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21:05:29 - 2000-05-09

MONEY CAN'T BUY HAPPINESS...BUT I STILL WANNA WIN THE LOTTERY.

Yo, yo, yo, yo, yooooooo....

Dad's expected to make a full recovery.

I can now exhale.

WHOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

This morning, after writing the previous entry, my connection timed out on Mindspring. I could not connect again for six hours, hence the late entry. My apologies, and you can bet yer sweet ass Mindspring got an earful.

MINDSPRING TECH SUPPORT: "Hello, this is Roger, can I help you?"

ME: "Hey there Mindspring Boy. Uncle Bob here. Look, I've got about six people out there who can't WAIT to see what half-awake drivel I've prepared for them today. But it seems I can't get connected."

MINDSPRING TECH SUPPORT: "How old's your computer, Uncle Bob?"

ME: "Ummmmm....about two weeks old."

MINDSPRING TECH SUPPORT: "Ahhhhh...it's already outdated. Time to buy a new one."

ME: "You know what I've noticed about you dickless pieces of shit at Mindspring, there Mindspring Boy?"

MINDSPRING TECH SUPPORT: "Excuse me???"

ME: "I'll tell ya Mindspring Boy. It's the way you guys can just effortlessly place the blame on everything but this twisted piece of shit you call an Internet provider."

MINDSPRING TECH SUPPORT: "EXCUSE ME?!?"

ME: "Look...hang up any time there, El Dickless Wonder-o. But I've got a few more things I have to get off my chest."

MINDSPRING TECH SUPPORT: *CLICK*

ME: "Hello??"

Anyway...that's the gist of that one.

I've been totally neglecting the message board lately, more specifically ... the Question of the Day. Thanks gals for picking up my slack. I don't know what I'd do without ya's.

Well, I've been home 90 minutes now and I've had two job offers.

Both for the same job...the competition wants me to come to work as a copy editor.

I've always heard bad things about our competition ... but hey...maybe it's because it's the competition.

But nearly everyone who has ever worked for my paper worked for the competition first. And NONE of them had anything nice to say about it.

First, a friend of mine Brad called me from there. Brad used to work for us at my paper but left to go to the competition. Although Brad has never badmouthed the competition to me, I've gotten the vibes he doesn't care for the place that much.

He called me and asked if I'd be interested in coming down there.

I politely declined.

His SUPERVISOR then called me 30 minutes later, asking if I wanted to come down there and work and basically offered me more money than what I'm making now.

I politely declined and told him that money couldn't buy happiness. I've had jobs where I made more money than I do now.

They sucked.

To me, happiness is everything. I dare say I'm continually one happy, happy sonofabitch.

75% of that is because I enjoy my job. Just the way it is now.

It took me 20+ years to find a job I was truly happy in. And I plan on staying with it as long as I can.

The supervisor admired my company loyalty and the fact that I turned down the money. He offered to buy me lunch sometime and still wanted to meet me.

Sure thing, Andrew. I'll call ya, Babe. We'll do lunch.

(Bob puts on his Raybans and sticks a thumb near his ear and a pinky extended towards his mouth as if he's talking on the phone)

Yeah right.

It's flattering. But I'm a writer, not a copy editor.

I'm in a fashion show on Thursday.

Do copy editors get to be in fashion shows??

You don't need a lifeline for that one, Regis. The answer is "hell no, they don't."

Do copy editors get to receive payola from organizations and record companies to print favorable stories about their products?

Uh-uh.

Do copy editors get to cruise down the interstate at 120 mph in a convertible BMW with a Vietnamese prostitute named Lily choking on their wang as they sip a martini?

Fuckin' A, they don't.

So hey ... money can't get me to give up the gig I've got now.

And probably never will.

Tomorrow, I PLAN on writing once again about the night I lost my virginity.

May 10, 1980 is the date it happened.

Tomorrow is the 20th anniversary of the night I left my cherry on the sheets of my bed.

If you want the actual diary entry from that fateful day, click here tomorrow.

That's it for me tonight. Forgive me, but I'm rather woozy still from all the crap over the past week.

Love ya.

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