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2003-05-19 I am slowly losing my memory. I attribute early onset of Alzheimer's to my excessive use of deodorant. I apply it all over my body because it makes me invisible to the heat-sensor technology in the art museums that I burgle. (Honestly, could that deodorant commercial be any more ridiculous? I really love the part where the man is rubbing deodorant all over the soles of his feet, though, that is totally erotic. Wait—was it an art museum? Was he stealing a painting? See, the memory’s gone.) Actually, memory loss is a side effect of one of the medicines that I’m taking. It’s not a good side effect, like drowsiness or dizziness. It’s one of those undesirable ones, like bleeding of the stomach lining or a life-threatening rash. Naturally, my question is why am I paying two hundred dollars a month to forget my own phone number? I’ve turned into the Let This Be A Warning To Other Children Child in the Afternoon Specials. The episode that immediately comes to mind is the one in which a little boy is wearing a t-shirt that says “Eric” on it. When a swarthy man comes by and says, “Hello, Eric,” the child looks up at him in wonderment and says, “How did you know my name?” The swarthy man replies, “Oh, I’m a friend of your mother’s, and she told me to pick you up from school today.” Eric shrugs his shoulders and says, “Okay!” AND IS NEVER SEEN AGAIN. Perhaps I am being a little dramatic. My amnesia is severe only in the category of celebrity names. Yesterday I forgot Bill Murray, Richard Dreyfuss, someone else whom I can’t remember now, Charo and Shakira. Later, by some mysterious alignment of the lesser planets, I was watching VH1, and I saw Charo actually talking ABOUT Shakira. “Shakira iss original,” she said, “because she iss imitate me, what I was doing many many years ago.” This statement was insightful and, at the same time, made no sense at all. Then I realized that I would really like to watch Charo and Shakira make out, just once before I die.
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