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11:43:49 - 2000-03-15
I'm sitting here, waiting on the damned Orkin Man and getting more and more fired up about it as the day goes on. The bastard called me yesterday at 8 a.m. "Mr. Bob, I'm on my way over to spray your house." Ahem. Excuse me just a moment, my good man, but my house is sprayed the first WEDNESDAY of every month. And if you show your face at my door on a TUESDAY, wanting to snoop around my house spraying your cockroach water and then stand around and shoot the shit for an hour, you've got another thing coming, numbnuts. Then I informed him that the first Wednesday of the month was last week and he never showed up. He apologized profusely and offered to "hang on my rim" which I didn't quite understand. I thanked him for his interest in my rim, but no thanks. Just come by tomorrow and everything's hunky dory. Now...It's 11 a.m. and Bug Boy still hasn't hopped in here all jacked up on petrohydrochloride. Here's what's going to happen when he rings my doorbell and I answer the door. HIM: "Hello Mr. Bob, I'm here to...." ME: (Fist connecting firmly with the bridge of his nose) "WHAM!!" HIM: "Oh you dirty sonofabitch you broke my nose!" ME: "Now we're even. Get in here and spray my house, Bug Boy." I dare say I have the most macho diary on the web. Alright...gonna go back on Orkin Watch 2000. Over and out.
The last one/The next one
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