Warning. I enjoy cursing. I'm sorry, but I do. It's a vice and it costs me absolutely no calories and I don't have to spend any time on the elliptical to pay for it so I don't see any motivation to make myself stop. I only use the nasties in appropriate situations and frankly, there are times when no other words will do. If you have tender ears or is it eyeballs? Hell, I don't know. But, if you don't like foul language, you might not want to read this.
It's like alcoholics who refuse to quit smoking. Only I'm pretty sure there's no associated cancer risk AND there's no second-hand cursing rash or infection or cancer to those around me. In fact, some people might argue that holding my anger and curses inside might put me at risk for bad stuff such as heart attack and cancer from repressing. So actually, saying Fuck a few times a day, might in fact result in reduction of long term morbidity and mortality. Maybe I should design a double blinded placebo controlled study on that. I could call it
Finding Unexpressed Cursing Kills: The Healthy Attitudes Trial or F.U.C.K. T.H.A.T
Everyone knows to find funding you have to have a snazzy title.
Now you know why George Carlin was my idol, may he rest in peace, or better yet, I hope he's not resting anywhere and that he's just rotting since that's what he believed and all that. Whatever works for you I always say.
Apparently King Allan is in charge of who gets to use the f-word. So I'm hopping permission is granted because Fuck! It hurts. And if not, too fucking bad. It is exactly the pain I've been having for the last month only 1000 times worse. Thank the Vicodin Gods as it is keeping me sane. It doesn't take the pain away, but it helps. I've been reading some blogs and trying to keep my mind off shit.
No really. I'm trying not to think about the fact that I'm going to have to at some point take a crap and get rid of all the shit I ate last night. Thanks for that little reminder, Allan. I'm dreading that little trip to the BR because just number 1 is bad enough. And to top it off, Allan refused to Fed Ex me one of his big ass special New York Bagels. Selfish Bastard.
(I'm kidding of course. I love Allan. I get him. I think it's sad that I have to explain that I'm joking, but I'm pretty sure if i don't I'll find this posted on some chick's blog as proof for what an asshole he is.I am not referring to anyone in particular. Don't get me pissed and can't we all be adults?)
And to add insult to injury....
Apparently I gained 4 pounds in surgery. That's freakin bullshit man. I think that whatever twisted bastard put my genes together got me and the Amazon Tree Sloth mixed up. Let me get this straight, you remove a fucking organ and I gain weight. Of course they pumped me full of 2 liters of Saline and what feels like enough air to fill all the tires on my fucking van. Plus the whole, I don't wanna pee or poo could be playing a role. I'm blaming the surgeon dammit. I'm totally suing his ass. Maybe I'll get some free liposuction and flab removal outta the deal. This is highly unfair. I CLEARLY told him to take any extra shit he saw in there and get it out.
TWENTY-NINE!!!!!! Are you fucking kidding me? I had twenty nine gallstones. I SHIT YOU NOT. At least it is validation for me on why I couldn't eat anything decent or exercise for the last few weeks. I think that me having to endure 29 fucking gallstones should automatically buy me a prize in that damned Hot 100 challenge shit since CLEARLY I'm behind all ya'll now. And none of you people have any excuse now for why you aren't kicking more ass.
|Me in recovery already getting my water back in. What's your excuse?|
I better not see any more posts about, "Well, I didn't do too well on my goals this week." or "oops, I slipped up and ate those M&Ms." BULLSHIT! If I can have 29 stones removed from my belly and still eat only one fucking cookie, you healthy people can put the damn M&Ms down and go for a walk! Next time you reach for that shit food, you can ask yourself,
"Do I want this as BAD as that Dr. Fatty bitch hurt with those gallstones?"
I guaran-damned-tee you YOU DON'T. Throw that shit out. In fact. Why the hell is it in your house anyway? Don't make me go all Tae Kwon Do on your asses, cause I will. I'm not afraid of you people.
Tonight I'm enjoying authentic Italian food thanks to my wonderful Nanny, Sweet potato risotto, focaccia bread, bruschcetta, but none of the caesar salad. I don't want to puke out my stitches. My husband is waiting on me and dishing up the drugs as need be. I'm sipping on Sprite. I'm not counting calories. As if I could add with all these drugs in my system. Thanks for all the well wishes.
|Roses from my wonderful hubby.|
|Home Made Bruschetta, from my Nanny, my FAVORITE!|
|Flowers from the office|