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4:18 a.m. - 2003-04-09

IT'S ALL IN THE WIGGLE

I found out a very interesting fact last night.

Just because a person becomes an important figure in state politics, doesn't mean that they won't grovel at your feet for a free coffee mug.

Last night, my co-workers and myself had to man a booth at a tourism expo kinda thing. The exact phrasing of whatever it was escapes me at the moment, but it was people from all over the state in various booths trying to make state senators and legislators play games in order to win invaluable trinkets with your city's name on it so that when they think "tourism" they think "that nifty metal drink coaster shoved in the back of my junk drawer that I won at that tourism expo kinda thing".

It went pretty well. We got rid of almost all the stuff that we had to give away. Apparently we had some of the nicer stuff that was being given away...nice baseball caps, t-shirts, stainless steel travel mugs, and some golfing paraphenelia. Because the legislators flocked to our table all night long.

One senator in particular who I won't name by name but is quite famous in our state seemed to be just a wee bit tipsy by the time he got to our table.

"Whatta I gotta do here to win me one of them t-shirts?" he slurred.

"Well, we give you three chances to putt a golf ball in the hole over here," I said, momentarily taken aback by his overpowering whiskey breath. "If you sink the ball, you get your choice of prizes."

"And if I don't sink the ball?" he asked.

"You get your choice of prizes," I confirmed. "Just like legalized gambling, it's a win-win situation".

(Our state will NEVER have legalized gambling. That's the devil's business and we are a collective group of God-fearing citizens who know that gambling and whores go hand-in-hand. And by God...there's no way in Hell that we're going to have whores littering our interstates like discarded roadkill. No offense to any whores out there reading this.)

So the Senator gets up to the putting green and goes to sink the first ball. He temporarily loses his balance and falls into a plant that we have strategically placed near the putting green to catch any drunken senators who may lose their balance.

The ball goes sailing off into a crowd of legislators who are spinning around in circles with their arms outstretched, trying to win a Koozie.

He goes for the second ball. He misses it several times, laughing hysterically at his own ineptitude while the line of disgruntled senators grows behind him.

The third ball, he decides he's going to wiggle his butt like Tiger Woods because that's how Tiger wins so much. "It's all in the wiggle," the guy says.

Sure enough...after a temporary butt-wiggling session that elicits more whiskey-soaked hoots and hollers from the senator, the ball is sunk perfectly in the hole.

You would have thought he won the Masters. If in fact, the Masters is a golf tournament. I think it is. However, I'm about as much into golf as I am into shoving sharp objects up my butt, so I'm grasping for straws here.

He stayed around our game for about 20 minutes, telling everyone to wiggle their butt if they wanted to win. So I was in charge of a long line of politicians wiggling their butts in desperate attempts to win drink coasters.

What a wonderful way to spend your second day on the job.


In case you haven't figured it out by now, I love my new job.

But man ... I'm starting to wonder ... will I EVER have time to actually do any work?

I've been stuck in meetings and orientations and expos and have yet to get anything done on my actual work which right now consists of writing a script for tourists to hear when they take tours of downtown.

I'm hoping to make some headway on it this morning. Because I have to take the tour this afternoon with the formerly evil Wendigo, my boss Dawn and some other people.

And I think they're going to want a copy of the script before we take off on our little jaunt.

I get the feeling that it's going to say "There's the state capitol. There's where Rosa Parks got arrested. There's where Martin Luther King preached. Aaaand...right about there is where I was fired from this job for not having this script finished."

We'll see.


Poor Andrew is sick.

Everyone at daycare is sick. All the kids, Miss Robin...everyone.

I took him to daycare yesterday and he cried the entire 30 minute trip there.

He wasn't crying because he was sick.

He was crying because I accidentally broke his morning breakfast bar in half when removing it from the wrapper.

My boy is anal. I know this for a fact. He will NOT eat a breakfast bar that has been broken in half. It has to be handed to him whole and that's how he eats it.

When the bar crumbled in my hands yesterday, I knew I was in for a round of pseudo-Armageddon.

The crying jag wasn't so bad the first ten minutes of the trip.

But the last 20 minutes almost had me wanting to crash into a tree to get him to stop.

He's a good kid and all.

But man...do NOT give him a broken Breakfast Bar when he's got a froggy cough.

You'd think you would have chopped his foot off.

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