Situation Normal. Atmosphere Breathable. Brainstem Injected. Dialogue Engaged.
Thursday, October 23, 2003

Pope Bubble Crotch

I feel better today. Yesterday I managed to get a headache, a nosebleed, and an earache all during the 1pm hour. After work I went straight home and crashed out until about the 3rd inning, which would be 8pm.

I was wrong. I told everybody that the pope would die on Wednesday. He didn't die yesterday. I've been saying that for almost two weeks. Whoops. Good for him. I'd rather see a strong wind knock him over than actually have him die. I think there should be an Elderly Pratfalls TV show. We could all send in those home-recorded hilarious moments. With this particular subject matter they'll also border on sad and disturbing. Alzheimer's Alley!, tonight on FOX.

Yesterday I heard some people discussing what underwear they wear. Boxers, briefs, none, etc. I was really tempted to tell them that I chew up several packages worth of chewing gum until it's a nice big wet wad, and then I spread it all over my crotch and try to pop bubbles each time I scratch my nuts. But I didn't.

I made the right decision.
10:54 AM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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Tuesday, October 21, 2003

We Are The Helpdesk

We are the helpdesk staff.

Here's what we've discussed today.

While watching Wild on E!, I could swear that her voice was too deep and that her jawline too sturdy for her to have been born a woman. I wonder if she had the chop done, or if she has a kangaroo pouch to tuck her giblets into. There's certainly no gear visible through that leotard. Maybe it's detatchable and she's got it put away in her Vegas showgirl peacock headdress.

Bill Gates has an underwater sound system in the pool at his home. He also has a tree in the middle of his driveway that's monitored electronicly to keep it properly hydrated. He's a perfectionist and all the wood on his walls has no knots in it, and he has 104 electricians on staff to tear down walls and add electrical outlets whenever he moves an appliance. There are never any unused outlets in the house.

Wayne is on the phone again. He's calling for the 5th time and demands to speak with the President. Supposedly they go "way back."

Advertising agencies are paying starving artists to tattoo company logos on their foreheads.
3:03 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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Friday, October 17, 2003

Rock N Roll McDonald's

Yesterday I got sent to fix power lines for outdoor security cameras at Rock n Roll McDonalds' in Chicago. I don't have a two way radio or cellphone, so everytime the other guy I was with adjusted the focus on the camera mounted to the McDonalds' sign outside, I had to dash back into the store, through a throng of customers and loiterers, into the office and up to the camera monitor. I must've done it 40 times. I almost knocked a drink tray out of a mother's hands. She was sauntering around a blind corner at the wax sculpture of Paul McCartney. I also nearly stepped on a small child who crawled out from under the table next to the red neon Under My Thumb sign.

The view of downtown from the roof was beautiful, marred only by the garish decoration of the Rainforest Cafe across Clark street from the store. There's no place for a ten foot tall tropical toucan bird in Chicago.

Panhandlers love the RocknRoll McD's. I got begged upon 5 or 6 times during the afternoon there. The store gives free food to cops, and whenever undesirables start prowling thier lot, be it dealers, whores,or beggars, they get an average police response time of 90 seconds. With their new high tech camera system, they can see these characters coming much more quickly. There's another reason for the beefed-up security... to deter lawsuits. People claim their children found Miracle Grow on a shelf and drank it, that there was a nail in their nugget, that they slipped in ketchup and broke their funny bone, you name it, someone's claimed it. They get sued almost daily.

It was a fun day and I'm hoping to get more involved with the CCTV business.
7:52 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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Wednesday, October 08, 2003

Happy Birthday, Dad

I'm splayed out in a deluxe luxury bucket-style spinning office chair. I have just learned the origin of the word cakewalk, and no I'm not going to share it. It was easy to search out if you actually care.

I got a surprise yesterday when my dad called me at noon. It was his birthday. Shit. He invited me to dinner (during Game 1 of the NLCS!) and asked me to help change his alternator. I accepted both, but right then one my younger sister's employees offered to help immediately and I ducked that car repair. I went to the Chinese restaurant which mercifully had a TV going in the kitchen with the game on it. It was a hell of a game. The Cubs lost, but it was still un-be-fucking-lievably entertaining. Somebody gave Dad toothpaste and listerine pocket strips. Ouch. She gave him 2 packs of Bensen and Hedges De Luxe Ultra Lights also. Talk about mixed messages. My older sister bought him a fucking daily study bible. That's awful. The food was good but caused immediate gastrointestinal discomfort. My older sis was giving me grief for going to check on the game more than I was sitting at the table. I explained to her that it was the washroom I was visiting. "Got the craps?" she asked. I told her I was having my first period.
6:26 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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Friday, October 03, 2003

Fuck A Title

I got my carrot cake. It was lovely, and followed a heaping plate of week old dark meat turkey. I had to microwave the everloving shit out of it to feel safe eating the microbe-ridden meat. Gravy to keep it moist. It made me sleepy.

Today at the office we're discussing weird guns, Canadian inheritance taxes, stinky unwashed people, and setting up companies in other countries to avoid taxes. Also, Rush Limbaugh's prescription drug addiction and the likelihood that they caused his deafness.

I'm just chomping at the bit waiting for tonight's Cubs-Braves game. I have a good feeling about this one.

I'm losing weight for no particular reason. I'm not sure what's causing it, but I haven't withered down to a skeletal husk yet so I'm not concerned. If my voice starts to go Crypt-Keeper-ish and my cheeks sink in, I'll head for the doctor. Maybe I have a tumor. Everything gives you cancer.

That's what I heard.
2:04 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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Thursday, October 02, 2003


I've been drinking piping hot coffee out of a plastic cup from a gas station soda fountain. I think it's been melting slightly as the coffee tastes different after each sip. Have you ever squeezed a balloon and seen the rest of it expand as the air is forced into it? That's my head. Pretty cool. They should make anti-plastic commercials instead of anti-drug ads. Maybe it's just the caffeine.

I feel great. I've been getting plenty of sleep and my move to River Grove is nearly complete. I'm glad to be back near Chicago. Once I have more money in pocket, I'll be able to carouse properly. All I need is some new shoes and a gold tooth.

It's strange for me to be mostly sober. I don't have that sharp edge that physical punishment grants me. Reading back through my journal, I'm amazed at how deranged I became. I want to be deranged again. It's going to take practice and hallucinogens to revive that. I need to lay on the booze and weed for a little while. My first idea is to find a kareoke night that has "Henry the VIII" by Herman's Hermits in their system, and to get sloshed and sing that. Yes, I'll have to start with weirdness for it's own sake, but after a while I won't need to force it.

I wore my beat-up jeans with a hole in the crotch today, and it just so happens that I've been asked to climb and crawl over and under things today. I am wearing stars and stripes boxers inside out. Now everybody knows that.I would like a slice of carrot cake now.
5:19 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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