Fuck you.

There I said it: Fuck you.  And it’s what I should’ve said in the doctor’s and therapist’s office but I was a lil blindsided.  I may like you and respect you and all that happy bullshit, but fuck you.

Now I’ve been telling you black assholes for months that I’m addicted to this goddamn stuff.  However I’ve been managing it and trying to ration the doses myself, but then ya fucked me in the ear by taking the Ultram away.  No I didn’t find the Ultram addictive at all; the best thing about it was that it extended the Vicodin’s life.  So instead of popping them every 2 to 3 hours I could hold out till 6 and sometimes 8.  

You bitch at me that 6 Vicodin are 3000 mg of acetaminophen, but guess what, I have taken that much in one day thanks to good ol’ over the counter Tylenol.  So whoopty shit!

The best part is they want to wean me off and learn to live with the pain.  Wow!  Really?  That sounds great!  Unimaginable pain that causes intense irrationality; well I don’t see how anything could possibly go wrong there.  Perhaps I’ll regularly visit a support group where a bunch of pussies sit around and talk about their feelings, or a bunch wetbacks sit around speaking Spanish – same thing really.  Do intelligent people actually buy into support groups?  I’d like to see the average I.Q. of a support groupie.  

So the drugs were supposed to be hidden and I was only to have my daily allowance; this never came to pass as I’ve yet to niggar in an extra pill.  Even Mother tried to force a couple extra down my throat when I was in agony and I told her to go fuck herself.  And yet after all this all my therapist can do is yammer on incessantly about addiction.  Uh huh, have you been paying attention to what I said to you?  Even after waking from a dream where someone was stabbing me in the middle of my shoulder blades with scissors only to find the pain was still there, and I still didn’t take a goddamn extra pill?  

Fuck yourself gently with a rusty chainsaw then learn to live with the pain.

You wanna talk about someone who needs help then let me introduce you to Martha Fucking Stewart on crack:  My Mother.

We’re having a party tomorrow for the pastor’s birthday and she has been at this thing for months; obsessing and doing way too much.  Think she’s ready yet?  Oh fuck no!  Because she keeps thinking of inane things to do at the last minute:  She bought this huge three gallon glass jar that has break me written all over it, and plans to fill it with homemade lemonade.  Wanna know how many lemons that took?  No you don’t.  I can’t tell you how much useless crap she’s bought just for this party.  Today she wants to go to the store and get raspberries.  Well I didn’t recall hearing that on the menu and thankfully she was insightful enough to order a damn cake.  So what are the raspberries for?  Oh she wants to make lil lemonade ice cubes with one raspberry inside each.  She’d already bought the ice cube trays – there were about 16 of them.  The best part is when I offered to do something to help that wouldn’t cause me to cry in pain.  She was dead serious when she said this:  She suggested I get the ironing board out and iron all the napkins.

I have a good mind not to even get up tomorrow.  My cousin’s not wild about this party either, I’m thinking about telling him to play sick too.

Crap I forgot to mention this.  Here’s the thing:  My liver is in tip top shape, and because of this new onslaught of drugs I rarely drink anymore; alcohol + acetaminophen is where the real problems begin.  Not a complete idiot you see.

Another thing about this party that pisses me off is…  Christ how to put it.  The pastor and church folk are really wonderful and sweet folk; always ready to lend a helping hand, and ya can’t have too many friends.  It’s just, there sits our boy Craig who may as well be my little brother and is the apple of Mother’s eye.  This family is known for shitty birthdays and our poor boy was no exception.  Grandpa loved Craig madly and always made it a point to do something nice for his birthday while dragging Grandma along behind him, but Grandpa’s been gone for over seven years now.  Craig’s Father, John, is a selfish turd; he doesn’t even go down to visit his only son when he’s on home leave.  If Craig wants to see his Dad, he has to drive up.  Craig’s a busy lad with school, part time job and babysitter for his nieces and nephews.  Craig’s Mother, Laura, has been quite busy going through a midlife crisis for some years now.  She really doesn’t have much time for anything else but herself, even though she doesn’t have a job.  Laura’s trapped inna relationship with a man in his 60’s (she be in her 40’s); he brings home the bacon and that’s that.  Randy the step-father from hell treats Craig like shit and often threatens him and is always trying to pick a fight.  Last Christmas Eve Craig ran away from home to a friend’s house after Randy had announced that once he got off the phone he was gonna beat the shit out of Craig.  Craig spent his 16th birthday watching tv, it was only the day after that his Mother realized and told him happy birthday.

I wasn’t eavesdropping, but Laura talks loud over the phone and while chattin with Craig I distinctly heard her ask if we’d thrown a party for him.  Well hell, if that’s our responsibility then why dontcha just hand him over to us.

To sum this all up, it looks purty shitty her thrownin this dinner party for Dad’s church pals while her nephew (her own family; the apple of her eye) hasn’t had a decent birthday party in years.

It just bothers me.  I’ve been doin what I can, but I honestly suck at planning; that’s her forte, and she’s wasting it all on this.

Seriously, how you do think Craig feels?

Yeah I know I said I was buggerin off but everyone’s out and aboot today (I’m busy  withdrawing at the moment – don’t ask) and you know I never shut up anyway.

Ya know noone told me you wind up with one serious spazzed out adrenal gland, and my Uncle is now standing here assuming I wanna hear him talk.

I SAID I DIDN’T WANNA TALK ABOUT IT!

Anyways seeing as how we’ve been at war ever since 9/11, doesn’t it seem only fair that Japan take swift action against North Korea?  Granted noone was hurt, but being pissed at Japan is kinda like threatening to open up a can of whoop-ass on French Canada; what’s the point?  They may seem a lil weird at times but they don’t hurt anyone and guess what?  Since Japan got in trouble a few years back for bombing us and siding with the Germans (hahahaha!  I wrote Jews first; guess we know which side I’m on) and were ordered to cease all military activity – although I think they’re allowed a bit of an army now.  

Japan are our buds; Japan loves America and its culture; Japan has a similar economy; Japan makes kick ass stuff; Japan has a much better health care system; Japan knows more about earthquake proofing than anyone else in the world.  So when Japan announces their resolution would condemn North Korea and the US suggest we try to reason with a fruit-looped dictator, there’s an excellent chance you’re going to piss our good friends off.

Gee, after 9/11 we told everyone in the world:  You’re either with us or we’ll bomb you too.  

Dude, friends stick together.

I ‘member back in the olden days where I spent countless in chat (before the term blog was ever even considered), although I do have an obscene amount of hysterical logs which I plan to throw up here one of these days, but my best friend Snookie and I would arrive at a point where we just needed to push away from the puter and take a break.  We’d still check our email and lil things like that, but… ya know.  So lately I find myself walking by my computer; pondering a surf, screwing around a bit or just checking my email but all I can manage is an uninterested grunt and the only true appeal is my vibrating chair.  

With that in mind my cousin, who’s really like a lil brother to me, is coming to visit.  As a seventeen year old with a less than nurturing home, plus being a young man the poor dear’s hormones are raging in opposite directions, it’s no surprise he’s found solace inna online computer game.  However consequently his grades have dropped, he failed a class (but it was geometry and who the fuck needs that?) and he’s been feeling rather depressed.  So while he’s here we’re gonna work around the house, go out and do things, talk, play games and obviously keep the computer activity to a minimum – and I only think it’s fair that we all back off from the computer as opposed to just barring him.

Poor guy:  Do you know the only person who called him on his birthday was his dad?  (I know, I’m shit too).  His Mother was out of town and didn’t even call him.  He spent his entire seventeenth birthday alone and unimaginably depressed – if not a lil suicidal.  So I’m attempting to throw a surprise party for him.  I’ve already ordered him some cool stuff like a Napoleon Dynamite bobble head and t-shirts from What on Earth; even got him a t-shirt from T-Shirt Hell (a tame one mind you *cough* I got me some that weren't so tame) and we’re gonna buy him a MP3 player like mine so he can upload any of my songs he likes.  I’m gonna attempt to put this altogether, hide the presents and just make it look like we’re going out to dinner; never been to this place before, The Forge in the Forest, but it looks damn cool.  He really loved the Lord of the Rings trilogy and read all the books.  Doesn’t it just look like there should be Hobbits running around there?

To sum this up:  I’ll check my email from time to time and ya may see me nosin around your blogs, but I probably won’t be doin much chattin.

However I am gonna post a few pictures fishing for opinions onna photo contest from the AFRP that I wanna enter.  I’m not gonna bother to put ‘em in lockdown or anything, so no worries there.