Since I’ve been violently vomiting all night

combined with the other excretion, but this is the kicker – The tremendous waves of pain shooting thru my guts every 5 minutes for 8 hours made me wonder if labor is really is the most painful pain. Which reminds me of a very recent phone conversation I had with my mom while shopping for groceries. Yes, momentarily I was one of those people who push the cart sideways with one hand right into your cart because I’m the twatface on the cell phone. So my mom goes, “I bet you’re getting some good organic food – you are the healthy child.” And I said, “Right, healthy as in the only one left with a uterus.” She goes, “You know, yours is UNUSED, you could make good money having a child for other people.” I fainted.

Anywho, I made the trembling decision to go to the doctor because The Pains would not ease and I had just screamed the bile out again and couldn’t stand up, but since it was 6am I went to the ER. Full of retards who, knowing I was severely dehydrated, RAMMED an I.V. right into the only puny vein they could find. I love this bruise, it looks like a sunset.

Day two, and the contractions are a half hour apart. What I don’t understand is how a “viral something what” could cause such terrible pains, like all my innards have broken ribs of their own. I think I am dying. Also, this is the first time in my life that I am clenching my teeth about missing work. I suppose I’m an adult now. With an UNUSED uterus.

The Most Personal Article of Clothing

Jeans. I went on a mission to find some since I have only one wearable pair. The other pair needs an appointment with thread and a needle. Also, pair? Is that because there are two legs? So, I go with a co-worker to a consignment shop on lunch and tried on some used jeans. They smelled funny and didn’t quite fit. I gave up and we went to Macy’s and tried on 4 more.

Me: Well. Are these alright?

Co-worker: Kind of looks like you have a turd in your pants.

Me: What if I wash them on warm?

Co-worker: Then you can’t gain ANY weight.

Yep. Those are the ones I got.

OMG’s I am so sore

I have to work really hard to work really hard. After a rewarding day of manual labor, it’s almost as good as a long blissful day in bed (I would imagine. I’ve heard, I mean. Not the details. Also, does anybody have a hot tub?). I’m too tired to figure out how to rotate this picture. Help me.

Charlie and I earned our keep at the family cabin. He brought everybody his own choreographed dance and polite snarffle when folks were tired and ready give up.

I asked my dear old momo mum if I could get away with saying, “Damn” throughout the day. She said, “You can say damn and hell today.” I fainted.

I co-exist with ants.

At first I was all, ew. Now I’m like, oh hey. I don’t even blink and kill them with my fingers. But I still consider myself all Earth friendly and stuff – I know, total hypocrite. The duplex where I live is near the river on the iffy side of town, and is a real old nest for critters. One of the exterminators my landlord sent out said they’re mutants, only found in this part of town. The new exterminator is oblivious to what “ant nests” are, but whatever. It’s said the stuff they use is pet and kid friendly and let me just say; it’s like allowing Bud Light in the fridge. I just cringe and look away. Bad, bad, terrible stuff. Nevertheless, nothing kills them or makes them go live somewhere else.

So my pantry is sealed in the dishwasher, and my counter tops are real clean, but still they come. It’s a partnership, really. At least they only come in when it’s cold. Half the year is better than all of it. It’s like the glass is half full, only I kill tiny creatures every day and I feel bad. It’s either them or my grilled cheese, yo. I don’t mess around.

Fat Chi Chi

Indeed. Still has laryngitis, so tequila’s not helping.
(pic taken last month, labor day weekend)