Sunday, December 15, 2002
Hello, Sir Lovealot:
Dumb old Blogger just erased two full-length posts about last night. Heck that!
All's I really said was that last night I think I broke my tailbone on the cement floor in Os's garage/time machine. Os's garage is a time machine, because you can be in there for five minutes, and when you walk out, it's five hours later and you have arrived in the future.
It's also a drunk-machine, but that's another issue.
It's also a broken bone machine. Holy fuck, I sat down but the chair was gone and I hit the ground hard, wham! It was painful but also excruciatingly funny, and I was laughing, and moaning, and trying to be serious, "You guys, my ass kills, oww, haw haw..."
They were so sweet to me. Os, Dougie Fresh, Ken and Kim. We sang and played guitar brutally till the sun came up.
This evening my friend Lydia took me for comfort food at Art's deli in the Valley. She cracks me up. She's 89 but I talk to her exactly as i talk to you, and when I say "That driver's retarded," she goes, "Sure is."
Here's a Classic Lydia Joke:
A guy comes home to find his girlfriend packing her bags.
Man: What are you doing?
Girlfriend: I'm leaving you. I just found out you're a pedophile.
Man: Well, that's a pretty big word for a nine-year-old.
I told Lydia about my "assident" and my Lame hangover, and she called Art's ahead of time to ask them what, in their opinion, is the best hangover food. They said protein, not carbs.
Lydia has a lot of experience with men. Back in the day, men asked you to marry them all the time.
My ass is tolly throbbing so I'm going to make like an invisible monkey and disappear.