From the Bed of Big Daddy Graham
ON THE MEDICAL FRONT
DONE! Finished the last of my 33 radiation and 8 chemo treatments. The chemo treatments were cake. All I had to do was sit in a recliner while they filled me up with drugs. Hell, I’ve been doing that FOR FUN for years.
The radiation, however, was another story. I had to lay on this narrow flat table where they would strap this mask on me. The mask was a cross between the Hannibal Lecter model and a fencing mask. Maybe you don’t even get what I mean by a fencing mask. Who the hell fences anymore? Come to think of it, I never knew anyone who did. And I believe there was a time when my high school, West Catholic, had a fencing team. Boy, tell me those guys weren’t tormented by the rest of the school. Why do I doubt that being on the fencing team was an advantage for picking up chicks at dances? [SIGNUP]
CHICK So tell me, Biff, what did you get that letter on your sweater for?
CHICK What the fuck is that?
BIFF Does this mean you’re not gonna French kiss me?
Come to think of it, the only time I ever saw anyone fence was in movies. The mean, petty, Ivy League guy always seemed to fence. Or the evil prince. Did you know that Neil Diamond went to NYU on a fencing scholarship? Deduce whatever you want from that fact, it’s on me.
Anyway, a fencing mask was sort of like a mesh thing with tiny, tiny holes. Only the thing I wore had a very hard shell with ten “buttons” on the side of it. The nurses would grab these holes to attach the mask to the table. So it was like wearing this odd mask with four fat dudes pressing down on it as hard as they could. Totally powerless to move.
I would have to lay there for 22 minutes while these giant machines whirled and moved around me. Like that scene in The Exorcist where they’re putting Linda Blair through all those tests. So don’t be surprised if my you see me at a club and my head pulls a 360 on you while we’re chatting about the Phils.
But these radiations are all done now and I wanna thank Renee who ran the Jefferson radiation room. She and everyone there made it s painless as possible. They had this fantastic stereo system and they let me bring in whatever music I wanted. PRAISE THE LORD FOR JAMES BROWN! He ended up being the most played during my 33 days. MAMA, COME HERE QUICK AND BRING ME THAT LICKIN’ STICK!
FROM THE BED
Despite my MR. HOCKEY alter ego, I confess that I really don’t KNOW the game. Often I wonder if anyone does. It’s just a weird sport and it’s the only sport where the regular season MEANS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. I understand that some people think that off all the pro leagues, but with hockey, it’s really true. All I ever hear is that the playoffs are all about “having the hot goaltender.” At the time of this writing, the Flyers are up 2-0 over the Canadians and I’ll be shocked if they don’t go to the Stanley Cup Finals. And how did they get there? With not one, but two goaltenders who have bounced around the league for YEARS. Sports Illustrated, before the playoffs began, ranked the Flyers goaltending as the WORST of all 16 playoff teams. WEIRD SPORT. Maybe because it originated out of Canada? A country where the three most important things in life are beer, cigarettes, and strip cubs. Come to think of it, sounds like someone has got their priorities straight. . . . Has a cellphone battery on 24 ever gone dead? Has anyone ever said “Hold up, I gotta take a leak” or “I’ll be over as soon as I finish my meatball sandwich?” . . . .
The other night there was some odd bug on my TV screen. It wasn’t a fly or a moth, I don’t know what the hell it was. But it was SCARING THE SHIT OUT OF ME. I was too tired to get out of bed and it stayed there for about an hour. It was on Susan Sarandon’s tit for about fifteen minutes. (Come to think of it, not a bad place to be) Then all of sudden it was gone. And THAT bothered me. Maybe it was making its way up my blanket to spend a few minutes ON MY FOREHEAD! And now I couldn’t sleep. Geez, how would I handle an alien? I’d probably drop dead. . . . . Back on WIP, folks, next Wednesday night into Thursday morning, May 27th.
Now is the time to order Last Call, the absolute perfect Father’s Day gift. Go to BigDaddyGraham.com and personalized autographed copy will be mailed right to your home.