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November 2nd, 1999

Scottie Pippen is my friend!

And how lucky for you, kind reader, that he is.  Today's page was originally going to be titled "How I lost my tweezers...again!"

We can pause if you'd like to take a big sigh of relief. Although, I must tell you, the whole tweezer issue is important to me and I'll rehash it in the future, no doubt. And now...without further adooo... adieu..... well, without any more unwarranted crap on my part, I present to you.....   

My Scottie Story!

Okay, so I'll try to do this in a manner that is brief and to the point.  No need for me to ramble on forever, as I am prone to do, I'll just fill you in a the small and vital details.  

I went into work this morning (yes, I do have a job) and set about attempting to track some freight that is missing.  I am thinking by now South African Airlines set it into orbit or it's lounging in a warehouse somewhere as big burly guys named Mick and Joe play cribbage upon it.  I'm an importer.  That means I bring things from point A to point B.  To help you better follow with this story imagine my cargo located somewhere in point A.  Now imagine point B as a blackhole in outerspace.  This is where my cargo appears to be. Seventy-thousand dollars worth of cargo.  Apoof!  

So, as I have been doing for the past several days, I sat at my desk and began making the necessary phone calls.

<dialing phone>

<ring>

<ring>

"Thank you for calling the Airline that doesn't give a shit.  What's your problem?"

"Hello.  I need to trace a shipment.  We can not find it's cargo."

"Cargo?  What cargo?"

"Oh, you know, those funny little boxes that you stuff inside the plane?  They're all missing."

"Missing?  Are you sure?"  (Over 2,000 pounds and they need to know if I am sure.  I can safely tell when a cricket is hiding in my laundry basket smothered between thousands of unmatched socks but they need to know if I can accurately recognize a ton of freight not in my warehouse.)

"You know.  You're right.  There are some really big suspicious square cubes out there blocking my view of the forklift.  I better go double check!"

I'm really tired of this.  In fact, I've given up.  But, with just one more call to make, I soldier on.

<dialing phone>

<ring>

<ring>

"Hello...this is Scottie Pippen....you've reached my............."

WHAT??  WHAT WAS THAT?

I hung up the phone and dialed again.

<ring>

<ring>

"Hello....this is Scottie Pippen......"

<hangs up>

Well, I'll be damned. It's nice to know that, even though I can not ,for the life of me, find a billion dollars worth of missing freight, if push comes to shove I can find Scottie Pippen.

*Note...I will not post the number here.  But I have it.  Please, do not email me asking for the number.  I can ill afford a lawsuit and I need all the pranking time for myself. 

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Unless otherwise specified, all material
Copyright 1999 by
Marijke Hildreth

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