I don’t want you to think I’m an overly critical person, but frankly, I can’t think of very many nice things to say about ear infections.
It’s my first time having one, so I’m probably not the best person to speak with authority on the subject. Because it’s all so new, I hate to draw too many conclusions. I generally think of myself as open to new experiences.
When it comes to food, for example, I am practically compelled to taste a dish, if I never have before. Whether it’s sea urchin at a sushi bar in Sacramento or sweetbreads at Musso & Frank Grill or chilled monkey brains with my underage sidekick… oh wait… That was “Indiana Jones & The Temple of Doom” - I always get that and my life confused. (It’s easy when you work on the mezzanine at Amoeba Music Hollywood – but we’ll get to that later.)
The point is… um…
Okay, you need to know right away that I am hopped-up on loads of Vicodin. It’s one of the many things my doctor prescribed for the aforementioned ailment.
If you’re like most people found at a swell music store such as the one I work at, you probably just got all warm and fuzzy at the mention of Vicodin. You maybe even got a little jealous of me.
“Oh, lucky,” you think. But I hate it. For one thing, it makes writing a blog almost impossible.
“But Job,” you protest, “You seem to be doing a fine job. Your prose is witty and accessible; smart and grammatically deft. Why, you’ve even managed to find a clever way to sneak in usage of the words ‘ecchymosis’ and ‘zizith’ in the same sentence!”
Well, I return, you’re very kind. But what you don’t know is that I’ve been working on this entry for eight hours without a break (unless you count the lost-time from my fainting spell immediately after I typed out the word grammatically).
It’s my first time having one, so I’m probably not the best person to speak with authority on the subject. Because it’s all so new, I hate to draw too many conclusions. I generally think of myself as open to new experiences.
When it comes to food, for example, I am practically compelled to taste a dish, if I never have before. Whether it’s sea urchin at a sushi bar in Sacramento or sweetbreads at Musso & Frank Grill or chilled monkey brains with my underage sidekick… oh wait… That was “Indiana Jones & The Temple of Doom” - I always get that and my life confused. (It’s easy when you work on the mezzanine at Amoeba Music Hollywood – but we’ll get to that later.)
The point is… um…
Okay, you need to know right away that I am hopped-up on loads of Vicodin. It’s one of the many things my doctor prescribed for the aforementioned ailment.
If you’re like most people found at a swell music store such as the one I work at, you probably just got all warm and fuzzy at the mention of Vicodin. You maybe even got a little jealous of me.
“Oh, lucky,” you think. But I hate it. For one thing, it makes writing a blog almost impossible.
“But Job,” you protest, “You seem to be doing a fine job. Your prose is witty and accessible; smart and grammatically deft. Why, you’ve even managed to find a clever way to sneak in usage of the words ‘ecchymosis’ and ‘zizith’ in the same sentence!”
Well, I return, you’re very kind. But what you don’t know is that I’ve been working on this entry for eight hours without a break (unless you count the lost-time from my fainting spell immediately after I typed out the word grammatically).
