I know I promised to spare this diary from the inanities of everyday life, but, well, I lied.

I�ve received 7 calls in the last 4 days from this freaky-looking number. Having no idea who they are (telemarketer?) I�ve been ignoring it. Finally, I relent, answer it and it�s my Credit Card company� and it�s automated.

�If you are the JuddHole, press 1�

�If you are the JuddHole who lives at 321 Street, press 1�

�If you are the JuddHole with a humungous penis and an asshole dog, press 2�

�Enter your social, so that we may steal your identity, then press pound�

The first 2 times they called I hang up because I like to pretend that I don�t have time for that shit. I really just hate the phone. And feeling pathetic because the only time my phone has rang in the last 2 days, it�s been a fucking machine calling me.

Now when it rings and it�s the strange number, I�m fully into making this piece of shit happy so that it�ll leave me the fuck alone, but I have to pee. I�m not totally against peeing while on the phone with someone, but it depends. If it�s a machine, it gets to hear everything, even me grunting when shaking off. Turns out my payment is past due. That would explain their diligence in calling me. Go figure.

On the extreme-plus side, I found out I can piss using only one hand. I may just do it that way from now on, simply because I can. What I�ll do with the other hand will depend on my mood. I may scratch myself, I may pretend to be on a phone so small it can�t be seen, I may tell a story to anyone in there complete with wild, one-handed gesticulations.

The world is my oyster.

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As I walked in the door Tuesday night, both of my gotard dogs came to greet me at once. I usually come in and hold my hands out like Jesus in those big stained-glass representations at Churches. I try to emit a holy glow whilst my gotards jump up and down in disbelief that I didn�t leave them forever� again.

This time however, they collided at the end of the hallway and became entangled. Asshead is called that for a reason. She�s one of those that, when put in an unpleasant situation, takes out her anger on whatever is nearest. It could be your feet, a wasp, a shoe, ninjas, Rottweiler�s, our sweet dog, Dingbat, it just doesn�t matter. So Dingbat got pretty chewed up by the time I threw myself into the middle of them and broke them up.

As the Vet was shoving a two-inch nozzle into Dingbat�s open wounds and began �flushing� them, I apparently made quite a face as the Vet Tech kept asking me if I was going to pass out. Especially when he would squeeze it and all that shit would run out. Who wouldn�t make a fucking face? You�re hurting my baby. AND it�s fucking disgusting.

Christ, I am such a pussy.

Now, I get to �clean� the wound and force pills down her throat for a couple weeks.

I�ll be making my �face� the whole time, I�m sure.

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Today at work I:

Gained valuable fashion insight from the homosexual across the aisle from me (turns out you�re not supposed to wear a brown belt with black shoes and shit like that, who knew?).

Organized all the chew cans on my desk (~12) according to the warning text,

�Product may cause gum disease and tooth loss�

�This product may cause mouth cancer�

�This product is not a safe alternative to cigarettes�

�This product may cause you to be irresistable to whitetrash at gas stations�

When asked a completely ricockulous question by a superior, took the nameplate off the side of my cube and began smacking my own ass with it.

Fell asleep in a meeting about �data� (really a meeting designed to torture Judd) and drooled tobacco-juice down my �Opie Gone Bad� shirt.

Explained to the CEO that when running late during a golf game, it�s best to utilize the �polo� shot, which involves hanging out the side of the cart and swinging one-handed while driving top speed.

Received invitation from CEO to the next executive golf outing.

Released a particularly foul gaseous creature from my ass, then borrowed a cube-neighbor�s battery-powered mini-fan in attempt to blow the entire entity-of-stench into CoworkerBuddy�s cube.

Got pegged in the back of the head by CoworkerBuddy�s Nerf Dart Gun while he screamed, �what crawled up your ass and died?!?�

Sat in disbelief that I get paid to be here.

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Overheard from a neighboring cube: �The trick to enjoying a New York cab ride is to be drunker than the driver.�