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2:08 p.m. - 2001-07-18


I'm so bored, I just took my watch off and put it back on for excitement.

That chewed up about 12 seconds of my day.

I'm currently at work, waiting on a phone call from a lady who's highly upset about her business profile that someone else wrote for her. It is my job to calm the lady down and assure her that I am a SUPERSTAR writer...not one of these namby-pamby amateur flunkwads and that it is I, the almighty Uncle Bob who will rewrite her business profile and make her feel all squirrely inside. I am, staring at my phone and waiting for it to ring. And so far...nothing.

I went to my old Chinese place for lunch that I haven't been to in two weeks since my job isn't right around the corner anymore.

I walked in and the guy behind the counter said "Mr. Sweet Sour Chickeen! Where you been?"

I told him I had a new job about five miles away and probably wouldn't be visiting him as much anymore, but I'd still keep in touch.

He said that good thing because price of dog go up and I eat up all profit.

...Or something like that.

I eat way too much chicken.

I just got up and went to get a Coke out of the machine. They're 55 cents here, which I guess isn't too bad, but at the newspaper, Drunk Assed Boss paid for all the Cokes, so I drank them like they were gold over there.

Not that I've ever drank gold.

You know what I mean.

I hope anyway.

I brought the production manager Jarrod a buncha rap CDs today that I didn't want.

We were talking yesterday about his love for rap. He's a goofy white boy who you initially wouldn't peg as a rap fan, but lo and behold, he is.

He was so excited that I brought him CDs that he ordered me a wrist pad for my keyboard.

I'm using it now.

My wrist feels twelve times better than before.


Sure does.

Y'know...yesterday at the SS office, I saw what I still think has to be one of the most gawdawfully backwards fashion statements that has never officially gone away.

Women wearing t-shirts and long skirts.

My God. I don't care how freakin' poor you are ... I don't care if you can't afford to wear a blouse or buy a pair of shorts...but ladies...if I EVER catch any of you wearing a goddamned t-shirt with a long skirt out in public ... I'll point and scream "YOU'RE A FREAK!!" at the top of my lungs.

T-shirts should be worn with shorts, jeans, or panties. That's IT. Don't play amatuer mix and match in your closet and think a t-shirt is going to go with a skirt. You do that and people automatically think you're mentally handicapped.

I hope that none of you are that damned fashionably deprived. I'm no mecca of style, believe me ... but I know not to wear a t-shirt and khakis or dress slacks.


It just makes me ill.

My evil boss Wendi has ran into two people in two days here in town that were fans of mine from the newspaper.

She's now met both my fans while I am still an enigmatic God to them both.

I just belched really loud in this quiet building.

I'm wondering if anyone will think it was me or if they'll blame it on Loud Sound Guy next to me.

My money's on Loud Sound Guy.

That's all. I may be bored, but I don't wanna get caught typing this crap in at work on my 8th day.

I think I'm going to pick up some memos and stare at them for an hour with a puzzled look on my face in case anybody walks by.

See ya tomorrow, Space Ranger.

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