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10:54 a.m. - 2001-08-21

FORGIVE ME FATHER, FOR I HAVE SINNED

Okayyyy...

I lied.

Yep. Uncle Bob lied.

Here's the deal.

Y'see, when I woke up this morning, I didn't think anyone would wanna read about how Andy and I played and read books last night. A little bit of that goes a long way, y'know what I mean?

That kid is my whole life. Yet, I've made a commitment with myself that I will update this diary every day (now twice a day, you lucky bastards) with something fairly entertaining.

It's kinda what you expect when you visit this diary. Something entertaining.

And a lot of feedback I get from people is they like it when "Uncle Bob goes off" on people. When I get rude and vicious.

Keep in mind...that's Uncle Bob being rude and vicious. That's not me.

So this morning, I'm bored and have nothing to write about.

So I fabricated some things about the people I work with in a rude and vicious tone. I fabricated a story where an editor wouldn't hold a door for me.

That never happened. But...in my defense ... it has happened in the past six weeks since I've been here and it wasn't an editor. It just didn't take place yesterday morning.

As it turns out, there really ARE people here at the office reading this diary other than Wendi and Eddie who I KNEW were reading the diary. And I knew others HAD read the diary in the past, but I was told that was just a fleeting thing and they no longer read it.

Plus, I figured if anyone read this thing faithfully, they woulda came up and said "Hey...I really like that online diary of yours." And I would smile and it'd be our secret pact that they knew about this thing and enjoyed it.

Well I was wrong.

There ARE people reading it and just not saying a word about it. I know I've painted that scenario here before, but in my heart, I REALLY DIDN'T THINK my co-workers were reading this garbage.

So now, I'm hearing that a few of them are upset with what I wrote here in my last entry.

Some of them think I'm a real asshole for writing what I wrote.

That's not my intention. I write this stuff to entertain people from all over the globe. It's meant to be a daily diatribe from the cranky uncle that we've all had at one point or another.

It should NOT be taken personally. My only point was to paint a picture of the "poor old Uncle Bob" who nobody wants to give the time of day to after several weeks at the business now.

This is a strange place for me to be working in. I come from a background of working in bars and the newspaper business. Both loud places with lots of screaming and chatter.

Here, you can hear a pin drop. People walk by your office as quietly as possible and try not to disturb you.

When you walk past them in the hallway, they look away because they don't want to make a peep.

It's very odd to me and counter-productive to how I've been working for the last 20 years.

It's taking time to get used to. I'm the type of guy who wants to say "Hello" to everyone and ask how their day's going.

That's not done here.

That's not to say there's not a buncha great people here. The majority of people here are friendly and helpful and in due time I think I'll have some great new friends from here.

There's a slight few who I just don't deal with and that's okay. I don't expect them to go overboard to make sure the new guy is comfortable in his surroundings when they have important jobs to be doing.

So yeah...today's earlier entry came off really harsh. I went back and read it and saw that it came off a lot meaner than it was intended.

So to those of you co-workers who actually read this crap religiously...first off...I'm shocked and flattered that you take time out of your day to see what I've got to say.

Second...I'm sorry for offending you.

Please don't take it personally.

Uncle Bob...he's only funnin'... he's just trying to make those folks in Australia yuk it up some. He's not going to hulk out and start whoopin' ass if you don't say "hi" to him each morning.

With that said...

GET BACK TO WORK!!

DON'T YOU PEOPLE HAVE SOME PROJECT YOU SHOULD BE FINISHING???

Sheesh.

I swear.

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