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8:37 a.m. - 2004-06-30


I'm trying to write a story about temp agencies and why businesses should use them.

After my own experience with temp agencies over the last few months, I'm desperately fighting the urge to write "You should take advantage of temps and temp agencies on those days when you feel like abusing the holy shit out of employees with no repercussions of them coming back in and shooting everyone in the office because they're not real employees, they're fucking temps."

But, due to the fact that I have to adhere to certain guidelines like "Don't write about mass murders in the workplace" and "Don't use the word 'fucking'" I've hit a mental roadblock in the composition of the story.

Which is why I'm here, spewing psychobabble until my brain can get back on track.

Hey ... thanks to whoever said I should go the WinMX route in finding certain songs.

While it's as slow as Stephen Hawking in a foot race, it's got tons of songs that I've been looking for.

So yeah ... thanks.

Went to work last night and it was slower than Stephen Hawking in a foot race.


I fucking KILL me sometimes!

Anyway ... went to work and at one point we were about to call it an early night when these two elderly couples came in.

I say "elderly". They were old enough to be my parents. So that's elderly in my book.

One of the ladies came up and asked me to play some "old country".

Now this is a dance club for younger people. But since there weren't any younger people, and because she was a sweet grandmotherly type, I played what she wanted to hear.

Lotsa old George Jones, Tammy Wynette, Johnny Cash, etc.

The four of them were ecstatic. They couldn't believe their good fortunes that they had stumbled into a club that would play the music THEY wanted to hear.

So this goes on for about an hour. They were dancing like elderly people like to dance. Slowly shuffling from side to side and clapping their hands with no rhythm whatsoever.

Then, the inevitable happened.

A group of guys waltzed in that I instantly recognized.

These guys like 80s heavy metal music.

Metallica, Megadeth, Scorpions, etc.

They come in on slow nights as well, so I usually bend the rules and play the tunes they want to hear for them.

So now I had six guys wanting to rock out to some vintage Slayer tunes while Granny and Gramps were wanting Ronnie Milsap and Anne Murray.

What a conundrum!

I did the best I could. I'd play Anne Murray and follow it up with Ozzy and going back and forth like that.

So during Ozzy, Granny would plug her fingers in her ears and shoot me dirty looks.

During Anne Murray, the guys would yell "BORING!!" and look frustrated that I wouldn't play their music.

And I was reminded once again as to why I left the business in the first place 10 years ago.

The knee-humping nephews from Texas are coming to town next week.

Susie called her sister last night and told her that they were more than welcome to stay in our house for the 10 days that they'll be in town.

Oh fucking yay.

The good thing is ... all the boys have grown out of the knee-humping stage and moved effortlessly into the sullen teenager stage where they communicate through grunts and eat as much food as possible while they take over my den.

The best part ... at LEAST the nephews and niece that live here in town will be out of town the entire time.

So I only have to deal with Texas in-laws, Grandma and the $1,100-owing brother-in-law.

(For those of you who queried your asses off yesterday ... I have two local bros-in-law ... one's alright and owns the tiller that I broke and the other's the one that gets on my nerves.)

Should be lots of tales coming from Casa de Bob next week.

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