I lie like a bastard.

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.


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.


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.


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