Random Thoughts

Have recovered from an evil night of food poisoning. Went to the hole-in-the-wall Mexican joint where I acquired said poisoning (didn't eat anything else yesterday). Wanted to a) inform them so they could check their eggs/chile/food prep/etc. and b) try to get my $10 back. Ha. Very large, tattooed Mexican man insisted there was no way I got sick from their food, that I must have gotten the flu, and that he'd give me a free meal to make up for it. When I scoffed at the idea of ever eating there again (walking in made me nauseous again), he got pissed. Really pissed. Not much scares me, but in my weakened state, he did. Fucker.

 

Tell the news side at your paper. Maybe there is some investigating that can be done.

 

I'm sure they'll uncover the whole enchilada!

 

i can just see the headlines now: line cook at mexican hole-in-wall touches raw chicken, then lettuce without washing his hands!

but seriously, depending on what city or state you live in you can almost certainly make a complaint with the health department

 

Ugh. Please, no more talk that will make my stomach turn (again).

 

How about a nice, greasy pork sandwich served in a dirty ashtray?

 

Dead. To. Me.

 

Why do you have to be such a wanker!

 

I thought about this good question during the last 4 hours at 2 frozen-cold hockey barns. One of the local teams, in 2nd place, lost to a bottom-feeder. Sad. As for the lede to my life's story, if I may ...

Songbird was born to freaks who are still married after 41 years, and everything about his life follows suit, as he developed into a freak of nature. After suffering several head injuries as a kid, which retarded his social maturation, his intentions are based on a good orderly direction, even though many of his intentions are misunderstood by everyone who knows him. A friend, an outcast, a dork, an athlete, a lover of sports, an asshole to the 101st degree, a world traveler and an adventure seeker, he frequents the seedy side of the tracks, disdains social conventions, craves affection and holds an inherent love of the human condition, thinks wisdom is for suckers, believes in nothing of importance and everything that's false, sabotages the positive aspects of his life because acting devious balances the mundane, boring minutiae that bogs him down and makes him wonder what the fuck it's all about. He'll give a dirty bum twenty dollars then go spend ten times that on drugs because there's nothing like a rocketship ride to the furthest reaches of the galaxy. He'll tap his creativity to write a feature for which everyone praises him but in the privacy of his mind tells himself how fucking stupid the story read. For every one good thing he does he makes it a point to screw himself over twice. He can't imagine a world without him in it, yet he's on a fast track to the end of the road. And for Songbird, that road no doubt ends where the other side of the tracks begin: Seedy City, baby.

 

I know what the lede to mine would be. I've already written it in my head. Now I just need to do something that makes someone want to write about me so I can give it to them and make them use it.

 

This is the worst Duke team that has been coached a full season by Krzyzewski since the 1993 team lost to California in the second round of the NCAAs.

 

Can I start firecoachk.com yet? I keeeeeeeeddddd.