Post-Modern Drunk: Gimme Tater Tots!
 The first thing you'll notice about me is that I've lost weight. At least, that's what everyone else notices. Maybe you don't pay that much attention to my weight. You'd be surprised, though. I weigh less than I ever have. Not literally, of course.. I weigh more than zygote Stu, of course, but I weigh less than I did in college, and probably less than I did in high school. At the height of my drunkenness, before I started biking or exercising beyond 12 ounce curls, I weigh around 190. As of this past Tuesday, I weigh 146. And I'm probably still dropping weight.

The steroids are supposed to increase my appetite. Unfortunately, the anti-malarial drugs decrease my appetite, the Tylenol-3 makes things taste funky, the anti-anxiety med make me loopy, and the Xanax just knocks me out. So I don't have a lot of opportunity to get weight back on. Sometimes it feels like a full-time job just getting dinner before I go back to bed.

I've been compensating by having the cravings of a pregnant woman. Gummi bears are my current obsession that I can get to, but I would kill for the following, roughly in this order: tater tots, horchata, watermelon juice from the soccer fields, a chicken huarache from the same, and a beer. One after the other. I'd settle for wine rather than beer, or a Manhattan. Or a Presbyterian. Presbyterians are pretty awesome. It's rye, ginger ale, and candied ginger (at least as they make it at Little Branch), in a highball glass. Has a nice kick to it. But seriously, any bartender's choice at Little Branch would probably make me happy.

But tater tots. I have literally dreamt of tater tots. If anyone can tell me a place to get tater tots that I could conceivably get to in Brooklyn, considering that I am currently practically a cripple, please, let me know. My fall-back place for tater tots, Crif Dogs, is about as difficult to get to as anywhere in the city.

Unfortunately, I am incapable of dealing with things such as stairs, long bus rides, walking, etc. I haven't tried the subway for a couple of weeks, but if I wasn't able to get a seat, I definitely wouldn't be able to handle it. I walked four blocks for take-out last week; while waiting for my order, for some reason I lost feeling in my left hand. Then I lost feeling in the left side of my mouth. Then I started drooling. I suppose I also lost feeling in my left foot, though I'm not 100% sure about that, though it would help explain why, when they called my name out as my order being ready, I collapsed when I stood up and spent an indeterminate amount of time on the floor. Which, understandably, alarmed everyone involved. Except me. I was a little too dazed at the time to be properly concerned. Don't worry, I panicked once I got home.

Oddly enough, that was also the day that the fevers of 103.5 started to kick in. I had five straight days of them, starting up in the mid-evening, requiring cold baths, cold compresses, and lots of Tylenol.

It's been fun.

Oh, and we were forced today to give away one of our beloved cats, because after a year of attempted integration she never got along with our other cats and we finally decided that we had to give up and find her a new home where she'd be happier.

So, rough all around.

---

«« (back)				(forward) »»
o, i am fortune‘s fool				shot in the face and you‘re to blame

---