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Topic: Brian's Steroid Journal (Read 1196 times) |
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jonny
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Re: Brian's Steroid Journal
« Reply #50 on: Dec 31st, 2003, 3:54pm » |
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Damn!!!!!....I dont even have to read it I just scroll up and down and it keeps me amused.....LMMFAO Hey!!, I amuse easy sue me .................................jonny (Grant, that line about learning how to spell killed me....LOL )
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brain_cramps
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Re: Brian's Steroid Journal
« Reply #51 on: Dec 31st, 2003, 5:11pm » |
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on Dec 31st, 2003, 3:54pm, jonny wrote:(Grant, that line about learning how to spell killed me....LOL ) |
| jonny that was only intended for the guys using highfalutin* words that aren't found in most dictionaries. grant HIGHFALUTIN* http://www.hyperdictionary.com/dictionary/highfalutin Pronunciation: `hIfu'lootn Matching Terms: highfaluting WordNet Dictionary Definition:[adj] affectedly, genteel Synonyms:grandiose, hifalutin, highfaluting, hoity-toity, la-di-da, pretentious Related Terms: affected, ambitious, arrogant, aureate, bedizened, big, big-sounding, bombastic, classy, condescending, convoluted, declamatory, domineering, elevated, euphuistic, extravagant, fancy, flamboyant, flaming, flashy, flaunting, florid, flossy, flowery, fulsome, fustian, garish, gassy, gaudy, Gongoresque, grandiloquent, grandiose, grandisonant, haughty, high, highfaluting, high-faluting, high-flowing, high-flown, high-flying, high-headed, high-minded, high-nosed, high-sounding, high-swelling, high-toned, hoity-toity, inflated, inkhorn, Johnsonian, labyrinthine, lexiphanic, lexiphanicism, lofty, lurid, magniloquent, meretricious, oratorical, orotund, ostentatious, overbearing, overdone, overelaborate, overinvolved, overwrought, patronizing, pedantic, pompous, pretentious, proud, purse-proud, rant, rhapsody, rhetoric, rhetorical, rodomontade, sensational, sensationalistic, sententious, showy, sonorous, stilted, stuck-up, superior, swollen, tall, tony, toplofty, tortuous, uppish, uppity, upstage, vaunting, windy
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jonny
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Re: Brian's Steroid Journal
« Reply #52 on: Dec 31st, 2003, 5:27pm » |
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on Dec 31st, 2003, 5:11pm, brain_cramps wrote:jonny that was only intended for the guys using highfalutin* words that aren't found in most dictionaries. |
| I know that dude....gotta love them fags, Eh! ..........................jonny
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BlueMeanie
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Re: Brian's Steroid Journal
« Reply #53 on: Dec 31st, 2003, 6:39pm » |
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I gota stay outa thisa one. Dont no no big werds like yer all talkin bout. funny post tho.
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Brian_Y
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Re: Brian's Steroid Journal
« Reply #54 on: Jan 1st, 2004, 6:12pm » |
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Day 2, continued... My arrival at work was late and inauspicious. I've become invisible and threatening all at once. It seems strange that one can achieve this level of dualism at such an early stage, but it has happened nevertheless and I take full advantage of it. To do otherwise in a corporate environment is political and career suicide. So it goes. I retreat to my office, shut the door, and compose profanity laden e-mails to my fellow VPs regarding yesterday's meeting RE our vendor and the inevitable debacle to follow. I am gaining a reputation. My face is beginning to flush, quite terribly already, from the effects of the prednisone. My hunger level is increasing. 9.06 AM and I need something to eat. Our Tech Center, being where it is (BFE) I am consigned to the vending machine. Chicken salad sandwich in the triangle package? OK. Not bad, not bad. Another chicken salad sandwich in the triangle package. Mmmm. Not so good, but it's sustenance. I return to my office and I'm writing. And I'm writing some more. And more. It's pouring out of me like ambrosia. My stepbrother sends me an e-mail. "When we gettin' into that absinthe, you magnificent bastard? I'm thirsty"... Me too, brutha. But these damned headaches. How was I chosen for CHs? How was a 5 year old chosen for leukemia? I keep it in perspective. Whining is for the weak and Canadians. I go back and forth between CH.com and another favorite site I visit, discussing this and that reading this and that. I'm clock watching. But I've achieved that special place in physics where my perception of the passage of time does not equal the passage itself. I am boring myself. I wonder about things. I am 36 years old, but I have the sexual desires of an adolescent gibbon. I walk around imagining a tryst here. A tryst there. I remind myself I am taking steroids. This will pass. I wonder what it would feel like to kill a man.
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« Last Edit: Jan 1st, 2004, 6:16pm by Brian_Y » |
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Brian_Y
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Re: Brian's Steroid Journal
« Reply #55 on: Jan 1st, 2004, 6:16pm » |
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More Here... Lunch arrives and it's Arby's today. I'm in the mood for the Big Montana with the curly fries, but the French Dip with Swiss is calling me. So I'm standing in line. Some woman cuts, in effect, up to the front of the line carrying her sandwich. The one she's already bought. I know what's coming. I fucking know it. This obese, polyester adorned, geriatric trailer trash is bitching about the fact her sandwich is too greasy. Too greasy. The prednisone stirs the anger in me. "Oh, I opened this here thang and it was all greezy on the bottom and I'll jist take one uh them thar regler roas' beef sammiches". I am incensed by this. This woman has lard stains around the corners of her mouth and she's whining about grease (or, might it be that delectable juice Arby's marinates their sweet meat in? Who knows?)?!! I feel my blood pressure rise. And like all good rednecks, her justification to the broken, bitter manager drones on and on and on and on and on. I listen to all of it. I wonder what it would feel like to kill a woman? My French dip sandwich is exquisite. The day goes on. I make vague references to people I know about my heart rate. I hear ladybugs crawling on the window of my office. It's 3.45. Home. The rest of the night is spent watching Spongebob Squarepants. Our babysitter, having jacked the wife and I at the 11th hour, we are consigned to spending the evening in. The absinthe looks at me from around the corner. I fall asleep around 11.30. I dream of bees. Day 3 Coffee. Cigarettes. Prednisone. Pumpkin Bread and butter, slightly warmed. It is in the mid 30's outdoors. I survey my kingdom, my backyard. My cat rubs against my leg, purring. The breeze stirs my hair. It is early. It is the first day of 2004. I want to see the moon as blood. Rest of Day 3, Day 4 beginning tomorrow
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« Last Edit: Jan 1st, 2004, 6:20pm by Brian_Y » |
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Woobie
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Re: Brian's Steroid Journal
« Reply #56 on: Jan 1st, 2004, 6:26pm » |
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Awesome!!
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Not4Hire
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Re: Brian's Steroid Journal
« Reply #57 on: Jan 1st, 2004, 7:51pm » |
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BC quoted: Quote: the only one that doesn't *fit*.... is tall i have it from unnamed sources that he's really 4'17"....without the cuban heels. this part DOES trouble me though: "the tiki lamps lighting their way threw meaningless shadows against thier breasts. They were thirsty. "
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Mantra: This will NOT kill me...This will not KILL me... This will not kill ME...
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nancyc
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Re: Brian's Steroid Journal
« Reply #58 on: Jan 2nd, 2004, 1:38am » |
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Bri, what the hell are you doing????? You dont need that job...you need to write a book....I am in awe of you. Thanks for the inspiration, the laughs and the tears as i read your post today....You are so damn talented (even if you are on prednisone) ...I have to nominate this as the best post of the year! nancyc
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« Last Edit: Jan 2nd, 2004, 1:41am by nancyc » |
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Brian_Y
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Re: Brian's Steroid Journal
« Reply #59 on: Jan 2nd, 2004, 7:06pm » |
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I have much to tell. I may get this in tonight. I may not. I'll do the rest of Day 3 and all of Day 4 as soon as possible. Life is very long when you're lonely.
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Donna_D.
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Re: Brian's Steroid Journal
« Reply #60 on: Jan 2nd, 2004, 8:19pm » |
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Brian, There is no getting around it. There is no denying it. You have been caught in the act. I have only one question... ...and it is a BIG ONE. Donna D.
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Brian_Y
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Re: Brian's Steroid Journal
« Reply #61 on: Jan 2nd, 2004, 8:23pm » |
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I'll write whatever y'all want me to. Just lemme know...
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OneEyeBlind
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Re: Brian's Steroid Journal
« Reply #62 on: Jan 3rd, 2004, 12:13am » |
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Ok, laughed till I pissed myself. I've changed my panties now ........ please continue !
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Melissa
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Re: Brian's Steroid Journal
« Reply #63 on: Jan 3rd, 2004, 11:04am » |
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Brian, I so enjoy reading your daily activities. Nothing like Arby's regulars and strange dreams, not to mention an active mind. Reminds me so much of my own life experiences. Keep going...
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Paigelle
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Re: Brian's Steroid Journal
« Reply #64 on: Jan 3rd, 2004, 11:25am » |
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I love Arby's! However I don't understand why a fat, polyester clad, redneck would be concerned about grease. I mean polyester doesn't stain, might melt though. Of course this is probably one of those people that ordered everything fattening on the menu and a small Diet Coke. Brian you should publish your steroid journal. Great entertainment for us or maybe we need to get lives.
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Brian_Y
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Re: Brian's Steroid Journal
« Reply #65 on: Jan 3rd, 2004, 6:01pm » |
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Day 3 continued I spent the rest of the day in a semi-haze. I went to bed late, as mentioned, woke up late for me (7.30 AM), and milled about the house. I looked at the mess I had created. I looked at the mess my child had created and I felt demotivated. Sunken. Not enough time in the day to do what I want to do. Not enough time in this life to do what I want to do. But I slept the night through. That was one thing. Something I should be thankful for. But I am not. Around noon that day, I receive a call from my brother telling me that our mother has been moved from ICU to a "regular" room. He gives me the room number and when they'll be actually moving her (this was forthcoming). I am pleased by this news, but apprehensive still. A chronic and insufferable disease which will never, ever let go has grabbed her. It has settled in. She has been given a reprieve. He asks me if I am coming to the hospital (some 80 miles away) the next day. I say I am and we say our goodbyes. The Yorks, as you have surmised, are not a close bunch. We spend time together during the holidays drinking whiskey sours and shaking our collective heads at the neighbors. Subconsciously, I think we all wish we were someplace else. But we have been thrust together and we have been thrust together with a purpose. The holidays, the purpose is the holiday. My mother's decline and fall has brought my brother and me together. I remember, after having ridden in the ambulance with her the first day she was brought in, after we had ascended in the elevator to the 5th floor (ICU), and we had had our conversations with the doctor, my brother stares off into the distance for what seems like 20 minutes, turns to me and says, "Well...Very good. Shall we go, then?" Yes, I think that would be a fine idea. Day 4 This is the last day of the strong doses of the prednisone. After today, I begin the taper down. I am not feeling well. In fact, my mind turns inward. It is betraying me. How odd that just days before the words and the power and the very fiber that was my being poured from me like a symphony. Today, it is the funereal dirge. I am going to visit mother today. I drop the wife off at the Volvo dealership (Volvo needs some scheduled maintenance), they supply her with a nice 740i BMW to drive until the next day, and I make my way to Charlotte, NC. I ride with David Bowie and Vic Chestnutt and a collection of ambrosia-voiced Celtic women. Bowie tells me "Understanding comes with death's release". Indeed. The hospital is vibrant today. Alive. This Fujiian strain of the flu has gripped the Queen City like a vice. Truth be known, this is the third hospital (and last, obviously) they had to admit my mother into. Everywhere else was full. The Middle Ages with traffic lights.
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« Last Edit: Jan 3rd, 2004, 6:04pm by Brian_Y » |
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Brian_Y
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Re: Brian's Steroid Journal
« Reply #66 on: Jan 3rd, 2004, 6:05pm » |
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More Here When I reach her room, she is half-sitting in the bed. She stares at me vacantly, not clear who I am. It dawns on her and she is happy. She is struggling to breathe. But she welcomes me in and I sit. I tell her of the Nutcracker Ballet and Christmas and the inevitability of 2004. The absence of champagne. A spat I am having with a friend. It is pleasant. But she begins to drift off and I am left there, alone, with her. I have not known many things in this life as lonely as Cluster Headaches. They are not quiet. They howl like sunspots in my mind, but they are so, so lonely. I have gnawed at the foot of chairs and tables like an animal while being visited by them and yet the tremor of the universe tells me that I there by myself. And like a silent film, the scene arises up and up and up until no one can hear me any longer. And I disappear, a speck of dust in the infinity. The North Carolina wind stirs a bare branch outside of her window. It is as silent as the tomb. A machine by her bedside hums and clicks and pushes medication into her waiting and fragile veins. I place my hands on her arm and it is as dry as paper. I lean in to hear her breathe and I can feel this monster inside of my head aching. Bargaining with me. "Shhhh", I whisper. You'll be back soon enough. My drive back was sad and reflective. I had "borrowed" some valium from a caring and benevolent relative. It keeps me quiet. And I keep telling the beast to hush. Hush. I know you are there. But do you not feel the steroids, do you? You are doing battle with them and it is all I can to do simply hope they retreat. Find some other perch. Arriving home, we are off again to the brother and sister in-laws. Barbeque and Frogmore Stew (shrimp, sausage, potatoes, corn on the cob--A South Carolina favorite). I eat like it is a last meal. 3 sandwiches, 20 or so shrimp. Lots of sausage. Sweet Coca-Cola. In some catatonic state, I watch Clemson beat Tennessee in the Peach Bowl. I am saddened by this. Clemson. I spit on your institution of higher learning. Phooey. We are back at the house late. My child is a doll in my arms, I carry her small frame to the bed, undress her, and place her beneath the blankets. I watch her for what seems like hours. I touch her cheek. So soft. Later that night as I lie in bed and dreams begin to overtake me, I keep thinking of my mother. She grasped the side of the bed, claiming the need to get comfortable. I thought momentarily she was crawling back to me from some unknown place. My sleep was deep and disturbed. And then around 2.00 AM, my eyes pop open. He is back. ....continued
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« Last Edit: Jan 3rd, 2004, 6:08pm by Brian_Y » |
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BlueMeanie
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Re: Brian's Steroid Journal
« Reply #67 on: Jan 3rd, 2004, 7:05pm » |
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Wondering. Waiting. Waiting with anticipation. Will when the next day get here ? Great Job Brian.
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nancyc
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Re: Brian's Steroid Journal
« Reply #68 on: Jan 4th, 2004, 2:08pm » |
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OK, BRI....it is after 2pm on the 4th....post! WHERE are YOU? nancyc
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Woobie
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Re: Brian's Steroid Journal
« Reply #69 on: Jan 4th, 2004, 2:11pm » |
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NO SHIT! anticipation is KILLIN me! HURRY UP!
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« Last Edit: Jan 4th, 2004, 2:11pm by Woobie » |
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Paigelle
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Re: Brian's Steroid Journal
« Reply #70 on: Jan 5th, 2004, 11:43am » |
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Frogmore stew? On the coast of NC we call it a Carolina Bucket and it is served in a 5 gallon bucket. Depending on time of year we also add oysters and clams. I am really hungry now. Will you please tell us some more?
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nancyc
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Re: Brian's Steroid Journal
« Reply #71 on: Jan 5th, 2004, 12:36pm » |
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OK, BRI, you have had enough of a break...where the hell are you? You got me worried now...dont make me come looking for you. nancyc
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Jayne
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Re: Brian's Steroid Journal
« Reply #72 on: Jan 5th, 2004, 12:49pm » |
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Brian...you should be taking something else apart from steroids alone.........VERAPAMIL!!!!!!!
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If you haven't laughed today, it's been a wasted day.
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Brian_Y
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Re: Brian's Steroid Journal
« Reply #73 on: Jan 5th, 2004, 1:25pm » |
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Things are not going so well. Not in any context. I am working on completion of these things. I am working on them, but I am..alive... Jello Boy
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Paigelle
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Re: Brian's Steroid Journal
« Reply #74 on: Jan 5th, 2004, 1:26pm » |
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What flavor of Jello?
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