Monday, August 09, 2004

Today's journal entry is brought to you from my temp job. I'm what's called a "floater;" I have no set spot, I "float" around the company, filling in here and there. Today I'm here, on a floor with more security cameras than people, but very few people by the way. I am sitting at a desk and am supposed to answer the phone if it rings. It hasn't. Not once. After about an hour of dead silence this morning, I thought maybe there had been some mistake. No mistake, "just answer the phone," they told me.

So Rick James died last week, and this morning I spent an hour or so on this really cool website called seeing which of the teams scored by betting that James would not make it through the year. Can you believe not one team listed him as likely to kick it this year? He had diabetes, had suffered a stroke, had a hip replacement, had a pacemaker, was a coke head ... how much more do you need to be considered a risk? If you have some time to kill (no pun intended), I would highly recommend this website, very entertaining. It works like this: at the beginning of every year, teams are formed, each team antes up a nominal sum, ($25, I think) and picks twenty names of famous people that they think will croak in the coming year. The more teams that choose a certain personality to die, the fewer points are awarded when the Grim Reaper actually does make an appearance (for example, almost everyone had Ronald Reagan on their list, so they all only got like 3 points for picking him. The one team that predicted former pro-golfer Jeff Julian would pass this year got something like 20 points, cause who else heard of him?)

Meanwhile, back at the jay-oh-bee, someone is here measuring, so I should try to look like I am doing something, not just waiting for the phone to ring.

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