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5:02 a.m. - 2003-12-19


My sister's a trip.

Back in the mid-70s when she was 10 years old, she "dated" a kid who was also 10 for a short amount of time. I'm guessing no more than a month.

The guy's sister goes on to become an Oscar-winning actress.

My sister finds this out, tracks down this guy via the Internet and it turns out he's earning a decent living for himself as a photographer. He takes several of the photos that people see of his sister as well as other celebrities.

My sister begins a rekindling of the friendship these two had almost 30 years ago.

The photographer is now divorced and thinks my sister's hitting on him via email. He starts all this "You should come to New York and see me" crap. He's a horndog, basically.

My sister's happily married to the best of my knowledge with two wonderful children.

I'm pretty sure she rebuked him and let him know "No thanks" and just wanted to continue a friendly email relationship.

Basically ... my sister wants a claim to fame in her life. She wants to say ... "Oh, by the way, I got an email from famous actress' brother. He's going to the premiere of 'Lord of the Rings' tonight."

So this past weekend ... and yes ... it's a tragedy ... Photographer's family ... his ex-wife and two children ages 10 and 6, died from a house fire.

The little boy died immediately. The mother and daughter held on for a few days and then passed away in a hospital.

My sister is freaking out.

She's called me bawling more than once this week.

She's sent me every single news story link that has been written about the tragedy.

She wants to fly to New York and console this guy.

But that whole "pesky family" thing keeps getting in the way of such plans.

Once again, this is a horrible tragedy. This guy lost his ex-wife and two children in a house fire.

I'm sure he must be reeling.

But I would think that he has enough friends and family that's consoling him right now without some email friend that he held hands with 30 years ago wanting in on the consoling action just on the slim chance that she'll be able to rub elbows with a famous actress as well.

That may sound mean.

But you have to know my sister.

And you have to have read all the emails I've received over the past few months about what Photographer's doing now and who he hung out with last weekend.

It's exhausting at times because you can't say "You're just interested in the guy because he's quasi-famous and living in the shadow of his sister."

Especially not now.

So today's our Christmas Party at work.

The one where I'll be rapping for seven minutes straight.

In a Santa Suit.

It's sooooo cheesy and hokey ... not just this rap, but the whole idea.

Yesterday at about 2 p.m., I get a call from one of the gals in the big office.

She heard I was in charge of entertainment and she has ALREADY WRITTEN a spoof on "T'was the Night Before Christmas" which skewers everyone in the building and she wants that to be read rather than the rap that I've been working on for the past several weeks, that others have been practicing dance steps for, that still others have gone shopping for props for and that others are working behind the scenes for.

Trash all that and go with a spoof that someone wrote without being asked to write.

I explained to her kindly that we had already been working on this other thing for several weeks and we were less than 24 hours away from the party and it was kinda late notice to just say "Drop everything ... this parody will SLAY THEM!!"

She insisted that I at least heard it first.

So I went to her office, we closed the door and she read it to me.

It was like watching a really good movie starring Pauly Shore and Carrot Top.

You really wanted to hate it but it wasn't half bad.

I chuckled once. She had one decent line in the poem. But at least the entire poem flowed and made sense at the end.

Basically, the poem rests on the contingency that we will be excused from returning to work for the rest of the day after the party.

The girl who wrote this is new and has her doubts that the big boss will tell everyone to go home after the party (it takes place at noon).

We're having an open bar at the party and people tend to drink there.

The boss has ALWAYS let everyone go home after the party. It's a tradition.

Still, the poem girl has her doubts. She thinks we'll all have a few drinks and then drive across town back to the office where we all sit and hiccup and have lines to get in the bathroom.

And her poem revolves around the final line which states "You're all excused for the day and to all a good night!"

She has written a poem that breaks the news that we're all allowed to go home.

Something we already know.

I dunno.

Who am I to rain on her parade?

I told her that she could read her poem after we do our rap thing.

It's ... once again ... you have to know this girl. She's a good hard worker and a bit ... cheesy.

She's all "Hey everyone! You're all doing GREAT work! Everything's looking GREAT! I can't wipe this fucking smile off my fucking face because everything's just so fucking GREAT!"

A little goes a long way with her.

She also has a mullet.

It's a stylish mullet.

You wouldn't immediately think "Gee...nice mullet on that woman."

You have to look closely before you go "You know ... I think that may be a mullet on that chick's head."

And then, when forced to form an opinion of said mullet, you'd probably be on the fence about it.

I don't hold the mullet against her.

But c'mon.

It's a mullet.

After the party, I'm the only one going back to the office.

Since I haven't built up any vacation days yet (can't wait for January 1st, baby!) I have to make deals in order to get days off at the office.

The deal I made this time is that I would work the rest of the day answering the phones at the office if I could have Christmas Eve off.

They'll be letting us go early anyway for Christmas Eve. But early could mean 4:59 p.m.

I need the whole day off. My family's coming to town, I need to cook and clean that day.

Thus ... it's my happy ass answering the phone all afternoon while everyone else gets trashed and either goes shopping or goes home to sleep.

But hey ... I only have to work a two-day week next week.


Who's crying now?!?

Well ... really ... it's still me. Everyone else is taking Christmas Eve off as a vacation day already.

So yeah.

The preceding announcement was made for those who compulsively keep up with my holiday schedule.

I'm apparently going to be deejaying at a stuffy Christmas party tomorrow night from 8-12.

It's at a local country club that used to be for Jewish people only.

I'm not sure if they've relaxed those by-laws or not.

I just hope nobody tries to drunkenly circumsize me while I'm playing "Play That Funky Music".

You've gotta watch for those kinda things when you're the only Christian in a roomful of drunken Jews.

Alright ... I've got things to do.

Have a wonderful weekend.

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