being eric malkovich

it’s just a quick portal jump

Yesterday afternoon.
Inside Eric’s head

D’oh! I forgot to get cat food again. Maybe pamie picked some up. “Mmm-him-hmm-hmm-heehmm Water! She’s got, duh-da, duh-da-im-him-hum, Lady!”

I love this song. Oh, quick turn! Pamie would have closed her eyes when I made that turn if she were here. Let’s see, do I remember my lines for tonight? No. That’s okay, I’ll learn them. I’m the line master. Linealito.

I’m sexy. I’m funny. I drive my car well. Hey, pretty lady over there, looking at me. Aw, yeah, I see ya. You can look, but you can’t touch, sweet honey.

I’m glad no one ever reads my thoughts. They’d never believe me. I like thinking things. Think. Think. Think. I just did it again.

I wonder if I could buy Trejo a gift and him not think it’s weird. Nah, he might think it’s weird. I’ll have pamie buy him something.

Did I remember to… huh. I can’t remember what I was going to remember. I need to call my dad. I like my car.

Get the mail…. bills, stuff for pamie, stuff for pamie, bills, catalog, ooh! Another CD from Amazon for me. Richard Thompson, you love me like no other.

Park the car, put the CD away, take apart the CD player, pack it up, put things back in my bag, get my cigarettes, move my wallet, grab my clothes, grab my clothes from yesterday, sniff my basketball clothes, walk up the stairs.

“Hey, sweetie!”

Oh, my God. What happened to her? Is she okay?

“Sweetie? Are you okay?”

She’s on the floor.

“Big… Bust in here. Kicked… my ass.”

“Oh, that’s terrible! Look at you!”

“Don’t.. look at…. me. I’m…hid… hideous.”

“Your face is all red.”

“I can’t… feel… my legs.”

I’m hungry.

“That man put sweat all over you, too.”

“And he… he was all… hiiiiihhhh…. meehhhiihhhihhhhEEE.”

I have no idea what that means. Does that mean something? Oh, wait, is she crying? Is she crying? Are those tears? It’s like her face is all squished up, but no sound is really coming out. I wonder if I should get her inhaler.

“And… hheeehhheee. … abs…. ab….ab work…. first…. not… . not…l…..hhhhiihhhh…… not last….lliike usual…. he…oh…hihhhhh… he… ow. ih…. then… butt… butt, butt, butt work… and hih… hihh…”

I wonder if I should pull Cal off her face. He’s really licking her forehead. He might get her eye.

“He… hih… no… no stoppy-stoppy…. no. … no water…. i… .my… i…. owwwww. hhhhhhhiiiiiihhhhhhh. hhhhhhiiiiiiiihhhhhh.”

“Baby, I thought it was my job to do that to you.”

“You…. shut…. thefuck….. up.”

Hee. You’re funny. Now let’s go make a sandwich.


I spent this afternoon whining and limping around. In fact, at one point, I realized I couldn’t finish walking up the stairs to my office and just sat down for a nap. Luckily my co-worker told me how I’d most likely fall down the stairs in the position I was in. He’s always looking out for me. I’m glad that I can still do the Advanced Live, after slacking for so long, but this number seven shit is out of control. Who starts with the abs and floorwork? And then who gets up for aerobics afterwards? And when did Billy give a shit about ab work? Don’t we cover that in the nine-million knee raises? Am I the only one paying attention, here?

Last night I met evany. That girl is a blast. She did the Austin Bar Tour with me. The Austin Bar Tour involves food and drinks around the Warehouse District in a whirlwind of alcohol, music, and friends. It eventually turned into Evany challenging Chuy to a drinking contest. After Chuy stopped laughing he informed her why it was a Very Bad Idea. He told her the tale of the last time someone challenged him to such a contest. Evany seemed to think, “There’s no way this story is true. I so can drink him under the table.” Eric and I have decided that if this does in fact go down, we are going to do whatever it takes to get to that bar tonight and witness Evany’s fight. I promise I’ll take pictures.

Speaking of the Austin Bar Tour, happy birthday, plaintive wail. You funny.

I got a letter from my eye doctor this weekend. Well, not really a letter, per se. I make it sound like he was all, “Dear pamie, how are you? I miss you. Do you think you can visit for Easter?” I got a bill. It says:

68110 – Remove eyelid lining lesion

How fucking sexy is that? Seriously. Jesus, I’m so worked up now, that I’ve got to go lie down. Really. Man. I’m hot. Between my whimpering and groaning and red-eye-drip, I’m the hottest bitch in Texas.

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