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1:51 p.m. - 2001-08-07



I am sooo tired. I'm sitting here at my desk, I've got last month's CMJ Sampler Disc playing about as quietly as I can get it in my hard drive, and outside my door, it's deathly quiet, with the exception of Sneezing Guy across the hallway, who's attempting a new world's record of most sneezes in a row, punctuated with the word "Jeez!" after each of them.

"AaachOOOO!! Jeez!"

"AaachOOOO!! Jeez!"

"AaachOOOO!! Jeez!"

"AaachOOOO!! Jeez!"

I seriously think something's wrong with the guy.

THEN might be this new French Vanilla candle I'm currently burning in my office. Maybe he's allergic to such things and is just trying to be polite and not say anything.

Ah well. Say something Sneezy, and I'll blow the damned thing out. Otherwise...the fragrant smell of vanilla candles will remain in the air.

So it could be the candle making me sleepy or the quietness. One or the other.

Or it could be the fact that myself, my evil boss Wendigo and Edweird went to our favorite Chinese buffet for lunch and I pigged out like a shameless bitch for 30 minutes straight.

I had ... sweet and sour chicken, chicken with mushrooms, szechuan beef, sesame chicken, an eggroll, three boneless spare ribs, two chinese onion rings and a partridge in a pear tree.

But I drank water instead of a caffeinated beverage so I'll keep my girlish figure.

(UPDATE: Sneezy just lost it across the hall. He yelled "Dammit! There's not even a 12-31 in here!" I have no idea what that meant, but I snickered. Probably because he yelled instead of sneezed and it startled me and the snickering was actually nervous laughter. Probably.)

I just rolled up my sleeves and took off my watch. I think people perceive that as me "getting down to business".


I had an interview today with the local president of a cellular phone service.

I pulled up in their parking lot when it hit me...I had forgotten my interview questions and left them back at the office.

I panicked. How the hell was I going to conduct an interview without any questions?!?

This would mean...I'd actually have to pay attention and come up with questions on the sly.

I went in, met the guy and sat down in a nice overstuffed chair.

We stared at each other for about two minutes in silence before he suggested I go ahead and start the interview.

I smiled and sighed.

"Soooooo," I started. "Tell me about your business."

It was a good general question to lead off with.

He told me about his business. They sell cell phones. People buy them.


I was stumped.

"How many people buy them?" I asked.

"I don't want to answer that," he said. I don't want to give out any figures.

Ahhhh...playing hardball, are we?

"C'mon," I said. "A thousand? Ten thousand? A billion??"

"I don't want to answer that," he said, this time with a hint of anger in his voice.

"Fine," I said, closing my notebook.

We then stared at each other again for a minute.

"Do you have any more questions for me?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said. "I mean...I do...but I doubt you'll answer them."

"That's it?" he asked.

"Well, you're being difficult," I said. "I asked you a simple question and you refused to answer it. I don't think it was a bad question and think you're just doing this to spite me."

"I don't want to name figures because it may be less than my competition and I don't want my competition knowing I sell...let's say 10,000 phones when they sell 100,000," he said.

I saw his point. I could understand not wanting to humiliate yourself in print. However, I've made a healthy career of doing it so what's the problem?

I decided not to walk out on him. He had paid 12 grand for an interview and I felt it to be my duty to accomodate him rather than soothe my fragile feelings.

However...I had run out of questions to ask him.

And I didn't want to have to admit that I was a bumbling idiot who left his questions back on his desk. So I began winging it.

"What's your favorite color?"

"Do you think O.J. did it?"

"Do you think you could work across the hall from a guy who sneezed ten times a minute and said 'Jeez!' after every sneeze?"

"Didn't Hurricane Barry suck muskrat dick?"

"Is that a mole? Don't you think you should get it checked out?"

Et cetera.

After about an hour of this nonsense, my tape recorder shut off and I didn't feel like flipping the tape over. So I abruptly stopped the interview, rose from my chair, shook his hand and thanked him for a half-assed interview. I then walked into a wall, bounced back, found the door and walked through that, leaving the building.

I bet he thinks his story's gonna suck.

Well duh, phone boy! It's tough to write a story when you're as reserved as you are.


Afterwards, I went to a local college to pick up a photo for our local book.

I went to the receptionist area and asked to be pointed in the direction of Noelle.

The receptionist looked at me all puzzled.

"We don't have a Noelle," she said.

"Yes you do," I corrected her. "She called me this morning and told me to come pick up a photo. Where the hell is she?"

The braindead flake told me once again that there was no Noelle on staff and then she gets up and walks me over to the President of the college's office to ask them over there.

Great. Finally we can talk to someone who hasn't taken the liberties of burying their own head up their own ass and can give me an answer to my question.

...They didn't know of a Noelle either.

I pinched myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming and had found myself in the middle of some boring assed dream where nobody was getting naked and wanting to swing off my massive ball sac by their teeth.

A few phone calls were made and it was determined that Noelle worked at an ADVERTISING AGENCY who handles all of the college's publicity.


Well then why didn't anyone say that in the first place? Fer Chrissakes...I've been standing here for five minutes waiting for y'all to pull a chick named Noelle out of your ass.

So I drive over to the advertising agency. One word about advertising agencies...they hire the most drop dead gorgeous women to work as receptionists in these joints.

I walk in and Miss August 2001 is staring straight at me.

"Can I help you?" she asks.

I can only say one word. "Noelle?"

"I'm Paula," she said. "Do you need to see Noelle?"

I shook my head and the distinct sound of a brain rattling around in its skull came out my ears.

"I just need to pick up a picture," I said.

"What's your name," she asked.

"Puddentane," I replied, trying to be witty.

"What?" she said.

"Puddentane," I repeated.

She didn't get it.

Finally I told her my name, she pulled out a disc with a photo on it and handed it to me. She then asked me to have sex with her in a back room since nobody else was in the building. I was tempted to shag her silly, but I was already late getting back to the office, so I declined gracefully.

I stopped by the newspaper office, just to see how everyone was handling Deadline Day without me.

...Not well...

The lady who had said that things were going to be a lot better now that I was gone told me that if they didn't get out of there before midnight tonight, she was going to quit.


I guess when she said "things were going to be a lot better" what she meant was "we're all going to have to stay here until midnight because the boss decided to not replace Uncle Bob and each week is a collossal clusterfuck trying to get this newspaper put out."

I can see where I would misinterpret the phrase.

I sat around there and got caught up with all the old guys. Drunk assed Jamie...Pill poppin' Scott...even Drunk Assed Boss came in, slapped me on the back and asked how I was doing.

I stayed about ten minutes, then left, telling them all I had to get back to work ... the work that is paying me enough to allow me to start looking for a new house...yeah...THAT work...

Came back here, went to lunch with Wendigo and Edweird, transcribed a taped interview and got this thang caught up.

...Sneezy just went across the hall and said "As far as I can smell...this is it."

I think that was in reference to my vanilla candle.

I bet they all think I'm gay for burning a candle in my office.


Susie said that's what they'd all think. Only gay guys burn candles.

My wife is such a bigot.

Now...if you'll excuse me...I've gotta go check out the Official Website for Ricky Martin.

I think he's just FAB!!

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