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5:27 a.m. - 2002-03-21


Say it with me now. Just say it with me and ask questions later...


Did you say it? As you sat there at your little computer monitor, did you say it quietly or did you scream it to the heavens like you were supposed to???

Here's the deal ... after today ... I won't be in the office until April 2nd.

Y'see ... through the grapevine, I heard about a little thing called "Comp Days" at work.

Comp Days are handed out when you travel and have to be gone from your home on the weekend. So when I leave for Boise in two days, I'll have a comp day when I come home, which I'm taking April 1st.

Since I went to Oregon in January, I never received a comp day for it because nobody informed me that there was such a thing and I thought it was just my wretched luck that my weekend was shot all to hell while on a business trip.

But since my evil, horrible boss Wendigo finally got around to explaining the concept of comp days to me yesterday, I asked if I'd still get a comp day for Oregon.

She said yes. I could tell that it went against every grain in her evil soul to grudgingly give me a day off for a trip taken two months ago, but she folded like a cloth napkin.

So I'm taking tomorrow off as my comp day for Oregon. I leave Saturday for Boise. I return on Thursday. We have Good Friday off. Then I'm taking Monday off for a comp day for Boise.

Say it with me one more time...


Of course, what this means is I have time to work around the house and pack up clutter tomorrow and April 1st. The boy will be in day care, the wife will be at work and I have dozens of boxes and plenty of tape. I'll load up the CD player with some jammin' housework tunes, crank that bitch up and CLEAN, CLEAN, CLEEEEEEEEAN!!!

I'm honestly giddy about cleaning house.


I believe something in my brain has snapped.

I was reminded last night of yet another reason why I can't wait to move.

....Nosy Assed Neighbor.

I got home from work and began carting boxes of crap out to the workshop before it started to storm.

NAN was sitting out on her back patio next door, staring at her wretched dogs who were playfully barking their freakin' heads off.

I saw her and felt sick because I KNEW, I KNEW that she would try to engage me in a conversation that would take upwards of an hour because she got divorced 30 years ago and has nobody to talk to so when she sees either of us in our yard she corners us and regales us with the most boring chit-chat a person can muster up out of their vapid brain.

"Uncle Bob, are you going to start building your new home before you sell this one?" she asked.

"Yes, Nosy Assed Neighbor," I said, lugging a huge box full of toys in my arms.

"Do you think that's wise?" she asked again.

"I'd rather not do it," I replied. "But it's kinda how it has to be. The real estate agent swears she can sell the house in four months or less, so I have to have faith in her abilities."

"Your house has to pass the home inspection," she said.

"It will," I grunted.

"Are you sure?" she asked.


That's what pissed me off.

Like we were living in a condemned home or something. Like I had homeless people shacked up in the bathroom under the sink. Like the baby slept with rats in his crib.

"Are you surrrrre??"

Kiss my ass, Nosy Assed Neighbor. This house may not be in the best shape, but's not a death trap, you slobbering imbecile.

"Well, we plan on giving the new owners an allowance to make repairs on the house," I graciously explained without hurdling over the fence and landing karate kick after karate kick into her mouth.

"You're still going to have to do some things like painting and stuff to get the house ready to sell," she said, no longer just content on raining on my parade but hellbent on creating a flash flood to sweep all the floats and Shriners away.

"We know that," I said curtly, carrying my box up to the workshop. "We have a lot of work to do on the house. We've been doing that and we will continue to do that."

"Well. Good luck," she said.

I really just wanted to turn around and mention that the one thing that may keep us from selling this house is her godforsaken dogs that bark and scream at every single person that comes within 1,000 feet of them. It's going to be really hard to show the house and especially the back yard and workshop when Millie and Tilly are howling like hell hounds at everyone.


At least in the new home, I have Mattie Gee for a neighbor. The guy's more laid back than a coma patient.

Six more months and this nightmare should be over with.

Thanks for all the advice on how to get rid of my zit yesterday as well as the confirmation that my banner ad is alive and well in Diaryland.

I used some anti-bacterial soap on it and then covered it in toothpaste twice last night. I may have looked like an idiot, but my skin smelled minty fresh.

This morning, it's much smaller than it was the last three days and hopefully by Saturday it will just be a faded memory.

I have defeated the blemish from Hell.

Bow down before the one you serve, El Pimple-o.

Now...for my weekly SURVIVOR spoiler. If you haven't seen it yet ... skip down somewhere else in this claptrap.

....They booted my girlfriend Sarah.

I don't think I've ever been so emotionally attached to a survivor like I was to Sarah. But even I saw the writing on the wall. Sarah was toast the entire hour.

I can't really put my finger on why I liked her so much. Only because she's not sitting here next to me in the flesh. If she was, I'd have my fingers ALL OVER the two reasons I liked her.

I'm not a big fan of fake boobies. They're alright, I guess. I've never slept with anyone who had them and never really touched any before.

But Sarah's....ahhhh Sarah's fake boobies. They were truly a work of art.

Even all skanked out after 12 days on a deserted island, those boobies were still magnificent in their royal boobiness.

And now, she's gone. She won't even be back as a juror on the tribal councils. I'll see her at the reunion show, but I doubt she'll be in a bikini for that.

And that makes me sad. Because we had a bond, Sarah and I. She was a hot chick on a reality TV show who was quite possibly the laziest person to ever be on the show and I was a middle-aged balding dipshit in his recliner who repeatedly wiped the drool from his chin for an hour straight while the boobie princess graced his screen.

Goodbye my TV love.

Take care of them there boobies.

I think I'll take the advice of several of you out there and start selling a few of our collectables on Ebay.

Specifically, these old board games. We found more of them last night while cleaning. I've got "Welcome Back Kotter" games, "Bionic Woman" games, "The Fall Guy" games ... the list goes on and on.

Susie can ship things UPS at her office, so we'll probably go that route.

If we meet with some success at doing it, I may start unloading everything on the site.

We've made the decision that it will be nearly impossible to have a yard sale here while we're trying to sell the house.

Because we're moving everything into the workshop which is getting full quickly. And in order to have a yard sale, we'll have to move all the yard sale boxes BACK into the house, unpack them, put stickers on everything then box them back up....while trying to keep the house spotless in the process.

Mission impossible indeed.

Soooo...we've decided to just box everything up and take it with us to the new home and store it in the garage for the time being until the community yard sale either in September or next April. A year from next month.

Or Ebay. Sell it all on Ebay.

Hell, I dunno.

I'm confused as to what to do next.

And Nosy Assed Neighbor isn't making matters any easier, either.

...rabble scrabble neighbor...

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