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7:28 a.m. - 2001-07-23



My ass got ready and I drove to WORK to update this beeyotch.

It's kinda creepy here. All the lights are out and I'm the only one in the building.

New Boy. Rocking the house. Getting to work early to get a head start on the weeeeeek.

Yeah right.

I'm so damned mad at my home computer now. It's just acting severely's good for about five minutes after you crank it up and then it's lumbering like a crippled dinosaur.

I'm tired of it, I'm tellin' ya.

Tired of it.

I lost my big long, super-duper Uncle Bob entry earlier because I think I just lost my connection or something.

I'm still kinda hoping that all this bad karma is coming from that fire in Baltimore that scorched all those fiber optic cables and maybe the entire internet is being rerouted.

I haven't got any email at my work computer this weekend and it doesn't seem to be working either.

This sucks.

Not in a "I'm stranded in the forest and my legs are both broken" type of suck. More like an "I ordered my steak medium rare, not medium well" type of suck.

Somebody just showed up because the hallway lights just came on.

I'm debating on jumping out and scaring the crap outta whoever it is.


New Boy scoring points early on.

So yesterday, I figured out another reason why I hate our interim minister so much.

She's a pill-popping, dope-smoking FREAK!

During her sermon yesterday, she said she liked to get to the church early each morning for a little "prayer and medication".

Uh huh.

She's a pill-popper, alright.

Susie pointed out that she probably meant to say "meditation".

But I know better.

She wants them pills coursing through her veins.

I know a pill popper when I see them.

I watch "Friends" for chrissakes.

I think I know what I'm talking about here.

I didn't update all weekend because my computer is being a temperamental little 'ho.

Much praise goes out to Gawain who sent me several tips on how to get my computer to act right.

After I applied his tips, my computer started screwing up even worse than it was running last week.

You rock, Gay Wayne!!

Actually, I don't think this is his fault, as much as I'd like to blame the hairy hippie bastard freak.

I'm thinking about using my "Gateway Go Back" feature on my puter, which lets me enter a date (say ...last Monday) when the computer was working just fine, and then it takes me back to that date and everything should be working in hunky dory fashion.

Except I lose ALL the email I've received since last Monday, all the MP3s since last Monday and basically anything I've done since last Monday.

Screw it.

I'm doing it when I get home tonight.

Went out to eat Friday night at my favorite steakhouse in town.

Our waitress came to our table and took our drink order then walked away.

"She looked vaguely familiar," I told Susie.

"What?!? Did you FUCK her??" she hissed.

I hadn't. But I led Susie to believe that I had, just to see what she would do.

The waitress came back to the table and I asked her where I knew her from.

"We worked together in 1984 at Bentley's," she replied.


Bentley's was the first bar I ever worked in. I was a bouncer there and she was a waitress.

"You were the guy that everyone thought was really weird and called you "Space Case" behind your back," she said, putting my face with my reputation.

"You were the one everyone thought was a lesbian," I countered back.

"I am a lesbian," she said and then went to turn our order in.

When our steaks came out, mine tasted like lesbian saliva.

TIP OF THE DAY: Don't insult your lesbian waitresses.

Saturday, we went looking for a gift for Nosy Assed Neighbor, who's watched Andy for the last six weeks every Wednesday.

My suggestions were either a gift certificate to her least favorite restaurant in town or a Yankee Candle sampler.

Yes...I'm a wuss. I love me some Yankee Candles. These things smell better than a freshly wiped baby ass. Love 'em, love 'em, love 'em.

So we go to Candle Cabin across town to get her sampler dealio.

We start loading up a box of little votive candles when I notice something.

...These aren't Yankee Candles. These are Bridgestone Candles.

I ask the girl if they have Yankee Candles in stock.

"We don't carry those anymore," she said. "But we have Bridgestone which were created by one of the founders of Yankee Candles and are just as good." they're not.

I started looking at the scent names. These were some of the nastiest scent names I've ever seen.

"Penis Crust"

"Ripened Dog Ass"

"Butt Pimples"

and "Cheddar Cheese"

I mean...who would want candles that smelled like that??


But since this WAS a gift for Nosy Assed Neighbor, I went ahead and loaded up her little box with all these delectably scented candles.

Her house is going to be smelling like a full port-a-potty in the hot August sun when she starts burning these things.

Revenge is MINE!

Yesterday, we went looking at homes we could never afford because Susie thought it'd be "fun".

Oh yeah. It's a fucking blast to go look at homes that you'll never be able to live in. Houses with things like "gamerooms" and "garages" and "stairs".

It was soooo depressing.

Andy started getting fussy because he finally realized he had been born to parents that would never be able to afford homes like these and he was gonna grow up in a luxurious poor white trash style.

We got back in the car and I asked Susie what kinda people can afford $300,000 homes.

"The kinda people that stayed in college," she sniffed.


Hit me where it hurt.

Well...FYI, honey....I quit college because I wasn't getting laid and there was an opportunity to be a bouncer in a bar where I would SURELY get laid and at the time, getting laid was a whole lot more important to me than NOT getting laid and so I quit school and started working as a bouncer and GUESS WHAT HONEY??? I got laid more than Hugh Hefner!! AND I ENJOYED IT!!!

....Of I'm just a schlub who's making ends meet writing coffee table books for a living and living in a house built in 1971 which was about the lamest year for homes ever.

And I haven't been laid in months.

So...who REALLY wins here?

Let that be a lesson to you kids. If you wanna get laid ... drop out of school and get a job in a bar.

But in 20 years, you'll be wishing you stayed in school because then your neighbors won't be gang members.

That's enough lessons for one day.

Go on about your day.

I've got work to do, dammit.

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