I just remembered that I was supposed to go check out a band tonight and give them a plug in my entertainment column. Their name is Fez , I think they're from Florida and they play alternative surf music. A friend of mine that used to be a TV news anchor is now doing PR for the band. She called me on Tuesday and begged me to come out and hear them. Right now it doesn't sound like anything I'd want to go and twist my nipples over. So you get an entry instead. Who's the lucky one?

Let's make this one an actual DIARY entry, eh? Since stuff actually happened to me today ... here's a rundown of the day ...

*Got up this morning, and got Uncle Bob's House of Fun updated (shamelessplugshamelessplug). That's where my ACTUAL diary entries are each day (except Sunday).

*Walked my morning two miles. It was pretty cold. I'd say an 8 on the Shrinkage Scale. I love when my Mambo Number 5 shrinks from the cold weather. It just cracks my ass up. Except when you're trying to pee, and your oooga chocka wants to stay buried deep in your groin and you end up peeing all over the floor, the shower curtain, the medicine chest, the curtains. Basically, you're peeing like a woman at this point because you have limited control, because your pee hole is buried .... Man ... it ain't no fun scrubbing urine off of wallpaper just cuz yer little German soldier wants to play hide and seek.

* I do want to tell you ladies ... if you have the opportunity, check out a man's shrinkage some time.

* Took a long, hot shower to try and wash the evil from my karma. Didn't work. I'm still a cuthroat vicious corporate bastard. But at least my penis went back to normal.

* I get dressed, go to leave to go to the office and BOOM!! Uncle Bob has a flat tire.

*Alright...here's where my cyber macho love god image goes straight down the tubes ... Sorry girls. Uncle Bob can't change a flat tire.

Alright. You. The one in the t-shirt, sitting there at the computer giggling yer little ass off. Yer outta here right now. Security?? Security??? Where's my goddamned security??? Oh you've had it missy .... nobody, AND THE BOB MEANS NOBODY, laughs at my mechanical shortcomings.

...Except every single person that has ever had an inkling of input on my whole, entire life...

So, I call my boy Mattie Gee. Mattie is fly with all kindsa mechanical stuff like changing flats, checking oil and putting gas in the engine hole at the back of the car thing. He's also the one whose ridicule I can suffer the most.

So Matt LEAVES HIS JOB (he's such a pal) to come TEACH ME how to fix a flat. Not fix it himself, but to teach me how to fix my own flat tire so he never had to do this again.

...The jig was up.

After about 30 minutes, I had successfully changed my first flat tire in 22 years.

I rawk. I held a little victory dance for myself in the street, but only Matt and my dog Maggie showed up. So Maggie and I danced the happy jig and went back inside the house.

Oh man ...I was SOOOOO macho when I took the car up to the tire place. The kid was lookin at the tire and trying to find a hole in it somewhere. Now...when I took the tire off at home, Mattie Gee had already taken a look at the tire and said he couldn't see a hole. So I said (in my most macho tone which sounds more like Harvey Fierstein than Mel Gibson) "I uhhhh...I didn't see a hole in it when I CHANGED THE TIRE ALL BY MYSELF at home."

I was oozing testosterones.

...If in fact, that's the one guys ooze. I can't think of the other hormone right now.

Pheronome?

Ah well ... you review the page, you tell me.

* Met up with my friend Scott from ....God...I used to say he was from Indiana, but he's pretty much a vagabond now.

I'd go into the details of our six hour stay together, but frankly, it was pretty freakin' boring.

AND THE LAST DAMNED THING I WANT ON HERE IS PRETTY FREAKIN' BORING STORIES.

We did go to Johnny Ray's BBQ joint here in town. It's delicious and is kinda "gourmet" BBQ ... at least in Alabama. It was me, Scott, his wife and daughter, our friend Craig and his wife. At the end of the meal, Scott picked up the check, looked at it and put it back down. Craig did the exact same thing. So I picked up the check, walked to the counter and bought everyone's lunch. I really never do anything for these guys, because I don't feel sorry for either one. Craig is an attorney who has no motivation whatsoever. And Scott is a modern day gypsy, carting his wife and four year old daughter all over America in search of "his dream".

His dream is to someday be a successful writer. Unfortunately , he's currently about three notches short of "godawful writer". Tonight, he gave me my "Christmas present". It's a journal of his "vacation" (i.e. midlife crisis) where he and his wife quit their jobs, sold all their possessions, bought a tiny trailer that they pull behind a truck and hit the road in search of the "American Dream".

After running out of money early into the trip, they were heading back home to Indiana when Scott swerved to hit a car and flipped the trailer, destroying their "home" and every single possession they had deemed too personal to sell three months earlier.

Now it was completely gone and blowing away in the Iowa wind.

I'd feel sorry for him, but the guy REFUSES to abide by the laws of society. We all have some rebel in us until the day we die. Cranky, old people?? Hey, we call 'em "cranky" but that's attitude, darlin'. Gramps has got a chip on his shoulder for years, WE continuously dismiss him as nothing more than "cranky" and next month he shoots up an Arbys because they forgot to put horsey sauce on his curley fries.

*How come the term "horsey sauce on his curley fries" just get me extremely aroused?

*Christ...it's been too long ...

*Came home tonight and pampered my wife who hasn't been feeling well lately. Which means I haven't been getting any horsey sauce on my curley fries lately either. Our relationship is like Monica and Chandler's from last night's "Friends". When she gets sick , I want nothing to do with her. I don't want near her.

But she gets this hormonal surge that makes her think she's Rebecca Romainelettuce-Stamos all of a sudden. She's constantly exposing her breasts and telling me "they're hot".

But I refuse. I will not touch a sick woman. Sorry ... life's too short to go around all sick and shit. I can give up the nookie for a week. Not a problem.

Of course ... we find ways around the "No Contact" rule.

With that said, I must go. I think I hear a buzzing. And my leather mask is finally dried out.

Heheheh....I kill me...

Hey kids, it don't get much better thanUNCLE BOB'S HOUSE OF FUN

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