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4:54 a.m. - 2001-06-21



I just re-read my entry from yesterday about Psycho Sara and I didn't really make it clear ... the girl is so psycho that she made up the entire crap about coming to work with me. I'm about 99 percent sure of it because Wendi said there were no job openings there other than mine and that's been filled (by moi). I failed to mention that or allude to that, mainly because I was trying to calm a crying baby while I wrote yesterday. I mean...I was writing about a psycho, but then you (the dear reader) were kinda lost as to just how psycho she really was.


She makes my skin crawl.

Not literally of course. But boy...wouldn't THAT be strange?

As my time at the newspaper is winding down, I'm not the LEAST bit interested in doing any kind of stories for the paper.

Except one.

Today, I go to do a story that will cap off my career as an investigative reporter.

Okay...a semi-decent journalist.

Alright ... a fuck-up writer who's lucky to string two cohesive sentences together on occasion.

I'm going to see the President.

Not just ANY President. But the President of the United States of America!!!

That's right, Bob-heads...George Dubya Bush comes to our home state today and I've been invited to come and take pictures from a safe distance of him.

I doubt seriously I'll meet him.

I doubt seriously he'll land his plane (they call it Air Force One, BTW), shield his eyes from the sun with his hand and scour the crowd going "Where's Uncle Bob? Wherrrrre's Uncle Bob?" trying to seek me out.

But I'll be there.

I'm going with my intern to Birmingham to take shots of his arrival in the city. I got a three page itinerary of everything he's going to be doing for the six hours he'll be in town and the Air Force One thing was about the most appealing of them all.

It's odd, because we have to be at the building by 10:30 a.m. today...yet the plane doesn't land until 1:40 p.m....three hours later for those of you who struggle with simple mathmatic problems.

Why do we have to be so early?

Secret Service Security Sweeps.

I have an eerie feeling I'm going to have my ass probed today by a secret service guy named Ted.

And I have an even eerier feeling I may enjoy it.

Anyway ... pics of the Pres arriving in Alabama today.

Should be fun.

Anybody see "South Park" last night?

I was kinda shocked at first. This was the episode where Cartman was supposed to say "shit".

Cartman said it. I was shocked it was allowed on basic cable.

Then Stan said it. Kyle said it. Kenny said it.

The whole town said it.

At the end, the little counter in the corner of the screen counted the word "shit" being used like 162 times in 30 minutes.

Of course...there was a point. Once you use the word THAT many times, it loses its effect as a curse word.

Kinda like my journal. You can read it every day and be bombarded with curse words like "ass", "fuck", and "ass fuck". But after a while, you don't even notice when I'm fucking cussing and it just blends in with the rest of the fucking diary.

Pretty cool, huh?

Not really.

Anyway...George Carlin must be rolling over in his grave, now that yet ANOTHER of his seven words you can't say on television has been said.

This takes us up to TWO of the words now having been used on television, the other being "piss".

For those of you keeping score at home.

Nosy Assed Neighbor watched Andy yesterday afternoon.

Andy seemed to survive although he was jabbering away when I got home about somebody in the neighborhood who needed to trim their hedges or be thrown out of the neighborhood.

I think that's what he was jabbering about.

Coulda been the shit in his diaper.

You never know with that boy.

Went to our favorite Italian place last night for dinner.

We had a new waitress wait on us. I kinda sensed trouble when she wouldn't shut up while taking our order.

She kept touching Andy and talking about her baby nephew and how she was going through nursing school and her boyfriend.

Okay lady. Just bring me my fucking pizza and I'll pretend to listen to you all night.

Well ... it soon became obvious that she forgot to turn our order in.

Not "soon". Like 40 minutes after we ordered.

She came by after 20 minutes and apologized for the order taking so long, but the pizzas were "so fresh" that they "didn't make the dough until the pizza was ordered".

Utter bullshit.

Nobody and I mean NOBODY is still making pizza dough at the peak of the dinner crowd. That dough was made this morning, shaped into big balls and refrigerated. I've been eating pizza from this place for YEARS, don't try and tell me it takes longer than 20 minutes to get your pizza.

Anyway, she told us the pizza would be "right out".

Then she disappeared for several minutes.

Twenty minutes later, she brought the pizza to us.

And it was NOT piping hot.

But I was.

Of course, as usual, I kept my big trap shut about the whole thing.

When the bill came and Susie started writing the check, she started to give the girl a two dollar tip...ten percent of the bill.

I said no and to give her 15 percent. The standard percent of a tip ... but we ALWAYS tip 20 percent at the least if the service is normal. More if it's great.

Susie was a waitress for ten years. That's why it's always 20 percent with us...she knows how hard they work.

But this girl was a fuck-up. She wasn't no stinking waitress...she was a nursing school girl!!!


Wasting her life away in nursing school.

How sad.

Watched that HBO show "Six Feet Under" last night.

It wasn't as "hilarious" as the redneck bumpkins at work said it was.

It was cute and mildly amusing. Just not hilarious.


The nephews are coming over today to stay at the house while Grandma watches Andy.

Which means, when I come home this afternoon about 5 or so ... the whole house will be filled with and sister-in-law, nieces, nephews, and Grandma.

And Andy's nerves will be frayed. He hates having a houseful of people here. Drives him crazy, it does.

...At least...that's what I'm trying to instill in him. So far it's working.

Well, I've gotta go get ready to meet the Prez. Take care, pumpkin head.

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