All About Bob

Honored members of the Big Blogger Bourgeoisie, distinguished readers, ladies and gentlemen …

What is there for me to say? Everything wise and witty has long since been said — on keyboards more skillfully manipulated and by minds far more sodden than mine. For me to thank you as equals would be presumptuous …

Cut !!!

Can it sweetheart. Leave the melodramatics for later on down the road … when Clare’s run out of, ahem … Parisian, pencil tricks (ou sont les crayons?).  No speeches please, just an introduction.

Oh.  Right.  Yes.  Sorry.  Well then.  Moving right along.

Hi.  I’m Bob.  Londoner by way of New York, Chicago, Houston, Chicago, New Orleans, Yellowstone National Park, Springfield, Orange County (before TV made it cool), and Cincinnati.  Witness relocation has been very good to me.

I’m also known, in varied parts of the world, as bobzyeruncle, Uncle Bobby, Hey You It’s Last Call, le Bob, and Bea.  Bea Movie.

In an effort to reduce my, as well as Big Blogger’s, carbon footprint, I arrived at the house via pedicab to thunderous silence.  It was only when I pulled several boxes of Domino’s Pizza that the cheers began, albeit there were some boos from the vegans.  I can’t help it.  I do like my meat.  And if I’m not one of the crowd’s favorites, then surely a slab of pepperoni will do the trick.

Making my way down the red carpet, I patted my pockets and immediately ran back to the cab.  Shit.  I’m always leaving things in cabs.  This time it was my dignity.  I gave Paulo (you know, the Brazilian pedicab pilot with thighs of steel) a squeeze for, um, good luck and headed back to the crowd, who squealed for my … last box of chicken nuggets.

What was I wearing?  It’s been so long now I hardly recall.  Short-term memory and I haven’t been on speaking terms for some years now.  I believe it was a pair of my most comfortable blue jeans (supplied by the Godmother at Denimafia — I’m her UK schill, but that’s the last of it, I promise) and a favorite old t-shirt.  The slimming black one that says, in oh-so-tiny-letters, “Show me on the doll where the bad man touched you.”  Ginch Gonch pants, ‘cause underwear should be fun, and a pair of Merrils. 

Casual.  Comfortable.  Convenient.  It’s pretty much been my motto for the past 15 years, and I see no reason to mess with success.

That’s not to say there might not be a sparkly mirrorball sequined shirt in my bag — which goes quite nicely over a black leather harness. I'm not sayin', I'm just sayin'.

Which brings me to, yes, my bag.  I’m carrying a sporty green Crumpler (with red piping — a bit Christmassy, now that I look at it) that pack a remarkably greater load than one might imagine. And really, who doesn't like a surprisingly big load?  I nicked it off a crusty old nanny that I subcontracted a few months back while shirking my avuncular duties.  I’ve yet to pull a hat stand out of it, but it has accompanied me on a couple of hat tricks.

Anyway, a peek inside reveals a few pair of cargo shorts, another pair of jeans, a selection of logo-less golf shirts, a cardy or two (just in case), and a pair of trainers to keep me in shape for the Bupa Great Capital 10k.  Oh, is that a wig and a sparkly frock in there?  Who slipped that in?

I also espy my iPod with a collection of music running the gamut from suicidal angst to life-affirming showtunes (with some meditation music, country-western singalongs, and a few dance remixes tossed in  for kicks) and the last few episodes of Heroes. Save the cheerleader, save the world.  I’ve taken the liberty of bringing along my PS2, but ONLY because of SingStar.  I feel there might be some lovely karaoke competitions in our future, and if not, the microphones will be awfully fun to walk around the house with and pretend we’re Davina.  Or Dermott.  Dermott … sigh.

There’s also a notebook with 3 clicky gel biros (two blue, one red).  I have a few balance charts if anyone needs some life coaching. I have my travel edition of Twister (the shoulder bag is to die) and a copy of Flannery O’Connor’s collection of short stories, just to keep ‘em guessin'.  We can also play charades for hours. My TEFL training has made me quite adept. 

Ratcliffe, my sewer rat hand puppet from the Globe (see what I did there?), insisted he be brought along, and there’s a small plastic yacht with mystical powers.  One never knows when one may need to channel Charlotte Vale and get away from it all.  Clare has the sink cupboard … I have my wee yacht.

Oh yes, there is quite a bit of red wine, Grey Goose Vodka, a bottle of very smooth but smoky tequila, and a special little bottle marked ‘dolls’ … which must, and this is very important, *not* be tampered with.  I’m on a most dainty cocktail of high-powered mood elevators and ADD medication, both prescribed (mostly to me) and procured, and those around me are most pleased  with the delicate balance achieved over the past several months of self-medication closely-monitored professional care.

What qualities will I bring to the house?  Nothing.  This intro has worn me out and it’s the last you’ll hear from me.

HEY!!  … Who’s that cheering in the garden?  Shh.  SHHHH, I tell you.

I shall bring my demure, self-depricating, multi-layered self.  Just don’t keep peeling … you’ll only cry and find the ill-fated love child of Margot Channing and Addison DeWitt, with a dash of Birdie Coonan keeping it real and a bit of Eve Harrington about the rim.

Oh dear, Miriam,  Did he said "rim?"  And so early in the programme.  Isn’t it still this side of the watershed?

The gift I have brought is quite a special one, and is more fragile than Blanche DuBois on her third day without a lemon Coke.  It’s part of a set … a blown glass (tee hee, he said blown) stemware scepter with a martini glass at the end.

I am quite a marvel in the kitchen and yes, I can cook too.  I have several killer delicious recipes I’d like to make, but so don’t like showing off.  A bag of crisps will be fine.  In the meantime, someone mentioned pollenated cake for tea? 

I’ll have just a sliver please.

Now, where’s that martini shaker?

Cheers,

Bob

Comments

[Big Blogger]

Don't you think you could have shoehorned a few more euphemisms in there?

However, despite that anomoly you've rendered Big Blogger speechless with pride.

Now who's up for a game of Grand Theft Auto?

[bob]

One must tip toe into the elysian fields of euphemism, lest we offend the feint of heart.

[SpanishGoth]

Hola Bob,

The Elysians fields? interesting. Don't worry, I shall not be tampering with medication in any way shape or form. Although I'm a bit worried about Harrington and the rim - did anyone bring domestos?

Enjoy bud and may the force be with you

[Joseph]

Ah, but which SingStar? If it's not 80's or Legends I might have a bit of a strop.

[bob]

Normally not one for excess, I have all of them. I'm afraid you'll have to go stropless.

[little bugger]

singstar?

oh dear god.

so far i feel i'm suffering more than any of the housemates, what with the kippers, the chainsaws, threats of mc hammer, the big boobs, and now the karaoke...

i need a drink.

[bob]

And it's only day one ... buck up little bugger.

[Joseph]

Ah, come on Little Bugger, I promise I'll just keep it to some Tom Jones for now.

[Big Blogger]

If Little Bugger can't take the pressure then fear not! I do a cracking version of 'Imagine', and have been known to sing Kenny Rogers in the shower.

[bob]

As my dear old mama used to say, back before we had her sectioned, I'll bet you dollars to donuts that if we give Lil' Bugger a few shots of tequila, she'll be bringing the house down with "Total Eclipse of the Heart".

[SpanishGoth]

If anyone tried 'Total Eclipse...' I will be doing total Knitting Kneedles Through the Heart

(ooops, bit aggresive for the first day)

[bob]

Memo to self: dis-invite Bonnie Tyler for after party.

[little bugger]

nah, bollocks. i'm staying in the diary room from now on...

you're all fucking mental :)

[Delboys Daughter]

teehee he said 'scepter'

Was anyone else completely lost at the celeb list? Who's whatty where when?
I'm obviously a cultural cuxcomb.

[Daddy Papersurfer]

Why use few words when obviously many thousands are better.

[Invader Stu]

Sing Star sounds like a good idea. I hope I have enough room in my bag for my Guitar Hero.

[Bob]

Wheeee. I've only heard of the fabled Guitar Hero.

And yes, Dadddy, normally I'm a stickler for brevity, but I got all carried away in the excitement.

[enidd]

gosh, bob, that was exciting. enidd didn't understand much of it, but then she's been exiled to eastern europe for years and years. if she plays with your dolls, will she get a smack?

[Clare]

Martini!

Now there's a thought.