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6:44 a.m. - 2005-06-08


Last night we watched the very first reality TV show that I actually KNOW I could get on and win.

"Fire Me ... Please" has people starting a new job and TRYING to get fired as close to 3 p.m. without going over that time in order to win $25,000.

While it sounds easy, it's all about timing. The people they had on the show had to pace their actions in order to slowly push buttons and not get fired immediately and then when 2:55 comes around, you had to go balls out to get the boss to say the words "You're fired".

The guy in the coffee shop was the most amusing. My God. At 2:55, he tries to take a customer's newspaper away from him that he's trying to read. When the guy finally gives it up after a brief squabble, the employee said "Nice shirt. Do they make 'em for men?"

I thought I'd fall off the couch laughing.

The "employee" just went bonkers for the last four minutes, scaring the living shit out of his new fellow employees and prompting the boss to fire him at 2:59.

Which, that's the way to go, by the way. Be vaguely annoying throughout the day and then in the last half hour, start escalating the craziness until the last five minutes where you're screaming and hollering.

The boss called the police on the guy.

I could sooooo do this.

I hope the show does good and comes back for a second season.

And then I'll PROVE it to you that I can do this.

I just read a few reviews for the show.

I'm thinking maybe I'm in the minority of liking the show and I probably won't get my chance to act like an insane asshole on national television after all.



My boy David from Arkansas dropped me an email yesterday to tell me some of the wonderful places I should visit while in his lovely state.

Then again ... it may be a goof and he's sending me to S&M bars or something.

You gotta watch those Arkansas folk. They's tricky that way.

We received a letter yesterday from one of Susie's aunts, giving us details about what they have in store for us in Arkansas next week.

At one point, the letter (which was sent to everyone coming) says "And Uncle Bob's bringing his karaoke machine. Sure hope he has some OLD songs!"


First off, Granny ... it's not a "karaoke machine". You can buy a "Karaoke machine" at Walmart, you ignorant fuck.

This is a full blown sound system that's going to take up half of the storage space allotted for the trip.

Second ... sonofabitch ... I do not have "old" songs.

Nobody sings "old" songs at Karaoke.

So naturally, I panicked when I read the letter.

And immediately went to and started ordering the oldest music I could find.

Then, since I had to get the stuff here before Saturday or it wouldn't be used ever at all ... I had to order it with two-day delivery.

So now, these crazy old folks will be able to pinpoint the exact moment when the saints come marching in as well as serenade Danny Boy and assist God in Blessing America 24-7.

Cranky old fuckers.

"Sure hope he has OLD songs".

Like I really thought 70 year-olds would want to sing Outkast songs.



Grumble grumble grumble et cetera.

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