WHAT PART OF ASSISTANT DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?

5:15 A FUCKING M.

In related news, Susie's assistant was told last week that her position was being dissolved by the company and that her last day would be April 30th and has suddenly managed to accumulate an attitude.

In even more related news, if I see Susie's assistant before April 30th, I am personally going to wedge my size 13 shoe well up into her ass for calling and waking us up at 5:15 in the morning.

So I actually do some work for a change.

I'm having to write my big "Uncle Bob Returns To The Newspaper" story for the paper this week.

While I've never had to write one of these, I can tell you ... it's not easy.

In explaining what I've been doing for the last four years since I left the paper, I came up with this:

"Uncle Bob left the newspaper in the summer of 2001 to chase his dream of becoming independently wealthy and living with goats on a mountain in Switzerland. By early 2002, he realized that achieving independent wealth usually required some sort of game plan other than driving to Georgia each week to purchase lottery tickets and abruptly abandoned his dream ten miles outside the Georgia State Line while dealing with an overheated radiator. He then wrote several books about exciting cities like Eugene, Oregon and Boise, Idaho before spiraling into a life of petty crime. Upon his early release from the Montana state prison for bizarre behavior, Uncle Bob made a beeline back to the newspaper, begging and pleading for a janitor's position. While engaged in a horrendous coughing spasm, Publisher Drunk Assed Boss misunderstood his babbling, believing that he said "News Editor's position" and reluctantly hired the man back as News Editor.

Incredibly, Uncle Bob is still married to his long-suffering wife, Susie, and has managed to assist in the parenting of a four year-old son Andrew without causing the boy much psychological
damage.

The key word being "much".

Uncle Bob also saw the film "The Passion of The Christ" during his hiatus."

Susie put on her bulletproof vest and went over there on Sunday to see what they had left.

And ended up buying 15 sweaters for me.

With a proper rotation schedule, I now have sweaters for life.

After staring at that last sentence for 15 minutes, I just realized that this fact is probably of no interest to you.

Wednesday she was supposed to transcribe the tape of the interview we did with the marketing manager of the fancy schmancy mall.

She forgot the tape recorder at home. So I had her type in some press releases.

Thursday she came in and said "I feel sick".

No sniffles. No bloodshot eyes. Hell ... she looked like she was about to go shopping rather than hit the bed with a fever.

I told her to go home and not come back until she felt better.

She skipped out of the building.

I doubt I ever see her again.

Can't miss the Wiggles, dammit.