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10:13:12 - 2001-01-25


Y'know...I could sit here and bitch bitch bitch about how horrible I feel today.

But let's see ... you guys have been reading all about it for three days now ... lemme see if I can struggle through this without mentioning my physical condition at all.

I saw some birds yesterday.

I drove my car yesterday.

I ... awwww fuck it .... I FEEL LIKE SHIT TODAY!!!!

Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow owwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!

Okay ... I think I mentioned that I didn't think I had the flu.

SCRATCH THAT. I spoke too soon.

My whole body aches. Even my teenie weenie hurts.

At 11 p.m. last night, I laid in bed desperately trying to breathe. Finally, I got up and headed for the Afrin nasal spray.

For years, I was addicted to nasal spray. I weaned myself off of it about seven years ago and never looked back.

Last night I looked back and I liked what I saw.

Clear nasal passages. My God. They were BEE-YOO-TI-FUL.

This morning I can breathe clearly now, the rain is gone. Then again, I'm also wearing one of those Breathe Right strips across my nose, which could have helped matters greatly.

I feel like diarhhea throughout the rest of my body though. But Gloria Gaynor and Cake pointed out ... I will survive, dammit.

But this is going to be a struggle, Mugsy.


Went back to the chiropractor yesterday. And yeah ... I'm thinking he may be looking out for his best interests when it comes to the twisted bone in my spine.

He wants to work on this bone "slowly". Which means...come back every day, I'll tap on your neck with an electric hammer, and charge you $150 for ten minutes of tapping a day until you realize what the hell's going on and quit coming to me.

I'm thinking about getting a second opinion on this thing. A few of you wrote me yesterday to tell me to do so...Mattie Gee thinks I should ... Susie thinks I should ... Now I think I should too.

We'll see.


I took yesterday off to rest. And that's exactly what I did.

After I got back from the chiropractor, I laid down and slept for several hours. When I woke up, I felt WORSE than when I laid down.

Severely congested. Hacking cough. The feeling that a Republican was in office.

It was awful.

So I get up, stumble to the kitchen and find my wife standing there.

"We don't have anything to eat," she said, looking at a cupboard full of food. "I want to go to Applebee's."

"I don' fee' good, hubby," I said. "I'm not even hungby."

"Not even for Applebee's?" she quizzed.

Okay. She got me there. I could be on my deathbed with maggots crawling out of my eyes ... and I'd still drag my ass to Applebee's for one last meal.

So we go to the mall to Applebee's.

Y'know...Applebee's really hires some freaks to wait on tables.

The guy we had waiting on us had his eyebrow pierced and had bleached his hair white.

You know...for a second there, I thought it was Eminem. I mean...clearly, that's what the guy wanted you to think ... that Eminem had quit his successful rapping career and was now waiting tables at a mall restaurant in Alabama.

"Hi folks," he greeted us as he squatted down next to our table to take our order.

Apparently, Applebee's is one of those restaurants that forces their staff to squat down to the customer's level when taking orders. I've always thought that was an ignorant practice, then again, I'm not too fond of giving my order to a waiter's crotch either. It's a Catch-22 either way.

"Hey Slim Shady," I greeted the waiter. "I'll have the Bourbon Street Steak, medium rare."


The guy even repeated it and added "So you want it done on the outside and pink on the inside?"

Duh, you fucking dumbass motherfucker. That's what "medium rare" means, you uncoordinated squatting rapper wannabe.

I'm SO SICK of these restaurants that have to TELL YOU what your order means. This happens more often than not. You say "medium rare" which is how I ALWAYS order my steaks and nine times out of ten, they explain to you what medium rare means like all of a sudden you forgot.

I should have said "Oh...Heavens no!! Is THAT what Medium Rare means??? Oh no...I don't want ANY pink in my steak, Slim Shady!! I'm sorry ... this is the first time I've ever ordered a steak in a restaurant, you goofy bastard."


I KNOW what medium rare means. From here on out, all you stupid fucking waiters who try to explain to me what I just ordered are going to get a fistful of quarters jacking your stupid fucking jaws into your sinus cavities.

Sorry. It's the Afrin talking.

Anyway ... we wait ten minutes for our food. Susie's content to sit and talk about her job to me while I'm content to ignore her and check out this baby a few tables away who had the BIGGEST FUCKING HEAD I've ever seen on a baby.

The baby was a few months older than Andrew. And I bet his skull weighed more than Andrew's whole body.

Christ. That was one big headed baby.

Finally, Susie paused for a breath and I said "Check out that baby's head."

Susie was hesitant to turn around and stare at the baby. But here's the deal with staring at freakish babies in public ... it's okay. As long as you smile while you stare, the parents think you're admiring their baby like it's cute or something ... not like it belongs in a circus side show.

The parents caught us gawking at their kid and they beamed. I grinned and gave them a thumbs up, to signify "Good Job on raising a beautiful kid", when I really meant "My God, your kid's a monster."

Our food got to the table, I cut into my steak ... it was grey inside. No pink to be found.

It was cooked medium well.

Had I not been battling a fever of 108 degrees, I would have jumped up from the table and throttled Slim Shady into submission.

You can not "un-rare" a steak. You have to cook a new one.

I know this because I've eaten my share of steak in my day.

I ate the damned thing anyway. Luckily for everyone involved ... I can eat steak any way that it's presented. I just PREFER it being medium rare.

I should have just been honest with the kid. He's not the real Slim Shady, he's just imitating so won't this stupid squatting waiter please stand up, please stand up, please stand up?

But...I didn't. It wasn't his fault the steak was crispy ... blame the cook on that one.

Anyway ... that's the highlight of my day.

I'm pretty f'n sad.

Ahhh...Baby Boy is crying. It's time I went and breathed all over him. Catch ya on the flipside!

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