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Grand Theft Golf Cart
Written on 2003-02-22, at 1:44 a.m.

dizboy's disturbing daily diet...

18 Cadbury's Mini-Eggs

1 Grande Vanilla Chai Latté

1 Grey Goose Dirty Martini w/Bleu Cheese Stuffed Olives

1 Order Chicken Romano

John Live*


*Not at all live...

I got my hair cut today. 

Thank God, really. 

It's something I've been needing for quite a while now. 

I was letting my hair grow out, because I really thought I'd look good with a long, shaggy look. 

And everyone seemed to agree...I was letting it down in my face, just brushed to one side, setting aside my natural tendency to have my hair short and spiky. 

Trouble is, the more people tell me they like my hair when I do something different, the less I seem to like it. 

Everyone loved it long. 

So, naturally, I started to detest it, and went to get it cut. 

And when I went into the office, no one liked it. 

Which made me very happy. 

Travis, my incredible stylist, cut it in a asymmetrical wave, sweeping over to one side. 

It's very 80's punk, and very disliked by my co-workers. 

My Vice-President walked up to me tonight and said "What's up with the hair?".

My Stage Manager was just about to laugh and point at the VP's observation until he continued on saying "Not the style, but what's up with the sparkles, man?"

I did a Mardi Gras event tonight, where the client wanted me to wear this stupid, sparkly hat, and it shed all over me. 

So, now that no one can agree on my hair, I love it.

To recap, I went from this:

Crazy mop-top. 

To this:

Incredibly sexy 80's outcast. 

And speaking of 80's, that would be a sleeveless shirt I'm wearing, since it was in the...80's...today.

Which, is just really spiteful to say, especially for anyone up north who's reading this, or if you're anywhere near Matt.

But yes...85º today, I think.


We may not be able to vote properly, but damn it, we'll never have dig our '87 Buick out of a half ton of frozen rain.

Work has been very fun lately.

This isn't abnormal really, since I find my job incredibly fun and exciting, but it's been just thoroughly enjoyable as of late.

Yesterday, we discovered that our departmental golf cart was missing.

It's missing because someone (me) lost the padlock to it one night, and people are now free to take it at their will, since any key, or properly shaped piece of metal will start it.

Now, the reason that people steal ours all the time is because a) It's a six-seater, b) Our crack team of technicians found a way to remove the governor from a golf cart, making it twice as fast as any other cart on property, and c) There's a really cute little sign in the window that says "Entertainment Production", with stars around it, thanks to me.

But we have rude, inconsiderate people who work in our building, and they see it as their right to take our cart, proper signage notwithstanding. 

So yesterday, upon discovering that our cart had once again been stolen, we set out to do something about it.

That something was to retrieve it, and lock it up again, once and for all. 

The "We" that I speak of would be myself, Debbie, my counterpart in the department, and Jessica, our departmental assistant, who detests the people she supports almost as much as we do.

Our first order of business was to find a padlock.

Hmm, a padlock, eh?

Well, in the central Entertainment offices of a major Theme Park, of course we'd have plenty on hand, correct?

That thought crossed my mind as we piled into a Universal Orlando van, en route to purchase padlocks at K-Mart with the American Express Corporate card in hand.

In the parking lot of K-Mart, there was an old Hispanic woman sitting alone in the backseat of a car.

That has nothing to do with the story, I just thought it was picturesque.

We located the padlocks, and checked out, and I got to experience the humanity that is the K-Mart check out line.

As we were checking out, we had to put the cashier through a whole ordeal, as Universal has a special tax status, which doesn't require us to pay tax on purchases.

It's not a tax-exempt status, but it's something.

Wait let me be more vague.

Blah blah blah tax blah blah blah monkey fudge.


So Jessica whips out some official looking letter from the office of the Governor.

The same governor I've squeezed my genitals at.

And proceeds to go through a pile of paperwork to ensure that we don't have to pay the 6.5% sales tax on our $13.99 padlocks.

Once that's been taken care of, and the rest of the people in line have put out the fires on the life sized effigies of the three of us, we return to Universal.

Now, here's where it gets tricky.

We could have waited for the perp to return our cart, and just busted them.

But, that's just not fun.

Debbie and I wanted to go on a "search and annoy" mission, and literally take the cart out from under their noses.

Jessica, being sensible, wanted no part in our little plot, and excused herself as we passed by the offices.

So, alone, the two of us pressed on, combing the back-of-house areas at Universal Orlando from stem to stern.

Finally, we decided to search the sound stages, where they were preparing all the Mardi Gras floats for the parade this week.


Sitting there outside sound stage 20 was our beloved cart, alone, and looking quite dismayed at the recent kidnapping.

We decided that no reason should be given for taking it back, as there was nothing that we had to explain. It was our cart, and had been taken without permission.

They could just walk back to the Entertainment offices.

Most of those people need it anyway.

Full of confidence, and feeling not a little unlike Nicholas Cage in "Gone in 60 Seconds", I slid out of the van, and quickly into the drivers seat of the cart.

In a split second, I had the key in the ignition, and was on my way.

Sadly, it wasn't exactly as exciting as I had hoped.

I guess I was expecting there to be yelling, then gunshots, and a cut-away to me ducking down onto the steering wheel, looking back to see if my pursuers were gaining on me.

I saw a last scene, in slow motion, where the sound stage door is closing, as I'm zooming towards it, and as I approach, my escape seems less and less likely until I make it by a hair's breadth through the doors as a huge fireball erupts from inside the stage, following me out into the breezeway.

Oh, and the cart goes airborne, but I'm not exactly sure why...it's just more cinematic.

Instead, the scene was me starting up the cart, and puttering past a fat man painting palm fronds onto the King Gator float for Mardi Gras.

Laissez les bon temps rouler, n'est pas?

Be well...


Your Host and Emcee...dizboy.

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