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June 9, 2003

On the way home from my daily torture session (or the "David Spade film festival" as I like to call it) I stumbled across an electric fan. An electric fan! I mean an actual fan that blows air, (not a robot who likes Blendre music). It's really hot here, and not a dry heat either. Sooooo, a fan would come in very handy to cool things off. I sneak this fan into my apartment. Thinking wow maybe things won't be so bad if I have a fan. Well, get this, just as soon as I plug it in, and get it going, the phone rings and it's the prince of darkness's secretary, Barbara on the other end telling me that it's against the rules to use a fan to cool me off. Unless, I was going to use it to push someone's fingers or face into it I wouldn't be allowed to keep it. I said well thanks a lot Barbara Kiljoy (I wasn't being sarcastic her last name is Kiljoy, she's married to Gary Kiljoy) and hung up the phone in a huff. So, now I'm so disgusted with this fan that I can't wait for Gil to get home so I can push his fingers into it. Hopefully, I'll be able to enjoy the breeze it makes while it's chopping his digits into a suitable salad topping.

Peace, John


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