“I couldn't live a week without a private library
- indeed, I'd part with all my furniture and squat and sleep on the floor
before I'd let go of the 1500 or so books I possess.” ― H.P. Lovecraft

Whistling In The Graveyard

Thursday, August 16, 2007

So I just got back in from my 8 AM appointment to have my stitch, that's right STITCH, as in SINGULAR STITCH, removed from my ankle.

I'm not sure which I'm pissed at more. Having to go there for ONE FUCKING STITCH, or having to have it done at 8 in the GODDAMN MORNING.

Fucking Daywalkers...

Anyhow, it didn't take that long so I went to my family doctor to get my speed prescription refilled since I'll be out of town when I run out of my little pals (oh, how I love them so) and then I ran to K-Mart to pick up some of that mane and tail shampoo and conditioner.

See, I've been growing my hair back out. I started doing it just so that I could get a decent haircut after the last time I butchered it trying to thin the sides out myself. I continued growing it when I saw that it was coming in really nice because of all the niacin in the drugs I've been taking. The two side benefits to this are that it really annoys my brother (who started losing his hair around age 19) and chicks really dig it.

So, despite every manly instinct in me, I got the special shampoo. I assuaged my maleness by reassuring myself that, while it may be a special shampoo (AND conditioner, which is even worse), it WAS designed for farm animals and was therefore ok.

I had to go to K-Mart for it because I only know of two places that carry it and FUCK WAL-MART.

Anyhow, while I was there I had another of those 'mortality moments' I've been going through. I was looking through the meager grocery selection while I waited for the glob of shampoo on my forearm to react with my skin.

See, my sister used the stuff a few years ago and broke out in a bright red rash everywhere it touched her skin. Given that I wasn't about to pay twelve bucks for this shit (it's two big-ass bottles, but still...) without a test.

So while killing time waiting for a rash to break out I found myself looking through the diet products when it occurred to me, why am I looking at diet products when I'm having major surgery in seven days? Given my propensity for shuffling off the mortal coil, why not enjoy myself?

So I picked up a double-feature DVD of Friday the 13th parts 1&2, seven days worth of liquor and Krispy Kreme Donuts. And not just any goddamn Krispy Kreme's, oh no, the cream-filled, chocolate-dipped motherfuckers!

I'm going out in a blaze or refined sugar!

Cause the way I see it, you gotta face death the way you lived. In my case that's jerking off while teetering on the edge of a diabetic coma.

Fuck. I just realized that I spent an awful lot on a bunch of shampoo I may never get to use.

Even worse, if I do die I know my hair's getting cut before I go into the box.

Oh well. It's booze and pills time, so very soon I won't care anymore.

See ya in hell motherfuckers!




PS: By the way, several people have asked me who I was talking about in my last post. It wasn't anyone that has commented on, been pictured on, or even read this blog. Someone that I haven't spoken to since before I even had this blog. She is, however, largely to blame for the insanity you've all been enjoying here so much, so you all owe her some thanks.

So here's another song that comes to mind when I think of her.

And I do think of her.

Far too often.


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