June 23, 2006
don't know what it was
Whatever grabbed me last night didn't want to turn loose. I felt feverish and achy and nauseated. I fact, I had a discussion with Ralph and Huey a couple of times before I finally fell asleep and dreamed tumultious, psychotic dreams.
I sweated. I shivered. I got the restless legs syndrome and cramps in my shoulders. I felt like Fido's ass.
I slept a few intermittent, totally-fucked up naps today and felt worse every time I woke up. I drank a bottle of Boost liquid detergent vitamins. I puked it up. I ate a scrambled egg and some grits. Puked THAT up, too. I was having NO fun at all.
But I faced a WORSE problem than the aching, puking, fevered dreams and visions of Hillary Clinton promising to "take care of me" at the height of my extreme misery. No.. it was MUCH WORSE than that.
I was down to five cigarettes remaining in my house.
People, you face a normal crisis, a BAD crisis, and a LIFE-THREATENING, TERRIBLE CRISIS from time to time. You need to recognize the difference and act when you must, no matter HOW difficult that action my be. I saw the challenge. I acted.
I managed to make it to the local Muslim Terrorist store in my vicinity, where I put gas in my car, bought TWO cartons of cigarettes and then purchased some emergency food, such as cheese doodles in those corn-horn shapes, a two-liter bottle of Dr. Pepper and a bag of Sweet-Tart gum with red-hot centers buried in those sticky, sour, chewey things. People, I NEEDED that stuff.
I started cramming my face with THAT medicine, plus some boiled peanuts I cooked yesterday, and I started feeling okay again. The more absolute JUNK I tossed down my neck, the better I felt. You know what ELSE woulda been GREAT!!!??
Some of her mama's fried wontons with some of that spicy red sauce on the side. And a dirty joke to listen to while I suffed my starvin' face with some more of THAT food!!!
I think I may live, now that I believe that the worst is behind me. Plus, I really AM getting hungry again (I caught that wild chihuhua yesterday, broke its neck and cooked it on a stick over a charcol fire, but he tasted a lot like rabid racoon to me. Plus, he looked a lot like a hairless, bulging-eyed rat once I had him skinned.
He might have made some decent taco filling, if I had removed the bones, stuffed his rat-looking ass in a blender and pureed him to the consistancy of potted meat, but that's NOT what I did. I just cooked it on a stick over an open fire and dreamed all night long about it reconstituting itself and gnawing it's way right out of my belly like one of those creatures in the ALIEN! movies.
At least I THINK I did that. Maybe I dreamed that shit, too.
No wonder I didn't sleep well.
But I'm gonna fix that problem tonight. I'm hungry. I want an OMLET SANDWICH, the kind you make by toasting two pieces of whole wheat bread, daubing butter on one piece of bread, some mayonaisse on the other, then putting a piece of cheese on each slice of bread. Try American on one side, and Sharp Jack with halapeno bits on the other.
Multi-task while you're making the toast and a crack a couple of big eggs in a tall glass. Add salt, pepper, a dash of Worchestershire sauce and about three good dashes of Tobasco.
Stir the living crap out of that mixture while you melt a big gob of real butter in a fryin' pan. Add diced pieces of Vidalia onion, Kielbaba sausage, bell pepper, some home-grown tomato and a few green olives, along with a clove of my famous "Smashed Garlic."
Let that stuff simmer until the onions become tender and brown. Then, dump your whipped eggs in the pan. Kinda shake it around a little until the egg-slurry covers the bottom of the pan the the "dressings" you cooked are all spread around neatly and evenly in the egg-slurry.
Let it brown for maybe 90 seconds. then flip the conction carefully to form a beautiful half-moon, with all kinds of stuffing inside, and golden scrambled egg with light brown highlights holding it all together. When it's done, pick the concoction up on your spatula, being careful not to break it apart, and transfer it from the frying pan to one piece of toast.
Immediately slam the other piee of cheese-lined toast on top and squeeze it gently. THAT, my friends, is a REAL scrambled egg sandwich.
Not at all like this this half-assed "feast" that HE brags about. MINE is like a combination of pizza and quiche on whole wheat toast. HIS is... well, okay I suppose... but NOT like mine.
Mine is mo' bettah.
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