Me and my Monkey hate to commute, and I got pierced

It was a dark and stormy night and my monkey was howling.  Actually is was a dark and stormy week and my monkey had been howling for a while.  Friggin' goddamn howler monkey been whispering in my ear (it was loud in my head, at least his message was) and I was starting to listen.  Damn, I missed that dude! 
Anyhow, he was telling me things and I was starting to really want to hear them, because they made sense, you see, lots and lots of sense.  I was waking up and remembering things.  Not the time travel kind of remembering things when you did that one thing that one time and it takes you back, not really, but kinda just like that.  He reminded me of who I used to be, and what I used to want out of life, and the dreams and aspirations I had had once upon a time.  He was constantly putting these thoughts in my head and it was causing me to question damn near everything.
Damn near everything...
It was sad, and it was exciting at the same time.  It was inspirational and awe inspiring, man, I used to ROCK!  It was depression and disheartening, man, look at what I have become.  I still blame it all on customer service... but I will probably get back to that.
Jebus had his hands on me also.   There was no fight between my monkey and my man, it was all copacetic.  Looking at it with a critical eye (because I always look back and wonder about things) it is as if my monkey was putting thoughts in my head and Jesus (or his dad) was slapping me in the face.  Each step of the way, and it wasn't always obvious at the time, but looking back, there were spiritual ninja kicks to my brain balls (I don't know) reinforcing the thoughts I was having and the actions I was starting to take.
For example, I had to go and do this thing for work, I am still not really sure the point of it except for getting more people enjoying the kool-aid, but doing that in itself was a kick in the nads, and again, looking back, it was as if the hand of god threw me in there like a knuckle-ball into the mitt of fate.  I came out very self aware and ready to kick some ass.  I also came out realizing there was a lot of ass to kick and I didn't really want to travel into that battlefield. 
So, anyway, I came out of it all pumped up and wanting to kick someones ass and needing a haircut (really) and thinking about how my wife told me about this tattoo parlor that did haircuts and I thought, you know what, I need my damn haircut and I need to pierce my nipple.  Now... Tonight!!!  And it was like I was being guided by a firm hand on my back, pushing me in the right direction *see, monkey making me want to do something crazy and my man sending me in the right direction, it was perfect.  And 20 years in the making. 
So there I GO, I tell my lovely wife I am going to get my haircut and probably my nipple pierced and she was all for it, go and do you thing, I think is what she said. 
So, it was like this:
Monkey says: Better stop at the liquor store first.
My Man says:  You should get some money out of the cash machine.
Monkey says:  Better get a shitload.
My Man says:  Good idea.
Monkey says: Get some Wild Turkey for your old lady.
My Man says: Yeah!
Monkey says:  Get a little something for yourself and get your ass down to the tattoo place.
My Man was quiet...
So I did, and I did, and I went walking in and I am all like, HEY!  I want to get my haircut and pierced, who wants to go first.  The barber chick was hella preggers and said the piercing dude wasn't there but she could cut my hair.  So I got my haircut... some story, huh?
Hold On!  So the piercer might be at the other parlor, you want me to call?  Yeah.  Ok.  So she calls and he IS there and she says, OK, I am sending you a nipple... She tells me where it is and I bust a move.  It's only about 8 miles away on the same street, so I head out as fast as I can, being safe, of course... Yada yada yada and the dude tells me to take a deep breathe and to exhale and then I saw stars and felt a tug for a second and it was done and I was bleeding like a motherfucker and it didn't even hurt.  Oh, and he gave me some stickers.
My monkey also pointed out to me that WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? a couple days later and punched me in the stomach and made me puke at the bus stop.  He did this a couple times before I got the hint that I really hated riding the bus for 2 hours each morning and dealing with hideously insane people on a daily basis.  I sucked it up for a couple days, but one day I couldn't take it any more.
I got off the bus downtown and puked as soon as the bus pulled away.  It was rainy and cold and the insane dude was walking around the parking lot.  He actually came and sat down in the shelter and started talking some crap of some sort, and I was within 30 seconds of convincing myself to catch the next bus home when my bus showed up.  I got on, kinda depressed about the whole thing and feeling oogy, and at every stop I heard this screaming in my head to get off the bus, get off the bus, get off the bus.  Yes, no, yes, no... Finally we were at the last Seattle stop, all the way up to the U district, and I got off.  I got off and puked in the bus shelter, then I called in sick... Then I felt so much better.  Incredibly better.  Fantastic, actually. 
OH, I hate my job!  No, I thought about it, actually, I hate going IN to my job, if I could do it from home everything would be cool. 

I smell real good and my back is oily...

Hey, I'm on my new computer, look at me...
Ok, so you know how I was telling you that I was going to the spa with my team from work? Yeah? No?
Well, somehow before I showed up my team did something fantastic and they won something, I am not really sure how it came down, but all of a sudden my boss (X-Khan) tells us we are going to the spa and do we want a facial or a massage... Heh..
So, that was today. The plan was that we would leave at 11 and go the Purple, which is apparently a wine bar. There was a lot of wine there so I have to believe them. Anyway, me and the dude that sits next to me and this chick that sits across the way, we walked up there, took the long way around because we were idiots or something, but we got there ahead of all the people that drove, so there. Anyway, we get there and they tell us to go upstairs and into the back and so we did and there was the biggest friggin table I have ever seen up there and it was really cool. We all sat down and ordered wine and they brought appetizers (horse de overies) of that cheese wrapped in filo dough and baked (damn that stuff is good) and some pita bread that we were supposed to spread this dippin' stuff on... it was ok, except for the red dippin' sauce... I got to listen to many amusing conversations, but me and the dude that sits next to me (who was sitting next to me) just kinda sat there... he was being shy, I think, and I was just listening and plotting... and I think I was kinda nervous about the massage I was gonna be getting...
See, I had never gotten a massage before... You know, professionally... I was thinking about it, see, I had always told people that I needed to maintain a steady level of stress and was worried that I might lose my groove is someone fucked with that... Hell, I had a million excuses really, but to be honest (perhaps) I think it might have something to do with having some strange person touching me for money... running their oily fingers through my pelt, you know... some people don't dig the pelt for some reason... although, the ones that do enjoy the pelt are the best people in the world...
Anyhow, we walked and talked on the way down to the spa and the dude I was with was telling me about his last massage and how he was sitting around naked with this robe on and all these hot masseuse gals were walking around and they would come and get you and dry your feet because you had been soaking them in hot water and something, and he was all full of anticipation or something and all of a sudden this guy (Paul?) came for him and he ended up being naked and getting a massage from a dude... I thought about his story trying to figure where the problem was, then I figured he was a little something something about having been manhandled... hmmnn, I was not especially worried about some dude rubbing all over me... I don't think, I don't know, I just remember wondering about it...
Like, was I just supposed to strip down naked when I got there? Would we all be sitting around naked with robes and drinking champaign, me and my co-workers??? Oh, it went on and on...
Well, before I tell you that, let me tell you, Belltown is full of friggin' wasteoids... Holy Shit, I never seen so many people walking around stoned... I mean really really stoned... all slitty eyed and walkin' slow and definately high... it was wild...
This dude went up the the dirty hippie I work with and asked for change, right, and the dude I work with was all like, why the hell would I give you any change, you got money for cocaine, so why would I give you some change, and they dude was all like, whaaattt? and the dude I work with told him he had a white circle around his nostril from snortin something, and the dude was all like, oh yeah, shoot... and went walking away (wiping his nose)...
Anyhow, this is really getting long, so let me say, I drank champaign all swanky like out of a cup that looked like one of those old jam jars, I didn't get to see any of my co-workers naked, I didn't get naked myself, kept my man panties on (yeah, I wore panties today since I was concerned, you dig) and had one hell of a fantastic massage... only lasted half an hour, but I can definately see why people would do that...
Anyway, I was making some small talk with the gal that was rubbing me and I asked her if she gave massages because she loved people, and she said no. She did it because she could make more money working part time doing this than she could working full time doing something else...
Then I told her about the Jesus blog and tried to explain about what it was and stuff, but I don't think I did a good job. She asked if I meant the Jesus from the bible and I was like, yeah, but he is like a normal dude that just does things... and she was like, what? and I told her about the cape and giving high 5's and how he had a lamb named Karen and stuff, but there was just something missing, like I was insane or she was not amused, I don't know... but I did my part, you know, tried to spread the word... whoa... does this mean I have a relationship with Jesus now? hmmnnn...
Oh, and I think I might be sick... my throat hurts, but my lovely hawt wife says it might be from the massage... I think it is because the dude that sits next to me infected me because my throat was sore this morning and I feel all phlegmy.. flemmy... runny boogery down the throaty... damn...

You are asking me if this is the whole world, and I am telling you it is

Dude,
I should have been a lumberjack. Can you dig it? Standing out in the forest with an axe in my hand, swinging it around with precision as some big fat tree. Dude, the tree's wouldn't give me any shit. For real, they would just stand there and take it, until I knocked their ass down. It would have been sweet. All the noise and falling and stuff. I would give them a gentle pat as they lay there and then move on to the next one.
A tree would never tell me I was overqualified to chop it down, hell no...
I mean, I guess I just didn't realize it, that I was overqualified and shit... You get so deep into it that you don't notice it after a while. You know what I mean?
Its like, if you spend 3 seasons training in the octagon to be a supreme lover, then you take your skills and training on the road, you know, humping all the lovely ladies, sometimes for money, sometimes for pity, sometimes out of boredom, and it all becomes a blur. You get used to the moaning and wiggling around and pretty soon you start thinking:
"Hey" you think, "That's what all the ladies do, huh? Moan and wiggle around all over the place, and they're all sweaty and its hard to keep a grip on them and then they fall off the bed and they laugh and you laugh and then they cowgirl up and you finish the job and get paid (or leave them there crying because they never had it so good and life is so unfair and how come their husband never gives it to them like that or you just put your pants on and tell them you are running to the store, same old story). It's pretty normal, eh?"
But then, you decide to take your skills somewhere exotic, like, oh, I don't know, Arizona or something, and down there they are all like, uh, yeah, that would be great, but you are overqualified to hump my brains out, you would probably ruin me for other men and you would immediately get bored with me and besides, I don't really have the room (if you know what I mean). So you sit there in your motel room, lonely, wondering how you are gonna ever get there and what the hell do they mean by that anyhow, overqualified to hump their brains out??? I wouldn't mind... you know, I'll throw you a bone, no biggee... you could probably fit me in somewhere...
OK, people, snap out of it... I know most of you are daydreaming by now, vivid picture in your head of me running around naked, but I got a point (no pun intended)!!!
Lets see, how can I say this without really saying it...
Ok, so I was "sick" a couple days ago, so I went to see "the doctor"... are you with me so far? Good...
So I went to "the doctor" and actually ended up meeting with 3 or 4 "doctors" and they asked me all sorts of "medical" questions, to see how I "feel" and how I ended up in this "state"...
And they told me there was nothing "wrong" with me, and that actually I was in perfect "health" and they would follow up with me the next day with the "results" of the "tests" they ran, you dig...
So, I was sitting by the phone like an ugly girl on Friday night that would "give it up" to the next dude that calls and they would really enjoy it because it had been 5 years since I "gave it up"...
So I was sitting here, and finally the "doctor" called and they were all hemming and hawing and finally they told me I was "overqualified" for the "sickness" they currently had going on in their "hospital" and although they wouldn't mind "checking me in" to their "hospital" in the "sickness" they did have going on, they were scared I would get "bored" and "something something"... but they might have a "sickness" coming up in a few months that I could "suffer from"...
So, to summarize:
1) I am a highly trained lover for hire.
2) I wanna take my humping skills on the road
3) I am "too sick" to be admitted to the "hospital"

***
Lets get real for a minute.
Ok, so my lovely wife went to Portland last weekend for some training and somewhere in there she found time to spend $2000 on a couple pairs of jeans. She told me she did this and I was, at first, all like, "HEY!!!" and "WTF?!?!" and I think I said something about how they better be a fine pair of jeans for that kind of money, etc... I think I was required by law to have this reaction.
So she came home and she was wearing a pair of these jeans she bought, and may I saw, GAWDDAMN!!! I didn't think it was possible for her to get any finer, but there she went again, raised the bar (in more ways than one if you know what I mean). I won't go into too much detail, but I will emphasis the fact that, DAMN!!! she looks good in them jeans... She's all walking around in front of me in them and I am,like, following the bouncing ball... watching the lyrical, uh, bouncing... of... uh, ok, I'm just going to say it, her fantastic butt. Yeah!!!
Dude, its like, everytime I look at her I am shocked at how gorgeous she is and talented and stuff, and I am amazed that there is not some sort of rope around her telling me not to "touch the artwork". Maybe there should be, cause everytime she comes into reach I feel the need to, uh, damn, reach out to touch her... not all nasty like, not all the time, you know, just stroke her arm or something. She's like a fine little filly that I just want to uh... dammit, ok, ride all the time... but I don't necessarily mean that like, you know, ride, I mean it more like I want to uh... damn... you know, I just love her and stuff and she is so fine and "HEY BABY!!!" and things...
So there you go... there you go again, being all fine... wow...

Sneaking up like celery, yeah, I'm stalking...

Last night I dreamed I was a beatnik or a beat type dude, you know, like Kerouac and Ginsberg and such...
Anyhow, I was heading out to take this teaching job, and I was taking this girl with me. We were going to start a new life, settle down, be respectable.
So we get to this house where we were going to live and everything seemed cool, but there was something bothering me, I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Then this dude showed up outside and it was the girls boyfriend or ex boyfriend or something, and he had followed us because he wasn't ready to give her up, and it became apparent that the girl thought this was pretty cool, although she wouldn't say so. So I start being a man and getting all pissed and scared at the same time, cause the dude was huge and mean looking.
So I was going to go and kick his ass but the girl didn't want me to, she said she would go and talk to him. I told her that there was nothing to talk about, he was the "EX" and that meant there was no reason to continue any relationship of any kind, you dig... she started getting all twitchy and I started running around trying to find the guy and hide from him at the same time. I finally yanked the girl outside through the back door and the dude caught up with us. He grabbed her and I knocked him down. I started beating on him but it didn't seem like I was really landing any blows with the rage that I wanted to. I kept hitting him and hitting him and he started crying and stuff, and the girl was crying and yelling at me to get off of him.
So I stopped and it seemed obvious that I was the odd man out. He was more important to her than I was so I walked off.
So I ended up at this club of some sort. There were a bunch of artsy type people all over the place, being beatniks and such, eating and drinking and reading poetry and doing performance art. There was a young girl there (may have been the Noner) and I remember she went into this room to watch some people acting, and someone mentioned that it might not be appropriate for her to be in there. I went in and there was some sort of trapeze performance going on, but it wasn't just people doing flips and stuff, there were people all dressed up in different costumes and they were acting up on a platform and throwing shit around and it was pretty cool. I didn't see anything especially inappropriate but I thought the Noner might be confused by it. I looked at her and could tell she thought it was the coolest thing in the world.
So I went back out to where everyone else was and was hanging out on the patio feeling like I needed to act out somehow. There was some sort of tree or cactus or something set up on the patio, real big, and I took a leap at it and knocked it down. The owner of the place started yelling and we all started running. We were laughing as we ran, at first, but then I realized we were being chased by some bikers. We split up and were running in and out of these trees and bushes and stuff, I was trying to run real fast, but let these 2 gals keep up with me. They were still laughing and I was trying to get them to move faster. They got caught so I stopped running and went back for them.
The bikers grabbed me. They took me somewhere and suddenly I was negotiating with them to let me go. The 2 girls were there and I was telling the bikers that they could have sex with the girls if they let me go. I realized this was kinda strange, like why did I have permission to bargain like this, you know, and I looked at the girls. They didn't seem to mind, seemed kind of intrigued. I told the one biker he could have sex with this brunette as long as he gave her some little bit of pleasure. She piped up and said that she had trouble having orgasms but thought she might be able to if the guy tried real hard. I was taken out of the loop at that point... I got free... I walked out into the world and looked around. I had nowhere to go and didn't know what to do with myself.
Right about then I woke up...

***
I stayed home from work on Thursday...
I felt like crap.
I was all ready to go to work, was going to be tough and shit. Had my lunch ready, took my shower, drank my coffee, sat down on the couch to put my shoes on, and actually got them on and laced up. I just sat there. I had the cold sweats, was tired and my chest was wheezing. I thought about what should I do... I watched the clock and tried to power up. Pretty soon I had missed my bus. "Fuck it", I thought to myself... I grabbed the phone and dialed up work. There ain't noone here at that time in the morning so I started dialing extensions that I hoped would get me to the managers line. Dude, I swear I dialed a combination of #'s that should have gotten me to were I wanted to go about 10 times... different combo's I hope... I very well could have dialed the same set of numbers 5 of those times with the same crappy results... So I ended up leaving a message on a coworkers voice mail and hoped for the best.
So I layed down on the couch and slept for a couple hours, since my bed was full up. Pretty soon people start getting up and pretty soon my lovely wife is up...
Now, I am scared of her, you know... Scared that she is going to think that I am the biggest puss in the world.
Being the alpha male, you know you gotta be at the top of your game. Any sense of weakness and the other hounds start sniffin' around. Also, being at the top of your game keeps the alpha female at your side. If the alpha female goes, all the rest of the females go too... I gotta keep my pack in line so I was totally mental...
I was feverish (feverful?) and when my lovely wife asked me "Hey, you big puss, what are you doing home? Do you have a tummy ache? You suck, don't you?!?" I felt backed into a corner and said I was hella sick and I was going to the DR.
She told me the Dr. was just going to tell me I was sick and stupid and a big puss and she could do just as well... It would go something like this: "You are a big sick puss and you are ugly and your breath smells and you are FAT and stop being such a big puss you ugly fat stinky asshole!"
I snapped at her about some sort of imaginary belief that she hates me and hates it when I am home and/or generally alive.
She mentioned that I was living in a world of make believe or some sort of alternate universe... which blew my mind because I swear she just called me names or something...
Anyhow, I kept up the charade act being sick and she suggested to me that if I was going to be a puss the clinic I might as well take the Noner since she ACTUALLY WAS SICK.
damn...
So, we went to the Dr's after a bit more drama which we need not go into.
We got there right at opening and they got us in damn quick...
They start running us through the paces, made the Noner get up on the scale and she was a cute little 52 lbs... cute... So I get on the scale and it starts creaking and smoking and shit... all these numbers are running around and around like some sort of slot machine in a cartoon... pretty soon this red light starts flashing... on the readout it said "one person at a time, please" and the nurse hit this override button to let it now there WAS only one. "Really?!?" said the readout... she hit the ok button. It started shaking again and all of these numbers started popping up... The nurses eyes got REAL big and she looked from the readout to me and back to the readout... she started shaking her head as she wrote the number down on my chart. She pulled me into the other room and gave the chart to the other nurse... the other nurse looked at it, then looked at the first nurse, then back to the chart, then back to the first nurse, then they both looked at me... they were impressed, yet not impressed, if you know what I mean... I was going to joke with them and tell them it was all cock, but I was feverish (feverful?) and not thinking straight... I could tell they were disgusted with me...
So they took my pulse and my blood pressure and such and herded us into another room (probably so the other patients wouldn't be shocked at our appearance...
Nice Dr. Aguillar came in... started asking what was wrong with the Noner... Fever, cough, stuff like that... It was sad... he took her temp, listened to her lungs, looked in her ears... Told me she was sick.
Then he looked at me and said "whats wrong with you, you big fat pussy?" and I said, well, I got this here wheeze, and cold sweats, and fever and stuff... He said it was probably because I am a big fat fucker, but what the hell, lets take a look... He looked in my mouth and his eyes got all big... "Hhmnnn..." he said.
He pulled up my shirt and found a spot where the hair was not too thick and put the stethoscope on it... told me to breath, and breath again, and again... he told me to cough... so I coughed... he told me to breath again...
"Hhmnnn..." he said...
"well, you fat fucker, apparently you are sick also, but much much worse... You have Atypical Bacterial Bronchitis!!!"
He started writing out prescriptions... Antibiotics, an inhaler and some cough syrup... But because I am a white male between 18 and 40 he only gave me a thimbleful of cough syrup, in case I got sick just to get some codeine... He told me to go home and sleep and drink a lot of fluids...
So me and the Noner went rolling across town to get our scrips filled... I tried to rush it so I could get the car back to my lovely wife before she had to leave... I felt bad for her, since I was truly dieing and she would soon be a widow and she would have to start all over and find a new better husband so I could sit in whatever place I end up and look up or down (as the case may be) and cry because she is so much happier now...
But the friggin' pharmacist was fucking around with some dude that had been diagnosed with Diabetes or something... explaining shit to him... oh, boo hoo, poor diabetic... DAMMITT... I am dying here... gimme my drugs...
So while we waited we ran to the store and got some Sprite.. and a couple Lunchables for the girls, and a couple of Tony's Pizza's to get me healthy again...
Uhhh... Damn, long story short... I went home, the lovely wife was gone, it was better that way, no need for her to start worrying yet... let her have a few more hours of relative security before she moves on...
So I ate pizza, took some codeine cough syrup, topped it off with some dextromethorphan (I read somewhere this was a good idea) and went to bed... when my lovely wife got home I informed her I was dying, truly truly sick, and suggested that she wait until after my body had been disposed of before she started dating again... She agreed to wait... but only if I promised not to hang on for TOO long...
So I slept, took my medicine, took a shower, trimmed the forest (boys do it too), etc., etc...
Unfortunately for my wife I have survived... I can smell now, I am not coughing, my lungs are not weezing... it is sweet...
donuts in the last 4 hours), see if I can't lose about 20 lbs... My personal goal is to be able to buy some original Levi's 501 shrink to fit jeans and actually wear them... eventually cut them off for some kick ass boys daisy dukes... I am practicing (in my mind) already... I am starting to watch my diet (as I type this, let it be known, that I have eaten 4 Krispy KreamOoops, my wiener fell out of my shorts again... here, let me pick that up for you (as I bend over, ass in the air for full affect)... it is going to be so sweet...

The Dr. is In...

Over the last week I came to the conclusion that I either stepped on a gypsies foot and she cursed me, or I am rotting from the inside out. I went through all the scenarios... from accidentally stepping on a some chicks foot and saying something about being sorry but the gypsy (cause that what she actually was) recognized me as someone that doesn't like gypsies (or midgets) and gave me the evil eye without me realizing it.. Dude, maybe snaggletooth is a gyspsy, that would explain things... and now I am cursed to having stomach distress...
Or otherwise I am rotting from the inside out... I narrowed this rotting down to either my lower intestines, greater stomach or my prostate is completely rotten through and it is spreading upwards and it will have to be cut out, and it probably spread to my left nut, so that will need to go, so they will have to replace my nut with one of those synthetic "Nads", for symmetry, and I will need to take double doses of Viagra or something in order to get the works erected... and knowing me I will take a dose in the morning and a dose at night, every day, just in case I have to perform at a moments notice, like if the bus is hijacked and I am taken captive by a band of horny pirate women and they will let one captive go per time I can copulate with them... and there will be like 20 of them (at least) and they will all be really hot, but I will cry the whole time, but it turns out that this actually turns them on, the crying... So it will be for the good of all the riders on the bus, you know, my being able to perform...
I knew this dude once, who had done so many drugs that he was completely burned out... couldn't do drugs anymore or he would like freak out or be out of service for days afterwords, or something like that... funny I never really asked him what would happen, only that it was bad...
So I was thinking, perhaps that is what happened, I ate so many bowl noodles and jalapenos and misc other hot and spicey things that I threw my body out of wack and now I am shot, can't eat anything with a hint of spice... if I do, my stomach freaks... and fluids start leaking out from wherever the hole has formed and I start digesting myself, creating a stench of rot and death... Now all I can eat is tapioca and noodles with no sauce on them, probably no more Uncle Dans, pizza rolls, poppers, and misc whiskey products... it will probably get to the point where it is seeping outta my skin, on my belly, right hand side, horizontal split in the skin, just up from the belly button... stains my t-shirts and you can't even shout it out...
OH MY GOD, what did the doctor say???
HUH? What dr.? I just told you, I diagnose myself. and I probably did a better job than an actual "Dr." would do. They would make me jump through some hoops, perhaps poop in a bag or cup or something, use it as an excuse to fondle my fella's, charge me for it, then tell me I am sick, just sick, but they would say it like, "look here you big puss, we have dying chirren in the lobby and you are wasting our time, you are JUST sick" and then they wouldn't give me any prescriptions for anything except what I could already get at the local Walgrens... bastards...
I need a real dr., someone I can trust, someone I can go to when I think I am dying, and they just give me a pat on the ass while they are giving me a big hug, tell me to stop by the pharmacy with these 3 pieces of paper (this will be our secret, ) and get some ginger ale while you are there... and the scripts are for some exotic psychological someting or others that makes everything look bright and I am full of energy and everywhere I go people try to play with my nipples. The other 2 scripts are just something simple, like bacon flavored cough syrup and some sort of something something that I can waive at the cops when they try to bust me for it... not the marijuana though... You know, I would probably even let the dr. take pictures of me, just for her personal records, you dig, just to maintain the relationship... show how much we "trust" each other, because having the trust between the dr. and the patient is very important...
Although, and I will let it rest after this, I imagine that in the end, I may be look back and say, DAMN, because they finally gave me the drugs but it is because I am SOOO far gone there ain't nothing left but making my last few days a little less painful... maybe too much meds, you know, a little wink wink if I wanted to take myself out... "Definately don't mix 3 parts this with 2 parts of that and drink a shot of whiskey, Mr. Wafer, that would probably kill you, quickly and painlessly. If you were to do something like that you would want to make sure you have all your affairs in order." And they would shake their heads at what a waste of a perfectly viable organic creature... sexy too...

**
p.s. I see that I got my second hit from my gloryhole tag. Freaky French Bastard...

not dead yet, but probably dying

It started yesterday sometime... Sometime after I started and before I went to lunch. I remember looking at my screen and thinking that I everything looked foggy. By lunch time I was shaking. I figured I was starving to death so I ate. I drank some coffee.
For about 20 minutes I felt great... then it all changed. I was not looking forward to having to pay any attention to anything, or speaking, or walking, things like that. My legs felt week as I walked to the bus. I think I read on the bus, Harafish by Naguib Mahfouz. I got home and sat down, finally, and had a beer and a nice dinner made by my baby.
I felt tired and relieved to be home. Then my baby had to leave for a while and I started feeling less than relieved.
You know those pictures of a snake den, where there are like a billion snakes? and they are all rolling and churning around? That is how my stomach felt. I booked a vacation at the local toilet bowl and, uh, sat on the beach(?)... 3 or 5 times. I stopped when there was nothing left to, uh, sit on the beach for... I was empty.
I told myself I felt better at that point, that I was gonna be just fine and could power through the next couple days. I would sleep off any residual, uh, oogie, and be fine in the morning.
I slept well, and figured I was good to go, but you know what, I made my coffee and started drinking it and it tasted bad... not like Starbucks coffee bad, but like there was something intrinsically bad about drinking coffee... which everyone knows is not true... of course I drank it anyway...
Dude, I almost made it, seriously... I got my lunch made, I did my things and stuff, and took a shower (which was delightful) and was looking forward to actually driving to work today. That is where it all ended. I had to sit down for a minute. Luckily I was in the bathroom and so I sat there on the thing with the water and the hole and things disappear into, all sorts of things disappear, if you know what I mean.
I realized at that point it was a lost cause. I took a quick inventory...
I had:
1) churning and burning stomach
2) pain in my lower back (kidneys?)
3) periodic shooting pains in my head
4) brain cloud otherwise
5) shortness of breath, more like hard to breath
6) dizzy
7) soo sleepy
I decided to call in sick... which added to the inventory:
a) Shame, shame, shame
b) Loser
c) something else I can quite finger...
My dad used to always tell me that only the worst employees called in sick and if you were going to be sick you might as well go to work and get paid for it...
I called in anyhow, or tried... I called the 800 # and started hitting buttons that should get me to the right place. I hit the wrong #'s, had to hang up and call back. I entered the wrong #'s again and hung up.
Called back, hit the wrong #'s, but then kept hitting #'s until I got back to the recording, at which point I again hit the wrong #'s... Wrong #'s meaning I didn't know the right extension to call, not that I was so fucked up I couldn't hit #'s on the keypad correctly.
Dammit!!!
So I got online and emailed some people. I found someone on Aim (hey RedBear) and got the correct extension. I left a message. I found someone else online and told him I was not gonna be in... I figured all my bases were covered.
I laid down on the couch, covered myself with a bankie and fell asleep for a couple hours, or an hour, or something... I had the strangest dreams, dreams I dare not mention other than saying I had a dream... although I remember this one part, yeah... hold on... ... ok...
The lovely wife woke me up wanting to know what the hell was going on, I felt like a loser... She has never given me a reason to, but when I have to say something along the lines of how I don't feel good or am sick I feel like I am really letting her down and she begins to wonder what kind of guy she married... She told me to go to bed... I did, and I slept and slept... and had more dreams, strange dreams... when I wasn't dreaming I was either hot or cold, and I was achy all over, and I was kinda twitchy, and crampy... I could feel my intestines tighten and roll... I would try to breath deep and relax and ZAP I would get a shooting pain in my head... then I would sleep...
I finally got up when everyone was gone... I layed on the floor and watched Capote (uh... wasn't THAT good)... I had an egg... egg is gone now...
and here I am now...
Sorry about that...
Here is a goat Peeing.
See this and other delights from Remlinger Farms by clicking on the picture.