May 7th, 2002


This Weekend Was A Sobering Experience

This was truly a sad day in my immune system’s history. Just two weeks after beating my last cold, my weak, virus-loving ass went and caught a cold again. The culprits could be:

A) One of the five people I got sick the first time around.

B) My art director, who got sick the same time I did. His son’s in daycare, which is a hotbed for kiddie diseases.

C) The urinal at Q’s.

A doctor friend told me to rule out Culprit A, because you can’t get re-sick from someone you got sick in the first place on account of your body building up an immunity to it from the first time you got ill. Duh. This lack of medical common sense is why I didn’t become a doctor – and also to piss off my parents…

NURSE: Doctor, this is your third patient to die this week!

DR. CAFFEINEGUY: Don’t blame me, woman. Blame my Asian parents for micromanaging my life. Blame my Asian genes for limiting my career choices to medicine, law or biochemical sub-atomic computer engineering. Blame the Asian pharmacist chicks who keep hooking me up with all them free codeine and vicodin pills that I pop like Skittles.

Jill, Chuck and Ophelia were late showing up at the BCD soontofu joint. Apparently they almost died.

They were all in Jill’s car at an intersection when the light turned green. As Jill pressed the pedal, Chuck and Ophelia both spotted a green Corolla rocketing down the other street with no sign of slowing down. Luckily Jill slammed the brake when they both screamed "STOP," or they would’ve been broadsided by a car going 50 mph.

Somehow the other car only clipped the front of Jill`s bumper. Nevertheless I cringed when I saw the ugly gash, since her car happened to be a brand new convertible CLK. Scraping a lust-worthy automobile should count as a felony. All kidding aside though, it obviously could’ve been much, much worse.

Afterward, while eating dinner, the girls made fun of the fact that Chuck screamed louder than any of them; and that he had the hots for the other driver – who was scantily clad, and obviously blind. We all got a good laugh at his expense. But in the back of everyone’s mind was that just a couple of feet was the distance between being able to joke about it, and the unthinkable.

Karnak was packed. I’ve never seen it this dense. And for the first time since I’ve been going there, there was actually quite a bit of female talent. According to our waitress there were two reasons: Velfarre was closed and Le Prive had turned Chinese.

Now for the two AA people who read my page on a regular basis, what I’m about to announce next will come as a complete shock to you. In fact, not only should you be lying down, but you should have a phone with you to dial 911 in the event you go into cardiac arrest. And on top of that, you should have a midget standing by with a cattle prod. Ready?

I did not drink. Not a fricking drop.

Being sick truly sucks for this reason. Forget the aching and phlegming part. I just stuck to Coke and water. All night.

This puzzled the hell out of pretty much everybody who didn’t know I was sick. It seemed like every ten seconds someone would walk over with a bottle and try to pour me a shot; only to look completely disoriented and even terrified when I held up my hand and shook my head. They probably thought they’d somehow ended up in an anti-universe where Up was Down, Night was Day, and I turned down alcohol in a K-Town club.

Don’t get me wrong, I still had a reasonably good time. I talked. I danced. I wrote a haiku. And I became aware of things that I probably missed when I was completely loaded.

1. Drunk people are annoying as fuck. They’re loud. They’re sweaty. They spit when they talk. They think headlocks are legitimate displays of affection. And they think grabbing your ass and other body parts is funny. Which leads me to my next discovery…

2. My guy friends are all gay. Every single one of ‘em, those pervy bastiges.

3. Hot chicks are harder to spot. This one’s pretty obvious, since you’re no longer blinded by the rose-colored glasses of alcohol. Tonight was a good night in terms of babeage, so I was lucky. But there are times when you desperately want to have your vision impaired by Grey Goose.

4. Dancing is boring. Especially when you’re just an average dancer like me. Even freaking a girl gets tiring after a while. Plus, the dance floor was crowded, so all you could do was move your arms and bob your head anyway.

5. It’s hard to have a deep conversation about love, death, and finding the reality within.