A Superhuman Stomach
1-16-96 PM
Sandi Bauhaus spoke complimentarily of the Miracle Mile story, but said it ended too abruptly and she felt cheated.
I thought I would walk around the house playing guitar for thirty minutes and call it exercise, but the guitar was out of toon, or my hearing was flat; my eardrums are not taught enough or er I mean taut enough. Or maybe I do mean taught enough. Both. Anyway, I just stumbled around at a zombie's pace hitting discordant notes that got the dogs to barking.
Then I ate to, um, I mean two turkey sandwiches with year-old Miracle Whip and gravy. Yeaaah, gravy.
God screwed me on the lung situation, but he gave me a superhuman stomach.
The Swamp Thing could be the next Michael Jordan. Just tape some of those checks he writes to the bottom of his sneakers and he'll be dunking like a donut.
Air Iowa
Wocka wocka wocka
I forgot my pushups this mornings.
1-17-96 AM
It rained yesterday. I got my butt kicked on NTN. My lungs are full of crap. I don't know what to eat for breakfast. Last night, for the second day in a row, I helped Shrill finish a big ol' greasy basket of home fried potatoes. My stomach doesn't look nor feel good today.
Got all the way to the crossword today.
Talked with Zamona Bouvier lengthily about her four months of dryness and my similar considerations. We talked about conch for quite a while. She gave the kind of professional advice you might expect from a woman who has spent years in therapy.
My mucous membranes continue stepped-up production of a thick, sticky snot, as opposed to the loose, watery kind.
I'm going to wear that cool Bogart overcoat my grandpa gave me last week.
There was a big brouhaha to have the office manager at school removed. I said nothing, though she is clearly a cold woman who reduces her workload with her unapproachable manner. ~~~Sandi O. is a funny lady.
Peachtree called with a free ticket to Las Vegas President's Day weekend. It has not even been a year since my last fiasco there.
Well, it's time to wipe and get off the pot now.
Sandi Bauhaus spoke complimentarily of the Miracle Mile story, but said it ended too abruptly and she felt cheated.
I thought I would walk around the house playing guitar for thirty minutes and call it exercise, but the guitar was out of toon, or my hearing was flat; my eardrums are not taught enough or er I mean taut enough. Or maybe I do mean taught enough. Both. Anyway, I just stumbled around at a zombie's pace hitting discordant notes that got the dogs to barking.
Then I ate to, um, I mean two turkey sandwiches with year-old Miracle Whip and gravy. Yeaaah, gravy.
God screwed me on the lung situation, but he gave me a superhuman stomach.
The Swamp Thing could be the next Michael Jordan. Just tape some of those checks he writes to the bottom of his sneakers and he'll be dunking like a donut.
Air Iowa
Wocka wocka wocka
I forgot my pushups this mornings.
1-17-96 AM
It rained yesterday. I got my butt kicked on NTN. My lungs are full of crap. I don't know what to eat for breakfast. Last night, for the second day in a row, I helped Shrill finish a big ol' greasy basket of home fried potatoes. My stomach doesn't look nor feel good today.
Got all the way to the crossword today.
Talked with Zamona Bouvier lengthily about her four months of dryness and my similar considerations. We talked about conch for quite a while. She gave the kind of professional advice you might expect from a woman who has spent years in therapy.
My mucous membranes continue stepped-up production of a thick, sticky snot, as opposed to the loose, watery kind.
I'm going to wear that cool Bogart overcoat my grandpa gave me last week.
There was a big brouhaha to have the office manager at school removed. I said nothing, though she is clearly a cold woman who reduces her workload with her unapproachable manner. ~~~Sandi O. is a funny lady.
Peachtree called with a free ticket to Las Vegas President's Day weekend. It has not even been a year since my last fiasco there.
Well, it's time to wipe and get off the pot now.
posted by johnz at 7:24 PM
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