(In which Job gets high and complains of his illness.)

Posted by Job O Brother, April 26, 2007 08:33pm | Post a Comment
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).

Furthermore, what is this entry even about? It is aimless. Sure, it conveys the author’s current state, but what does that have to do with music or film or Amoeba Music Hollywood?

I don’t know. What I do know is that if I die here in my apartment my cat will probably eat me. My boyfriend, Corey, is at Coachella and wouldn’t notice I had died until Monday evening.

See? What kind of tangent is that for a blog? Awful!

This is my first entry for the Amoeblog that isn’t written in a screenplay format. Lately I’ve been toying with the idea of branching out. I maybe should have waited until I was sober to try this, or at least until the throbbing pain in the side of my head stopped.

It’s like someone’s stabbing my brain with a wire coat-hanger.

“It’s not you I hate, Christina, it’s Job’s health!”

Get it? My little “Mommie Dearest” reference? “Mommie Dearest” is available on DVD at Amoeba Music; so there – I just justified this entry.

I don’t remember any of what I just wrote. I think I mentioned sushi at some point, though for the life of me I can’t imagine why.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to put a stop to the Thuggee campaign, rescue the lost children, and sleep with Kate Capshaw.

BACK  <<  1  2  >>