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12:22 p.m. - 2001-07-31


I was sitting here at my desk, finishing up my delicious sandwich, pretzels and banana for lunch when ....WHAT DO I SEE?

A little container of Jello pudding.

This shouldn't be a shock to me, since I'm the one who packed my lunch. I'm just trying to make it sound more dramatic than it actually was...finding pudding in your lunch bag.

So I go to tear the top off the pudding.

I'm 39 years old.

Still, I wanna lick the pudding off the aluminum foil cover. It's just what you do. That's good puddin' there on that foil.

So I go to lick it.

...Right as this girl walks into my office to give me some work to do.

So I'm sitting here, licking this piece of aluminum foil like a homeless man sifting through a dumpster.

"Oh hi," I said, trying to be all nonchalant that I'm a freakin' glutton.

"Good pudding?" she asks.

"Yeah," I said, tossing the foil in the garbage can and straightening up in my chair to act all professional.

I don't think it fooled her.

The foil-licking gave me away.

I don't know what's going on down the hallway, but it sounds like Carrot Top has made an appearance down there.

Somebody's laughing like a hyena and won't stop.

Normally this office is so quiet. Today it's punctuated with shrill shrieks from Hyena Lady.

This is disturbing me.

It's actually cold in my office right now.

It's usually pretty comfortable, but right cold.

My nipples are poking out.


THAT'S real attractive.

Maybe it was the pudding.

I did an interview this morning with a guy who sounded like he just woke up.

I could understand his position if he were a rock star...say...a member of Warrant or possibly Poison.

But he's the president of a company.

And he sounds like he's strung out on smack.

I kept asking him simple questions and he had NO answers for me.

Finally, I just turned off the tape recorder and said "Would you prefer that I just email these questions to you and you can email me back the answers?"

He said that would be much better.

Tell me about it.

Makes my job much easier too. Let him write the damned thing.

I have to interview the President and CEO of my own company today for a company profile.

I probably should be nervous, but I'm not.

New Boy doesn't get nervous. New Boy has nerves of steel.


Don't mess with my nerves.

They're made of steel, dude.

I'm thinking about putting them at ease and not really tackling the hard issues that the company may have. Instead, I might ask some crazy question, you let them see that New Boy's really kinda cool and let them know that they should be glad they hired me.

Questions like...

"If you were a tree, what kinda tree would you be?"

"Do you ever go home after a long day at work and just sob into your wife's shoulder?"

"Can I have a raise?"

and "Is it me or do one of you guys have really stinky feet?"

I think they'd appreciate my light approach when it comes to interviewing.

I've got a very painful ingrown hair.

I've really been scoring big in the ingrown hair department over the last year or so. I've had ingrown hairs all over my damned body.

I had one on my cheek about two months ago...there's still a little scar on my cheek.

Anyway...this new one is inside my nose.

Yep. You read that right.

An ingrown nostril hair.

Lemme tell you people something...this beeyotch hurts.

And there's not much you can do with an ingrown hair except pick at it.

So I keep finding myself with my finger jammed up my nose, trying desperately to pop it or tear the head off it or something.

People keep walking past my office when I do it and I pull my finger out quickly and pretend like I was just massaging the outside of my nostril instead of picking my nose like crazy.

I think they see what's going on though. Because they all avoid the new boy.

There's just no getting around the fact that if your finger is anywhere near your nose, people think you're mining for boogs.

And it's not the kind of thing you can defend yourself with..."I'm not picking my nose, I'm trying to yank out an ingrown nostril hair!"

Co-workers just don't wanna hear that shit...y'know?

I have to mow the yard tonight if it's not raining.

I'm praying for rain. I hate mowing my yard.

I think I've covered that before though, so we won't go into any more detail than absolutely necessary.

Well, I've actually got work to do so I'll let you go.

Peace out.

I'm craving Mexican food. I hope the old lady's reading this...

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