.

... Wrong, you ignorant shit heel.

We got there JUST IN TIME. Meaning we got the last available table just before a line started.

Our waitress ...ugh...our waitress.

A nice girl. Probably 17 years old.

But her ummmm....acne....

Now listen up, kids...I don't know how you young punks did it ... but VERY FEW of you kids have acne like MY GENERATION had acne. I dunno if Clearasil has managed to finally market something that actually works or not. The fact remains....our waitress had acne.

And shitloads of it.

I can handle acne. I really can.

But this chick had decided to "conceal" her acne with makeup.

Makeup that looked like she had applied it 12 hours earlier.

So now...this makeup is not flesh colored. It's black.

And flaking.

So technically ... she could have been a leper for all I know. I chalked it up to acne with heavy makeup on it that hadn't been refreshed all day.

It was gross. Kinda like eating a moose embryo.

She came to the table and I screamed in terror.

I think she felt bad, but screw it. If your face looks like a burnt pizza, you have no business serving food.

...That's Uncle Bob's Rule of Life #316 ...

And her manager ...ahem.

A black guy. And he had some kinda growth on his face that...well...it looked like a big black nipple on his cheek.

The thing was HUGE AND LONG. It was so big, it dangled.

Every time he walked by, I couldn't help but stare. I mean ... it was grossing me out...but it was like a car wreck. I wasn't going to be satisfied until I was completely sickened by the sight.

...Never happened. I wolfed down my food like a starving dog.

I go to pay the bill...remembering to bring cash this time after the last time we went to Steak 'n' Shake and I had no cash.

Well guess what Sports fans??

The elderly gentleman in front of me who smelled like dried shit had not brought any cash with him either.

And they only accept cash and check cards.

Well...check cards are too fancy for Gramps. He didn't understand technology and couldn't understand why they'd accept check CARDS but not CHECKS.

...Me neither for that matter. But it's their policy and I don't question policies. It hurts my head to listen to people explain company policies.

Well...guess fucking what?!?

Gramps gets to pay with a check. The manager "trusts" him.

TRUSTS HIM?!?!!?

Wait a second...I tried to pay a week ago with a check and I wasn't TRUSTWORTHY enough???

I'M UNCLE FUCKING BOB, DUDE!!

I freaked out.

I gave Gramps a karate kick to the back of the neck and leaped over the counter, dropkicking the manager.

"Please, Uncle Bob...PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!!!," the manager said.

"I'm not going to kill you," I said quietly while resting my heel comfortably on his Adam's Apple. "I just want you to explain why you'll take this old fart's check, but wouldn't take mine."

He explained that it was policy that if the customer had NO OTHER WAY to pay for their meal, that they would accept checks.

I took my spiked boot off the manager's throat, satisfied with the answer, paid cash for my meal and left.

..............

......Alright...so I didn't kick anybody's ass. You caught me.

And no...I didn't say anything about it either. I just paid for our meal and left.

....And prayed like Tammy Faye Baker that Gramps' check bounced.

Get home, and my old buddy Dick called.

He had wanted to come by and buy all my CDs that I was going to sell in the yard sale BEFORE the yard sale.

I didn't want to let him do that, because I knew the CDs would be a big draw to get people to come to the yard sale.

I didn't tell him that because I didn't want to hurt his feelings.

I mean...he's got a shitload of money. His mom died and left him well taken care of.

But rather than spending that money on a date with an actual woman, he'll drop hundreds of dollars on used CDs.

He's a freak. And not a cool freak either.

So he calls...wanting to know if we're ever going to have that yard sale.

"Ummmmm...we had it two weeks ago, Dick," I told him.

"AND YOU DIDN'T CALL ME?!?" he said loudly.

Well gee whiz pal....lemme explain. We were roommates for one summer. You were the WORST roommate I ever had, threatening to call the cops on me for smoking a joint, not allowing me to have people over...etc. You were a class A nerd who spent way too much time lounging around the apartment in nothing but old Jockeys and you spent an INORDINATE amount of time with your stack of porno magazines locked behind your bedroom door.

...No...I didn't call you...

I DID tell him (which was a lie) that the only CDs that sold were gangsta rap CDs. That made him feel better because his "morals" won't allow him to listen to gangsta rap.

I mean...and this is the truth...he LOVED "Smells Like Teen Spirit" by Nirvana when it came out.

LOVED IT.

But he wouldn't buy the disc. Why??

Because a naked baby was on the cover...with his wee-wee dangling.

And Dick couldn't have that in his house. That'd make him a child molester or something.

He's a nice guy, I guess. I really wouldn't know because I've avoided him since 1986 and have only seen him maybe ten times since then.

But he's just sooooo strange.

Hasn't had a date since the 80s.

Lives in his dead aunt's house.

And STILL can't believe that all his childhood buddies are married with children.

"It's just so danged hard to believe," he told me last night when I told him we're having a boy.

No Dick. It's just LIFE. All your buddies found women and settled down.

Poor Dick never got out of the starting block.

Anyway...he's coming over tomorrow to buy the remaining CDs that didn't sell in the yard sale.

I think I'll charge him $3 apiece instead of $2.

Maybe then he'll start to leave me alone.

Ya think??