:: My weekly non-work schedule ::

Friday, October 15, 2004

Monday: Leave work about 7. Go to Japanese class with two coworkers. I'm taking it as an effort to be able to understand the fixation with explicit gore in Japanese animated cinema. Afterwards I head down to Chinatown to buy orphaned children on the black market and eat them. By consuming their still-beating hearts, I usurp their strength. I am becoming more powerful than I ever imagined I could be (I can now warp lilacs using only my mind). Needless to say, this gives me a serious buzz, so I head uptown for a cool-down at the racquet club. There, I joke with titans of industry about the underprivileged and leer at the receptionist, who is a robot.

Tuesday: Leave work about 7. Head to the urologist. I visit a different one each week. Since I live in a large city, there seems to be an inexhaustible supply. I lie and tell them that I have trouble urinating despite needing to do so frequently, and that on occasion I experience pain in the process. These are symptoms of, amongst other things, an enlarged prostate, so they inevitably perform a rectal exam - which is my reason for going in the first place. Whereas the (cheaper/uglier) whores in the Village charge $50 just to get in your car, I get a vigorous ass-probing for a $15 co-pay, at least until my insurance company catches on. Plus they provide complimentary tissues for cleanup. I return home refreshed and eat a dinner of vodka-soaked uncooked carrots (I live for raw foods) and salami, "accidentally" passing out naked in front of the television while waiting for my roommate to come home.

Wednesday: Leave work about 7 and make a bee-line for the disco. I am usually overcome by intense feelings of vertigo and nausea mid-week, and 12 straight hours of disco-dancing seems to be the only cure. Of course, even with my orphan supplements I don't have the stamina to dance for half a day continuously, so I need a little help from my albino Peruvian assistant. When I tell people that, they usually assume I'm euphemistically referring to cocaine, but I really do have a small Peruvian man devoid of pigment who "spots" me when my legs look likely to give out either physically or by shouting, bilingually, motivational phrases. He also brings me bottled water and fresh towels. About 7am the club patrons start to head out and I have a minute to chat with the owner before heading home, showering, and transmogrifying into a pillar of blue flame, which turns out to be the fastest way to get to work.

Thursday: Thursdays are ketchup days! I ditch work and smear the viscous red condiment all over my body! All day!

Friday: Leave work about 7. I host a poetry slam starting at 10, so I head to the nearest off-track betting facility and dump a few thousand on whatever steed appears to have the firmest backside, all the while chugging Boone's. Somehow I always make it to the Middle-Lower-Dorso-Lateral-Eastern-Side Poet's Cafe and Brothel and start the show on time, though I have no idea how as I only sober up towards the end. The audience always demands I drop some knowledge on them to close the set, which I do because I'm straight hip-hop, and it kills every time. Afterwards I hang out and discuss diverse artistic topics ranging from the specific accounting details of Willie Nelson's tax imbroglio to Solzhenitsyn's feet. I sleep there, surrounded by groupies and hangers-on, because the otherwise I'd be asphyxiated by my overbearing hollow loneliness, and poison (my apartment gets fumigated on Fridays).

Saturday: I begin the weekend by tending to my prized dreadnought, the Lützow, which is moored in an undisclosed location about an hour outside the city. Sunk in 1916 at the Battle of Jutland, its current presence above the waves is a testament to several years worth of painstaking efforts by some of the world's most skilled deep-sea divers and salvage experts, all of whom unfortunately had to be executed after completing the project lest they breach the project's veil of secrecy. Mostly I run around it making airplane noises. After a rejuvenating nap and a game of hopscotch I host a séance helping old people contact departed relatives. This proves to be an extremely effective method of bilking the elderly - far easier than prescription drug scams (which I also conduct).

Sunday: I end my week by re-sequencing the human genome by hand with Albert Hitchcock movies playing in the background.

Posted by morland @ 02:19 PM

:: Comments ::

Who's scared of Clemens? Not those Redbirds!

Posted by: on October 15, 2004 05:43 PM

Sounds like you should start ranting with some of these crazies..
http://newyork.craigslist.org/about/best/

and my particular fave: http://newyork.craigslist.org/about/best/wdc/35014512.html

Posted by: Joey Brooks on October 22, 2004 11:00 AM

just reminding you of your appointment next monday. i've got the fever...for the flavor!!!

Posted by: Dr. Ass on October 26, 2004 03:58 PM

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