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November 1, 2003
I don't eat a lot of garlic because of the effect that it has on my breath. Since I consume a lot of garbage, the garlic kind of masks the smell and I'm not comfortable with that.
entry # 1,956
November 2, 2003
Last night I found a perfectly good screwdriver in the garbage. Oh, and I also found Ned, my younger brother. He'd been in there at least two years. It's hard to imagine losing something so special like that...and then Ned being in there was like a double bonus, or just a bonus...whatever--this is a great screwdriver. I should post a picture online for you. Maybe Ned can get off his butt and do it!
entry # 1,957
November 3, 2003
Ned's butt got lost so there won't be any picture posting. It seems that while enjoying a double latte at the local coffee house he sat down in one -o- them super comfy couches and it wasn't until he was down getting some petrol that he noticed it was gone.
entry # 1,958
November 3.5, 2003
Coffee houses scare me. Well, not the actual establishment but rather the patrons. Well, not the actual patrons but their intellectualist bourgeoise attitudes. Well, not their attitudes but rather their lack of ultra-absorbant adult undergarments.
entry # 1,959
November 4, 2003
I don't know about you but I always seem to have the greatest ideas at the most incovenient moments, like when I'm in the shower or changing my depends or burying a body or rigging an election or chasing field mice.
entry # 1,960
November 5, 2003
When I finally become a General Partner at Fieldy, Mouse & Chase the traditional greeting of the firm, but friendly hand shake will be replaced by the do-si-do.
entry # 1,961
November 6, 2003
The only thing better for passing communicable diseases than the Grand-Right-And-Left is the Spit-Take-Dodgeball under the watchful, watery eye of coach Danny Thomas.
entry # 1,962
November 7, 2003
Ever since that new secretary started here, the one with the unibrow and the mullet, my eyes have been watery. I think I'm allergic to her dander.
entry # 1,963
November 8, 2003
Good old Dander is one of Santa's reindeer that you don't hear much about. He was Blitzen's back-up and was about to take his first official ride one Christmas morning. They were only five hours into the flight when dead skin flakes from his back clouded the vision of the other reindeer and Santa. They ended up crash landing somewhere near Fresno--which also explains the greatest Christmas ever for little Johnny Bunyan of 403 West Bingham Street in Fresno.
entry # 1,964
November 9, 2003
With all of the things going on in the world today, I'm a bit scared to fly. I know that my chances of being caught up in a terrorist airplane plot are about the same as having my wackahoonies* stepped on twenty times by an albino giraffe in the wild here in Central Indiana. But, ever since that did happen with the giraffe, I feel like the chances are pretty good.
entry # 1,965
November 10, 2003
* "Wackahoonies" (WAK-uh-HOO-neez) - noun - Slang term for "Koochifreetos"
entry # 1,966
November 11, 2003
My parents didn't allow me to use a lot of slang while growing up, which was quite a challenge since we lived in a cardboard box in East L.A. Just as long as I'm spending this time in the written word, I'd like to say, "Greetings," to all of my companions and acquaintences from the underprivileged housing establishments of the Eastern side of the City of Angels. Peace and good tidings to one and all.
entry # 1,967
November 12, 2003
I spent much of last week near East L.A. for a work-related conference. Actually, I was about 300 miles north, in Monterey, which is nowhere near East L.A. But I was just thinking about how much fun it would be to have next year's conference there, because maybe some of the vendors in the exhibit hall would give away something more interesting than the free pens that you usually get. I'm not exactly sure what they would give away instead, but I think I heard once that everyone in East L.A. already has enough free pens. It was probably a press release or something. Either way, I'm pretty sure that I left my pants at the hotel.
entry # 1,968
November 13, 2003
In an effort to curb rising expenses my employer no longer allows free access to office supplies such as pens, white out, QuikSort, fresh cadavers, 3-in-1 oil, windshield de-icer, sealing wax, moustache wax, trained seals, training pants, pantaloons, loons, macaws, ring-tailed lemurs, post-it notes and the lost souls of former employees.
HA HA HA!!! I was just kidding about the lemurs. We can take all those we want as long as we replace them with one wombat for every three lemurs we take.
entry # 1,969
November 14, 2003
Rog has mysteriously disappeared from the face of the earth after supposedly attending the Cincinnati Sealing Wax convention. Maybe he's in his secret lab, comfortably nestled in the bowels of the earth, training his army of militant wombats.
entry # 1,970
November 15, 2003
"Bowels" is a word used far too infrequently in most business meetings.
entry # 1,971
November 16, 2003
Business meetings: Don't be fooled that managers really look like they're enjoying these things. The only goal of these meetings they force you to attend is to slowly break you down... they're the torture of the new millenium!
entry # 1,972
November 17, 2003
After our last business meeting, I secretly replaced the official meeting notes with instructions on how to hotwire a car. This made the follow-up meeting REALLY interesting as the kiss-up middle managers who slept through the meeting brought professionals in to do demos in order to convince their bosses that they were paying attention.
entry # 1,973
November 18, 2003
So yesterday, I was trying to hotwire a car, and the ghost of Wilford Brimley appeared to me. Which is really strange, since Mr. Brimley is still alive and starring in such fine films as the 2003 romance "The Road Home." Anyway, I was trying to hotwire this car, and Wilford spoke to me. I couldn't tell exactly what he was saying, because he was speaking in Finnish, and I don't really know any words in Finnish, except "Nuorilla tytöillä on kaunis auto," which means "The young girls have a beautiful car." But he wasn't really talking about girls or cars, in fact, I don't think he was even speaking of anything pertinent to the situation at all. I kind of got the impression that he was on drugs or something, because he wasn't wearing any pants and he was mumbling a lot and now that I think about it, he might not have even been Wilford Brimley. It might have been my Dad, because he also speaks Finnish and doesn't wear any pants. Anyway, long story short, it turns out I didn't need to hotwire the car because it was actually my own car and I had just put the keys in my other pocket.
entry # 1,974
November 19, 2003
Wilford Brimley is more than the world's greatest unsung actor... he's the one who coined the phrase "There's nothing like a freshly shaven anus to start the day off right."
entry # 1,975
November 20, 2003
While I know certain members of the TDJ staff will want the above reference to "anuses" removed, the current format of this month prevents such post-authorship tinkering. SO NANNY-NANNY-BOO-BOO!
entry # 1,976
November 21, 2003
Speaking of TDJ staff, are either of you bozos going to be in Fort Wayne over the holiday season with bellies full of turkey and time to spare? There's nothing funny about this entry, just my feeble attempt to turn this site into yet another boring blog.
entry # 1,977
November 22, 2003
Bozo was a clown ahead of his time. Not only was he an inspiration for such popular music acts as Insane Clown Posse and Snoop Dog but with the brilliant introduction of Professor Tweedlefoofer into select markets in the late 1980s he ensured that legions of fans would forever be addicted to his special brand of magical "candy".
entry # 1,978
November 23, 2003
My pathology professor was a weird bird, often caressing his gold-plated trocar in class and referring to it as "My sweet Betty Boop".
entry # 1,979
November 24, 2003
I developed an early fondness for birdwatching as a young boy growing up in Indiana. It wasn't until last year that I discovered the joy of "bird clubbing". Now, don't get the wrong idea. We don't sneak up on birds and club them in the wild. Actually, "bird clubbing" is a more intimate way to get to know the birds. First, you watch them for a few days in their natural habitat and then you offer them a drink. If they accept the drink, you try dancing with them and bringing them back to your place. Once they're at your place, you club them to a bloody pulp and use their feathers for pillows.
entry # 1,980
November 25, 2003
I think there's something wrong with my pillow. It has an aweful stench to it. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that ever since I lost that big horse-racing bet, I've been sleeping in a dumpster.
entry # 1,981
November 26, 2003
Ah, the horse...now THERE'S a beautiful animal. I'm no longer ashamed to admit my love for horses. You say it's sick, but I say it's a thriving, legitimate Internet business.
entry # 1,982
November 27, 2003
Once again the writers have managed to pull a fast one on the TDJ censor who let that last one, about the horses, slip. Be sure to read the November 28th entry where we plan to use the words [CENSORED], [CENSORED], poppy-[CENSORED] and sphincter-[CENSORED].
entry # 1,983
November 28, 2003 Luckily, I had some oatmeal for breakfast, so I'm feeling much better now.
[CENSORED] is actually my favorite position for [CENSORED]. My wife strongly prefers [CENSORED], but the last time that we invited a friend over to the house, she said "Poppy-[CENSORED]!" and then tried to get me to [CENSORED].
entry # 1,984
Luckily, I had some oatmeal for breakfast, so I'm feeling much better now.
November 29, 2003 November is over and here we are once again filling in the last few days of the month. And that means filler entries, which are quite often not funny in the least. And I noticed a couple of times last week that we were locked out of Tripod, so we couldn't get in to update the site. Apologies to our thousands of readers in our fan club. Anyway... So, did everyone eat lots of turkey over the holiday? No? I decided to stage a Thanksgiving revolution by eating nothing but lard and celery all weekend. And hopefully, I will recover from my emergency left buttock removal soon so I can have lots of leftovers.
Some random thoughts about life, breakfast, and existentialism:
entry # 1,985
November is over and here we are once again filling in the last few days of the month. And that means filler entries, which are quite often not funny in the least. And I noticed a couple of times last week that we were locked out of Tripod, so we couldn't get in to update the site. Apologies to our thousands of readers in our fan club. Anyway... So, did everyone eat lots of turkey over the holiday? No? I decided to stage a Thanksgiving revolution by eating nothing but lard and celery all weekend. And hopefully, I will recover from my emergency left buttock removal soon so I can have lots of leftovers.
November 30, 2003
I'm going to break with protocol and go with a stand-alone entry for the last of the month, mainly because that last entry made no sense whatsoever and had absolutely no redeemable qualities. Although technically, I have already referred to the last entry, so we are keeping with the theme of the month. Anyway... I have decided to go into business for myself, selling polar bear earmuffs. No, that's not earmuffs made out of polar bears; rather, that would be earmuffs specifically designed to be worn by polar bears. I have noticed that a large segment of Christmas merchandise has pictures of polar bears wearing scarves and earmuffs. For instance, I have a pile of Christmas cards right here on my desk with a picture of five polar bears singing and wearing earmuffs. But I know of no company that markets earmuffs to said polar bears. Ergo, I present "TDJ's Fuzzy Earmuffs for the Discriminating Polar Bear." I'm thinking that making them out of baby seals and penguins is really going to help business.
entry # 1,986
(and now....secret messages)
Rog is never really gonna have us all over to his house. It is, in fact, just a myth being perpetuated by "the man."