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6:23 a.m. - 2005-04-07


I got a call yesterday from a lady who wants me to be a celebrity judge in a "Sizzle Off" ... a cooking contest featuring dishes cooked on a grill.

I had to check my pulse to make sure I hadn't died and gone to Heaven.

As many of you know, I am a wannabe grillmaster.

There's a few things I think I grill that are pretty tasty.

My cajun ribs are good. As are my Italian hamburgers.

But this ain't about me. This is about me eating a shitload of grilled steaks, chicken, burgers and whatever else people throw on a grill.

My karma says I'll die of a heart attack while I'm driving to the contest.

But I'm still mucho excited.

Even if this does send my fat ass to the hospital or morgue.

I think I've made no bones about the fact that I hate Karaoke Night at the club I work at.

So you'd probably be shocked to learn that I spent $150 on Karaoke yesterday.

Here's the way I look at it ... I just spent $150 on new music (I ordered #7,8,9) because I want the customers to start singing NEW SONGS that I can eventually get tired of.

Because honestly ... if I hear one more group of drunken Air Force guys scream out Billy Joel's "Piano Man", somebody's getting poked with a shiv.


My buddy Jill ("Fish Dick") at work gave me a Xanax yesterday.

I was just complaining about how I never get much sleep, averaging about 4-5 hours a night.

She reached in her purse, pulled out a pill bottle, shook a pill in my hand and told me to take it before bed.

I've never taken Xanax before.

I am now thoroughly convinced without a doubt that Xanax is my new best friend.

I took it at 8:00 and hung in there until about 9:30.

It mellowed me out so much. I didn't even mind when Andrew accidentally kneed me in the balls as he climbed up me for a hug and a kiss goodnight.

I was all "Oh wow. My balls just got assaulted. No big whoop."

I remember waking up at 11:17, 2:28, 4:14 and then finally at 5:26.

That's good for me.

Usually you could double or even triple those figures.

I need to see what all the symptoms you need to be suffering from before you can get a Xanax prescription and then go to the doctor and reel them off.

But my doctor isn't the type of doctor who'll scribble out a prescription just to get me out of his office.


He'll want to jam a finger up my ass first.

"Doc, I'm not sleeping at night and need something to really mellow my ass out before I go to sleep."

"ASS?!? DID SOMEONE SAY ASS?!? Take down those pants ... let's go spelunking in your colon!!"


Why couldn't I have picked out a crooked family doctor?

But now that I think about it, I am a bit groggy this morning.

Maybe Xanax isn't as cool as I thought it was.

In fact, it might behoove me to go back to bed.

Because I'm getting really ... really ... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

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