Like an asshole, I've been listening to my friend Ed. I've known Ed for what feels like a hundred years, and all he's ever done is gotten me into varying forms of trouble. This time, it was him blabbering on about the Atkins Diet. And that is so fucking weird, because he's like the third person to mention the Atkins Diet this week. The first one who mentioned it was this girl, Lani, who, if I haven't mentioned, I have the most ridiculous schoolgirl crush on. A debilitating crush. It kinda affects my day, like a coke habit. And I'm almost certain that the relationship is going nowhere, if you can call the tenuous quasi-friendship we have a relationship in the first place. The point is: The Atkins Diet.

This is the diet wherein you eat no bread, no pasta, no rice, no sugars, no sodas, only meat. Meat, fish, chicken. Fry it up if you like. Order 7 burgers with onions and cheese . . . only protein, and lots of it. Supposedly, fucker works. Listen--I'm ready to try anything . . . anything, that is, short of a real regimen of diet and exercise. So I decided to join Ed on it.

And I join Ed, too, for an afternoon out. We catch a matinee of an old Billy Wilder film ("The Big Carnival") downtown and then head off to a few bars. Now, since we can't have beer, we have to drink whiskey . . . and we go from place to place, spending dough, until he suggests that we go back to the place he's crashing at. Turns out he's staying at this guy Deke's house . . . Deke who I kinda know. Deke has a killer pad on Ave A in like the heart of all that is envious. And the place is phenomenal. Spacious, full of light, good floors, good furniture, good gadgets. And I know what Deke does for a living and there is no way he can afford this.

So I'm all, Ed, what's the deal, he knows the landlord? And it's the usual thing . . . coupled with his Dad just died and left him a lot of money. I'm jealous as shit of the pad, but I'd rather have my father.

Anyway, we drink more, and them suddenly I'm starving. Ed breaks out Pork Rinds. I've never had pork rinds in my life. I eat them cause I'm starving and they taste kinda good. We drink more and then we start watching some Spike Jonze Wrangler commercials that Deke has. He's got like 20 minutes of un-aired Wrangler commercials. They're fucking brilliant.

Then Ed starts cooking up some "sweet sausage." I've never had "sweet sausage" before, but if I am going to stay on the Atkins diet and get slim enough to convince Lani to sleep with me, I better do it.

We watch the opening sequence to "Full Metal Jacket" and eat "sweet sausage." It's kinda gooey and doesn't tear easy, and I don't know if that's how "sweet sausage" tastes, or Ed just didn't cook it right.

Anyway, I finally remember to call Bill, 'cause he said Erik was coming to his place and that I was invited to go hang with them. I call Bill and Erik left already to go see Freedy Johnston at the Lakeside Lounge. It's free, so it sounds cool.

I like Freedy Johnston, what little I know of him. That song "A Perfect World," which was a hit for him 5 years ago, was real nice. And I've seen him perform before, he used to open for someone I used to go see, but I can't recall who. Anyway, I split from Ed at Deke's place, and head in the butt-fuck-freezing-ass cold to Lakeside Lounge. I get there and it is pretty empty, no Erik either.

There's one hot chick by herself reading a magazine. I talk to her, I get the impression that she might even consider having a conversation with me, but she has a German accent, and I'm just not interested in that. Besides, if I walk away from her, it means I get the victory and she has to go home and wonder what the fuck's wrong with her, and God knows she deserves it.

Anyway, I order up another drink and next thing you know Erik is there. He's illegally dubbing the show like he always is, and Freedy shows up and he's as short as I remember.

He starts talking and talking and not singing. Finally he sings. Just him and his guitar. The mix sounds like total ass. Before the second song, someone tells him, "Dude, your mix sounds like ass," and someone comes to fuck around with the mix. The second song, as a result, sounds much better. I don't know the name of it, the only song I do know of his is "This Perfect World," but it was cool and he does some pretty neat vocal tricks on it. He has a sweet, dare I say beautiful voice, even if he is a jerk on stage.

He was a jerk on stage because he kept talking between songs and boring everyone. He was telling this long-ass story about losing his keys, and I'm like, "Dude, sing." Then he's all like babbling about how people think he's Freddy Jones of the Freddy Jones band, and if anyone thought that the Freddy Jones Band was playing they should all get the fuck out. He actually said this. Meanwhile, my stomach is starting to totally turn from these goddamn "sweet sausages." I am so close to vomiting it isn't funny.

So, even though Freedy Johnston has a wonderful singing voice, I leave before the third song. I jump in a cab and get home and take Maalox. I felt like total shit.