It's 4:20. Well...almost.

Hip hip hooray.

Went to Will and Stacey's party last night. They've almost been married a year and have thrown more parties in the last year than my wife and I have in 13 years.

We had a good time. My wife Susie wasn't feeling all that great ... lil dose of PMS ... so we only stayed about two hours.

Ran into my old boss Wendi at the party. We were talking about Diaryland, since she has a diary here too, and dishing on some of our favorite diaries.

Then, Wendi pulls me aside and tells me about this guy at the party. It seems years ago, she was dating this guy's best friend and to make a long story short, she ended up getting with this guy who was now at the party. So she pointed him out across the room and the subject was dropped.

About ten minutes later, this stud boy that made out with his best friend's girlfriend, is walking to the bathroom and walks past our little circle of people. He stops directly in front of MY WIFE and says "Do you remember me?"

My jaw about hit the floor, and I just wanted to bust out laughing. Wendi turned three shades of red and we both got the giggles. As it turns out ... stud boy never humped my wife...she actually tutored him in math in high school.

We got invited to a fundraiser on Friday and a Super Bowl party on Sunday. Ugh. Too much partying for one weekend for me. I don't have the liver of a 17-year-old anymore.

Nothing too crazy happened at the party. It was cold as hell and pouring down rain, so all the smokers crowded around on the back porch. I don't smoke (cigarettes), but it became obvious to me at this point that all my friends did, so I ended up getting pretty wet and smelling like a bar when I got home.

One guy that I met at a football game about four years ago was there. He kept acting like we were best friends the entire night. He was drunk, loud and obnoxious. I kept trying to get away from him all night and he kept following me making jokes. Really got on my nerves, but I never said anything.

The stupidest thing I said all night ... there were a buncha rednecks hanging around the back door that went from the house to the patio. In the span of five minutes, I had probably went through that door about four times while they all stood there, silent each time.

Finally, I was walking back in the house and I HAVE NO IDEA WHY, but I said "I feel like a little girl".

Meaning...a little girl with a weak bladder who has to keep getting up and running to the bathroom.

Granted...the phrase made NO sense. And even if they telepathically figured out what I had meant...it wasn't even funny.

Basically, it was just a waste of words and air space.

But it blew these redneck's minds.

"You feel like a little girl?" one asked.

"Yeah," I mumbled. "You know...I keep going in and out the door..."

"What the..." I heard another guy say, just as I kicked the door closed.

Once inside, I was safe from the verbal barrage that the rednecks had been preparing.

Or so I thought.

"What's the password?" this drunken woman said to me, face inches from mine as I tried to squeeze in the kitchen.

"I'm not sure," I said, about three-quarters sober and with no catchy comeback to lob back in her court. "What is it?"

"Ho," she said with such force that it snapped her head forward and her chin hit her chest.

"Ho then," I said as I inched past her with my wife in sight.

"That's short for whore," she reminded me as I walked away.

"Yes, I know," I smiled. "Nice talking to you. I'll remember the password next time."

"You bet," she said as she began scoping out the door for the next guy to walk in and try to drunkenly seduce.

All in all, an amusing way to kill a Saturday night. Got to see my pals, have a couple of rum and OJs and entice rednecks and barflies out of their element.

Your typical Saturday night in Alabama.

UNCLE BOB'S DRIVE IN HOUSE OF FUN