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09:42:52 - 2000-07-22


My tum-tum hurts.

Last night, with eyes bigger than my stomach, I ordered a 16 oz. cut of prime rib with CAJUN spices on it.

Today ... as I reported earlier in the broadcast ... my tum-tum hurts.

But you know what? I'm pretty damned sure I'll survive.

Sooooo...why did Uncle Bob go out and eat a plateload of prime rib and get his tummy hurtin'???


(Uncle Bob does his now-patented Happy Dance, complete with kazoo accompaniment and several imaginary balloons falling from his ceiling)

Yes folks...she bought the 1996 Grand Caravan from the 82-year old man who drove it only to see his wife in the nursing home.

The 82-year-old man is now deceased.

Amazingly...his wife in the nursing home?? Still kicking, babe.

We bought it from his daughter, who's a piece of work, lemme tell ya.

She's 60 and a total freak. We met her at Susie's mechanic's place and she wouldn't shut up from the get-go.

She had all the papers from all the work done on the vehicle (a big plus), and she had stories about every single damned repair that was done.

I stopped her after the second story with a "Shut the fuck up, Granny" comment. That worked for about 10 seconds.

It was soooo funny. Susie wants to test drive the van. So she gets in the driver's seat, the mechanic gets in the passenger seat, Grandma gets in the middle of the van, and I climbed to the very back of the van.

At the VERY FIRST intersection we come to ... Grandma about FREAKS OUT. She brought her hands to her face and covered her eyes.

Susie wasn't doing shit, but slowing down. Grandma admitted she was a HORRIBLE back seat driver and said her kids wouldn't let her ride with them.

She kept panicking and saying "Please don't wreck the car, it's not insured for you, please don't wreck the car."

Even Susie, who's a pretty even-keeled person, wanted to strangle the woman.

Anyway ... we got a great deal on a low-mileage, very clean and very great shape minivan. The wife's happy, I'm melancholy (I REALLY wanted the Town and Country...but it's her car, and as long as she's happy, I'm happy. Well...I'm melancholy...not happy) and the world keeps spinning.

Except it has the smell of death in it. A very odd scent. I know some guy that can get the smell out of any car for a price. I have a feeling I'll be paying him a visit to get this 82-year-old dead ass smell outta the van.


I got my 20 year High School Reunion Student Directory in the mail yesterday.

I was all giddy, anticipating getting this book full of everyone's email addresses and addresses and what they've been up to the last couple of decades ...


Only two people out of 550 that I gave a shit about included their email addys. I can't believe out of 550 students, only about 50 have emails.

...That they included anyway...

A couple of things stuck out at me.

One of the school's biggest nerds was now a grocery clerk.

A fuckin' grocery clerk.

38 years old. And the goofy bastard is bagging groceries.

Didn't even have the smarts to fucking LIE in the damned thing. Say you own the grocery chain or something, you dweeb. Don't tell people "I'm still a loser. I'm still bagging groceries. The same job I had when we were in high school."

Jeez Louise.

One of the biggest stoners in the class is now a psychologist in Colorado.

That cracked me up.

The babe that I shared my very first joint with is now working for the government in Illinois.

One of my high school crushes is now divorced and living alone in our hometown. Hubba, hubba. I have her address memorized in case things with Susie go sour.

Another one is living in Denver and about to get married.

What amazed me was the amount of people from my class who have 19 and 20 year old kids.

Man...they didn't waste ANY time after high school. I couldn't even get laid after high school and they were changing diapers.

I cannot imagine having a 20 year old kid. That just blows my mind. I'm still dancing around to Fatboy Slim and the hell am I supposed to teach a 20-year-old right from wrong??

I'm glad I did it myyyyy wayyyyyyyyyy. I've had an inordinate amount of FUN for the last 20 years, and am NOW ready to raise a child.

Dumb asses. I kinda wish I had gone to the reunion, just to poke these idiots with 20 year old kids in the eye and say "My God, you are the dumbest fuck I know."

Then again...from the looks of this directory...they couldn't get in touch with any of my loser friends. So I would have sat at a table with my pregnant wife and tried to blend into the wallpaper as the popular clique all pranced around the room showing off pictures of their 20 year old kids.


Last night, while out to dinner, we were seated right next to a girl that I worked with like 14 years ago and her husband.

We were both bank tellers back then.

She turned around and looked at me and said "Uncle Bob??"

I looked at her and said "Ummmmm...Debbie???"

Point blank...I'm HORRIBLE at remembering people's names.

Just godawful bad.

I THINK her name was Debbie. At least she didn't correct me.

As it turns out, she's due EXACTLY a month ahead of Susie with her second baby.

...I thought she had just gotten fat... She thought the same of Susie.

...And of course...then there's me. Who HAS just gotten fat, and is NOT pregnant.

She said she read my column every week, which gave her an advantage in the "Remembering Names" game over me.

Then again...people ALWAYS seem to remember my name.

I don't know why.


Gotta go to a wedding today. One of Susie's secretaries is getting married in some big lavish, rich family wedding.

105 degrees out today, and I've gotta wear a fucking suit.

I'm going to be a miserable bastard.

I can just feel it already.

But hey...s'posed to be a lavish spread at the reception. I'm going to dive face first into the pate and then walk around oinking at strangers just to break the ice.

It should be a hoot.

"Should" being the key word here...

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