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5:24 a.m. - 2003-04-18

AN EASTER STORY

There's not much news to tell ya this morning. Sorry.

My mouse is working today. I guess the little mouse ball was dirty. I bought one of those nifty cordless mouses that they would use on Star Trek or something, but it looks like I'll be taking it back since ze current mouse is magnifique.


Susie talked to Pervy's Mom who's all tore up because she thinks Pervy has testicular cancer.

I guess it's a possibility.

But more likely, she's just in denial over the fact that her little baby whipped it dry.

I mean...even oil wells eventually run dry.

You can only abuse a 15 year-old penis for so long before it finally gives in and says "Sorry dude...we're shutting this baby down."


You know...I really hate the fact that I can't get laid in my dreams.

It seems like I'm always dreaming of hot women who are throwing themselves at me, and I always tell them I can't have sex with them because I'm married.

Hellooooo?? Earth to Captain Stupid. It's okay to have sex with hot women in your dreams. Over and out.

Does anyone have any suggestions on how to loosen up in your dreams and have sex with totally hot strangers?


Went to Applebee's for lunch yesterday with Edweird and his new co-worker Todd.

Speaking of Edweird, I'm not sure if I told you guys...but he started a new job too this week. He followed my lead at the last job and resigned from the workplace effective immediately, cleaned out his desk and hauled ass.

Ironically, he's working right next door to me downtown.

Granted, he had been pursuing his job since January, whereas I had pursued mine for less than two weeks before I got it.

Anyway...went to Applebee's.

Gah.

Talk about your crappy service.

The guy was nice enough.

But just...dumb.

He walked over to our table and took our orders. Mentally. We told him what we wanted, he repeated it all and walked away.

A few minutes later, he walked back, this time with his order pad, to take our orders again. Except this time, he came up with the novel approach to WRITE THE ORDERS DOWN.

Man. The guy should really open up his own restaurant with revolutionary ideas like that one.

He could call it "Dumbasslebees".

So then...30 minutes later...THIRTY F'N MINUTES LATER...he brings the food.

I ordered a chicken salad. It was really really warm. Not just the chicken...everything.

Like...heat lamp warm. Like the salad had been sitting under a heat lamp for 28 minutes.

Edweird...who had ordered some sort of chicken roll-up ... actually found some bits of human feces in his roll-up!!

I'm not lying!!!

Okay...you're right. I'm lying.

It's just that yesterday was so incredibly boring and I'm bitching about service at Applebee's that really wasn't that bad, but I'm at such a loss to give you guys anything entertaining this morning that I was forced to make up a lie about my buddy having to eat human shit at Applebee's for lunch.

I'm embarrassed. Not only for myself, but for the way I tried to lead you people to believe that my buddy ate shit.

I'm sorry.

There was no shit eating.

At least...not to the best of my knowledge.

I mean ... I have no idea what Edweird does during his bathroom breaks.

But I can vouch for him that he didn't eat shit at lunch.


The service still sucked, but I know a lot of you are in the service industry and are quick to jump all over my shit when I mention that I received sucky service at certain restaurants.

I'll receive about two dozen emails from waiters and waitresses who list the reasons why my service may have sucked.

The number one reason is always "It wasn't the waiter's fault."

Wrong, El Waiter Lover-o.

This guy was a moron.

My wife was in the service industry for the first six years that we were together.

She was a kick-ass bartender/waitress.

I know this because every night she would come home with an inflamed ass from all the pinching that lecherous old men would perform on her for a job well done.

Apparently, in the cocktail industry, a pinch on the ass is as good as a tip.

Maybe she was cheating on me with some masochist who enjoyed spanking her.

Maybe that's why she came home at 3 a.m. every night,several hours after I had been asleep.

Lemme go ask her.


I'm back.

She was in the shower, and still waking up, but she assured me that she has never had an affair with a masochist with a spanking fetish since we've been together.

Whew!

That was a close one!


I think the women are warming up to me at my new job.

Yesterday, I was talking casually to our receptionist, when an older woman that we work with said "Everyone is off from work tomorrow."

We're all like..."Yeah?"

And she has nothing else to say about it.

Maybe a minute goes by and she says "It's a holiday tomorrow. So many people are going to be off."

I just burst out "Ann...do you have Tourette's?"

She started laughing.

"You're just sitting over there, babbling about everyone having the day off tomorrow. It's like you can't help yourself. We KNOW everyone has the day off tomorrow. Hell, if I had stayed with my old job, I'd be off RIGHT NOW AND TOMORROW!"

Needless to say, I have to work today.

Millions of Americans are taking today off from work to remember the Christ Child and how he managed to push that big boulder away from his cave after working at it for three days and how everyone thought it was a miracle because they thought he was dead when it was really only a flesh wound that pretty much zapped all his energy but man...he sure moved that boulder, didn't he? I mean...say what you want about the guy being lethargic and all energy-less...but when it came time to move a two-ton boulder, I think getting the job accomplished in three days is a pretty big deal.

Granted, he was probably pretty claustrophobic and that added to the extra energy. It's like how they say that when a mother sees her kid with a car on top of him (something every mother has to face sooner or later), the mother can lift the car up above her head and the kid can crawl away unless it suffered a spinal fracture or something and then Mom needs to put the car down somewhere else and knock off the Mighty Mouse impressions.

Anyway, that's how I envision the Christ Child getting out of that makeshift tomb. He's all "GET ME OUTTA HERE!! DADDAMMIT...GET ME OUTTA HERE YOU GUYS!! IT'S DARK AND I'M FREAKING OUT AND I'M PRETTY SURE I'VE GOT A SPIDER CRAWLING INTO MY LOINCLOTH!! GUYS!!! GUYS!!! HELLLLLLLP!!!"

So ... you know...he moved it on his own.

And everyone thought it was a miracle.

But again, I point you all to the mother lifting the car example and remind you ... you can do anything you want as long as you're freaking out while doing it.

Yep.

So for those of you that are off today to remember Jesus and his amazing Rock-Moving Story, I hope that my version of the story was sufficient enough for you to not feel guilty about having the day off to remember Jesus.

While the rest of us peons will be sitting at work, trying to get ahold of people who were lucky enough to have the day off.

...Damned bastards.

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