From the Bed of Big Daddy Graham

ON THE MEDICAL FRONT
One of my favorite lines in movie history is from the Vietnam War epic Apocalypse Now. “Never get out of the boat!” Then there’s “Never let anyone outside the family know what you’re thinking!” from The Godfather.

Well, no one has filmed a flick based on my life yet, but they will and I think Denzel Washington should portray me, don’t you? Can’t you just here the ad?

“Denzel Washington IS Big Daddy Graham.”

Well, if there was ever a movie based on what I have gone through the last three months, it would most definitely have to include this line. NEVER LOOK IN THE FUCKING MIRROR! [SIGNUP]

I am down to 189 pounds. The last time I was 189 pounds was the fifth grade. I could beat lots of people up at that point in my life. Now I’m so weak and thin, 8-year-old girls are shaking me down for candy money. Bullies were kicking sand in my face on the beach over Memorial Day Weekend. One-hundred-eighty-nine pounds. Dag!

And, of course, everywhere I go people — nice, well-meaning people — are all telling me how good I look. There are two reasons why they are saying this. One, I’ve kept all my hair. Two, they’re all liars.

Let’s get to the hair. Keeping it is huge. Hair is extremely important in our society. Many people have become famous because of their hair. Elvis Presley. The Beatles. Milli Vanili. It’s the primary reason that the weather report on any newscast is so important. Chicks gotta know what they’re gonna do with their hair. Half the commercials on the tube are hair products and a great deal of those are now hair products for men.

Odd thing about my hair. It hasn’t grown in three months. It has kept the same exact length and my hair normally grows a mile a minute, straight up. BUT I DIDN’T LOSE IT. And that’s all that counts. Sometimes I think some people think I must have had some “weak” or “inferior” type of cancer. Not the REAL deal. How could I? I STILL HAVE MY HAIR.

As for the liars? An odd moment is happening there that is proving just how shallow I am. Here’s how it goes:

FRIEND: Whoa, Big Daddy, you look great.

Now look, I’ve lost 50 pounds. I’ve seen me on TV. I occasionally have seen me in a mirror when, ironically, I brush my hair, and I know I look awful. Like a skeleton. Or like a prisoner who’s been on a hunger strike. (By the way, had I known I wasn’t going to be able to eat, I would have went on a hunger strike against Iran having a bomb or overweight women in bikinis.)

ME: Oh, that’s kind of you to lie, but I look awful.
FRIEND: Oh, now you do not. After all you’ve been through, I think you look great.

Now 99 percent of the time, that is exactly how that conversation goes. But the other 1 percent?

FRIEND: Whoa, Big Daddy, you look great.
ME: Oh, that’s kind of you to lie, but I look awful.
FRIEND: Well, yeah, you do. But what did you want me to say?

Here’s how shallow I am. Even though I have almost forced the hand of my friend to say that, I GET PISSED. In fact, I could NAME you all those people who agreed with me that I looked awful: Brian Whalen, Al Morganti, Wiggles Johnson, Maria DiMuchi, Tony V, Lockjaw Nestor, and Sister Eduardus. And I’ll never, EVER, forget that they agreed with me that I looked awful. THOSE JERKOFFS!

FROM THE BED
I have not eaten any solid food not for over a month. Before this bullshit struck me, there wasn’t a human on earth who could keep up with me in the food department. Remember, I am the only host at WIP who has ever been a contestant at Wing Bowl. When weekends come and I get drunk and wasted, I would eat, in bed, from midnight on, non-stop. I would wake up in a sea of empty bags of cheese curls, cartons of ice cream, cheesesteak wrapping paper (ever notice folks like Geno’s Steaks wrap up a cheesesteak with enough paper to destroy half of Fairmount Park?), chocolate stains on the sheets, and empty cans of Coke. Oh yeah, and a wife laying next to me, poor thing.

I can’t take it anymore. Right now, I would sell my kids to the Arabs just to be able to taste a Wawa coffee roll. When I get my taste buds back I’m gonna eat for a month straight like the fat dude found at the spaghetti table in Se7en. Someone on the air last night asked me to list the first five things I would eat. Here goes:

1. A Mack & Manco’s pizza. (And if I’m not down the shore, a Chickie & Pete’s pizza)
2. A pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough slobbered with hot fudge and whipped cream. (I once went to the Ben & Jerry’s factory in Vermont and it was like a Jew returning to Jerusalem.)
3. Three original recipe thighs from KFC.
4. A bacon cheeseburger from ANYBODY!
5. A bucket of malty balls from the Amish Market in Mullica Hill. They’re the size of golf balls, I swear.

So please, after you read this, have some fries and toast them to me. Maybe it’ll help.