mychai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Cheese grits: good. Shrimp: Sch-weet! Well, I just got back from being on TV. I'm all famous now. All of the chickies of mid-Missouri were huddled around my door when I got home. I think one person flashed me. But I think it was a guy, so it doesn't count. That's all a big lie. But what isn't a lie is how far shrimp will get you in a TV station full of hungry execs. People I hadn't ever even seen before was showing up in the studio to get a good samplin' of JP's Cheese Grits and Shrimp. What's that? Want some shrimp? How 'bout some more money and an actual lunch break on my 11-hour days. Well, I did find out I got a raise today. But, as Homer Simpson would say, "Whoopty-doid." Sit down for this whopping figure of a raise as the money signs may come flying out of the computer and knock you in the noggin'. I got a humongous, incredible, blood-vessel popin'... 3.5% raise. Over the year, I will be making a little over $1000 more than I was making. But still... Our health insurance will be going up exponentially, so this raise is just a way of taking a few rocks off of the stack of bricks they will drop on us soon. Kids... Don't grow up. Stay 10-12 for the rest of your life. Sure, you get to drink and gamble when you hit 21. But that's about it. Your back starts to hurt, you can't run up stairs anymore, and you tend to start liking crazy shit like "doilies" laying everywhere. The great news about my television appearance today? When I came home, I had a message on the machine. Some dude wants to hire me to be his private chef. He is paralized from the shoulders down. Absolutely perfect! As long as he doesn't want me to feed him or change his catheter or anything like that. Step back, jack... I'm a chef, not a feeder or a pee-pee exchanger. I think the only people I will ever feed are my future children. Watching people masticate their tasty meal that close up grosses me out. So does sitting in a bathroom stall and someone enters the one next to you. But that's for a whole other entry. You know... no potty talk when there is food around. 1:08 p.m. - Friday, Sept. 07, 2001 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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