i alternate between fixity and fidgetiness*
…but if you happen to find me nearer the coma or convulsion ends of the spectrum, please tell House that I am up to about four Russians a day now.
*or from coma to convulsions in seventy easy steps
(via Schott’s Sporting, Gaming, and Idling Miscellany by Ben Schott)
chasing the monster
My loco loco habit continues its relentless downward spiral. Every time that I think I have hit rock bottom, I find that there is a new low waiting to be discovered.
Now I can only satisfy my cravings with the Russian variety of this insidious concoction. It is a nonalcoholic version of the Dude’s favorite cocktail that has been laced with extra caffeine, strange varieties of B vitamins, and designer sugar molecules. The worst part is that I know in my heart that the Dude would never be caught dead drinking one of these things. I know that if I drank one of these in front of the Dude, he wouldn’t judge me; the Dude is not judgmental like that. If I drank one of these in front of the Dude, he probably wouldn’t even see me. I would fade into the background with all of the other things that are irrelevant to the Dude. I have become invisible to the Dude.
I can’t even purchase this variety at a discount from the megalomart. I have to go to one of a few gas stations in the area that carry it, and face the condescending looks of a clerk as I pile five or six cans on the counter and pay for them from the wad of dirty cash that I keep stashed in my car for just this purpose. I could use a credit card, but Floyd would never believe that I am buying that much gas.
I keep telling myself that I can beat this thing, but I don’t really believe it anymore.
