by Jimmy Boegle
8:35 a.m.: Arrives at the office. Fills coffee cup. Enjoys the first sip of coffee. The highlight of the day.
8:56 a.m.: Calls wannabe prospective concert reviewer and tell him his services are not desired, in light of the fact that said wannabe prospective concert reviewer became verbally abusive with the Weekly World Central front-desk goddess, for no good reason, the day before.
9:03 a.m.: Get second cup of coffee.
10:42 a.m.: Receives phone call from a chemtrails conspiracy theorist. Unlike most chemtrails conspiracy theorists, this person is actually polite. She insists, however, that she's not a conspiracy theorist, and that soil samples from pristine areas prove that "they" are spraying us all with aluminum-chloro-whatever or something. When asked who "they" is, polite chemtrails conspiracy theorist says she doesn't know the answer to that, and concedes that she probably should have found that out before she called. Editor lets out a heavy yet silent sigh from the depths of what is left of his soul.
11:03 a.m.: Calls back a gentleman who called earlier in the morning and left a message on AHCCCS cuts. He is a single, childless man, and a former (perhaps current?) homeowner, upset about the fact that he has had to pay for everyone else's children to go to school all these years. He asks us to look into a theory that he says he has heard on talk radio: The government in Phoenix, you see, doesn't like "queers." And they figure that men, like the caller, who are single and childless must be queers, even though many of them, like the caller, are NOT queers. And that's why the government is freezing AHCCCS enrollment for childless, single adults ... they figure they're all queers, you see.
12:18 p.m.: Receives word from the assistant editor that a film-marketing company has received a credentials request from someone claiming to blog for the Tucson Weekly. However, nobody around Weekly World Central has heard of this alleged blogger, who reportedly told the film-marketing company he was working on a summer movie preview. Editor asks assistant editor to get contact info for the alleged blogger from the film-marketing company.
12:21 p.m.: Says "fuck it!" to dieting and heads across the street to Los Betos for a steak breakfast burrito.
12:48 p.m.: Returns to office and enjoys steak breakfast burrito, along with a third cup of coffee.
1:02 p.m.: Receives information from film-marketing company on alleged blogger. Calls alleged blogger and leaves a message.
1:35 p.m.: Receives phone call from alleged blogger. Alleged blogger seems very apologetic and a little freaked out, and says there must have been a misunderstanding. Alleged blogger insists he made it clear in his credentials request that he was blogging on his own, and NOT for the Weekly; he says he referred to the Weekly's summer movie preview only to show the style he was aiming for, in his own preview. Editor says he believes alleged blogger, and that he'll let film-marketing company know.
1:50 p.m.: E-mails film-marketing company and lets them know about conversation with alleged blogger.
2:02 p.m.: Receives e-mail response from film-marketing company—containing the actual credential-request form from alleged blogger. It's clear that alleged blogger was, in fact, claiming to be writing for the Tucson Weekly. What's left of editor's soul is officially declared dead.
2:30 p.m.: Realizes that he's been stood up by a prospective intern who was supposed to be coming in for an interview.
2:46 p.m.: After editing a few blog entries, editor starts to edit copy for next week's issue, seeing as the word "edit" is part of the title "editor."
2:49 p.m.: Decides he really does not want to edit Free Will Astrology, and decides to dream of bourbon instead.
3:06 p.m.: Starts writing a blog entry titled "A (Particularly Batshit) Day in the Life of an Altweekly Editor." Keeps dreaming of bourbon.