Dear Diary,

Today has been the most hellish of all days. Who knows what is going on with the campaign? I've been slaving away in my little sauna of an office with my shirt off, sandals on, pants down and a few cold, wet towels strategically placed in order to try and beat this heat. I even tried putting a popsicle down my shorts, but nothing is making this day any more bearable. I was trying to get something off to the printer today - something relatively important. The deadline was two hours ago, and I'm still not done. Why? Because the "political machine" is in need of a little bit of grease. Either that or a shotgun wound to the face. Five newspapers, a bunch of campaigns, the central office and three bosses all had to sign off on the designs, but of course, many refused to return phone calls. So, tough luck for them. It'll have to go out Monday morning, two and a half days late. Although, it isn't like this is going to assure us a majority government. That's left to the "machine". And if that wasn't bad enough, I almost threw up because I was so nervous about the Euro 2004 cup. My team is in jeopardy of being kicked out of the tournament. At least these design problems don't make me have a violent gastro-intestinal reaction. I guess that just goes to show where my priorities lie.