July 1, 2001
The shirt that I'm wearing today reminds me of my mother. She worked very hard to get this for me. I think she collected something like 40,000 points to get it--which means she smoked over three million cigarettes (and she also gave up a lung). But hey, it's a great shirt, even if it does say, "Marlboro" all over it. E-Mail.

July 2, 2001
According the Teen Beat magazine, six out of the nine Supreme Court Justices are "really good kissers." E-Mail.

July 3, 2001
I just heard one of my favorite artists at the local Wal-Mart. No, they weren't playing his music over the intercom, he was outside on the sidewalk with an open guitar case. These are hard times in the music biz. E-Mail.

July 4, 2001
Would you nestle up close to your bearded Aunt Eunice in her pastel mumu? How about if I offer you a Klondike bar? E-Mail.

July 5, 2001
Well, no matter how much I try, I can't write journal entries from work anymore. Our firewall won't allow it, and the higher-ups say that they would only open the necessary ports for a "work-related" reason. Little do they know that I spend 5 hours of my day knitting socks for my ferret, and the other 3 hours working on my thesis, "Why ostriches make a better best friend than my cousin Lemmy." Both of which are, technically, work-related. E-Mail.

July 6, 2001
It's shaping up to be another long, hot summer here in the steamy midwest. And from what I've seen so far, the fashions to look out for are combat boots, bottomless chaps, leather vests with no shirt underneath, and sunglasses. Granted, that is just what I saw at the bar last night, but they looked like rather fashionable fellows. E-Mail.

July 7, 2001
I've spent the last 5 months researching this, and if my calculations are correct...

A) the world will end at 9:16 PM CST on the same day that the New Kids on the Block begin a reunion tour,

B) next week, Cotto Salami will be named as the Official Lunchmeat of the 2008 Olympic Games, and

C) while most people believe that the capital of South Dakota is Pierre, I have discovered that it is actually Detroit. E-Mail.

July 8, 2001
Thanks in large part to a huge marketing blitz, most people are aware of Burger King and Diary Queen. Relatively few, however, know about Porkrind Prince and Extruded Meats Duke. E-Mail.

July 9, 2001
Database programming may be my bread and butter right now, but one day I plan on opening a Slinky Repair shop at the local strip mall... I'll make millions for sure! E-Mail.

July 10, 2001
While Hindu Shaman are world-renown for the ability to control their bodily functions, they've never tried my Extra-Strength Java. E-Mail.

July 11, 2001
I just missed getting a new job last week. But I got nervous during the interview and when I get nervous, my body spontaneously exfoliates. E-Mail.

July 12, 2001
My grandma gave me a stack of old Reader's Digests and while the articles on rocketpacks in the 80s and expanding ice caps in the 90s are fun to read, the ads are my favorite. For instance, in 1956 Wrigley tried to market chicken flavored chewing gum, made with real boullion and lima bean extract. They made millions for sure! E-Mail.

July 13, 2001
My pet chicken recently got ahold of some moldy beans so we had to give him the axe. Even after a slow braising on Sunday, he was still kinda tough, like chewing gum, but it was still better than the time grandpa bought the farm. E-Mail.

July 14, 2001
For next lent, I'll give up chewing on chickens. Last year I tried to give up beans but gum just isn't all that good served over corn bread. E-Mail.

July 15, 2001
By the time you read this entry I will have completed it. E-Mail.

July 16, 2001
Just to let you know that we're not alone (i.e. the three maroons that regularly contribute to this site), I thought I'd share with you all an ACTUAL letter I received from one of my cousins...

I find my work quite invigorating. I have but one duty these days, which is to remove the scourge of Charlton Heston from this planet. Phase one of my plan is complete, as I've tricked those Hollywood nitwits into re-making Planet of the Apes for the seven hundred and fifteen billionth time. Making a mockery of a man's biggest claim to fame can do grave damage to his health, especially a man of Mr. Heston's advanced age.

Next, I will convince them to re-make The Ten Commandments with Heston reprising his role as Moses. Only this time the telling will be historically accurate. Even the initiate Snake Handler knows one hundred commandments were really handed down. They were reduced to ten when Moses invented the hernia. Three tons of recreated stone tablets bearing inscriptions of the commandments from "Thou shalt have no other God before me," to "Thou shalt not listeneth to thy 'rap' music at so obnoxious a volume that it doth cracketh the windshields of other drivers and maketh their ears to bleedeth," should be a sufficient load to cause cardiac failure.

Once that's done, I will pry his gun from his "cold, dead hands," thereby dissolving the NRA. This will once again render our school yards safe for underachieving, underprivileged, knife wielding thugs to better their lots in life by pilfering lunch money and cellular phones. By this time the Chinese will have nuked our country into oblivion by deviously shipping us nuclear warheads in film crates labeled "Crouching Dragon, Hidden Ticking Thing in an Unmarked Box," so I'll probably be the only one who notices any difference. E-Mail.

July 17, 2001
Some of my greatest memories of summers gone by are from the giant front porch at our old home up north. Dad was routinely combing the classified ads while my brothers were busy tossing the football in the street, careful to avoid oncoming cars. But I spent most of my time watching Lou, the mailman, shaving my mother's back. E-Mail.

July 18, 2001
I work for a technology company, so we have a lot of paper-thin guys walking (floating?) about the office. You know the type--you swear that if you sneeze on them they will fall over. Well, weird as it seems, this actually happened the other day. Many of you know that I have a bizarre fondness for sneezing. Well, I happened to turn my head and let a good "ker-choo" on one of these lightweights and he fell flat on the floor. But this was only half of the problem. Once he was on the floor (and knocked unconsious), I could not get my fingers underneath his body to pull him back up. Although I had suspected it all along, I was still just a little shocked to discover that he was, indeed, only two dimensional. E-Mail.

July 19, 2001
I'm attempting to solve the world's hunger problem by growing giant-sized Snickers bars in my yard. E-Mail.

July 20, 2001
Few of you know that regular contributor, Elvis Shuman, just got promoted. His new official title is Spatula Cleaner Trainee to the Assistant Chef. E-Mail.

July 21, 2001
There are few things in life more rewarding than a good snot bubble. E-Mail.

July 22, 2001
I recently noticed that one of our goldfish was having difficulty submerging. After consulting one of the many fine internet web sites on our fine finned friends, the answer was obvious: lead boots. E-Mail.

July 23, 2001
I recently noticed a strong odor eminating from the general direction of my immediate supervisor. Must be all the dung on his shoe after he rammed his foot up my HEY THERE'S A MONKEY! E-Mail.

July 24, 2001
I recently noticed that one of my breasts is larger than the other by about two cup sizes. Then I realized, "Hey, I'm a man! I don't have breasts!" Then I realized, "Hey, I've got breasts!" Which explains my prolonged visit to the restroom. E-Mail.

July 25, 2001
I recently noticed that I've begun the last three entries (four including this one) with the same phrase. This is no coincidence! Rather, it is the result of being so far behind in journal entries that I'd do anything to catch up, even if it meant having my grandma write them for me. E-Mail.

July 26, 2001
When I want "authentic Mexican" I go to Lowes. There's a guy there who works in the plumbing aisle who is an "authentic Mexican." He's so "authentic" that I can never understand what he's saying and end up coming home with plumbing supplies that I don't even need. You see, in Mexico the speak another language called, "Mexican." For example, in Mexican, "tocador" means "toilet" in English. E-Mail.

July 27, 2001
A typical Friday... two hours at work so far and I've successfully avoided all of it. In fact, people aren't dropping off the work at my desk like they normally do, which is probably explained by the tasteful S&M gear I'm wearing. E-Mail.

July 28, 2001
Houdini: A book report by Jason Hoffman
Houdini was a really swell guy who couldn't help the fact that he was born an infant. Later, he grew eyebrows and learned to walk. He eventually did lots of tricks involving handcuffs and water. Once, he died. E-Mail.

July 29, 2001
My latest attempt to earn a million bucks and stop working in a cubicle is edible clothing. Today I am wearing the ever-fashionable onion ring vest with matching bloomin' onion pants. E-Mail.

July 30, 2001
Even though they are made of the same material, I would think twice before putting a pair of edible panties in your childs lunch box the next time you run out of fruit rollups. E-Mail.

July 31, 2001
I'm glad God made chickens edible because they aren't very good at wallpapering. E-Mail.