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10:22:05 - 2000-08-26

MAY I SCORCH THE FLESH OFF OF YOUR HANDS, AMIGO?

I slept wrong last night. And I don't mean standing in a corner with my eyes open either.

My back is hurting like a 500-lb. domanatrix. Which isn't too cool, considering today's the day I have to play broomball on the ice skating rink at the mall.

I've got some MAJOR second thoughts about agreeing to do this gig. I keep getting an eerie vibe that I'm going to land on my back on the ice at one point. Like I said earlier this week..."running on ice equals not good".

I'm not exactly sure I said THAT ... that sounds more like something Tarzan would say. But I said something along those lines.

Anyway ... whatever happens, I have a strange feeling that I'm going to be sore as a mofo tomorrow.

We'll see...

Since it was Susie's turn to pick out a restaurant last night, we went to a Mexican restaurant.

Have I told y'all how much I hate Mexican food yet?

...I think I have...

It's not so much the Mexican food I hate...it's the cheese I hate. And Mexicans HAVE to have cheese on everything they eat.

There's two things they don't put cheese on ... fajitas and chimichangas. I'm not completely sure on the chimichangas, as I've never eaten one, but on the menu it doesn't mention cheese, so I'm guessing it doesn't have any. They could be lying though. I've known a few Mexicans in my life and if there's one thing they have in common, it's the fact that they LOVE lying about cheese.

Cheese...as we all know by now...is nothing more than stinky mold.

And I don't eat stinky mold.

We get to the restaurant and there's a waiting line to be seated.

Oh...just great. I have to wait in line to eat shit I don't wanna eat. How much better can MY night get??

But...because my wife is pregnant and has a pregnant belly now...she gets special treatment if she can stand there long enough with a pained look on her face.

We found this out a few weeks ago at a little Italian joint where she just stood and complained about her feet killing her. Everyone was glad to give up their table for her.

This pregnancy shit works like a charm, babe.

Anyway, we get seated and the waiter comes up and keeps calling us "Amigos".

Which, as I have found out through extensive research, means "Friends".

I'm not your friend, Pedro.

I don't even wanna BE here.

Of course, I know exactly what I want. Even though there's 6,000 items on their menu, it's either fajitas or chimichangas for me.

Fajitas please. No cheese.

"We no put cheese on fajitas, amigo."

Yeah, well....you'd BETTER not...

So I'm wolfing down chips and salsa like they're going out of style while listening to Susie prattle on and on about the joys of paperwork at her job when I hear the distinct sizzlings of fajitas on a cast iron skillet being carried through the crowded restaurant.

Ahhhhh...dinner.

He sits the skillet down in front of me where I instantly get a steam burn all across my face.

"Goddamn, amigo...move that shit," I say.

Well...in my HEAD I said it...

The waiter has to remind us that EVERY PLATE he's putting on the table is a HOT plate.

"Hot plate amigo, hot plate amigo," he chants as he puts everything down.

Look. I'm not a child here, amigo. I'm not going to touch a lukewarm plate and scream in horror. I think I can handle a simple little hot pla....

OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!

HOLY FUCKING SHIT, THAT'S ONE HOT MOTHERFUCKING PLATE!!!!

Obviously, they heat all their plates on the grill before serving them just to taunt idiots like myself.

I shove my fist in Susie's water and watch the steam drift out as my amigo finishes putting hot plates on the table.

I begin to fix my first fajita when I see cheese all over the top of my refried beans.

Which, of course, makes me want to rush back to the kitchen and pummel Chico and Miguel.

I mean...who the HELL eats cheese on their refried beans?!?

WHO, I ask???

Not MEEEEE, that's for sure.

I sit there and stare at the beans in disgust until Susie scrapes away all the cheese and puts in on her plate.

Leaving me with about a tablespoon of refried beans.

I choke down the fajitas which are NOT as tasty as mine, end of discussion.

I make the BEST fajitas in the world.

I guarantee you. Full of flavor...neigh...BURSTING with flavor.

They're the best. Everyone says so.

My fajitas fucking ROCK, dude.

Susie eats until she's about to burst while I pick and scrimp over my dinner and come home and have a coffee mug full of Monkey Business ice cream from Mayfield.

Does your grocery store carry Mayfield ice cream?? If so...ya GOTTA have Monkey Business.

Banana ice cream, with a peanut butter swirl, and chocolate dipped peanut butter cookies in it.

Now THAT'S good eating.

Susie passed out in my recliner while I tried to watch Radiohead's DVD "Meeting People Is Easy".

What an annoying hunk of crap that disc is.

First off, the band's British accents are soooo thick that I can't understand word one of what they're saying. And the one time I need subtitles...there isn't any.

And the film only shows bits and pieces of my favorite songs. Bits of "Creep". Pieces of "Paranoid Android".

You get the picture.

So I'm out 20 bucks for that disc. I only watched about half of it, because it keeps getting stuck at one point.

And...quite frankly...I had gotten sick of trying to decipher what these obvious junkies are trying to say.

I love the band. I love their music.

I hate their DVD.

And with that, I must walk the dog and prepare mentally for my game of Broomball.

Pray for me, you sinners.

***********************************

QUESTION OF THE WEEKEND

What's the stupidest injury you've ever received?

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