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09:15:32 - 2000-06-07



Ya know..."Aloha" is supposedly the only word in the world that means both "Hello" and "Good Bye".

...Except of course ... "Hell Bye" ...

I actually had a good day yesterday. Tuesday is usually my "torture hell ride" day (Thanks to schizophrenic rocker Wesley Willis for use of the term "torture hell ride"), but yesterday ALMOST rocked.

First ... I get to work and there's a package waiting for me.

...From Clyde Earnhardt.

Okay ... Clyde is a war veteran. He's approximately 205 years old and he talks using a voice box which makes him sound like a monster. He wrote some gibberish recently and submitted it to our paper, talking about all the things he did in the war. Which war, I cannot remember...I'm not a war buff. For the sake of argument, let's just say it was the Civil War.

Since it was coming up on Memorial Day, I thought..."Okay...let's print Psycho Clyde's diatribe about being in the military."

I rewrote his little story(editing all the "motherfuckering Japs" out of it)and printed it.

End of story.

Then yesterday...the package.

It was kind of comical. It wasn't a package ... It was a manila envelope that Clyde had torn apart and put back together using masking tape.

It was a bitch to get open. Took me nearly ten minutes.

Finally I get it open and there's a bracelet and a key chain in there, made with antique dimes.

One dime was from 1914. That was the oldest one I saw.

Of course ... I took one look at it while the ladies in the office admired it and said "That should bring in a dollar at the yard sale, huh?"

Of course...they all wanted to beat me.

THEN...yesterday afternoon I get a call from a guy ....

CALLER: "Hi ...Uncle Bob?"

ME: "Yeah?"

CALLER: "You may not remember me...we met a few years ago at your office. My name is Trey Edwards and I'm a big fan of your work..."

(Right there, I would do anything the guy said. Flattery gets you EVERYWHERE at my job)

ME: (pretending to remember him) "Yeah Trey?"

CALLER: "I've started a new fresh and exciting Internet business and I would LOVE for you to come work for me. Are you interested?"

ME: "I'm ALWAYS interested in hearing propositions, Trey."

CALLER: "Can I come over there now to talk to you about it."

ME: (Looking around at my co-workers) "Not today Trey. How about Thursday?"

CALLER: "Thursday it is. By the way ... I think you're one hot, hunka good looking man."

ME: "Sorry Trey ... I'm straight."

CALLER: "Oh I know. I just wanted to throw something stupid into the conversation for the people that read your daily diary to snicker at."

ME: "Oh. How thoughtful! Thanks a heap, Trey ol' buddy."

So tomorrow, I talk to SOME GUY I DON'T REMEMBER EVER MEETING about a new job.

It just struck me really weird. Granted...I'm one likeable motherfucker. I have an irresistable smile, a winning personality, and fairly decent personal hygiene.

Who WOULDN'T want me working for them??

But it was just odd to have a call like this come out of the blue..."Hey...dig your column...wanna come work for me in a field completely different from what you're doing now??"

Freaky, baby.

Our niece spent the night with us last night. She was here to help us make signs for the Yard Sale on Saturday.

The first sign she did took her over two hours to complete.

Two fucking hours.

And no...she's not 3 years old. She's 15, almost 16.

She was tackling the project with all the fury of an arthritic turtle.

I don't know if I've ever made it clear here...but I HATE slow people.

Hate 'em. If you can't work at a normal pace or above...I want you DEAD!!!

At one point I looked at Susie and gave her a "WTF" look.

She just shrugged her shoulders and mouthed the word "sorry".

Meanwhile...our niece carefully filled in each letter on the sign with a magic marker, being careful to be precise and perfect.

After two hours, the sign looked like shit.

I took over and got nine signs done in an hour and we all went to bed.

Not together you perv.


I found out from our sales manager that we are firing the old woman at work.

This old woman is SOOOOOO SLOW that I'm thinking of putting her in my "Slow Motherfuckers Hall of Fame".

She was hired to help put ads together for the paper.

It took her two days to do one ad.

One ad shouldn't take more than 15 minutes to do.

So they put her in charge of the Classified ads. I used to do those ads. It'd take me maybe 30 minutes to do each week.

It took her three days a week to get the Classifieds together.

Mainly because she had to have a smoke break every 15 minutes and wanted to sit there and talk about her grandkids all day while the rest of us busted our balls.

She's been on "vacation" the last two weeks.

I was asked to pitch in and help with the classifieds last night.

I wrapped them up in 15 minutes and pointed that out to our sales manager/associate publisher.

"It takes Barbara three days to do what I just did in 15 minutes," I said, setting up my point. "Do we really need her around?"

"She's fired as soon as she comes back," the sales manager said.

"It takes her a year to do what I can do in 12 hours."

"She's fired."

"Plus she stinks like mothballs."

"She's fired."

"And ever since that throat operation to remove her lymph nodes, she talks funny and frightens me."


Yay! you can see...even with old people, slow teens and some freak that wants to hire me because I'm funny ... I had a pretty cool day.

I hope you have an even better one today.


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