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07:56:33 - 2000-05-17


I'm a freak.

I have routines. If I don't follow the routines, it fucks everything up.

For instance ...every morning I wake up and get my "diaries" caught up. Once they're caught up, the dog and I go for our morning walk.

This morning, the dog wanted to go for a walk FIRST. Apparently a cat had been prowling around outside all night and by God...we had to go see if we could sniff the damned thing where it had walked on the grass.

So we went for a walk FIRST.

Got home, fully intended on getting the "diaries" caught up.

The wife's awake.

Okay, fine. I'll sit and talk to her for a few minutes.

Then I start to read the paper.

Hmmmm...two for one sale on Pita bread at Food World.

Which reminds me...I'd better do something with that Pita bread in the fridge before it rots.

So I make my world famous Pita Chips.

(Have you noticed that any time I cook...whatever I happen to be cooking, it's "world famous"?? Of course not. You don't get paid to notice shit like that.)

I fixed a few bags of pita chips for the old lady to snack on during the day at work and fixed a paper plate full for myself which I am currently scarfing down.

So ... because the diary is late... I'm in a tizzy.

I feel so obsessive...yet compulsive...

I was watching "Just Shoot Me" last night...Finch went back to high school undercover to write a story.

He loved it because now he knew what high school was all about and could do it a second time...except this time he was cool.

Wouldn't that be wild if those of us who have been out of high school for a while could go back??

Me personally...I'd love it. Except for all the gunfire, naturally.

Because in high school, NOBODY is 100% sure of themselves. Everyone has low self esteem. I don't care if you're the most popular person in high school, there's SOMETHING that eats away at you at night, and makes you think you're not special.

But by the time you get in your 20s-30s ... you start to realize that you're NOT the only one who felt that way.

And it doesn't really matter anymore.

High school is the only place I can think of where EVERYONE puts on a front and tries to be something they're not.

Yes...even Uncle Bob tried to put on a front that he was a macho stud stallion...even when he was just shit on a stick.

Of course those of you who check out my high school diary would already know that.

And for those of you who don' just read an extended plug for the site.


I'm SUCH a mischeivous imp sometimes.

Next weekend (NOT this weekend) is my city's annual Street Party .

The last drunken blowout for Uncle Bob before he becomes a daddy.

I was beginning to get worried because I had yet to receive a form to fill out for press passes.

So I called the guy in charge of them yesterday. He's a real jerk. I mean...he's a nice guy the rest of the year, but when it comes to this big Festival he turns into a Little Hitler.

He HATES to have to give out press passes, because the committee for this event are such money-grubbing scumbags, they don't want ANYONE getting in for free.

This year, he's not sending out forms to the media for press passes. He's waiting for the media to call him and inquire why they haven't gotten the form yet. THEN he's assigning passes.

So if the local TV stations don't call...they don't get access.

Anyway...every year, he tries to cut my number of passes back. He actually manages to make your Uncle Bob feel guilty about these stupid little passes.

Last year, the guilt ate away at me and I only asked for THREE passes for the three-day event.

He was happy with that.

Yesterday, he told me he had already put some passes aside for me.

HIM: "Didn't you get six press passes last year?? Because that's what I've set aside for you."


ME: "Yep...six passes sounds about right."


I mean...we've got a shitload of tickets to get friends, employees and family in. That's not a problem.

But the press passes are what all the little drunkards want. You get to wear them around your neck and worm your way backstage to get pictures taken with the musical acts and generally get to walk around acting like you're all big shit and stuff.

I don't really get into that whole scene anymore.

I USED to.

But this year, I've already said...gimme a ticket ... I don't need no steenking press pass.

Sure, I'd like to get a pic with Joan Jett or George Clinton or Hank Williams Jr.

But it's not a life or death situation.

Plus, we're staying in the same hotel as all the acts anyway, and I usually just hang out by the elevators, drunk off my ass and hobnob with them there.

Mainly because I'm too drunk to find our suite.

Ah well. Such is life.

It's my day off today. I'm currently waiting for the Orkin man, which just pisses me off every month because they always get here late and then want to shoot the shit rather than spray the house and get the fuck out.

I then have a free day until 4:30 when I have to go to the Mayor's office. He's going to be giving some retarded kid some kind of award for not eating paste on a daily basis or something like that and he wants me to be there.

I have no idea why.

Maybe it's me that's getting the award. I'm not really sure.

With that said, I'm going to go finish off this jar of paste and go watch "Later Today" because I think Florence Henderson is a hottie.

Have a great day.

Uncle Bob loves ya!

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