12% BEER
2.5 hours of sleep
  Where is my chciken pot pie?

Where is it?

I don't know.

LIAR! You knoow exactly where it is! I can tell! You have that "I just stole your chicken pot pie" look in your eye.

I do not.


No. No. I don't.

Yes. Yes. You do. Look here's a pocket sized mirror.

Hm. Well, it seems that I do have the look of "I just stole your chicken pot pie." However, it could also be interpreted as "This is not the jacket I dropped off at the dry cleaners" kind of look.

Perhaps. Have you beeeeen to the dry cleaners lately?

Why yes. Yes I have. I was there just this morning.

And did you receive a jacket from this dry cleaners that was not yours?

Yes. I did. I looked at it. I smelled it. I put it on. I realized it was not mine.

What did you do?

I threw a chicken pot pie in the dry cleaners face..


Yes. But I have been punished- see? Karma kicked my ass for stealing your chicken pot pie by replacing the jacket I had dropped off at the dry cleaners with a jacket that was not mine at all. So you see. There is no reason for hostility. I have already been punished.

But this brings no satisfaction to me. I do not really believe that you have been punished. I do not believe you have fully felt the wrath that you so deserve for stealing my tasty chicken pot pie.

What more could you want? I lost my jacket at the dry cleaners. A dry cleaner I trust. I can no longer return to that same dry cleaner for I have made my mark by throwing a chicken pot pie in the face of the person I once trusted.

Hm. I can see your logic in thinking that this may be some sort of retribution. But I will have to disagree with your pattern of thoughts and say, NAY! Nay! Nay sir! You are still in debt to me for the kidnapping and destruction of my chicken pot pie.

The dry cleaner is my Grandmother Sally. I threw the chicken pot pie in my Grandmother Sally's face.

My! That was a very hot chicken pot pie!

Which would explain why Grandmother Sally screamed, "Oh dear Lord in Heaven it burns! It burns! I shall never be a beautiful Indian wife! What man would want to pay the dowery of a woman with the burn scars of a chicken pot pie?!"

I had no idea that you were of Indian descent.

I am not. My Grandmother is just very old and wishes she was a virign being auctioned off by her father for a hansome dowery. Instead she works in a dry cleaning shop where her Grandchild gets his clothes cleaned. I am her favorite.

And you threw a chicken pot pie at her?

Yes. She is burned now. Both physically and emotionally.

Nope. That won't do. I want the scalp of your guardian angel.

You're a sick bastard.

I get this way when I don't get to eat my daily does of chicken pot pie!


I've had two hours of sleep.

I'm at work.

I'm here by myself.

I've already deleted two diary entries.

My mind is working like a very bad Monty Python Sketch machine.

The kind of sketches that John Cleese wipes his ass with.

I want to drink an Orange Julius.

But they went bankrupt a long time ago.

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Copyright 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004 L.Leroy