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6:37 a.m. - 2004-04-13

DONALD TRUMP'S CALLING ME FOR A LOAN

It's a new day, baby. A new day.

I followed up on two job leads yesterday and I'm about 90% sure I'll have my pick over which one I want.

And I think I'll take both.

The first one concerns daily travel. I may have written about it here already ... once again, I don't remember because I write this stuff when I first wake up and don't go back to check it later.

The second is practically my dream job.

Basically, I'll be working for a major entertainment company, supervising the entertainment at four local nightclubs.

If I want to, I can DJ at my pick of the nightclubs.

The other three nightclubs I will hire DJs for and be their supervisor.

Here's the cool part ... I'm given $20/hour for each of the DJs ... but I can hire them for whatever amount I want.

So ... for example, if I decide to pay them $12/hour, I pocket $8 for every hour they work.

Therefore, if I work one of the positions, making my $20/hour and pocket $8/hour from three other DJs, I'm looking at making $44/hour 40 hours a week.

In case you don't feel like doing the math ... that's over $90,000 a year.

For playing music.

That may not be shit in New York City ... but in Alabama ... that qualifies me as multi-millionaire status.

The entertainment company is in the midst of equipping all four nightclubs with brand new state-of-the-art DJ equipment including video screens.

They also supply each club with a fresh batch of new music each month.

I had a "job interview" for that job last night on the phone with a guy from North Carolina who seemed to love me and thought I was the ideal person for the job.

I'm talking to him again tonight and he wants an answer from me as to whether I want the job or not.

Susie's given me her blessing to work nights because she knows this is what I want to do.

Plus, the money they're offering is nothing to sneeze at.

I mean ... you could sneeze at it. But then you're left with mucus-coated money and seriously ... what the hell are you going to do with that?

Anyway ... I don't want to jinx the thing by talking any more about it ... but I think my days of telemarketing are just about to wind down.

Which is good.

Because ... in case you haven't figured it out yet ... I ABHOR telemarketing.


As you may have read or heard ... Weird Al's elderly parents died in a freak accident, having been poisoned by carbon monoxide while sitting in their home, listening to their collection of Weird Al bootlegs.

I think what struck me as the most odd was that Al just kept on truckin', performing in concert the next night after his parents were found dead.

That had to be tough ... singing the classics like "Like a Surgeon" and "I'm Fat" while visions of his parents gasping for air danced through his head.

Now then.

Because Weird Al is probably busy with funeral arrangements and such, I have decided to take it upon myself to write the obligatory parody song for this situation.

I'm sure Weird Al would want it this way.

So ... here you go ... sung to the tune of the Rolling Stones "Jumping Jack Flash":

MY PARENTS HAVE BEEN GASSED

I was born to some really dried up parents.

And I howled at my ma as she taught me to dance,

But it’s all right now, in fact, they've been gassed!

But it’s alllll right, my parents have been gassed,

They've been gassed, gassed, gassed!

I was raised by a toothless, bearded hag,

And her last breath was more like a gag,

But it’s all right now, in fact, they've been gassed!

But it’s alllll right, my parents have been gassed,

They've been gassed, gassed, gassed!

It's ... uhhhhh ... it's a work in progress.

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