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06:23:50 - 2000-05-12


Well, the fashion show yesterday went off without a few hitches.

Oh ... there were some hitches. All fashion shows have them.

And yes ... there's probably more hitches during a handicapped fashion show than a normal one.

Hitches like ... oh ... models forgetting the rule to NOT drool all over the clothes. Things like that.

As always, it was me representing the newspaper industry and a bunch of radio and TV guys representing...well...the radio and TV industry.


Over the years, we've all become acquainted. Back in the mid-90s, I was responsible for a series in the paper called "Meet The Media", where I sat down and interviewed and then wrote a profile on nearly every media personality in town.

So, they all seem to like me because I wrote a long nice story on each of them, talking about how great they are.

Which is what media people want anyway ... for everyone to know just how great they are.

Anyway...for the first time in years, I was the best dressed of all of them, so the coordinator had me pulling double duty as an escort, walking out four of the models during the fashion show, while everyone else got to do it twice.

I even got to walk the "bride" out at the end.

Yes. A bride in a Goodwill wedding gown.

It was pretty sad. There were LITERALLY greasy oil stains around the knee area of the dress. The dress was horribly wrinkled and yellowed.

And it was only a hundred bucks. As the announcer said "This dress would cost thousands in a store."


ANYBODY that would pay thousands for a wedding dress with grease smudges on it is retarded.

....which covers most of the models.

And the poor girl modeling the wedding dress was completely deaf. She couldn't even read lips. So she walked down the runway as quickly as possible and began walking off when I held up a hand to say "Whoa, Helen Keller. Stay up on the runway for just a few more secs while they prattle on about your soiled wedding gown."

She stood there and just stared at me.

I think she was falling in love with my perfect-hearing ass. wasn't meant to be. Mainly because I hauled ass once the fashion show was over, leaving her a silent weeping pile of flesh wrapped up in a greasy dress.


I have to send in my information for my 20 year high school reunion today.

I've decided not to go. By the time all is said and done, the weekend would cost upwards of $500 and that could buy a camcorder for the baby.

Not FOR the baby...for me to shoot video of the baby.

I'm not spoiling the baby THAT bad with its own camcorder.

I'd like to go to the reunion in a way. But they sent a list of all the people they're having trouble contacting, and most of those people are the ones I'd want to see.

So rather than pay $500 to hang out with a bunch of people I never bothered to get to know 20 years ago, I've decided to forego the reunion yet again.

I didn't go to the 10 year reunion because Susie became deathly ill with Pelvic Inflammatory Disease.

Many of you think "Hmmmm...did Uncle Bob attack his wife's crotch with a cigarette lighter??" But when the doctor told me she had P.I.D., that was the first thing that went through my mind too.

"Doc...I haven't lit her vagina on fire...NOT ONCE!"

Luckily ... I had nothing to do with her contracting the disease.

But don't think I didn't panic anyway, just for show.


I'm on a Napster kick lately.

I've been downloading all these songs that I remember Mom playing when I was a kid.

Then I'm going to make a two-CD set of all these songs and give them to her as a belated Mother's Day gift.

I'm also sending her flowers.

And I wrote a column about her for this week's paper.

Heh...this column.

When I wrote it, I cried. I'm a man, I'll admit it ... I cried. After a weekend of watching Dad become a mortal human being and Mom being reduced to long crying jags, the subject of my parents was a sensitive one.

The column is sooo disjointed. It starts off kinda humorous, but by the end it's a sob-fest.

Anyway...the paper came out yesterday. When I got to work, one of our sales guys approached me and told me he liked my column this week and he got "choked up".

I grinned.

"Choked up?" I asked.

"Ummmm...I had to go to the bathroom and get myself under control," he admitted.

Wow. I had no idea the guy had feelings.

I got back from lunch yesterday and our circulation guy approached me.

"Man, your column made me cry just now."

Inside I was clapping with glee.

But I just smiled on the outside.

Apparently, he was the only one watching the office during lunch and started reading the column. Near the end, he had to put the paper down and compose himself. He finished the column and was crying. He said he was PRAYING nobody walked in and caught him like this.

It made me giggle to know I made two insensitive grown men cry.

I was going to just reprint the column here on Sunday ... but if you want to read it, it's now up on the web.

Against my better judgement ... the Mother's Day Column is here.

And hell...if you want to read my gossip column... click here for that.

...I'm such a whore.

Actually, 85,000 people a day look at these two columns on the web.

Three million people a month.

So why should I deprive you people of seeing them too?? Superman...I didn't want my true identity out there.

Screw it.

You guys are my buds.


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