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Holier Than Thou
Written on 2002-12-04, at 2:12 a.m.

dizboy's disturbing daily diet...

1 8-pc. Chicken Tenders

1 5-pc. Chicken Tenders

1 Venti Gingerbread Latté

1 Sobe Lava

1 Grande Chai Latté

3 Werther's Originals

3 Pieces Cold Church's Chicken

John Live*

Same John.

New Apartment.

*Not at all live...

This time I have a perfectly reasonable excuse for going a few days without an update.

I had no computer available.

You see, I moved.

If you could call relocating across the street moving.

Which, I do.

Today, for work, I had to take Spider-Man down to Ft. Lauderdale with some of the Marketing team members, so that the in-market sales group could show off in front of some of our referral clients.

The day began as it usually does, with me walking in the front door of the Entertainment offices, politely pretending to listen to the receptionist talk about her weekend as I fumble for my access card to open the door.

I sit down at my desk...papers...lots of papers.

"John...here are the directions to Ft. Lauderdale."

"John...here are the phone numbers to call for Marketing." 

"John...here is what you should be doing when you sit down at your desk."

"John...here are detailed instructions on what to do after you've made a doodie."

"Hmph" I thought...then diverted my attention.


Sometimes I like to pretend I'm Patrick Stewart.

Though, it never works.

I'm fumbling for the power switch, which is cleverly hidden on the far side of the CPU tower, which is also...cleverly hidden.

It's nearly unreachable unless your arms are four feet long, for no reason other than the fact that I think it looks cooler for there to just be....a monitor.

Where's the information coming from???

You just don't know.

"Your Windows NT Network password will expire in 6 days. Would you like to change it now?"


Old Password: *******
New Password: hedwig
Confirm New Password: hedwig

"Your password could not be changed. Please see your network administrator for more information."

I tried it again...and once more, then gave up, figuring that my Network had some long standing grudge against transgendered rock icons.


"Your Out Of Office Assistant is currently on. Would you like to turn it off?"

God no.

E-mail, e-mail, e-mail...

Where's my car...

I didn't have a vehicle.

Which is terribly necessary when you're about to drive 250 miles. 

After leaving two frantic messages on a faceless Marketing assistant's voice mail, I decided that I might actually have better luck spending my $50 per diem were it not in check form, so I took off to the bank inside the park to make the exchange.

When I got back, my phone was ringing.

"This is John..."



"I see."

"Be right there."

The keys had been waiting for me at the executive lobby, all by their lonesome, and my supervisor had graciously neglected to pass this crucial bit of information along to me.

"Should I take our E-Pass?" I asked.

"No no...there's one in the vehicle already."

Hmm, Turnpike it is then.

We (Spider-Man and I {Though he wasn't Spider-Man yet [in fact, he wasn't even Peter Parker, he was just the guy who plays Spider-Man]}) collected the keys, and walked out to find a brand new 2002 Dodge Durango.

Mmm...heterosexual transportation...

The drive down was wonderful, we made it in record time, and had about an hour to relax at the venue before Spider-Man was needed.

And by venue, of course I mean a giant telemarketing call center.

Spidey did his little presentation with Marketing, and then walked around, talking to people, and even fielding a few calls. 

I was sort of tagging along, just to watch.

While I was standing there, I noticed a woman had been following Spider-Man all around the building.

I didn't care, it was just odd.

She was annoying, talking to him, and asking questions, monopolizing his time, but I paid her no notice.

Until on one of her breaks from stalking the Spider, she sidled up to me and, unprompted...without so much as eye contact said...

"I'm the Director of Human Resources."

"How coincidental!" I thought. "As I happen to be the Director of I Don't Give A Fuck."

I turned to acknowledge her, giving her the halfhearted smile, and slight nod. 

The same look that you give your autistic cousin at family gatherings when at the dinner table he presents the latest in his series of indistinguishable humanoid sculptures made from his own feces.

"I'm the Spider-Man groupie."

As vapid as I found her to be, I couldn't bring myself to tell her that she could fawn all she wanted, but Spider-Man's web didn't swing her way, if you know what I mean.

And I think you do.

Another three hour drive back to Orlando, and I dropped the Durango off, and headed home.

Only, I headed toward my old apartment.

Not because I was lost, but because I'm insane.

As I left the parking lot at Universal, I decided that the world would end were I not to have my Nativity Scene set up tonight.

Look in the background of "John Live".

Look, see...there it is.

While rummaging through my old apartment, I decided that there were other things that I simply could not live without, and had to get them to the new place immediately

The items were...

The Nativity Set, a Professional Corkscrew, my Blue Comforter, and a Crucifix. 

Now, taking into consideration that there is no rhyme or reason why my mind does the things it does, it's no wonder that the old neighbors must be breathing a sigh of relief that I've moved out.

There's John, clad in black Armani, with a tailored wool trenchcoat, carrying things that make no sense together, fumbling for his keys, and cursing as he steps on the ends of the comforter.

Well, wait...

Nativity Scene...

Wine Opener...


Colored Vestment...



Be well...


Your Host and Emcee...dizboy.

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