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Say hello to The JuddHole and goodbye to D-Land in seconds.

Yer damn skippy I stole this muffuckin' script from NoGoodDaddy, how you think I GET code? Write it myself? BWAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAAA...

Still stinky, and if Scott Adams is reading this, 'piss off and get your own ideas.'

2004-07-08 - 4:24 p.m.

Day two of not showering isn't treating me, or anyone around me, badly.

Okay, I'll admit it.

I cheated.

I showered last night after my AsswadShitSuckAss hockey game.

We lost, by the way.

So I attempted to scrape the Suckage from my body by standing under the blasting icewater in the lockerroom and scrubbing my body fitfully.

My teammates are quite used to this by now. Not just me screaming at them while wet and naked, but the fact that I consistently, futilely, attempt to wash the intangible entity that is Suck from my body.

That I showered at the rink was all I needed to further push the not-showering-in-the-morning test another step. First, I only used the mucous cocktail they label, "body wash" at the rink and I also, albeit unknowingly, have skipped shaving as well.

And I'm convinced that Dilbert motherfucker reads this diary and stole my idea.

I got to work okay because we played the late game (10:45) and I didn't eat anything last night, so there were no ass-imitating-a-turtle emergencies during the drive.

Apparently though, I completely forgot my list from yesterday because my hands stink again.

And I mean STINK.

We're talking inches-from-the-nose-will-make-your-head-snap-back-like-you-just-got-shot stink.

Oh yeah, after I showered at the rink, I loaded all my stinky goalie stuff in my bag, hauled it home, and unpacked it.

I touched all that wet, nasty shit with my bare HANDS.

The greasy-stinky-nosecheese keyboard isn't that bad. I can deal with it. In fact, it's kind of fun, like, "Identify that smell/substance, Win Cash and Prizes!"

But, the hands had to go.

I thought I was okay though, because I figured that if I got too foul and/or offensive, gayboy from across the aisle would let me know.

Crap, he's on vacation.

Good fortune though, our new temp is gayboy's friend, flambouyantly gayboy. Flam is a skinny, black, amazingly effeminate, tennis player. He's a temp, so I didn't really know he was going to be in until he caught me playing with his Venus and Serena Tennis racquet.

I was playing the parts of Sharapova and Serena simultaneously while hitting an invisible ball back and forth between my cube and the vacationing gayboy's cube.

Mannish-burly-slightly-sexy-black-chick, bouncing brutishly, in husky voice: My serve.

*TOK*

*tik*

Lithe-send-JuddHole-to-jail-for-naughty-thoughts-white-chick, bouncing cheerleaderly, in preppy, teeny, voice: Got it, back to you Serena, goddess of the courts.

*TOK*

*tik*

Serena, in even deeper, huskier voice: Back to you, jailbait.

*TOK*

Sharapova, squealing with glee: Eee! I lost my underwear� (rubs, then pinches nipple).

About now was when I heard a kind of high-pitched squeaking noise. It wasn't a baby bird exhaling a fresh worm, but it was close. I turned around and saw Flam, hand over his mouth, clutching his stomach, doubled over in laughter.

Glad I didn't piss him off by playing with his racquet, I returned it quietly to his desk and asked him how his day was going. He didn't respond until much later when recovered and said, "Oh mah, GAWD, you almossst made me PEE!"

Again, the homosexual overtones of what I have just written are not lost on me.

While Flam is much more shy than gayboy about approaching the JuddHole, I still figured that in my stankified state, he'd offer up something along the lines of hygiene/fashion advice.

He asked if I was growing a beard like Dilbert. Even before Joe did.

I told him that I was pioneering the lack-of-cleanliness project, and bearded-wannabe Dilbert was my bitch.

He said, "well, you don't sssssmell like you're not ssshowering or ussssing deoderant." (No, he's not a snake, he doesn't lisp, but he kind of accentuates his "S"s a little more than others, it's kooky).

I figure he was either hitting on me, or my non-hygienic-lifestyle is has got a toe-hold on society.

Either way, I'm excited. I mean, A) I'm not gay, but it's nice to know I have options, and 2) I may be able to skip showering and shaving for at least another week and still be sexy.



Last 5 Entries

- - 2009-09-12
Vic Fire - 2009-02-10
A Very Special Someone - 2009-01-27
Politics and Chest Hair - 2008-11-11
Anzac Day - 2008-04-30


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