February 23rd, 2004

I Will Not Defame New Orleans.

Happy Lundi Gras

Or, if you're living in my world: Happy Necrotic Tonsilitis Day! Woohoo! Partay!

Necrotic. That means my flesh is dying. I've been spitting up chunks of white, dead flesh from my throat all weekend. I've been coating my finger in sea salt and gently sticking it all the way down my throat, coating the walls, then leaving it there for 20 minutes to help draw out the infection. If I ever thought I was a pussy in the pain department, I know otherwise now. Anyone who can stand that 20 minutes, 3 x a day is a fucking S&M master.

I just walked home in a pouring tempest after getting an antibiotic scrip filled, after seeing an $8.66 per min doctor who told me pretty much what I already knew, and gave me what I already thought I needed. I waited three excrutiating fucking days for this? It murders me that I could be three days closer to no longer having molten lava and hot picture nails in my throat if I could have seen someone last week.

The doctor, upon peering down my festering throat: "Eeech! You should have come in last week."

It was left to me to smile politely, or poke him in the eye.

I must say that I am very, verrrry disappointed in my New Orleans people as well. I mean, come on! I bartended hard-core, late-night bars in the Quarter for years. I know you people can get any drugs imaginable at the drop of a hat. And yet no one could respond positively to my plea of, "Just a few penicillin please." Bunch of useless gits, the lot of you. What was the point of all that soul-destroying work on Decatur if I can't ask a simple favor in return? Come on, I got you what you needed, time and time again.

You know what, I'm glad it's raining harder today than it has in eight months. I figure, if I'm going to miss Mardi Gras, so is everyone else, goddammit!

I better finish this up quickly. The Lortab is kicking in and I'm going to be a gooey lump of zombie flesh for the rest of the day. Between the painkillers and the antibiotics, my mouth tastes like someone took a toxic dump in there.

Kiss me, lover.