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Late Setpember 1998 Update

Page 3 of 8

Well to mak a long story short i coudnt get in to log my hours

The day ended at 4:15 with a frantic Emergencey Workstattion Suport Call. The Support crew had took off at ten minuttes to 4, (which is what they allways do on Friday, cause Godforbid they tire themselvs out from havin to roll into work at a quartor of eleven.)


Yes it is me. I have to do it for no increase in salory. It is not like it is in my job descritpion. It is not like they are paying me any more money. (Hell, this week, it is not like they are payin me at all).

The emergencey call was in the office of the G.M.

The non-flushing-on-a-Friday Afternoon idoit was hollerin somthin abbout "a terible bug that was causing two button bars on the danm website insted of one."

And do you know what, there was indeed 2 butten bars on his screen but no bug was to blame. The frikin idiot had openned up anothor danm browser session in a window on the desktop. I geuss this is why he makes the big bucks.

What else hapenned while i was undor there

There is nothin more disgousting (atleast at work--i am not talkin about home) than to be under this fat loser's desk. He is wearrin these cheap and badly fitting much too small polyestor charcole grey stretch slacks that look like the ones Granfather used to send away for from the ad on the back covor of Parade in the 1980s for $9.99 a pair and they do not fit well and i had a view just inches from my face as I checked his power strip on the floor of his thick meaty hand going beneath the fuzzey threadbaire fabric to scratch and ajdust his giant wobbly scrotom thruogh his pants as he huffed and puffed and sweatted and hopped with a grunt while he clearred his throaght on his office chair. To make it all the worse he made a horroble fart right then and he grunted more to sort of covor up the sound but like I said my ears was closer to it than his ears were.

One day I want to make the big bucks.


Dad is pissed

After work and the long, long drive home I came back to Granfather's trailer to find a dilemma:
Drive-By and Nemo, two of Granfather's dogs were quite ill for some reasen or anothor and apeared to be on deaths door. I figoured if they died in Granfather's absence he woud kill my brothor and uncles for kidnappin him. Howevor if they died in MY absense hed probly kill ME for not bein there to tak care of the dogs. This is the way it is for me: I canot win.

Dad called just as i walked in the door and told me that his freind at work ran a check on the phone number I had got from Junoir, and it was located in a hotel in New Jersey near the Nework airport. Dad was extremly pissed becuase both me and him had to take off work in order to go to the East coast to rescue the old basterd.

Dad was also able to find out by use of anothor freind of his who works at A&TT in New Jersy, (who has a freind who is a private investigator who is looking into the mattor), that my brother, uncle Zeke and Granfather were DELAYED and missed there flight: We had only 12 hours to get to Newark to stop them from taking Granfather to the land of windmills, tulips, wooden shoes, Guoda cheese and the involuntery putting down of old folks who (SUPPRIZE!!!), think they are only gettin hustoled into the car by their children (who are suspiciousley queit during the whole ride) to the doctor's office in the middle of the night, so, (so they THINK) the docter is simpley just goin to give them an emena, or check them for ticks, or somthin like that.

Why they were delayed

My brothor, cheap bastord that he is, likes to screw arround on the Internet to make his travel plans, even if it means using allot of diferent airlines, and booked his connecting flight thruogh Memphis at the last minute forgetting that Northwest was on strike, and so they were delayed gettin in to Newark and therefor missed their flight to Europe.

FYI, it may be because Granfather hasnt realy flown Northwest much, but Northwest hapens to be the only airline in this countrey that Granfather isnt "Banned For Life" from. (Come to think of it, mabye this is probly why they were on strike).

To make mattors worse

As it turns out my sister-In-law stayed behind in Texas. And geuss why? As soon as I left to get my ride to the airport, it seems that she and Granfather's eldest brothor, Uncle Willaim, (the one who is close to death and is allways fighting with Granfather over who legally owns various items of collectable crap in Granfathor's posession), showed up uninvited at the trailor to take legal custody of the property and all its suroundings. They had no right to do this, and yet they have the balls to make a move like this even before the corpse is warm. (Okay, Granfather is coldbloodad like a reptile, but you know what Im talkin about).

Thank God for Al Gore

(Geez, those are prettey scary words, arrent they?) What I mean here is that thanks to the vice President's militaristic advancement of enviromentol issues, my familly is very skittish lateley abbout their plans to snuff out Granfather, (being that Granfather is a unique speceis). Dad was able to call his freind, (his othor freind from work), who is good at making prank phone calls. And so he called Uncle Will at Granfather's house pretennding he was some bigshot at the Fedoral Fish & Wildlife service and claimed in a real threatonning voice that if, "the party to which he was a part" dared remove the old basterd from U.S. soil it woud constitute a viollation of the Endangored Species Act.

And dammit, (Dad's freind contineud on), they had bettor not even think of tryin to be hangin around at Newark Airport insted of JFK airport on Saturday or Sunday or Mondey becuase they woud be shorthanded of agents in Nework on those days.

And so, Uncle Will, as dumb as he is, (dumb as a post, really), made sure that the next time Uncle Zeke (who is even dumbor), called him from the road while on the excape route, that he woud convey this messege to Zeke, and so he did.

Since we knew they were in Nework, alls me and Dad had to do was find out which hotel.

Speakin of U.S. soil...

The irony of "removing Granfather from U.S. Soil" is odd considoring all the hours i spend each week removing U.S. soil from Granfather, filthey bastord that he is.

Cathyann drives me to the airport...

...And she said somthin that really, realy enbarassed me too. Cathyann as you know is my loudmouth freind who I normoly get along with just fine, but now i am a little mad at her. Her car isnt running and so she used the car that bellongs to her boyfreind Dwaine, or Duwayne, or whatevor the hell his name is. He cannot drive becuase he is on parole (dont ask) and so Cathyann drove his car while "Doo-WAAYY -Unn," (as she calls him in her throaghtey twang), came along for the ride.

Heres what Cathyann did that made me pissed:

Abuot a month ago, she rented The Full Monty and her and Duwaine came over the trailor to hang out with me and Granfather and got rockin ass drunk and watched it like, 8 times.

I did not drink nothin becuase i had to go to work the next day -- but then, Cathyann and the old basterd smoked some pot, but not Duwaine, (becuase he is on parole), or me eithor, (becuase, laugh if you must, but I Just Say NO to Drugs), and because they watched it so many times they memmorized every danm low class line from the film compleat with the perfect low class English accent.

Duwayne is extremly queit and he just fell asleep on the couch, and besiddes, (like me), he does not do funny voices. But Cathyann and Granfather do. And so they reppeated these danm lines, (and improvised their own as well), all night long.

Lines like:

"Oy say! Wrap me fat arse in clear wrap, woudja, Guv'ner, so's me to lose weight for to shake me bare naughtey bits about, eh?" they'd say.

"Oy'm not a bluddy chicken drumstick, Mum!"

Cathyann and Granfather did it that night, ALL NIHGT till the sun came up.

I'm sorrey, but that danm dumbass film getting nomminated for Best Pitcure is like my danm website winning Cool(TM) Site Of The Year(R).

And she was doin those danm voices RIGHT NOW in the car and it was anoyin the hell out of me

It is a long ride to the airport and once agian Duwaine fell asleep. He is a big, pale very queit sweatty guy with giant nectorine-sized earlobes who sleeps allot to begin with but on ocassion goes just absollutly comatose. And after he started seriously snoaring Cathyann stops with the lame voices and descides that she wants me and her to play Truth or Dare.

I do not like truth or Dare becuase she has a ruanchy sence of humor and is always askin personal dellicate things I dont like to talk about.

Also she was smoking in the car and i hate when people smoake in the car.

She starts bein real flirty with me. I dont know if it was becuase she likes me or because she knows it makes me blush and get flustored. Or mabye she likes the thrill of being naughtey because her unassuming and paroled boyfreind was right there snoring in the seat next to her.

Then she looks over at me in the backseat and asks why I am sqiurming so much. It was partly cause I had to sit a long time, plus the Truth Or Dare qeustions she was askin me were personal and enbarassing. And not only that i was sore from sitting so mutch on that area which i described. So she says to me, in so many words, (and in a perfect voice of Granfather's English acented imitattion of the old guy in The Full Monty who is affraid of "gettin a stiffy" while he's on stage nakad), if that isnt in fact what was hapenning to me right now.

I said very loudly, "NO I AM NOT" so loud infact that Duwayne woke up, his bulby lobes bobbing like yarn bobs on the ends of deely-bob curtains, and when he did wake and asked what i was talkin about I said "NOTHIN."

The airline flight was uneventfull

A fat man who smelled like one of the java programmors from the basement of Cyberblop sat next to me an he hogged both the armrests.

My dinner was served just as the danm plane was landing, (I hate when they do that).

And there was no maggazines to read exept The National Review which as you know is all in black and white and allmost all text. (not that theres aneything wrong with that, considering my hompage).

Well there was a People maggazine in the pouch as well, but somone had blown their nose in it right on David Schwimmer. (I hate when that hapens too.)

Just as I was sittin there in my seat readdin this awful story, (a Nationol Reveiw book review, really), which was sort of a Mommy Dearest -type book focusing on novelist Evilyn Waugh and how he treated his kids, and how one of them, (who wrote the book being reveiwed), had had this peverted headmaster in boarding school who used to beat childron and also carrey this thing arround with him called "The Furry Object," I must of been sort of feeling unconfortoble, (and also acting unconfortble), because the smelly guy next to me said suddenly quite loud, STOP SQIURMING!

We Meet up

Dad was alredy in town when i arived. He gave me directions to make sure that my brother didnt show up at the airpourt to meet us, or perhaps alsomake sure my sisterinlaw didnt follow me on the plane.

"Are you alone?," Dad asked when we met finaly at the gate.

I ansored, "That deppends on your definnition of 'alone',", and dad got real pissed when I said that. I was tryin to make a joke as these are the exact words Clinton said in his taped depposition when asked if he was ever alone with Monica. Dad didnot get the joke and told me to 'STOP FOOLIN ARUOND'.

I am not funny.

If you happan to enjoy my writting, you may be suprized to learn that when I try to be funny in person, I am allways extremly unfunny. Also, people are allways tellin me what to do, and STOP doin this, and STOP DOIN THAT: People at work. Peoplle at home. People on the plane and who drive me to the airport. And now Dad too, who I never see. DANMIT I AM SICK OF IT!!

We went to get somthin to eat.

The hotel restuarant was in that weird extremley quiet time after lunch but beffore supper when no one else is there eatting and insted of the festive clink of stoneware and cutlery from a whole bunch of diners all you hear is the Sterno hissing and your feet on the carpet and the sounds of the people who dont speak English laughin it up from inside the kitchon.

They had a limp sweaty lookin buffet and i wasnt even hungrey so all I had was this disgousting opaque yellow soup. It was in this large muckey cauldren. Do you know what, I cannot even tell you what kindof soup it was but it was this familier looking institutionol double-yellow-line color with dark specks that looked like prechewed vegetobbles in it and it was very greazy tasting with this rubbery thick wrinkley puddinglike skin on top which had a faint layor of airbourne fuzz on it, being that no one has peirced this skin to serve themself any soup since 1 PM and it was now 3:30.

I think it was margerine soup. I am a jerk becuase i had 3 helpings. (I wish somone woud of told me not to do THAT)

I did not enjoy lunch becuase Dad and I had sort of an unpleasent convorsattion. He kept askin me what I was gointo do with my life. I said, "I have a job danmmit." But he said life is more than just havin a job. He said if I was ever goingto get out of debt and not haveto take care of Granfather anymore Id bettor have some long term plans. I cannot beleive his nerve. Beleive me it is no picnic takin care of Granfather. I hate my horroble life.


We naroww down where my brothor and Uncle are hiding the old basterd