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Archive for the ‘Me Me Me’ Category

God dammit.  Fucking back.  Why are my feet so far away and why can’t underpants pull themselves up, sonsabitches.

I could probably just stop there, but I won’t because I have diarrhea of the mouth.  Thank god I don’t have regular diarrhea, though, because getting on and off the toilet is as painful as it must be to have an electrified pole stuck up your ass and turned on full strength.

The back problem?  It is a herniated disc, also called a bulging disc or a slipped disc, depending on the health care person torturing me.  It isn’t a constant “no go” proposition.  It has only bulged 4 times in the past 5 or 6 years, but each time, the results get more and more dramatic and difficult, and recovery from the quick, short-lived slip of disc is more and more difficult, costly, and lengthy.

Last year, when it happened, I was simply lifting the lid of the toilet to take a piss.  I spent 6 days in bed before I decided to finally go to the doctor for the first time to have someone help me.  I went to physical therapy for 2 months.  I liked my physical therapist.  He didn’t waste any time manipulating my body and giving me stretching and strengthening exercises, exercises and stretches that I have continued to do ever since.  And while it allowed me to get back to exercising, running, etc., I have not been the athlete or even the stander/sitter/walker/person that I used to be.

And now, here it is, 14 days after I have once again herniated a disc in my back.  Low back.  With equally devastating results.  But this time, things have been different.  Although I still couldn’t get to the doctor for 4 days, I forced myself to go early.  Most importantly, I have changed physical therapists and added massage therapy.

More on the physical/massage therapy and how I burst into tears for no apparent reason while having my upper ass massaged in a soon-to-be-written post.

The point of this story is that my two dogs are beside themselves.  They don’t know what to do.  They can sense something is wrong with me, and they won’t leave my side or let me out of their sight.  I love it in one way, but it distresses me because they are so worried.  Even when I am up sitting or lying still and in no pain whatsoever, they still know.  They can sense it.  Smell?  See?  Feel?  I don’t know, but it amazes me.  So, I try to get up and find them and kiss and hug and play with them as often as possible.

And they go crazy kissing me back.

Now, don’t hate me, but I do not like the dogs to lick me.  I think it is gross, particularly my face.  And they know better, but they can’t help themselves, especially because they are so out of sorts thanks to my broke-ass body.  And I know many of you are recoiling in horror, because you don’t mind and even like to be licked by your pets.  I love you, but you are fucked up.  To prove it, I offer you the following, actual conversation that occurred between me and the dogs.

Me:  Oh, you two little rat faces!  I’m fine.  Stop worrying about me.  Come and let me snuggle you and bite you on the neck a little and give you kisses.

Dogs:  Slurp, slurp, slurp, slurp.

Me:  [Trying to get away from them as quickly as possible, screaming in pain because of my back.]  No kisses, no kisses.  I don’t like kisses.  Kisses are grody.

Dogs:  [Awkward looking faces, small tongue gestures but trying not to actual make contact with me.]

Me:  I know this is not fair.  It is not fair that I get to kiss you all over your faces until you want to call Animal Control to save you.  Meanwhile, you can’t kiss me back.

Dogs:  [Contempt in eyes.  Heads bobbing in agreement.]

Me:  Let me ask you this:  Can you lick your own butthole and other no-no places?  Can I lick my butthole and other no-no places?

Dogs:  [Heads shaking indicating that I can’t, but then a weird look in the old one’s eyes that I think said, “No, but I’ve seen you try to do it.”  WHICH IS A TOTAL LIE, I swear.]

Me:  See?  This is why you can’t give me kisses but I can give you kisses.

And with that, I conclude this lesson on why you people who let animals lick your faces are dirty, E. coli covered, cesspools.  You are welcome.

Night!

 

 

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You bitches are getting on my last nerve.

Where have you been?  What’s wrong with you?  Are you a lazy sack of shit lately or what?

I HAD BRONCHITIS AND PNEUMONIA IN BOTH LUNGS AND ALMOST DIED, YOU DICKS!  For shizzle.  In fact, one night, in a complete state of exhaustion and delirium, I actually thought to myself, “I should probably give the dogs a bunch of extra food just in case I don’t wake up in the morning.  That way, they’ll at least still be alive when they discover my body.”

I know what you are thinking.  I do.  I’m clairvoyant.

But HorseKnuckle, where was your RDP*?  Wasn’t he there, wiping your brow, keeping you hydrated and medicated, and giving you the occasional reach around whether you wanted it or not?

The answer, in two words?  Fuck no.  He was traveling for work.

I did learn something during my near death experience.  I learned that the reason so many people die from pneumonia is because IT IS THE ONLY WAY TO END THE SUFFERING!

Trust me.  Pneumonia sucks.  And while it will take weeks for me to get back to full physical health, I am already back to 100% C U Next Tuesday.  In fact, I’m such a cunt that I won’t even see you until Wednesday.  So bite me.

*Registered Domestic Partner

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