n o w p l a y i n g - s c r i p t b i n - f a n c l u b - s t u d i o

make love to the camera



September 28, 2002 - 2:01 pm

Drink And Be Ill Tonight

When I was a little kid, and whenever I got sick, my mom tells me that I would lay there and moan:

"Why do I have to be sick? Why can't someone else be sick?"

Nice boy, I was.

In my own defense, though, my mom says that at these times when I was sick she would give me tiny, supposedly therapeutic shots of blackberry brandy, so rather than being a young, selfish jerk, maybe I was just a belligerently drunk five year old.

Either way.

I bring this up because I am currently afflicted with the plague. This girl in my office was sick two weeks ago, then a producer was, and now it looks like it's my turn. Symptoms include a sore throat, nasal congestion, body ache, and a weekend spent using lots of Kleenex.

And not in the pleasant way.

Luckily, I have a roommate like Jonny who is out right now purchasing me drugs, orange juice, and 7-up, all of which in combination will hopefully restore my youthful vivaciousness.

He also burned me a Smiths CD after reading of my lament of last week. And he took out the garbage. Plus, he does the dishes more than I do and looks good in an apron.

And none of you ladies have snatched him up?

Fools, all of you.

Speaking of Morrissey, this lovely Chicagoan, about whom I know far too little, informed me that what with living in Los Angeles now, I'm his neighbor.

Incredulous, I went to Google and, with a sneer, typed "morrissey lives in los angeles." The first result is this.

I need to run into him. I need to know why Morrissey came here. How could he move here?

A place with no Leeds side streets to slip down? No Piccadilly, no palare? A place where there's practically no chance of a double decker bus crashing into us?

All I can figure is that there's a really good therapist here.

So, I have no idea what happened with the last entry. It was obviously never meant to be read. I wrote it here at home: It wouldn't post. I emailed it to myself and tried it at work: Again, no post.

It's just a shame, because in that entry I revealed God's true name (tons of letters, mostly f's), the secret to lifelong happiness, and the surefire way to get a great deal on a new muffler, every time.

All lost to the ages.

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