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5:50 a.m. - 2001-05-09


I'm kind of embarrassed. I forgot to tell everyone about Diaryland yesterday.

I mean ... I told a few people. I told my drunk-assed boss.

"Hey boss," I said. "Ever heard of Diaryland?"

He didn't say anything because he was trying to write his editorial but his monitor was spinning from all the gin he had drank at lunch.

"It's a pretty cool website," I said. "Everyone gets their own diary and can write whatever they want in it."

He got up and walked out of the room. Sometimes I don't think he realizes I still work there.

I told the guy at the Chinese restaurant about Diaryland.

"Duck sauce? Soy Sauce?" he said.

"Plenty of Soy sauce," I confirmed. "Hey, listen up, Hung ever heard of Diaryland?"

He gave me a puzzled look as if I just stepped out of the boundaries of his vocabulary.

"Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck?" he said.

"No, Wang Chung...that's Disneyland," I said. "Diaryland. It's a website."

"I no no websites," he said.

So I carefully explained Diaryland to him while he waited on about five billion customers, juggling every order in his head like a machine.

"So, you want your own diary," I asked.

"Get out now, fat man," he said. "You no allowed in here no more."

I laughed.

"Carry on there, Ching Chong Chung," I chuckled. "I'll see you in Diaryland."

Those are really the only two people I told. Sorry, Andrew.

I actually had a good day yesterday for a deadline day.

I went in with the mindset that I wasn't going to stress out about anything and just let everything flow as smoothly as possible.

The thing is ... I bust my ass on Monday to make sure that everything is written and ready to go on Tuesday, while everyone else just waits until Tuesday to do their work.

So I'm one up on everyone else and have to sit and wait for everyone else to do their jobs before I can finish mine.

You don't care, do you?

I don't know why I'm talking about that here.

My apologies.

So I left another mouse trap out all day yesterday, hoping to catch another mouse.

Well...not exactly hoping. More like trying to see if there were any more mice.

No mice. Trap's still set.

You don't know what a relief that is to not have any more mice.

Maybe you do.

You probably do. I doubt anyone is out there saying "Fuck, Uncle Bob ... I'd LOVE to have several hundred mice running around my house at all hours of the night, gnawing on my ankle bones while I slept."

Once again ... my apologies here.

Got home last night and the dog wanted to go for a walk. So I told Susie "Let's make it a family walk."

So we put Andy in his stroller and off we go.

Andy is such a trip when he's in his stroller. He sits there all quiet and serious, not really taking in the surroundings, just staring straight ahead.

I was trying to make him smile as we walked. Trying to get him to loosen up.

No go. He just sat there stonefaced.

He's too cool for walks. That's what I decided last night. Walks are below him and he can't be bothered with them. His schedule is too tight for such frivolties as walking.

He's got fucking DISNEY to watch, dude! Back off with that walking shit!! TIGGER'S ON!!!

He's a trip.

It's been almost a year since I had any alcohol in my system.

I was thinking about that yesterday.

It's also been a year since I purchased any ummmmm....bags full of grass clippings...yeah...that's what we'll call it.

The alcohol wasn't really a problem. After 20 years of drinking pretty steadily, I guess I had just finally drank enough. And it's not like I "quit" drinking ... I just "haven't" drank. I now prefer the taste of water over alcohol. The few times I've been in bars over the last year, I've ordered water and pissed off my share of bartenders who thought I wasn't going to tip them.

Then after drinking water for the duration of my stay, I've always slipped them ten bucks and thanked them. The look of shock on their face usually makes up for the evening full of shitty service from them.

And at first, I really missed the grass, the weed, the pot, the dopage, the mary jane, the wacky tobacky ... these days I don't even think about it anymore.

Gawd ... I used to love that stuff.

This diary is a good chronicle of how much I loved that stuff. If you look at my entries from January-May, 2000, you'll see I used to update 2-3 times a day when I was smoking the herb.

And some of those entries are ...ummmmm...strange to say the least.

But since May of 2000, you've gotten a sober Uncle Bob here. Some say a "not-as-funny" Uncle Bob.

Hey. If I ain't as funny that should prove one thing ... marijuana is a fun drug.

I DO HOPE they legalize it someday. At one point, I was a card-carrying member of NORML (National Organization to Reform Marijuana Laws). I signed up at the great Atlanta Pot Festival in the early 90s when the Black Crowes headlined an all-day concert where people just sat in a park and got high all day.

If it were to be legalized, you bet your sweet ass you'll start getting more than one entry a day, padre. You'd probably get 10-12 entries a day.

I'm a prolific sonofabitch when I'm under the influence. That's the sign of a true writer. When they're inebriated, they head straight for the computer keyboard and start spilling their brains out.


That's a sign alright.


What the hell is up with this entry today?

I want pizza.

Alright...the baby's up and as you can probably tell, I'm officially out of shit to write about.

Take care.

Smoochies all around.

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