I'm Officially Unemployed!

And unemployable!  Probably!

Yes, sad as it is to say, today is my last day working for Playboy.  Our entire department was laid off so today we have to come in, clean out our desks, sign the "We promise not to sue" paperwork and then head out for a liquid lunch at noon, never to return to 680 N Lake Shore Drive.

How am I?  Dealing, I suppose.  I'm not really sad about losing my job--helping grown men masturbate is nobody's idea of a dream--but I am terrified about losing my insurance.  Cholesterol problems don't just take care of themselves, after all.

So, until I get another job, I'll likely be a bit nervous and unkempt.  Fortunately for my dedicatedly sexy readership of nine, I've constructed a handy-dandy "Mike Jacklich Mental State" test.  This way, when you see me, you can instantly deduce my mood without even asking.   It's rather simple:

If, when you see me, I am wearing my lace-up boots:

I took the time to lace up my big boots!  Clearly, I tried today!  I'm optimistic about the future!  Woot!  I'm going to Taco Bell!

If, however, I'm wearing my slip-on Nikes:

 

Buy me a drink!  I'm sad!  I'll never work again!  My wife can do better and is sure to leave me as soon as she comes to her senses! I guess I'll go to Taco Bell.

***************

Honestly, I'm going to look back at this day--sometime far in the future--as a great day.  I really was treading water here at the Rabbit and delaying my inevitable trip to super-adulthood.  Now I can finally get on with my life.  Plus, I kind of hated this job.  I'll miss my friend Lisa and, um, the tits but that's about it.  I won't miss the fat bitch from my office that actually had the gall to say "Looks like Mike has a case of the Mondays!" in an obnoxious voice the day after my Godfather died.  And I won't miss the impotent dicks who called in every day demanding to know why their internet isn't functioning or why their penises didn't work (Yes, this happened to me once). 

So, in a fitting metaphor for my last day at Playboy, as I type this the maintenence guys are taking down the copper rabbit head in the lobby, in anticipation for the company's eventual move to L.A.

Good-bye, bunny.  Good-bye scantily-clad ladies.  Good-bye insurance.



Oh, dear god.  I just realized something horrible:  I'm going to have to pay for my porn in the future.  

Why!?  Why, god, why!?!?

Not to undermine Sheila's birthday or anything...

...but we just got the official word that Playboy's headquarters--located in downtown Chicago since the very first Bunny--will be closing on April 30th, 2012.  All retained employees will be moving to the west coast to open our brand new headquarters in Beverly Hills.  So, if you're a nubile girl with certain moral ambiguities and willing to take your clothes off for money, Chicago is no longer the place for you.

Pictured:  The former destination for nubile girls with certain moral ambiguities

This news, of course, does not affect me in the slightest as I already know I will be out of a job on January 30th.  But it is kind of sad.  Hef started the company in Chicago and--despite moving out to the mansion for 16-ways a long time ago--always wanted to keep the headquarters here. 

This must be a heartbreaking day for him.

Or not

Happy Pearl Harbor Day! I've been laid off!

On Sunday morning, December 7th, 1941, the Japanese Navy launched an air assault on the U.S. naval base at Pearl Harbor, thrusting the United States headlong into a world war since made famous through the tireless efforts of Ben Affleck and Josh Hartnett. 

Veterans will say that the real heroes are the 405,399 Americans that died over the course of the war but we all know it was these dreamy fellows.

"Only" 2,402 Americans died in the attack that day but the damage had been done: for the next four and a half years, the United States would find itself in the lowest of lows before eventually climbing back up and achieving a bittersweet, ass kicking victory.  And it all started 70 years ago today. 

If you know a WWII vet, give him a hug.

In other news, I was given my 60 day notice last week, although--we've been informed--it might not take nearly that long for me to find my fat ass sitting on the couch every day.  We're really "working" day to day at this point.

A few years back, I found myself in an unadvance-able job at Steppenwolf Theatre Company.  I loved that job but they couldn't promote me any higher and I eventually grew frustrated and quit.  Now, lots of people have quit their jobs over the years but I was in the odd position of not having any real prospects when I did so.  I did not have a job lined up nor was I thinking of going back to school.  I just up and quit.

I wasn't at all nervous when I did so.  I gleefully drank my way through 3 awesome months of unemployment and then depressingly drank my way through 3 terrifying months of unemployment before landing my current position electronically jerking-off old dudes.  Being forced into unemployment during the worst recession since, what, the outbreak of World War II while I have a mortgage and a wife who can already do better than me?  Again, terrifying.  

When I left the 'Wolf, I considered just applying for a job at Borders for a while to take advantage of their discount or at Taco Bell for a few weeks since I thought that would be hilarious.  Borders is out now (damn you Amazon!) but I suppose Taco Bell is still on the table.  Although that won't really jive with how much weight I've gained.  What should I do in 2012?  Let's bring it to a vote:

What should Mike do in 2012 before the Mayans destroy the world?

1)  Get a job, deadbeat!
2)  Write a screenplay called "Evil Jesus" that has a tagline of "He'll convert you...straight to HELL!" (and a poster of Jesus, in sunglasses, aiming a .44 at the reader with a caption of "Nail this")
3)  Sit around and make Newt Gingrich jokes
4)  Develop a meth problem
5)  Develop a math skill
6)  Declare for the NBA Draft
7)  Launch my porn-star career under the name "Johnny Thursday"
8)  Gain 60 pounds
9)  Lose 20
10)  Work at Taco Bell.  Is it your destiny

Take the poll in the upper-right hand corner of the blog and let me know what you think.  I've even made it so you can select multiple answers.  Enjoy!

(seriously!  Go hug your WWII veteran!  You don't have much time left...)

Hell with Rabbit Ears

I'll bet most of you think life working for the Rabbit looks an awful lot like this:

"May we get you a Rob Roy for that spreadsheet?"

When in reality, the sad, soul-crushing face of my job looks like this:

"But Mike," you might say, "What happened between today and that hilarious Halloween party two weeks ago where your department cleverly celebrated your impending lay-offs by having an Irish wake for the staff around your work stations complete with a coffin, whiskey and girls that were painted to look like they were wearing lingerie but were, in fact, wearing nothing but panties that look like they really, really hurt?"

Well, I'll tell you what happened.  As many of you know,  Playboy is going through a bit of a change.  By "a bit of a change", I mean "closing the Chicago office that has been the headquarters of the company since 1953".  Everyone here is either losing their job--likely within the next 6 months--or being moved out to California to work at Playboy West.  Our department will be lucky to survive through Christmas.  It kind of sucks around here.

The entirety of the online Playboy footprint was purchased by a Canadian porn company who has also snapped up a bunch of other naked lady sites.  However, since they work with an entirely different billing system then we do, over the course of the last few days we've been attempting to integrate our system into theirs.  This has caused many, many login problems.  Serious login problems.

What kind of problems?  Well, apparently the entire world is completely unable to masturbate.  This sucks for us for a number of reasons.  1)  Electronically jerking people off is what we do.  2)  Many of our subscribers are super old and hard of hearing and don't know how to use a computer to begin with.  3)  Many of the subscribers affected are foreign since this integration also messed with the billing system exclusively used by our international subscribers. 

This means our frustrated subscriber base--who just want to relax before the wife gets home from work, goddamn it--are calling in with their pants at their ankles and giving us what-for, often with a tremendous language barrier.

Sigh.

Thank god I have the best wife in the world.  And that bottle of Jim Beam in my freezer.

Blog Traffic

Like any mildly narcissistic dude, I occasionally crave a little attention.  I say "mildly" because I'm definitely not an attention seeker.  In fact, when the focus of an event is entirely on me, I get a little uncomfortable.  That is why I loved sharing birthday parties with my old roommate Mel, but have not hosted such an event since she and I parted ways.  Turtle Races will do just fine for my birthday, thank you very much.  I do still love receiving gifts, however.  **cough, cough--October 23rd--cough cough**

Being mildly narcissistic is also why I don't have a Facebook page, so you can stop asking.  When I first started my MySpace page as a means to keep in touch with my old Steppenwolf pals, I became obsessed--as many people do--with gaining "friends".  A few months in, I looked over my "friends" list and found dozens of folks--sorority girls from Tulsa who didn't like me even then, guys from my dorm freshman year I hadn't spoken to since freshman year, acquaintances from the theatre world I had shared beers with once--and realized I didn't actually like any of these people on any level.  So I sheared my friends list from triple digits to something like 60.  I didn't care if these folks read the latest dick joke on my totally inappropriate MySpace blog.  I didn't need them.  I'm uncomplicated like that.  Coincidentally, shortly after I met my future wife, I stopped going to MySpace altogether. 

However, I found I did miss blogging and that I craved the digital attention that came along with it from the people I did care about.  On this blogger, you can track how many people view a certain post and from what section of the world they viewed the content from.  It's kind of cool to see someone in Germany access the blog.  Conversely, it terrifies me when someone from India looks at the blog...I just know it's some disapproving relative of Krishni's that is making a list of all the many things wrong with me to present to my Father-in-law upon my first visit to his home town.

I have to come to realize, though, that visitors to my blog are not always arriving at my blog intentionally.  Sometimes it's just a misfired Google search.  I do use a lot of random photos pulled off the internet that I'm sure folks are now pulling off my blog to use.  This can skew the results of the "pageviews today" section of my stat sheet. 

There have been 4 posts where I saw a sudden and dramatic jump in the number of page views, and the last one troubles me:

1)  My very first blog post.  This makes sense since I sent a link to just about everyone with whom I'm still in touch. 

2)  The post about my Mother's memorial service.  Again, I forwarded this one to many people, and quite a few folks from the Benet community passed it along the network.

3)  My recent post about the check I sent to Mary Kate's Dad for the Notre Dame tickets.  This one baffled me.  Within an hour, my stat sheet blew up with about 20 pageviews.  And that number kept ticking up.  This is still my most "popular" posting.  I liked that post very much so the results pleased me to no end until my much-smarter-than-me wife pointed out that people were likely just doing desperate google searches for "Notre Dame Tickets".  Damn it.  They must have been crushed when their searches took them to a blog that can best be described as "Meh". 

Which brings us to what troubles me:

4)  Last week's post about the obnoxious "child porn" caller I kept getting here at the Rabbit. 

This troubles me for many reasons.  First off, the level of the spike was kind of insane.  I posted that story shortly before I left work (about 4pm CST) and when I checked in later that night, there were something like 30 pageviews.  Again, I initially said "Huzzah!"  Posts about the insanity of my work--even dating back to my totally inappropriate blog on MySpace--always seemed to generate traffic.  People loved passing those types of posts onto their friends with email subject lines like "See?  Your shit job could be worse!" and "I told you 29 months of unemployment wasn't so bad!" 

But the more I thought about it--and the more I stared at the "viewed countries" on the audience map section of the stats sheet--the more I kept coming back to one thought:  "What if people were just googling "child porn" and it brought them to my blog?" 

Even now I'm thinking about what kind of sickos are in Russia

Of course, this then conjures the next thought:  "Huh.  If pedophiles are finding their way to my blog, so is the FBI."

Krishni will tell you this:  when I got home that night after talking to that sicko, I had trouble with it.  I rarely carry my work home with me--in my "profession" you have to be able to laugh heartily at this type of stuff--but something about that caller really got to me.  Maybe it's because I have 9 nieces and nephews or that I am Godfather to two of them or that all of my friends are pushing out babies at a frightening pace...I dunno.  But I spent that evening trying to work it out in my brain why that caller disturbed me so.  Eventually, I just drank a bunch of vodka, killed things on a civilization game on my computer and hugged it out with my wife. 

Of course, maybe--just maybe--I was bothered by the fact that somewhere in the back of my mind I knew the FBI was at that very moment parking a surveillance van outside my condo.  If so, they are going to be bored to tears for however long they have to maintain their vigil.

 "Dear God.  How may episodes of Tosh.0 can they possibly watch?"

I must apologize

Yesterday's post was kind of a bummer.  Yes, it was an insight into what is actually a rather fascinating job, in an anthropological sorta way.  But--and I'll be the 1st to admit--child porn is not something you typically come to this blog to read about. 

I will say this: when I did make the one sort-of joke--the one about R. Kelly--I originally had typed the sentence as:  "Who finds child porn funny?  Besides Phil Spector?"

For those not in the know, Phil Spector was a famous music producer who, among other things, rescued The Beatles album Let it Be from the ashes and made it super-syrupy with his signiture "Wall of Sound".  I also remembered him being involved in a statutory rape case but it turns out I was thinking of Roman Polanski.  Phil Spector murdered an actress.  Also, he looks like this:

Clearly, the comedy level of that mugshot is off the charts.  But thanks to something stupid called "fact checking", I wasn't allowed to use it.  What, do I fancy myself a journalist or something?

Yes.  A sexy, sexy journalist.  For chubby chasers.

Sigh. Days like this are just not worth it.

(Warning!  This post contains colorful language and one--or perhaps two--horrible, horrible people)

Today was a good day.  It really was.  They moved our office from one end of the building to another and now I have, like, 3 times the space I used to.  Check this shit out:

It's like I'm a real worker!  And yes, it's sad that this makes me excited. 

I spent a fun morning putting crap from the Onion up on my cubicle walls and eating Honey Nut Cheerios and pretty much just stretched out in all the space I've been given.  And then the phone calls came in.  Here are the highlights of the call that kicked it all off:

Ass-Bag Caller:  I can't register.
Me:  What seems to be the problem?  Are you having trouble actually registering or have you registered and are having trouble logging in?
ABC:  (angrily)  Look, I'm just trying to jerk off and I can't get into your sites!
M:  Sir...that's disgusting.  But let's see if we can't get you logged in...

And then later in the same call:

ABC:  It keeps saying my credit card is rejected.
M:  Hmmm.  Are you using a Visa, Mastercard or Discover?
ABC:  None.  I'm using a Swedish card.
M:  A Swedish card?  Like, from Sweden?
ABC:  Yeah.
M:  I'm sorry.  We don't take any cards other than Visa, Mastercard or Discover.
ABC:  MAN!  Why you gotta be racist?!?!?!
M:  (pause)  ...Is there anything else I can do for you today?
ABC:  Yeah, FUCK YOU BITCH!

After I hung up on him, I was lucky enough to get his next call:

M:  Good afternoon!  How may I assist you today?
ACB:  Why'd you hang up on me nigger?

He then continued to call in for the next 80 minutes.  Another guy, claiming to be the initial caller's brother, demanded to be transferred to our supervisor, saying I called his brother "disgusting" and threatening a lawsuit.  He eventually did speak to my supervisor...and continued to insist he was going to sue us because I called him disgusting.  After complaining to our supervisor, he changed his tactic and called back in wanting to talk about the magazine and give a complaint about the content.  I got him again.  This time, I was determined to outlast him and would not give him the satisfaction of getting to me:

M:  As I said before, you're going to have to contact the magazine if you have any complaints about the content.
ABC:  You don't understand.  I'm looking for stuff not in the magazine.  Like child porn. 
M:  Child porn?  That is quite illegal and I can assure you that content will not be appearing in the magazine.  Ever. 
ABC:  Yes.  Child porn. 
M:  Sir, if you have a comment on the content of the magazine, you will have to contact the magazine.
ABC:   And if I do, they will put child porn in the magazine?
M:  No. 

It was at this point that the call got...weirder. 

M:  Child porn will always be illegal.  If you'd prefer, you can contact your local police station and tell them that you think it should be made legal.  I'm sure they will have plenty to say to you about that.
ABC:  The police?  No, they're stupid.  (pause)  I fucked a cops daughter once.  She was a child.
M:  Sir, are you calling from (telephone number)?
ABC:  Yes.
M:  I need you to know that it is my legal obligation to contact the authorities with this information.  What you are claiming you did is quite illegal. 
ABC:  Oh. 

Wait, it gets weirder.  He kept calling back.  My friend Lisa looked up the number through the magic of the interwebs and found a page dedicated to people who have been pranked by this number.  Apparently, these two dudes just sit around all day calling people like some amazingly dumb and horrible version of the Jerky Boys.

These dudes are sick.  Who thinks child porn is funny?  Besides R. Kelly? 

Yes, yes, yes...this job is hilarious on most days.  Days like today, however, really take it out of you.

The Only 2011 Travelogue You will Require

People often ask me what it's like to work at the Rabbit.  The question most often asked is can I get the questioner free porn.  The answer is, of course, yes.  All you have to do is ask.  The second question I most often hear:  "Are there, like, naked ladies just running around your office?"  That answer is, "Not most of the time."  While there are occasionally scantily clad women in the office--for photo shoots and seasonal parties--I have to crush the fantasies of dudes everywhere when I tell them that this really is just an office.  My cube looks a whole lot like yours.  Only the top of my monitor is graced by one of my all time favorite Onion headlines:

It is my understanding that this is not allowed in many offices. 

Without further ado, welcome to my desk at work:

They say that a person's work space tells an awful lot about said person...by looking at my work area, you'd think I'm a sophomoric sports fan.  Can you even imagine?

From left to right as we travel across my desk:

Are you in one of these photos?  If so, drink!

No work space is complete without a series of photos of the ones you love.  Or the ones you love to drink with, as this case may be.  We have Mel and Panhandle up there sporting some nice bling after winning the Steppenwolf Gala King and Queen.  We have Brad and Nathan drinking beers at a brewery in stinkin' Boston.  We have Hank sporting a theoretical wooded spoon.  We have the last picture of my Godmother I own where she had any real dignity.  The 'Wolf softball team is present along with an underage drinking party on my Parent's back patio back in 1997.  Speaking of underage drinking...there is my sister Peggy contributing to the delinquency of a minor!  Thanks, Peg!   She's a doctor now!

I think it's important to have icons of your own personal heroes:

In that respect, I have a Geoffrey Rush action figure from the Pirates of the Caribbean, complete with sword, pistol and a juicy green apple.  He had a very nice hat a long time ago.  He (I) sadly lost it in the move from one office to the next. 

Speaking of figurines, I also have these happy little fellows that I purchased for $1 from a Michael's after Halloween two years ago:

I guess my shit job could be worse. 

You will also find a little shrine to Matt Groening:

Present and accounted for are all of my favorite Simpson's characters (Sadly, Milhouse had a full glass of ice water spilled on him.  Sniff, sniff) as well as the cast of Futurama.  Only the best show ever for nerds.

Below my cartoon friends, I have a list of dates that the Free Disney Meal plan is available at Walt Disney World.  Sigh.

I'll get back there someday...

Swinging over to the lower right hand corner of my desk, you will find a rather creepy selection of items:

That doll will murder you in your sleep.   It's why the Stormtrooper stoically stands ever vigilant. That, and he's sitting on top of a naked lady. 

I know what you're thinking and the answer is yes: those are, in fact, wind-up hopping lederhosen standing atop my novelty Benet Academy football.  Sharp eyed folks from Steppenwolf Theatre Company will also be able to spot one of those godawful oranges from that one Gala where we were apparently trying to blind our patrons. 

"But Mike," I hear you asking, "What about your gorgeous, super-smart and sexy wife?"  No worries!  She's here too.  With a pirate:

Arrrrrrrrr!

Bonus terrible fact:  the island where this photo was taken was the site of a horrific plane crash that changed the way pilots communicate to each other in cockpits across the world.  In a heavy fog, one pilot said "To hell with that tower!  I'm taking off!" and promptly flew into a taxing jet killing everyone aboard his plane and most folks aboard the other plane.

Whoopsie.

See!  Bonzer T's Home Skillet isn't just about moderately funny observances...it's also about history!

There are two diplomas I'm proud of earning over the course of my young life.  One is for graduating from Benet Academy, my scholastic home away from home.  The other is from the Taco Fu Master Program.  I graduated with honors:

Yeah, University of Tulsa.  You can go to hell.  

To achieve--according to my diploma--"Success in defending all that is taconess", you need to play this absurd game at the Taco Bell website wherein you must defend your plate of nachos supreme from a series of ginormous lucha libre wrestlers.  Seriously.  Try it out right now and print up your certificate so you can be as awesome as me (incidentally, when you go to the Taco Bell website now, there is a link that states "Made with Real Beef lawsuit dropped".  So we have that going for us.)

Posted all over my monitor, you will find a few Onion horoscopes that still make me laugh to this day.  Allow me to reprint them here because, come on, we all need a good laugh:

"While the directors of the Palomar Observatory admit the nebula had an unusual shape, they do not believe you caught God masturbating."

"When times are tough and the world around you seems grim, don't be afraid to turn to religion for a good, hearty laugh."

"Death by firing squad has a certain desolate nobility, but it will be ruined when the inept, drunken Australians fail to hit you above the waist with the first nine volleys."

"Your love of all living creatures will be on display this week when you open the world's first Animal Rescue Steakhouse."

And a new one that came off the calender today!

"Turns out your nightmarish descent into alcoholism and drug abuse will be a lot more fun than expected."

Finally, I wouldn't be a White Sox fan without some sort of way to taunt Cubs fans in the office:

Yeah, that's my 2005 World Series Champion Rally Sock.  Maybe if I started wearing those, Adam Dunn could get a damn hit. 

So that's that.  I realize that technically none of you asked to see what my desk looked like at work.  But that has never really stopped me before when it came to stupid shit like this.  Plus, I'm going to make an effort to blog a bit more seeing how my life has slowed down a bit after a frantic July. 

And not every post can be a winner. 

Odd and Ends from my Mind Grapes

1)  The poll has been reposted and so far and, with just one vote, I'm winning.  I'm glad I voted with me.

2)  I wore my 'God is Awesome' t-shirt to work today.  I get some pretty funny looks when I'm out and about in Chicago wearing this shirt; people can never quite get a bead on what I'm thinking.  It's no different at the Rabbit.  While most folks get it, some people really don't know how to talk to me.  He works at a place where there are naked ladies.  But he's wearing that shirt!  I don't know what to say to him.  Crap!  He's coming over here!  Um, ummmmm..."You know what else is awesome?  Tits." 

3)  That said, I really need to stop wearing this shirt out in the suburbs.  Last time I wore it out there, I got stopped twice at Home Depot, the last guy grabbing my shoulder and saying "I'm happy a young fella like yourself is so proud to wear that shirt and believes in the lord Jesus Christ!"  Uh, hallelujah? 

4)  I got some pretty amazing news yesterday.  My sister and brother-in-law--Diana and Rick--recently moved their family from Evanston, IL to Denver, CO.  While this did technically rip our new godson away from Krishni and me:

Pictured:  Luca the Destroyer

This did bring some fantastic information to light.  Has anyone ever seen that episode of South Park called "Casa Bonita"?:

Apparently, it's a real damn place:

Words cannot express how excited I am about this development.  They really do have cliff divers (sullen cliff divers, as my brother-in-law explains), strolling mariachi players, fire jugglers, Black Bart's Cave and "world famous" sopaipillas.  With honey. 

I immediately texted Rick about his blog post and demanded--in no uncertain terms--that he take us to Casa Bonita when we arrive for a visit in Denver. Like, "take-us-there-the-second-our-wheels-touch-down-at-the-airport" take us there. 

5)  Speaking of "Mexican" food, Kalena and I hit Taco Bell for the new item yesterday:  The Beefy Melt Burrito:

It was pretty good, especially for 99 cents.  But it really was the Beefy Crunch Burrito from a few weeks ago, minus the Fritos.  And the Fritos were the best part.  We do believe, however, that this will tide us over until the gleefully anticipated arrival of the Doritos Locos Taco. 

6)  Finally, a public service announcement:  For any of my peers that is a new parent or is thinking about becoming a new parent (Don't!  There's still time to do all that stuff you wanted to do!  Start a band!  Write a book!  Live you life!), Rick's blog is a must read.  You can find it at http://hamanneggs.blogspot.com/.  It's fabulously entertaining and contains some pretty fantastic information with which we can later blackmail my nephews.  Plus, the kids are super cute:

M-F

As we all know, the clock is ticking here at the Rabbit; it is inevitable.  At some point--probably before the end of the fiscal year--I will be out of a job.  And as much as I've enjoyed helping thousands of grown men masturbate for the last few years, it will hurt losing this job.  Not because I truly enjoy the work.  No, it's more because I truly enjoy money.  I wish, though, that I had some more money.  We all would like to make more money at what we do but I think we also can agree that limited money is better than no money. 

Which brings me to the perks of my current job.  I get some pretty amazing insurance.  Krishni is kind of blown away by that.  I get lots and lots of free porn.  Brad is excited about that little benefit.  Occasionally we have big, drunken "Cube Crawls" here at the office that feature scantily clad models running around the office doing jello shots with the pasty tech guys.  Not gonna lie: that's pretty fun. 

But since I've gotten married, there has been one major problem beyond being a technological fluffer: my schedule.  You see, when I 1st started this job, I was just coming off my "work" at Steppenwolf Theatre Company.  I worked an odd schedule there where Tuesday and Wednesday were my "weekend".  When I started here, I told them I could work weekends because that was what I was used to.  As a result, I was given a Sun-Thursday schedule.  I actually liked that a lot since Sunday, especially during football season, was a super-slow day filled with ESPN.com, South Park episodes and computer games.

Since my marriage, however, I've realized how fun it would be to have an actual weekend and be able to do stuff with my wife, friends and family on Sundays.  For the past year, I've been bugging my boss to move me to a regular Monday-Friday schedule.  You know, like a normal person.

I finally got my wish.  For the 1st time in my life, I will have a regular M-F job.  I can go out on Saturday nights again!  I can attend Mother's and Father's day!  I can watch the Bears!  Provided I still have a job in October!  Ha ha!

Seriously, this will be the 1st time I've ever worked relatively normal hours (I will be working 8am to 4pm).  The only other time I worked M-F, was when I worked at KJRH in Tulsa on the morning show.  And I had to be in the studio at 4 freakin' 30 am.  Those are not, what one would call, "normal hours". 

Color me happy.  At least until the next Jonestown blood-letting here at the Rabbit, that is.

Anyone have any job openings anywhere?  I can work weekends!