Monday, March 27, 2006
Now This Is A Parrothead, My Phriends......
Wayners is doing doing very well, though he had a bit of a post-op fever yesterday and they've decided to keep him until tomorrow just to be on the safe side. As you would expect, he's chomping at the proverbial bit to get the hell outta that place. He has a lovely view, though, looking south at The BOB, downtown, and South Mountain. If you're headed north up 7th Street from the 10, give him a "Phinz Up" out your window.
He's got his color back and looks pretty robust. I had been fooled into believing that the yellow pallor to his skin was normal. It was actually caused by some dude name "Billy Reubens." I don't know who he is, but I'm kickin' his ass just as soon as I figger it out. The way I understand it, Billy has hauled ass since the surgery and is keeping a low profile. You better, asshole.
Now here's something you don't know. This is the God's Honest Truth. I swear on A Pirate Looks At 50 with one hand and A Salty Piece of Land with the other. This ain't no bullshit. As they were wheeling him out of recovery in an anesthesia and Demerol-induced haze on Friday, having just removed a major organ with what he's convinced was a dull, rusty shovel, we tried to get him to wake up a little and open his eyes. He did so, looking up at us and saying one word:
Beer.
Now that's a Parrothead.
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He's got his color back and looks pretty robust. I had been fooled into believing that the yellow pallor to his skin was normal. It was actually caused by some dude name "Billy Reubens." I don't know who he is, but I'm kickin' his ass just as soon as I figger it out. The way I understand it, Billy has hauled ass since the surgery and is keeping a low profile. You better, asshole.
Now here's something you don't know. This is the God's Honest Truth. I swear on A Pirate Looks At 50 with one hand and A Salty Piece of Land with the other. This ain't no bullshit. As they were wheeling him out of recovery in an anesthesia and Demerol-induced haze on Friday, having just removed a major organ with what he's convinced was a dull, rusty shovel, we tried to get him to wake up a little and open his eyes. He did so, looking up at us and saying one word:
Beer.
Now that's a Parrothead.
