Old Personal News

(starting 2-23-03)

Sunday, April 20th, 2003

Woke back up at 3 pm Sunday afternoon, and uploaded all my new shit. Called Mom; talked, fought, hung up, called her back, apologized; nothing new here. I was excited, but somehow got to sleep. Monday morning we're back at work. It's not bad, but it's not very good either. Then I went and wore myself out at physical therapy. Came home and cooked veggie machoroni, then had to take a nap. Up to TPG's to meet, talk, and vent. Home to apologize to girlfriend, and now it's 10:30, so I guess I'm going to bed. Up early for work. Today was much better; I had no expectations. Read lots more of my book, and met Michael at pocket money, then home to PTI and clam chowder. Getting ready for Wednesday's Cox paperwork. At work Wednesday, Mona calls me to tell me that Infinite Marketing is NOT going to cooperate with me; no chair, no pictures of the chair, nothing. I thought that was a pretty dumb move on her part, but I talked it out with TPG, and maybe I understand now. 60 people were at the Cox meeting, 300 total--trying for 19 positions. We all flubbed the written tests; I froze like a fawn in a floodlight. Came home and snuggled with a sympathetic girlfriend, then went directly to the bar. Ran in to Tony; golf time. Home to sleep poorly, and go to work good and hungover (if they're gonna fire me anyway, I damn sure wanna be able to puke on the floor). Instead, I was a good boy. I faked like I was in a great mood, and it actually put me in a good mood. As soon as I left, I was worn out. Tired and cranky. Pocket money, and then I'm home to eat tuna and continue with the want-ads. Not feeling like the fun guy I am, I went back to TPG for advice. He thought it was worse than it was, but it wasn't, so we went to hear another speaker. Good move. I'm a little re-motivated, and alot hungry. We had to drive by the Waffle House to get there, so the seed was planted. In Phoenix Waffle Houses they can mix jalapenos into your hash browns; doesn't that make you want to move out here? Should we have pigged out at 11 pm? No. Tough titties. So it's 1 am Thursday night, and I am tired. How am I going to make it to work Friday morning? Somehow; that's how. I'm a sales maniac; multiple sales on multiple programs. At physical therapy later, Dave told me that if the Cox stuff doesn't work out for me, he will get me in at Qwest. Wow. So I came home to an already home girlfriend, and I was ready to smooch on her. Not yet; first I have to cook olive-enhanced veggie machoroni (impressive), and maybe I need a little nap. She accompanied me. Great snuggle, and then I'm going to meet Al at the golf game. Updated Al about my 2 in-roads at Cox and my new in-road at Qwest. Al's response was 'yeah I meant to tell you last week how if your Cox stuff doesn't work out that I'm GOING to put you to work at a pretty good sales job at American Express'. Wow; when it rains it pours. Great golf; I won all but one game. How many 37 yr. old males get a chance to start a new career? Yeah; how about more than one new career? I like it. So then I went and wrote out What I Have to Do. Went back to that place I go, but this time it was for pinball. Somebody named TMR had 932 million on Jurassic Park, so I got 1.1 billion. Fun. Home for tuna on baked crackers; I'm still the man. Up at 11 am Sunday; gazing at my pretty Trinitron screen. Later, girlfriend agreed to go to the park and throw some frisbee. I jogged a little, with no major pain. Now I'm hungry.

Sunday, April 13th, 2003

Only 2 cups of coffee Sunday, then to Code Red. The real fun happened after my shower, when I was feeling really good and flexible (you may remember my back injuries that have kept me off balance lately). So I'm feeling good, light on my feet, floating around the house, and BOOM, I walked right into the living room table--left pinky toe first. Didn't even think about it until a few minutes later when the blood started (gushing) coming out from under the half-knocked-off toenail. Now it hurts, sure. And I have to contort myself to look at it, and that hurts my back; and the nail won't come off. And my left foot is still partially numb, so I can't really wiggle my toes anyway--it makes putting on a band-aid very entertaining. Back to limping and moaning. I stayed in and hungry. Monday I woke up for the "new" attitude; no love. No Cox. No SCF. Dr Pirie got whistled at and cat-called in her parking lot; oh wait, that was me (I called her "baby", too.). She says that I'm looking and feeling better (Did I mention I grabbed her leg?), and that we're about ready for limited work. But I still have to go do the big mutha medical exam tomorrow. Came home and cooked fantastic veggie lasagna for my yummy girlfriend (the old "adjective switch-a-roo"). Snuggle; and there's only one thing left to do Monday night; if you guessed "all of the above" with pinball, golf and beer, then you could be well on your way to being a playful drunk like me. Home to; wait a second. How do you actually drool chocolate? Never mind; I think the carpet stains will come out. Shhh. Don't tell my girlfriend. It's easy to sleep till noon when there's no alarm set (Chocolate on my sheets?). Fine. Sent my first e-mail on the new monitor; trying to save the innocent duck. Where am I? Quack. Right; to the independent medical exam. He seemed like an old gay guy, so I didn't flirt with him nearly as much as I do with the other doctors in my life. He also thinks that I am improving, and almost ready for light duty. So I come home to eat a big, healthy turkey and lettuce sandwich--and this is good because I wanted pork ribs and spicy chicken. I had to pass at least 4 chinese buffets on the ride home, and I've been craving chinese food for...I guess about 6 months now. Damn. On tv, I saw an ad for Cox Communications needing an inside sales rep. Talked to TPG about it while the pinball bugs attacked me. He's getting back into Amway, and I may follow. I woke up early Wednesday to go see TPG; not the happiest camper is he. Played online, then went to good therapy, and home for carrots and snuggle, then back to TPG's to get my resume into Cox (after 3 tries), and meet Amway people. Laundry, and a mattress flip back home. Man. I am so lucky to have the woman that I have; I constantly remind her that she is "ruined" for other men, and I'm pretty much "ruined" for other women. A gourmet can of tuna for dinner; I certainly am enjoying my last few years on earth. So I stayed up all night. Got some sleep after Static Babe went to work. So I'm sitting on the throne 5 minutes after wondering if I would ever hear from Cox Communications, and the phone rings. Oh yeah. Folks; I haven't brushed with "the magic" like this in a long time. I had good chills running all day long. There were flames in my eyes; I was the Overnight Guy revisited. Smelling coffee and tasting Mountain Dew, I was on FIRE--in broad daylight. My girlfriend saw it when I got home, too. Ask her; I was connected. (More proof? I came home with the ONLY copy of my Dad's birthday present in Phoenix; thank you.) Later I would ride in TPG's new car to another sales meeting. These guys are good. We'll learn more on Saturday. Late Thursday night, I watched the first 2 of the VH-1 "I Love The 80's" shows ('80 and '81); wow. Friday! I'm at physical therapy, pumping and grinding; learning new exercises and stuff. Home to make funky potatos for my not-very-happy girlfriend. I tried to be nice to her; she appreciates it (You should see us doing the non-verbal communication; I'm getting good.). Out to meet up with Al and later, both Erics. That's a ride with E-Rock and his buddy. Didn't spend much at all, and I was Mr. Golf. Home for healthy nachos. Up Saturday to drink coffee, eat turkey, and go up to TPG's house; we're going to a business development seminar. This was a great idea. Dinner at Sweet Tomatos was, well, sweet (Static Girl's going to love it!). Very motivated, I came home (not to the bar?) and wrote out More About Reading, and then went back to reading. From extended talking to TPG, I found out that the root cause of the problems in his house are not because of a lack of communication--as I had first thought. The root of his problems, as always, has nothing to do with him. Trouble sleeping Saturday night, turns into sleeping at 10 am Sunday morning. Up by 3, and it's all just a big mess now. I go back to work tomorrow.

Sunday, April 6th, 2003

(A day late; blow me) Getting out of bed was much easier Monday morning--it took just a few seconds. The left heel is still numb, but not as far up the leg. The shot point (which is also the regular pain point in the back) is a bit weak--and constant, but not as throbbing as it has been. Physical therapy went great, so did dinner and snuggle. I am very optimistic that Tuesday morning will continue this healing process. I want finances, fitness and frisbee. It is time to make some good things happen. Very important; I didn't eat anything on Monday night after dinner at 5 pm. It's time to get a bit serious about the weight management. A can of tuna for breakfast Tuesday, and I'm off to weigh only 227 on the mean scale; good. Checked in on Oregano and got some organic lettuce at the Crooked Sky, then banked, paid rent, gas, and groceries. Started watching bad 80's tv on VH1--that shit will engulf you like Michael Jackson's hair. Wound up doing some golf therapy. Jurassic Park pinball has been fixed; yay. Bill showed up, too. It's his birthday at midnight; that's a ride. Home to find out my "Shield" tape stopped with 15 minutes left in the show, so I don't even know who died. Wednesday has good therapy, and veggie machoroni for my awesome girlfriend. Stayed in, and up late. Thursday I'm productive again; took my camera to take pictures of Oregano. Watched a good "Scrubs", and then I'm off to break Jurassic Park, and put a new 400+ million high score on the reset Southpark. Home to play with cats, and get ready for epederal #2 on Friday morning at the Squaw Peak Spine Center. Got the shot, then groceries, and home to make chili for one. Then it's nap time. Woke up at 7 pm, oops, and now it looks like Friday night. Yes, and we partied with Al. Came home to finish the chili. Slept okay; the shot point hurts, though. It's probably no big deal, but it feels fragile. Oh well.

Does somebody care to explain to me how any person is supposed to be motivated for anything in this stupid-assed world right now? I didn't think so; well, thank you very much.

Up at 6:30 am Saturday to whining cats. We adopt one, and so now all the strays in the neighborhood are hanging out here; great. Mom-ish girlfriend says that I have to be nice to all the cats. And she feels ignored and unappreciated because of my Friday nap; I probably deserve that. So I try to make up for it by giving her quality attention on Saturday. Yes. We walk, and then we go to Fry's because I was going to get a cheap 17-inch monitor. Instead I got a refurbished Dell with a Sony Trinitron tube; nice. TPG approves. For her help, I bought her Subway. Static Girl set up my first-class new view for me, and it's sweet. In true white-trash fashion, I've got the speakers laying on top. Later I scored with Barney, and took him to get dog food. Then it's to Sam's for (finally) getting over 500 million on Jurassic Park. Golf with a fellow ex-DJ named Dean, and then an Eric, and then it all gets fuzzy. Home with Mexican food? Okay. Damn this monitor is bright; perhaps Static Girl was correct when she said that my old monitor sucked ass. 2 cups of coffee down on Sunday morning, and I'm just getting warmed up.

Sunday, March 30th, 2003

Sunday continued; still in the underwear. 2 cups of coffee just ain't no way to do a Sunday; chalk me up for 2 more. A good Dr. sent me a great way to deal with peace pussies; Peace Activist Etiquette, and that's a keeper. My original food plan was for a grilled cheese, and then girlfriend said that cheese is pure fat. Okay. So I made my own hot sauce hash browns, with cheese, so they're only about 90% fat; I'm HealthyMan. I got motivated after the Phoenix Indy Car race; I replaced the driver's seat in Gus with one of the free-standing van seats in the living room. 2 bolts were rusted on, and one of them was bent. This driver's seat had never been taken off in 14 years.This was a very trying experience, but I got it all done with no help. And the new seat rules. Went to save Brent, and ran into Al on the way. This is going to lead to golf and 9-ball; see how I pick up on things? Golf went well, 9-ball did not (Except for that part when I knowingly engaged in gambling with a minor--and won. Yes; I took money from a child--and rubbed his nose in it.) Hungry; home for nachos and war updates. Up for my physical evaluation on Monday; went and worked out a little first. Then I sat for 1.5 hours waiting for the Dr. The lumbar epederals seem like a good idea, and 2 more weeks of no-work will help get the shots settled. Then it's a Walgreen's run, and home to eat the pasta Cheri made. We watched some tv, snuggled, and I'm off to golf. Almost saw 2 fights, then came home for grilled cheese and taped PTI. Up for phone calls on Tuesday; work, SCF, some Dr's, man. My new SCF lady is a raving bitch; she accused me of lying, and pissed off Dr. Pirie's office, too. But I went ahead and set up the epederals for Friday. Then I cleaned up here, to distract from the pain. Clam chowder, and now it looks like...Scorpion Ridge is the new golf course on the PGA game. I went and kicked its ass. By the time I got home, I was hungry for mixed nuts. Yeah, and then I coughed till I puked; now that was fun. Wednesday I'm up and hungry. Cereal! And then to physical therapy. Home to make more veggie machoroni for that girl who calls me SO (not extremely romantic, no, but acceptable). We watched a 1st year X-Files; 1 of my 3 favorite episodes, but "God Damn it Paul" (that's a Five Eight, AND best friend reference) I can't find the first episode that had Deep Throat (Jerry Hardin). Deep Throat follows Mulder into a public bathroom and tells Fox to back off (or to leave some case alone); and at the end of the episode are those 2 classic lines: "They're here, aren't they?" asks Fox; "Mr. Mulder, they've been here for a long, long time." (maybe you've seen that at the bottom of somebody's e-mail). I did possess that episode, but then that was 2 girlfriends (and 9 years) ago; I guess anything could have happened. I was thinking today at therapy about how I should become the premier X-Files guru. But I will find that damn "Deep Throat" episode of X-Files, even if I have to go to Lackluster and rent it. I shouldn't call it Lackluster, but I wish there were a non-corporate video rental place. After snuggle (back to Wednesday night), I'm off to play more golf. Home for West Wing. Crash, and up to pre-register at the hospital. GT2, talk to TPG about his new car, and I'm just sitting here; not too much pain. Went and ordered the first 2 episodes of X-Files from Lackluster; there's no guarantee, but they might come in a month. In the news, I see that female war-protesters are now spitting on men in uniform; isn't that cute? It led to War Protesters. Okay, and now I'm just zoned out. What do you think will happen next? Excellent guess; I went to play some golf. Hector, from almost 2 years ago, showed up; I beat him. In fact, I beat everybody. I even made friends with the little Mike guy who pissed me off awhile back; I was Mr. Diplomat, which should help in the afterlife. And the afterlife could begin at 2 pm today, with the spinal shot of steroids...Maybe not; it's 3am Friday night here; I didn't go out, I did work with my girlfriend's Writing Prompts, and I'm not paralyzed. DAF sweetly took me to the hospital, where I was absolutely adorable. I made every single person laugh, grabbed every nurse's leg, and basically tore up the recovery room--and was asked to leave. It happens. Static Girl and I ate pizzas, watched One Hour Photo, snuggled, and then I talked to TPG for awhile. All of a sudden it's very late, I'm writing, and life isn't so horrid. Friday night becomes Saturday noon, I can walk and drive. Al finally calls, and we played some golf. Home to create something in the skillet; it was too gross to save, so I ate it all. More sleep trouble, up after 1 pm. Off to pick up Brent and a newspaper, talked to Mom, and then I ruled PGA. Stopped by Sam's on the way home. I debated Burger King. Heartburn Sunday night, let's discuss the steroids in my spine. The shot point is right where my back sometimes hurts anyway. The left heel is still numb, maybe not as bad as it was. I don't feel much different. Let's hope that there is more positive progress to come.

Sunday, March 23rd, 2003

Sunday continued the rainy weekend. I wound up at Brent's at 9 pm, then it's tee-time. 4 games of golf (part of the pre-war celebration); I beat Mike fair and square (Brent walked home after 3 games--he should have stayed). Home to eat the rest of Sunday's chowder. Slept well, and then therapy Monday was awesome. Planning to go to war at 6 pm our time, but no; Bush is giving another 48 hours. Girlfriend and I watch "Charmed" sometimes; it's amusing. Veggie machoroni, snuggle, and I'm off to Sam's. 703 million is my new Southpark pinball high score (yes, even with a weak right flipper). Home to make weird yummy hash browns. Tuesday has me getting pocket money, and then to Fry's grocery for the big meal deal. I'd never had a rotisserie chicken thing before; however, girlfriend says that the chicken is going to peck me (I shouldn't have brought chicken home). She's pissed; I blew it. As the last day of pre-war celebration, I must go to Sam's. The 2004 Golden Tees are here! I played lots of golf. Home to eat leftover breast and cole slaw to O'Reilly Factor and the Shield. To therapy Wed.s, where I again got in trouble for eating that damn chicken. Grrr. So it's home to cook up leftover veggie stuff, snuggle, and go golfing. Thursday I went to go see Dr. Araghi; this went well. He took the time to talk to me and make me feel like a person with choices. Unfortunately, it's time for steroids and back to work. Talked to Mom about it, and then went for some new golf. Eric and 2 of his record company people were there; Jason was the cool (and very lucky) guy. I came home and only ate a little. (On one scale this week I gained 2 lbs; on another scale I lost 4.) Friday I'm cooking tofu and asparagus. First we have to do some therapy, which went well. Then I'm home to create veggie-tofu-soy and steam asparagus (this was my first time ever NOT screwing up asparagus). Yum. My woman is crazy about me for lots of good reasons (guys; you need to learn how to cook). Called mom to wish her happy birthday, and it's golf time with Al; he's good at figuring out the shortcuts. Golf shots; nothing but golf shots. Home around midnight; I'm trying to eat better--and then I found the M+M's. On Saturday Brent is trying to get my attention early--I should have known better. I was up at 5 am for heartburn, but it was okay because at 10 am I took Girlfriend shopping for a bookshelf and guinea pig walls. She bought me Subway. Nap, and then I start carting Brent around, and watching some great basketball on tv. I won the entire golf tournament. Went back for a couple more games, and then home for chowder. Sleep by 1, and now it's 10 am Sunday. I had no time to write out any new commentaries, no time to e-mail, no time for anything--what with the war, the NCAA tourney, and new golf games this week. I will get in another commentary about stupid women being allowed to breed, the killing of innocent war-protesters, or the critical irony of civilization soon. For now I'm drinking coffee in my underwear (this new 2-cup limit is bullshit--but I've been adhering.).

Sunday, March 16th, 2003

All messed up Sunday morning, it led to a nice little nap. I got roped into picking up Brent at work at 8. Then it's PGA golf time. My plan was to...never mind; I did it. Got some Mexican food on the way home, too. Sometimes those "good ideas in theory" don't pan out. So we coughed all night. Physical therapy, and then a physical evaluation; 2 more weeks of no work. I'm so excited. It figured to be some kind of celebration, and it was. First; to lose 2 PGA games to Brent; then another 566 million on Southpark pinball, and another -20 on Kiwi golf; I'm incredible. Home to eat everything. Up Tuesday to watch "Pentagon Papers" (wow), and try to get some answers on SCF; no luck. Actually, now the lumbars are approved, but I don't know if that's such a good thing. I can get a physical exam for about $400 from Dr. Pirie's referral. And there's now a portable freakshow in the Sam's parking lot--and I don't mean the band. Girlfriend doesn't feel very good, and I wish her the best. With the right flipper dying, there won't be any topping of my current 566 million on Southpark pinball. On Thursday, after bleeding for 30 minutes, I went and played with Oregano. Then I went and ate at Jerry's Diner--the cleanest restaurant ever. Mom likes the idea of the referred medical exam; yay mom. And all of a sudden it's Friday. Hey, maybe I'll go to the bar tonight. Yes, and early to meet up with Al. It becomes a golf festival. Nachos, and then we sleep. Saturday starts with the standard whimper; again with only 2 cups of coffee. Another cool and dark day, no ambition, and we finally watched "Brave New World" together. A great movie; enough to piss off any real person. Later to Sam's--where I am not welcome. So I went to Brent's, where we listened to Pink Floyd CD's. 1 tie, and 1 loss for me at PGA golf. Home late, cooked a great grillled cheese, and watched "Blow"; taped from the STARZ preview. My toilet broke; that's probably a metaphor. At 2 pm Sunday, "The Rookie" was on STARZ, and that's another good movie. More rain, and I'm finally doing some laundry. Are we at war yet? Shit.

Sunday, March 9th, 2003

Sun. morning continued...Xanax or coffee? Both and more. And a Sunday paper, and lots of Sunday morning tv. Wondering if I'll get food stamp compensation for the $30 I had to blow at Safeway. Then I cooked a pot pie, and it became nap time. Up at 3 to Barney begging for golf; okay. So we did. At P+G we heard Cake, and Third Eye Blind. And then it's a Sam's check-up; all of my pinball scores are gone. It took 4 games to top 400 million on Southpark, but I did it. Carl lost at 9-ball hell, so it became a kind Bronco ride. Hey, I haven't eaten in 11 hours; so I came home to (oh no) eat everything. Great. Up Monday to call for food stamp help, forget it. Online is no help either. I am glad that I can walk at all. Rice is my friend (you know, when I'm actually thinking about food), and we still don't know if any upper level doctors are approved. Ho hum. To physical therapy; I can ride a bike. So now I Lifecycle 2 miles in 5 minutes--that's no joyride. My foot hurts. I cooked yummy rice later, snuggle, and called mom. Golf tournament; Carl won. I'm the meat, and Al lost. Pass out. I didn't want to get out of bed on Tuesday; my back and foot were both hurting. I was happy that I didn't have to do a damn thing today. Watched my Bill Hicks "Sane Man" again, ate lasagna, and cleaned up some more. SCF is trying to get me to an Independent Medical Exam, and that's cool with me. The news is so depressing--and it's my fault for continuing to watch it. I stayed in until after 9 pm, then went for some pinball therapy (yawn; another new high score). Good sleep until the back pain Wed.s morning. This is fun. I called for some east coast advice. Therapy went well, and then we're home for well-timed grilled cheeses with garlic and lemon-flavored veggies. Snuggle, and it's off to find Brent, with the house to himself for a week. To P+G for golf; I ruled. Beat Brent, and tied (Master) Mike; I am the man. Home for really good Gran Turismo, and bed. Up 3 times on Thursday before getting it right. I started a really pissy 5-paragraph commentary Rules For Breeding in 2003, and that's sure to get some feedback. Go to Friday; more therapy, cookin' veggie lasagna for my baby, snugglin, and off to meet Al by 8:30. Rode around with him and the traffic cone, listening to radio tapes of ME. Later I took Carl and Rhonda for a ride, too. I won the golf tourney Friday. Home for nachos. Up at noon Saturday. I'm in a good mood, innocently drinking coffee, planning to go to this Fatso's Pizza place, watching the awesome 1960 John Wayne movie about the Alamo. And all of a sudden (3 pm) Al calls. So I rejected all my responsibilities, and left a DYING girlfriend to go and play Golden Tee. I'm a terrible person; I had fun, though. Home at 8 pm, can't sleep, can't stay awake. Lots of comedy on tv, the sun's up, and it's 7 am Sunday morning. I brewed coffee at 5 am, so don't get me riled up. Yes I'm talking to myself, and yes I like it. You're just jealous.

Sunday, March 2nd, 2003

"...these are the songs I play when I go to my 'special place' and DJ for myself; from me, to me. All mine. The rest of you can kiss my ass and enjoy corporate radio. I'll be in my room; lip-synching, air-guitaring, nailing posts, and pretending like it really matters." Me; duh, I said that--somewhere in my updated Musical Section. Go away.

I never went back to sleep Sunday. Eventually I helped Brent and his Misty out with rides to their destinations. Back home; Static Girl is doing a paper project on her compter. So I left to go play some pinball; another 426 million on Southpark. 9-ball tourney, and Al never showed. I stayed around though. Home at 10 for clam chowder and Sportscenter. Sacked out, and up early for (final) therapy Monday. It went well. Then I came home and cooked for my silent symphony of a girlfriend. She appreciated dinner. Barney tells me he has me covered, but then he doesn't. But we played some PGA golf at P+G, walked outside with Mike, and it's cool. I went for some late Southpark pinball, too. Home to eat...everything again. Bad. Up for evaluation Tuesday. I'm scared. Shouldn't have been scared--I'm going to die anyway. Turns out that my progress is good; 2 more weeks of no work. Dr. P wants me to get the epideral shot so that we can get me off of painkillers; okay. So I'll go talk to him. There's an ache in my left heel, but so far it's no big deal. To Walgreens for drugs; there's a problem, but they let me use the phone, and they gave me 2 days worth of drugs anyway (Have I ever said anything negative about Walgreen's? Haven't they gone above and beyond the call of duty every time I've asked them too? Just pointing it out.) Home to eat a sandwich, and call Dad. Good talk. Dad says that I have some kind of right-to-safety in my own apartment, and therefore Equity should pay for the futon. Maybe. More rain; what desert? But I went to pick up Brent and Misty so they wouldn't have to walk in it. To Sam's for some golf with a different Al, and then (with a throbbing left heel) I put 670 million on Southpark pinball; wow. Home to eat a burrito and ice cream; what diet? Up on Wednesday, VERY BAD pain in my left heel. Talked to the apartment manager; we compromised, and it looks like I won't have to cut her into little pieces. Great physical therapy, and then we're home to cook lasagna; what diet? Still hurting in the heel, is this now a new addition? Great. After much debate, I went to go play golf and pinball. Wow. Another -21 on Kiwi, and I have the four highest scores on Southpark pinball; 9 of the top 10 scores overall (my bitch). Home for lasagna and ice cream; there is no diet. It's cold, and it's raining again; what desert? My left foot is pretty messed up, maybe this lumbar epederal thing could help. West Wing was good. There's 180,000 U.S.troops in the Gulf, but we are not at war yet; why? Up Thursday to question reality. I just want to go back to sleep. The left heel pain is aparently permanent; it came from out of nowhere and just took over. I stayed in all Thursday and felt sorry for myself. Late Thursday night I got hungry (I love mixed nuts, but here's the potential problem), and a nut skin wound up in the wrong pipe, so I coughed all night long. Miserable. Got a little sleep Friday morning, and went to therapy. We no longer walk on the treadmill--because of the permanent heel problem. Still trying to get the lumbar epederal approved. I came home and cleaned, cooked; getting ready for the girlfriend. We went and signed a new lease, got $50 gas cards too. Back home for my amazing rice, and then an extended snuggle. Quickly I race to go meet up with Al at the bar. It becomes a golf party. Maybe again on Sunday too. Home for nachos and carefully chewed mixed nuts. Good sleep, and we're up early for throbbing heel pain on Saturday. This is fun, really; the pain never goes away, so you can be aware of how happy you are--all the time. And I'm just so fucking happy. Static Girl and I went and tried to find her a chair and book shelves. I went back to the grocery for oven-cookable food (since this is now winter time in the desert), and my food stamp card only had $10 on it, boo. I'm saving receipts. Out of the Blue (an ELO reference), Al calls at 4:30 pm and says it's time to party. I did NOT feel that it was time to party, but who am I to argue with Al? I taught him PGA golf at Pub+Grub, then we went back to Sam's for our first ever 2-game tournament; I won by 1 stroke. Hungry, I decide to cook the yummy pizza at 10 pm. We learned that oven-burns don't hurt as much after a few beers, and that's good to know. I must have had that toilet-dream again, or some kind of bladder misfortune while trying to sleep; yuck. Hey, I haven't peed on myself in awhile; I was due. Somehow awake, and alert, at 6 am Sunday; there is nothing good about this. The left heel hurts to walk on, but feels completely numb to the touch. To eat Xanax, or brew coffee; or both? This is complicated.

Sunday, February 23rd, 2003

Yes! What heartburn boy needed was a nap! For the record; I said that the motel beds were way too hard (I called them "river rocks", and the pillows were "cotton balls inside place mats".). Static Girl, however, couldn't sleep well on the motel beds because they were too SOFT! After my nap, I had a good old fashioned turkey and lettuce sandwich, and felt better. Getting ready for a Sunday night at Sam's. 9-ball tournie? Sundays? Al came in 2nd, go Al! And I played decent golf; almost beat him for the first time in 2 weeks (since my wrist injury). It was a fun but early night. Home for burritos and tv while in bed, cool! Up for the drywall guys President's Monday morning. We have a ceiling, but still a pretty large mess, too. I went for therapy, to K-Mart for (some Meatloaf! and) a pair of jeans, and some groceries. Home for killer potatos, snuggle, check in with TPG, and it's time for pinball. No pinball love tonight; but with a semi-injured wrist I scored a -23 on Kiwi Ridge golf. Home for monster nachos, and some sleep. So I get on the phone Tuesday morning, trying to find out who is going to help me pay for some new furniture. No surprise; the property manager here promises no help at all; she's trying to compare this to a tree falling on a house, or a car wreck. Can you believe that shit? It's her roof/ceiling; period. Went for pocket money, Oregano the pig wasn't feeling well, and I slid by Kaelene furniture to look at a new futon pad; $110. Girlfriend came home, and we went for Subway, and to get the pad!. I tried to pay for it, but then she paid for it; she likes me! Remember the Dear Abby 'alcoholic test'? It says that 4 "yes" answers equals an alcoholic; I only got 8 this time. Back in Athens, once, I got 11 "yes" answers (those were the days); I must be getting old now. Time to organize many cords behind the tv. Redecorating is hard work, so I went for some pinball. No records were shattered, but there was another great golf game. Home for mixed nuts, and the Shield. Then came Wednesday; watch it fall apart. My Worker's Comp. check did not get sent out, and nobody could tell me why. SCF finally got around to telling people that they had not approved my doctor switch back at the beginning of February. So I went crazy productive and typed out a big letter, and talked to mom about power words and phrases and stuff. She recommended FedEx, and then I came up with the idea of just going down to the Industrial Commission. So I got up early Thursday morn (Happy 37th Birthday to Cindy Crawford) and called the Commission. My agent was very nice, and said to just fax her the letter and she would take care of everything. A call to SCF found out that my check went out today, too. So I went for pocket money, and then went crazy cleaning up the living room, and cooking for my awesome woman. She appreciated it all. Later I would go play pinball. Junkyard is now gone, replaced by a very stiff Jurrassic Park. I put up initials on both games. Home to eat everything in the kitchen; so much for the diet. Good sleep. Up Friday to--oh God this is horrible, but I think I can save the underwear, maybe (told you I ate everything). Finished my 6 paragraph tirade on Personal Security/Identity Theft; getting ready for physical therapy now. It was the best therapy yet; then I went shopping at the 99cent store. Came home and cut vegetables for my woman. We ate, watched tv, snuggled, and I'm off to finally blow away Southpark pinball; 584,509,810. It's a great feeling; thank you. Greg at the bar said there was a new golf game at Copper's. Saw Bill, met his red Porsche buddy Klaus. We all golfed. Home to pass out. Up early Saturday; my back hurts, and my left leg's a little numb--I'll probably be paralyzed soon, but I'm gonna find this Copper's place. Made yummy grilled cheeses for me and my quiet girlfriend. Told her I might not be back for awhile, and left her. It's just PGA golf at Copper's, no big deal; so I went back to Pub+Grub--where we usually play PGA. I kicked its ass, then went back to Sam's. The stiff Jurassic Park is tough, no doubt about it. I invested hours to no avail; won a few, but no initials. After a few beers, the numb left leg is pretty cool (I can hardly feel it when I'm kicking the wall). Al shows up; but I'm almost done. In fact I am done; too bad. Home to bed early; like 9:30. Up at 4 am Sunday; cold, disoriented, and miserable--life is good. Yes; I shiver, and have a hard time remembering stuff, but I'm not a drunk. Saw a Rondell Sheridan Lounge Lizard on Comedy Central; hilarious. Trying to cut back on coffee (a stupid idea), so I'm drinking Code Red at 6 am (a stupider idea). You're right, fuck it, let's brew some coffee. I mean; I'm up, right? (More stupidish?)

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