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3:07 p.m. - 2001-11-15

CURLY FREAKS ME OUT

Soooooo..my pity party from this morning has been cancelled due to lack of interest.

I feel like if all I have to bitch about is my foot hurting and my wife never being home...well...hey...life's good, huh?

I guess I was just pissy because my foot hurt so bad that I didn't walk and when I don't go for a walk then I feel guilty and when I feel guilty I want to punch somebody hard in the face and since there was nobody around at 5 a.m., I had to take it out on myself, so I beat myself about the face several times, posted a half-assed entry (kinda like this one) and then went about my business.

Yeah.

That's what I did alright.


I've been trying to work on three projects today simultaneously with none of the three progressing to a level that I could even hope to be proud of.

That's kinda where my life is now at work. Constantly trying to get on top of things that I have no way of successfully ever getting on top of.

I was told when I started that when I got snowed under to just say "Uncle!" and they'd hire someone to assist me.

That was before September 11th and all the cutbacks that corporations started making.

I want my job.

If I say "I can't handle my job", they're going to think "What a wuss" and hire someone else to take my place and boot me right on out the door.

Granted...this is my paranoia talking. But my paranoia has a pretty loud voice and is kinda sorta boisterous. So I have to listen to it sometimes.


My office is on the first floor of an executive building. Right outside my window is this huge open field that separates the building from a busy bypass and a bunch of restaurants and malls and such.

Just thought you might want to know that.

BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Just kidding!! I had a point here!!

Ahem.

So anyway, there's this guy...I call him Curly because he's overweight with a shaved head, but stubble. He's like the world's worst beard grower, but this doesn't stop him from trying.

Anyway...Curly smokes and everyone's forced to smoke outside. So I usually see him walking through the field, talking on a cell phone and smoking.

No big deal. That's Curly's routine. He paces the length of the building talking on his cell phone and smoking. Personally, I think he's busting out the doobage when he gets to the back of the building where nobody can see him, but once again...Hellooo? Paranoia here!

...I guess I like to romanticize that the back of the building would be a cool place to smoke herb if I still smoked it.

Anyway...the point...the point.

So I happen to be sitting here, type type typing away and I look up and see Curly. Talking on his cell phone and smoking.

Anyway...Curly walks up right outside my window and peers inside.

TOTALLY CREEPED ME OUT!!

Right now the sun is shining through my windows, but I don't think he can see inside here. I know at night you can see through the windows but during the day I think they're tinted to where we can see out but Curly can't see in.

Anyway, he's got his face pressed up against the glass, eyes shielding the reflection from the glass and looking in this office.

I sat here frozen, staring at my screen like I didn't notice a 6'2" hulking monster smoking and staring at me from the field outside.

He stood there for about 15 seconds looking in. Then he just walked away, still smoking, still chatting on his cell phone.

I don't know what the hell was going on in that shaved pinhead of his...but he really gave your ol' Uncle Bob a fright!

He has to know that somebody was probably occupying this office.

I think next time I'll bang on the glass and holler "Shoo Curly! Shoo!"

That should work.

Okay...time for our weekly editorial meeting where I never add anything to the conversation.

Well this week, it's time for a change!

I've got something to talk about!

Naturally, I'll probably be fired once I bring it up. It concerns a certain bill we received here at the business in my name for something that I didn't okay.

I'm not worried though.

Hire somebody to help me write and watch me sweat.

Alright, they're filing in...gotta go.

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