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09:16:08 - 2000-09-20


Yesterday, my boss was nasty.

He had this cough. Not just a normal cough, but a hacking wet cough.

A lot of phlegm in that cough.

And he wouldn't just cough once every half hour. Oh God no. It was like ... every 15 seconds.

...For 11 hours straight ...

At first it was okay, because for some ungodly reason, the guy coughs all day anyway. He clears his throat like most of us swallow.

And it's LOUD. Nothing quiet and discrete about this stuff.


It was REALLY beginning to get on Mattie Gee and my nerves. Finally he left the room for a minute.

"Doesn't it sound like he has Gary Coleman in his lungs," I asked Mattie Gee.

"Christ...I don't think I'm going to be able to eat for days after listening to that shit," Mattie Gee said.

The boss came back in, sat down, began typing and then let out a cough that had to be the most disgusting thing I'd ever heard.

It sounded like he had a phlegm ball the size of a tennis ball in his mouth. And when he started coughing, it sounded like he was trying desperately to not cough phlegm all over his monitor, but was losing the battle quickly.

I wanted to turn around and yell "Jesus, boss...take that shit outside!!!"

...But ... he owns the paper and will remind you of that if you ever try to tell him what to do.

The guy doesn't smoke either. So I can't figure out for the life of me why he is always so g-damned phlegmy.

...But the shit is making me sick. I'm just glad we're off deadline and I won't see him for another week.


Today's appointment day for me.

8:00: The Orkin Man coming by to bore me with his cockroach stories.

10:00 The Eye Doctor. I'm going to DEMAND to take another vision test to PROVE that I'm not nearsighted. This guy's a fucking idiot who filled my eyes full of eyedrops and THEN asked me to read a tiny chart.


3:00 Teeth cleaning.

I don't mind getting my teeth cleaned, except for one thing...I don't floss.

I know, I know...I should floss. But that shit HURTS!!!

My teeth are tight together. I have 32 teeth where most people have four ... they're all squeezed in and bunched up.

So when I go to floss, it's like trying to saw through my teeth with piano wire. And when the force used FINALLY pushes through the teeth and ends up hitting gum, it hits gum with SUCH FORCE that it almost knocks me out.

Every g-damned time I go to the dentist I hear the same thing..."You're not flossing are you?"

I try to think up a different excuse each time.

"Who Of course I'm flossing!"

"Flossing is against my religion."

"I've always heard flossing is bad for your teeth."

"That's why I pay YOU the big bucks, Doc...floss me, baby."

"Flossing is just a marketing ploy for Johnson & Johnson to make a little more money."

...Shit like that...

And I STILL haven't heard back from the doctor that worked on my arm three weeks ago. I'm convinced he forgot to call me and tell me the results of the last set of X-rays.

Meanwhile, my arm's twisted like a pretzel and hanging off my shoulder.


It doesn't look like I'm going to be in that movie about Rosa Parks.

Saturday is the shoot and I haven't heard back from them.

Not that I expected to.

But I was kinda hoping that the people that they DID pick would all fall ill and not be able to do it and I'd be Mr. Savetheday and come in and give an award-winning performance.

But it doesn't sound promising.


Right before I woke up, I dreamt I was house sitting for the city's Mayor and had hidden a joint in the cabinet under the upstairs bathroom sink.

Then the Mayor and his wife came home unexpectedly, and I had to find a reason to go upstairs and get that joint before they found it.

...Except all the stairs were missing to get upstairs.

There was a hatch to the attic right over a set of bunkbeds in one of the bedrooms.

The Mayor was resting on the top bunk.

I made small talk with him as I climbed up on the top bunk, opened the attic hatch and climbed upstairs.

When I got up there, the joint was laying on the floor, all cracked open with pot everywhere.

And the mayor was right behind me.

He began to chastise me for smoking pot (which I don't do anymore)and I stood there and absorbed his chastising.

Then I woke up.

There's nothing quite like a stern lecture from your Mayor on your former drug use in a dream to get your day cranked up a notch.


That's about it from me. I'm mentally drained from writing all day yesterday.


Oh...far from it...

I'm just outta stuff to write about for today.

And I'm tired.

And cranky.

And slightly irritable.

And bloated...did I mention bloated??



What movie do you absolutely HATE?

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