Monday, September 22, 2003

FIRE ONE!

Sara refused to help. I had to figure this out. Okay, open the box, look at the pills, MARY MOTHER OF GOD they are the size of a V-2 Buzz Bomb! Tip to tail easily 2 inches, with a solid 1/2 inch center around.

Sealed in foil, waxy white....

This IS gonna save me, right? Will stop the nausea

Just go in the bathroom and remember a joke.

A drunk walks into a bar and claims to be able to sing from his bottom. (No, not Josef Pujol, this is a joke) So the bartender says "I'll take that bet" Drunk climbs up on the bar, drops his pants, and proceeds to walk up and down the bar defacating in drinks, pooping in peanuts, flatulating the flappers. He makes 2, 3 four trips up and down the bar, leaving a trail of destruction and filth"

Bartender stops and says "Hey, what the heck are ya don' buddy? You promised you could sing out your butt"

Drunk says "My good man, even the late great Ethyl Merman had to clear her throat before she sang"



Okay, I clear the way. Nothing there anyhow. I am sitting on the throne, I clench, then think to relax. This is not someting I do on a regular basis. For my entire life, I have thought of this as a ONE WAY valve. EXIT ONLY! (Well, there was that colonoscopy, but that's different)

Breathe in, breathe out, curse Sara for not helping, PING! Up and away. while the last corus of some Frank Zappa song is bouncing in my head.

it feels greasy, and immediately wants to come back out. I need to hold it in, but how? I will lay flat on my back.

was a page turned? Did my life change? Do I now understand fashion and skin care? Heck no.

I am just hoping I won't be nauseated for a few more hours....

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