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6:03 a.m. - 2002-05-17



I have an ear infection. I seem to be getting these more and more lately. It comes from riding around town with the windows down. If I roll down the windows on the way home, you can bet your sweet ass I'm going to get out of the car and my ear canal will be sensitive to the touch and my jawbone will be aching.

Usually a cotton ball in the ear is like modern medicine for this. But I've had a cotton ball in my ear for ten hours now and it still hurts.

Rabble scrabble ears.

And I learned a valuable lesson last night.

I'm NOT Chinese.

I know. This will come as a big shock to most of you who thought my real name might be Wang Chung or something.

Long Duck Dong.

Hop Sing Smith.


I decided that I was going to stir fry dinner last night.

I cut up some chicken breasts in little chunks and grabbed a big bag of frozen veggies, some soy sauce, some peanut oil and some pineapple tidbits.

My heart was in the right place. But my mind was somewhere in Tacoma, Washington, wandering around the bad section of town trying to score some crack or something.

The recipe clearly stated to heat the oil and soy sauce to 375 degrees.

Okay, I don't have a freakin' oil thermometer or whatever I need to tell me how hot the oil is. I ususually use the dog's tongue. If the dog yelps and tries to get out of my arms, the oil's hot enough.

Technically, being the awesome chef that I am, I should have KNOWN to add one frozen veggie to the oil and if it started sputtering and splattering, the oil would be hot enough.

But as I stated, if you had just been paying some freakin' attention, my mind was not in the right frame last night.

So I dump everything into the pan while the oil is maybe...I dunno...60 degrees or something.

Everything just sits there.

I turn the heat to high. Slowly, things start cooking.

The directions said to stir fry for 3-5 minutes.

Fifteen minutes later, the chicken LOOKED like it was ready to be eaten.

We sat down and ate.

Susie, God love her, she complimented the food, saying it was "really good".

I've decided that "really good" in her speak means "thanks for cooking".

Because this tasted disturbing. It tasted like raw warthog. At one point, I was eyeing the dog hungrily, chasing her around the house with a knife and fork before she hid under the bed, away from my starving clutches.

This morning, the searing pains in my stomach serve as a reminder that you must have heat in order to stir fry raw poultry.

So, to sum up my feelings right now....ugh.

Say what you want about my Nosy Assed Neighbor, but she's a fine, fine woman.

I know, I know.

Some of you have been talking smack about her behind my back. That's understandable. You don't like the woman. Sure, you've never met her, but you've devoted entire journal entries on everything from her hair color to her unhealthy obsession with canines.

But yesterday, she did something that blew me away.

When we left for work, I had chained Maggie up to her new chain thing. She had a 30 foot wide circumfrence to run around the yard. Plenty of shade, water and food.

But after 12 years of being able to run free all day, she didn't care much for this chain thing.

So as soon as we left, she started struggling to get free of it, nearly ripping her head off in the process.

Nosy Assed Neighbor hears her crying, looks out the window and sees Maggie trying to get away from her chain like a couple of horny teenagers trying to get away from Jason Voorhees the crazed lunatic from that captivating series of "Friday the 13th" horror films.

So NAN comes over to our yard, takes Maggie off of her chain and brings her over to HER yard.

Where Maggie and NAN's two Nosy Assed Dogs sniff each other and then get along fine the rest of the day, taking naps together and genuinely being social.

I get home to hear about all of this and NAN says that from now on, Maggie will stay in HER yard until we sell the house.

Whoo. Hooo.

Of course, people will still get barked to death if they step out into our back yard, since Maggie and the loudest dogs on the planet will be on the other side of the fence.

But at least they can step outside without fear of Maggie approaching them and wanting to be (gasp!) petted.

Sooo...I know I've given NAN a lot of grief here, but this is actually pretty cool of her to do. She'll come over after I leave for work and return her at 5:15 every day before I get home.

I can dig it.

When do cockroaches ever sleep?

My boy and soon-to-be next door neighbor Mattie Gee gets married next weekend to his lovely live-in girlfriend, Cate.

I'm coming out of deejay retirement to spin the tunes at the reception.

It's going to be an outdoor wedding at Cate's parents' ranch.

It should be approximately 212 degrees outside.

This may be the first wedding that I attend wearing shorts and a tank top.

I don't even own a tank top. But I may just purchase one especially for the wedding.

(I wrote that for Cate's benefit. She's already panicking that I'm going to play "the wrong music" at the reception like I'm some sort of amateur or something. What? I guess she thinks Metallica's a little "too uh-uh" for a wedding reception. LOOSEN UP, CATE!!! Man...have some fun, only get married once. Well, you only get married the FIRST TIME once.)

Actually, the ironic thing is...a few years ago, Mattie Gee and I came up with a disc entitled "Songs To Ruin Any Wedding Reception Vol. I", whose selections you can peruse by clicking that link.

Actually, if I recall, quite a few of you guys came up with suggestions for the disc, which I appreciate to this day.

I don't think I'll take the disc with me to the reception out of respect for Cate.

But man...I OWE Mattie Gee a little bit of grief, since we're longtime buds who sign emails "Your mother is a lesbian prostitute" and things like that.

Regrettably, I'm going to let him slide.

Only because I love his soon-to-be-wife.

Not "love" love. I just think she's cool and the best person for him.

Then again, I saw the girls that came before her. Christ. Bonnie Lee Bakley would have been a better woman for him compared to those psychos.

Can anybody recommend Wilco's new disc "Yankee Foxtrot Hotel"??

I've read some great reviews of it and have heard two songs from it and don't know if I should actually break down and buy a CD.

Five years ago, I bought approximately two CDs a week.

The last two years the only CDs I've bought have been the Pink Floyd greatest hits, Roger Waters live disc and the Pink Floyd "The Wall" concert disc.

All this Pink Floyd and I haven't smoked pot in years.

Old listening habits die hard.

Which reminds you're going to listen to the Floyd, you MUST be smoking pot while doing so.

It's unconstitutional if you aren't. You could get arrested for listening to Floyd and NOT be smoking pot.

I've smoked enough pot in my life so that the residue is still swimming in my brain and I can still enjoy the Floyd sans weed.

And if you have weed, but no Floyd, throw that hip-hop CD away and go buy some Floyd. If you don't have the money for a Floyd disc, steal it from your parents. If your parents have no money, pawn some of Mom's jewelry to buy it. If Mom doesn't have any jewelry, become a pimp for your little sister. Whatever it takes. Just don't listen to Pink Floyd without smoking weed.


I'm officially delerious from stomach cramps so I'm going to go lay down.

I could definitely use some weed to ease the pain.




Members of Pink Floyd who did a google search for "Pink Floyd and weed" and ended up here with a garbage bag full of cannabis in their closet?


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