Sunday, August 17, 2008

8/16

8/16

12:13 Let it be known that today marks the 2-month anniversary of the diary. We're at 32 pages and 20,000 words!

12:30 I just read a very interesting analysis on why some people are afraid of clowns. Because of the painted face, which usually depicts some type of emotion (happy clown, sad clown), it messes with our instinctual desire to read someone by their face. It's like static over a television show. You can't really see what's going on, and that creates a feeling of danger within us because our faculties that say "danger" or "relax" are incapacitated. That could be total BS, but it sounds cool.

8/15

8/15

9:18 I swear this place has no news sense. This is Fair Week, and it's dominated the front page every single day. The week before, we printed a Fair Tab with all the info about what's going on. So we've basically been running the information from the Fair Tab on our front page every day. Meanwhile, my story that exposes government abuse and waste has now been languishing for a week. So far, my story has been bumped by a prize-winning goat, a prize-winning pig, a feature about an old lady who hasn't missed the fair in a billion years, and a feature photo of a girl sticking her head through a plywood cutout. Accompanying the feature photo? The day's fair schedule! The same info that ran a week ago! Also on Friday's front page, a four-day old story about the Unabomber's cabin on display, an utterly worthless wire story about Julia Childs being a spy 60 years ago and two local stories that were nice to know but hardly earth-shattering.
Here's what should have happened: My story of actual substance goes up top, the two local stories run as well. Cut the Unabomber and chef spy stories all together. That would still leave room for the lame fair photo and schedule. Voila! We suddenly have a front page that matters! Why am I the only one who notices this?

10:47 Prof. Snape wants to know if I'll have copy to turn in today, and is annoyed when I say no. He can't believe that all I'm working on is my huge, three-part series (totaling six stories) about one of the biggest issues in county government. I can't stress enough how stupid this man is. Hey Snape, you may notice that I have turned in about 60 inches of copy this week that hasn't been used. You know, stories that actually contain important information.

3:12 Two of my editors call me irresponsible for actually using a quote where a county resident calls a county official "incompetent." Snape has spent the last two weeks writing about – and then defending his decision to write about – how Obama reminds him of Adolf Hitler and Fidel Castro. Yeah, comparing Obama to Hitler is perfectly responsible. I swear to God this guy might lose an IQ competition with a mayonnaise jar.

4:30 The Tool comes back in a rage because Slim didn't meet up with him at the correct location after they teamed up to write/shoot the pig wrestling competition at the fair. The Tool announces that no one should "get him started" because he'll end up getting "thrown out of the building." I'd love to chuck his ass out. Apparently, after waiting for about 40 minutes, Toolboy just left him and came back. I'd have done the same thing.

4:35 Picturing Slim wandering aimlessly around the fairgrounds, grumbling about his lost glory because he couldn't form a pig wrestling team is highly amusing right now.

8/12

8/12

9:07 People charged with actively hunting dangerous terrorists are less intense than Tweedledee and The Voice. They like to swoop through the office and act like selling ads is very serious business indeed. They coordinate on the fly! They can discuss the merits of full color like nobody else! The Voice can belittle Tweedledee in a single breath! I hope they start wearing matching suits and Ray Bans.

1:52 I'd rather be disemboweled that write this story. I hate fluff crap.

1:57 Death Cleavage would be an excellent band name. So would Euthanasia Boobs. I'm just sayin'...

4:04 I'm trying to image Slim's personal ad:
DDM (divorced dorky male), age 51, desperately seeks AKF (any kind of female), aged 18-112, for long-term relationship. I'm a career journalist (and funky renaissance man) who has only been fired once and is now wasting away at a small daily in NW Montana. I'm looking for a new job even harder than I'm looking for AKF! I would prefer you to be creepily younger and very, very hot. Also, I need someone interested in pig wrestling this Friday.

The hair I have left is a unique combination of blond/orange/gray, which is the same color as JK Simmons. Greatest character actor ever! He also played in the greatest superhero movie of all time: Spiderman 2. I have bluish eyes, and I'm very off-kilter (some people say that like it's a bad thing).

I enjoy a healthy diet of chocolate, chocolate chips, chocolate chip cookies, warm chocolate milk, chocolate candy bars, chocolate-covered chocolate, chocolate cake, chocolate ice cream, chocolate whoppers and potato chips (salt helps me absorb electrolytes and keeps my energy levels high!)

Back at my old paper, I was what you might call a gym rat. Between step aerobics and super bench presses, I'd make social connections with potential sources. Now that I'm in Montana, I'm the same way. I drive past the gym every day on my way to work in my trusty Suzuki.

In my spare time, I like to watch movies and television shows generally popular with teen girls. Every night, I grab some chocolate and huddle up in front of the tube with my last remaining cat (Kitty will never escape me!). You must love cats and cat hair! No allergic girls for me!

What I'm looking for: someone highly open to lowering her standards who enjoys long sits on the couch while listening to lengthy monologues about movie trivia. If you haven't seen Casablanca, please don't respond. (I take that back. We can watch it together and I'll explain every detail!) I don't believe in technology so I don't have a cell phone, and I can sometimes figure out e-mail. I'm very willing to travel or attempt an online relationship. Hey, it worked for my boss!

Please call. Please...

8/11

8/11

8:58 How's this for a weekend of opposites? On Saturday, I went to a fight club party. We watched the UFC, fought each other, drank and played poker until late. Sunday was spent watching my nephew and baking cookies. My cookies rule.

12:52 Slim gets all pissy when I tell him that I can't do the pig wrestling on Friday because I have a broken foot. He doesn't believe me. Yeah, I'm the first one who signed up to go with him, but suddenly I'm looking for a bogus reason to back out? He practically rolled his eyes and said, "Whatever." He accused me of faking even though I'm supposed to be the "macho" one around here. Hey Slim, I'll gladly fight your cat-hair-covered ass on one leg.

12:55 Hey, Tiffers!

1:11 The Voice's personal life goal: Let no sneeze go ungodblessed! Reba has been sneezing a lot today, and every time she does, a barely audible "Bless you" comes drifting sweetly from The Voice's desk. If she hears it, she blesses it, which is a lesser-known corollary to "she who smelt it, dealt it."

3:44 I think I'll give myself the quote of the day for saying that I needed "to get unwussy in the chesticle department by getting tough implants."

Friday, August 8, 2008

8/8

8-8

8:32 The Voice is walking to her desk and she sneezes loudly. I think
something came out because she appeared startled and then started at
her yellow legal pad she was carrying. Ewww.

8:39 I'm the only one in the newsroom, and The Voice tells me that it
looks like I'll be carrying the load for the newspaper today. Actually,
it usually feels like that even when everyone else is here.

8:47 Prof. Snape just arrived. This is already turning into a bad day.

10:33 Wow, the ad rats must have coordinated this week to have
"Unnecessarily Gaudy Shirt Friday." Is Neon Salmon ever an appropriate
color? How about Impossibly Bright Fuscia?

1:19 Flight of the Conchords isn't just good. It's life-changing.
Seriously. We need to start the paper's band. I can't sing, but – to quote
Sublime – I can play the guitar like a motherfuckin' riot.
Unfortunately, I don't have a dalmatian, and I don't get high. Nor does
my mom, who does not go to college.

1:22 Inner. Inner city. Inner. City. Pressure. Brown paper, white
paper. Stick it together with tape, the tape of love... the sticky
stuff..

1:23 Slim laments that abstinence is overrated. For once, I
wholeheartedly agree with him. Wait 'til marriage? Yeah, I couldn't
pull that off even when I used to think that was a good idea.

1:29 If I call the STD hotline, I can press 1 for English or 2 for
Spanish. What number do I press for Spanglish? If it hurts when I pee,
I want my advice to make me laugh. You know, just to offset the burning
sensation.

1:39 I'm trying to think of what would make me happier that beating the
hell out of The Tool... It's a pretty short list.

1:50 The Voice said she tries to "think skinny" when someone tries to
pass through her aisle. No amount of positive thinking will get that
done. Ever.

1:53 Thanks to Hermione's Death Eater Babies story, I've done a little
research. The market for a movie about cannibal infants is wide open.
Somebody get Wes Craven on the phone! You know at some point during the
movie, there will have to be a scene where a hot, busty girl (wearing
some kind of very slutty shirt) enters the room with a friend, and the
friend is in league with the cannibal babies. Scary music will start
playing, and the girl with big boobs will be like "Why are those babies
staring at my boobs?" The friend will say in an ominous voice, "Oh,
they're just hungry." Cut to a close up of a grinning baby with evil
eyes. The hint of a fang presses on it's lower lip...

2:07 OK, I've had to redo the dating formula because it was severely
lacking in one major area: wealth. So here's the updated version: (Your
age/2 + 7 = youngest you can date) - wealth factor (subtract one year
for each $10 million in liquid assets)
I did not include any creepiness factor because there is absolutely no
accounting for the taste of women, especially when it comes to possibly
having an unlimited shopping fund.
Therefore, an 80-year-old man can date as low as 47, but if he has
$100 million in the bank, he can drop that number to 37. Billionaires
can clearly do whatever (in this case, whomever) they want. In the case
where, because of wealth, the number drops to 18 or below, the solution
is to simply date more than one girl at a time.
It would look like this: 40/2 + 7 = 27, but the guy has $1 billion,
which would drop 100 years. So 27-100 = 73. Then take 73/18 = 4.055. He
could date four 18-year-olds or 2.92 25-year-olds. No rounding up! See
Bruce Wayne for this rule in practice.
The only override rule is that the number can never drop below 18,
which would make it illegal. Unless you're in Thailand or something.


3:14 Potential names for our pig wrestling team: Swine Fellas. Babe
Hunters. Makin' Bacon. Einstein's Pig Army. The Daily Dirties. Aily-De
Istakes-Me (Pig Latin, get it? That one is courtesy of Slim).

4:12 Damn. Sorry, Pohan. Hang in there. I'm pulling for you.

Thursday, August 7, 2008

8/7

8-7

8:53 At some point, Tweedledee needs to give up and just start calling The Voice "mommy." It's clearly what she wants.

9:15 The Voice sounds extra hoarse and mannish today. She must have switched to unfiltered. Soon she'll just be chewing on a mixture of used coffee grounds and unwrapped cigarettes. She's like some unholy combination of the Church Lady and a Hell's Angel.

10:05 The powers that be are in the conference room discussing Internet topics and the company's Web site. It's kind of like watching a chimp trying to learn algebra.

10:36 The Tool is talking about someone who is "fun to be around." Two questions: 1. How would he know? 2. If he can detect what constitutes a good personality, why is he such a constant ass?

11:02 Mrs. Boomhower (all-around handy lady for the company) just walked by and sighed/grunted. She reminds of the criminal mom from the Goonies. I wonder if she has a deformed son chained up in her unfinished basement?

11:33 Oh. My. God. Airwolf is on Hulu. Sign me up for The Best Week Ever show. I loved Airwolf as a kid.

8/6

8/6

10:03 a.m. I explain that I want so bad for someone to assault me, and Hermione thinks this is strange. How else am I going to practice my jits in real life?

10:17 a.m. — After IT Guy spends five minute explaining how iQue goes down once a day (along with the archives system, the paper's supercomputer and the robot that keeps things running in the back — clearly a vast conspiracy and probably the result of chem trails), Slim looks up from his computer: "Hey, my iQue's down." If powers of observation are the hallmark of a good reporter — well, I won't go there.

10:23 a.m. — Are too many people searching the archives? Really, that's
a serious concern? Why the hell do we have an archive system if we
can't search it? I'm with Slim on this one: Our system is ridiculous.

12:52 p.m. Hermione accuses me of being a slacker, which is totally untrue. OK, maybe once or twice (three times) I've left for an "interview" only to go swimming, but the past few days have actually been very busy, and I haven't been in the newsroom much. Hey, there's no news in the newsroom, right?

4:01 Hermione comes close to another nervous breakdown. The system went screwy, and she almost lost her Saturday story. Thankfully, it was not lost. Crisis averted