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08:53:08 - 2000-10-24


You know...I would give ANYTHING to be having this baby today.

Less than a week ago, today was going to be THE DAY. Now it's just another day that we sit and wait patiently for Andrew to decide when he wants to shoot his fat little baby ass out of the womb.

I was reading through some of my old columns last night when I stumbled across "Belly Laughs" a series of columns my good buddy Nooks wrote for me last year when she was pregnant. Her last column mentioned the fact that each hour seems like days...each day seems like weeks...each week seems like months...each squirrel seems like a get the picture.

That's what I'm going through right now. The last nine months have sped by like a crackhead running from the cops. And now time is standing still as we wait impatiently for this baby to born himself.

I'm sick of waiting. I'm ready, dammit. I'm ready to be "Daddy Bob". No more Uncle.

Y'know...a thought just went through my head to start a new diary by "Daddy" instead of "Uncle Bob". Except somebody already has "Daddy" but he hasn't updated since April. Worse yet...turns out he beats his girlfriend. Some daddy.

So anyway...yeah ... I'm just twiddlin' my thumbs waiting for this baby to get here.

I know I'm not supposed to want to wish anything for my son and just let him live his life the way he wants to. But here's some of the stuff I hope he eventually exhibits.

I want him to study martial arts and be able to kick anybody's ass that badmouths his old man.

I want him to like rock and roll and not that crap kids listen to today or whatever the hell they're going to be listening to 15 years from today.

I don't want him getting any weird piercings.

I want him to be in shape, handsome and bring home lots of fine girls for his dad to check out and say " sure get some babes, son."

I want him to marry young and have a grandbaby for me to hold before I croak.

I don't want him to ever break his mama's heart, but I think that's inevitable.

I want him to inherit my sense of wise-ass humor. I don't mind raising a smart ass ... but I want him to know not to push his mom with it. be honest...she's dealt with the shit from me for years. I think she could handle it.

I don't want him to ever be too big to give his dad a hug.

I don't want him to ever be seriously sick.

Or stupid.

I want him to be one of the good kids in school that gets along with everyone but doesn't take any shit from anyone either.

I want him to appreciate most everything we do for him. A lot of it will be mandatory like food and shelter. But the little things like new bicycles and TVs for his room ... a "thank you" would be cool.

I don't want him to be a bully or a nerd.

I don't ever want to hear "I never asked to be born" come out of his mouth the same way it came out of my mouth when I was growing up.

I want him to understand that his daddy is old and tired a lot and doesn't always want to play catch in the back yard.

But I'll probably be the first one at the door with a baseball glove and a softball in either hand anyway.

Bottom line...I want him to like everything I like, hate everything I hate, be just like me except more handsome, more intelligent, more witty and more endearing.

Oh. And I want him to have a bigger penis than his old man. But judging from his ultrasound...he's already got that cat in the bag.


Because of the impending birth of the little one ... I had to turn down something yesterday that I hated to turn down.

Each year, we have what's called "Christmas on the Coosa" here, which is a boat parade on the river at night. It's really pretty and it's the one night that both rednecks and society folk can mingle and not want to pummel the shit out of each other.

Last year, I was one of three judges who judged the Miss Christmas on the Coosa Pageant...a beauty pageant to determine who should ride the head float and preside over the whole affair.

It was a pretty cool gig really. We had thirty girls, ages 15-18 vying for the title last year. Each of them had to sit through a five minute interview with me and the other two judges and then we had to attend the pageant that evening which was actually kinda fun.

And we got paid a hundred bucks to do it. the call yesterday to come judge it again. As much as I hated to turn down the moolah ... I had to. My luck, Susie would go into labor during the pageant, I'd have to leave and woulda spent all day staring at beautiful young girls and not even gotten paid for it.

I sound like such a perv. A perv who wants money to be a perv, but a perv nonetheless.


I've gotta say right now...some of you have been finding me on Napster lately and trying to instant message me there.

I'm rarely there, people. I leave Napster on most all day because I have a cable modem and it doesn't hurt to stay linked there.

So if you message me saying "Uncle Bob?" and you don't get an answer back, don't think I'm trying to snub you ... I'm simply not at my computer at that point.

However, I had a nice conversation last night with a girl named Amy who caught me sitting at the computer. Amy isn't a member of the army but she does read this diary.

So hey Amy! Nice to have chatted with ya! And I got disconnected at the end of our conversation ... hope ya didn't think I was being rude.


I dread today. I know how I said yesterday that I hated Mondays. But I hate Tuesdays even more. The only good thing about Tuesdays are that they're my busiest day of the week and after today, my week is all downhill.

OH!!!!!! Eddie and Wendi....guess who's pregnant at the office???????????

Rather...guess who got someone pregnant at the office????????

Can you say "Jamie Martin"???

Yep. He's marrying the mama in two weeks and the baby's due next summer sometime.

Can you believe it????

....Sorry to those of you who have no idea who Eddie, Wendi and Jamie Martin are. Jamie is a good guy but a tad irresponsible whose daddy owns the paper I work at.

Like that made any difference to you.

Alright kids...have a good one. I've got a few more things to knock out then I've gotta head to work. Talk to ya's tomorrow.



What is the one trait you wish your child would inherit from you?

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