Whose bright idea was this?

The man on the left is Fateh Mohammad, a prison inmate in Pakistan.
(the guy on the right is obviously a lucky bastard getting a free photo op)

Fateh says he woke up last weekend with a glass lightbulb in his anus.

How about that?

Mohammad, who is serving a four-year sentence for making liquor (a big no-no for Muslims), said he was horrified to find out there was a light bulb buried deep in his anal cavity. "It explains the discomfort in my abdomen." Fateh points to his belly button and smiles a toothless grin "and why I couldn't turn my lamp on for the last week."

He swears he didn't know the bulb was there.

Wednesday night a team of skilled doctors worked religiously to remove the lightbulb from Fateh's asshole... It took them one and a half hours.

Lightbulb+Ass = 1 1/2 hours with forcepts and silly putty... and one of those weird clickety-click things they have at the gynecologists. Yes I know it's called a Speculum, but not everybody does.

"We had to take it out intact," Dr. Farrukh Aftab of Nishtar Hospital noted as he poured over the x-ray, recollecting the horrific moments of rectal stretching the team had to accomplish to complete the complicated surgery. "Had it been broken inside, it would be a very very complicated situation. We would have had to get the tweezers and suction tools out."

The good doctor hung his head in shame "No one is trained or certified to operate the suction tool so it's any one's guess as to how that would have turned out. Mr. Mohammed is a very lucky man. Praise Allah for the motor oil and peanut butter. "

Dr. Aftab then went on to say "The bulb still works amazingly well, we needed to replace a light in the staff lounge anyway, so I thought, why not?"

Mohammed recalls how miserable the experience had been "When I woke up this morning I felt a pain in my lower abdomen, but later in hospital, they told me this," Mohammad said. "I don't know who did this to me. Police or other prisoners."

Dr. Aftab added that he'd never seen something as strange in his life, and doubted Mohammed was speaking the truth about his suspicions. Somehow the possibility that someone had/could drug him and insert the bulb while he was comatose was inconceivable to a well educated doctor that Police or other prisoners could do such a thing.

Instead he formulates his own theory "Mr. Mohammed seems to be a freaky-deaky guy, I can think of a few different ways myself to get a light bulb up my ass... Or a small puppy." He then continued "Or a vase, or umbrella...."

"Thanks Allah, now I feel comfort. Today, I had my breakfast. I was just drinking water, nothing else," Mohammad told Rueters Press from his hospital bed yesterday afternoon. "I can only really sit on one ass cheek, but now I will be a celebrity when I get back to the jail. Every one will want a piece of me."

EDIT: Nah, I didn't make it up completely :) The above story was modified from the original story found here. I will be on and off today (snicker) as I will be working two jobs, but the banter and jokes are wonderful!! And so nice to come back to after my stressful workload! Keep it up!!! Happy Friday...

Half Nekkid Friends

Well if I'm posting a half-nekkid picture of myself then that must mean it's Thursday. :X

******

Today while in training at work I received a call from none other than Dr. K. *gasp*

It seems he's made his way out of his bathroom stall and into Shawn's hospital room. Dr. K and Shawn go way back, for some reason I tend to think they are related.... but I can't be certain and neither of them want to give me the back ground into their 'relationship'.

Dr. K thinks it would be important for me to jot down some fond events and any random memories of the last 9 years Shawn and I have co-existed within each other's alternative bubble.
I agreed that I think this may be a good idea and the right path to healing.

BUTT hold the phone, opportunity for trouble abounds!!!

Do I make shit up for fun?
--You love to wear your underwear on your head when you drink too much.
--I remember that one time you stuck the baby carrot in your nostril and it got lodged there.
--Do you still wear your anal plug all day?
--Emanuel Lewis is your hero and you love the Britney Spears hit me baby one more time CD.
--You have an epiphany for garlic and you are clearly homosexual, you just haven't told me yet.

(CRUEL but tempting).


Or do I just be honest and remind him of the wonderful big-brother type he's been to me for the longest, and how accepting he's been of my faults and embarrassments?

I'm beside myself, with laughter and creativity while building my list. It's amazing how many stones we set into the foundation of friendship... And somehow, with some effort and compromise we always seem to build a house of cards that withstands the strongest winds and we accept each other as souls instead of people.

Weird how we forgo the body in that sense. I think only friendship has the power to do that. No other emotion I know can negate feelings of intimacy in the physical form... or attraction....

No doubt, sometimes it's easy to see where your bread can be buttered, but not often do we cherish our coveted brand until the grocery store no longer stocks it. I plan on continuing to buy the butter that has melted happily on my muffin for a long, healthy time. I can't convince myself that the new brand is all that great.

So I go with the true past. And yeah, the Meatball story is TOTALLY in there.

Wow that was sappy. Apologies.

Now that I think about it... Instead of spewing the last 9 years of nut-busting memories down on the ol' college ruled, perhaps I should really kick that short term memory into high gear and suit up.

Slip on the PVC, Boots, and top it off with baggy jeans and a black hooded sweatshirt, slip into his room and pass him one little school-like note. As he unfolds it perhaps I should proceed with shedding a layer....

and be ready for when he says the two magic words hidden in the pulp.

"Therapy Time."

You think that might work? heh.

Friends don't let friends drive drunk. But friends let friends whip each other with a cat o' nine tails all the time... don't be silly, it's a known fact.



If you want to learn more about HNT, click on the rolling box and talk to my big sweet HNT daddy, Osbasso!

Sunny Dis-positional Kickstands

LAST THOUGHTS TO YESTERDAY
Yesterday I spoke of my well endowed children. After reviewing my comments section I see that Mighty Doll made a great comment about reading that the genetics of the mother carry down into the sexual genetics of the child. See, now I remember reading that somewhere too...

but just to make sure...

I researched my husbands baby book and indeed.... *snicker*
"Honey, did you just get out of the pool on this shot?"
"Wow, that's not two belly buttons, right?"
"Oh, my bad. I think I thought that was your sister"

He didn't have a sister people. Anyway.
No worries, he's a striking manly unit now. *waving to husband frantically and holding white flag of surrender* Does everybody understand I'll get a nipple pinch and an arm punch when he reads this?

In his favor though, we did find this picture of him in the album, which affirms my suspicion that he IS in fact a "breast man." He still has that dream by the way.

Ah hah.
Anyway... I know in the future my kids will somewhat hate the fact that they're well endowed since they'll spend more time watching her flinch and finding a comfortable position then they will be having fun. It takes a special woman to take a special man... After all this time I still don't understand how some women can take more than 7.5 inches comfortably.

You get mad props ladies. I'm a 6.5-7.0er myself. Anything after that may cause teeth-grittage... BUT I'll take it for the team if I have to. NO, re-read that... I said take it FOR the team, not take the TEAM.


BIRD CACA
Yesterday Huneeb and I were goofing around in the comments section when we somehow got on the topic of when I asked my father where babies come from. My mother was entirely too literal about everything... and would most likely spend hours breaking down for me the birds and the bees, the metaphors, the colorful insinuations... blah blah (and she knew this). So when it came to this question she grabbed my shoulders and pivoted little Emma around to ask her father. I don't remember the whole flux of the conversation, but if memory (sorta) serves, it went something like this:

"daddy?"
"Yes"
"Where did I come from?"
"Shhh... its almost to commercial time, ask me then."
*20 minutes later*
"daddy?"
"Yes"
"where did I come from?"

Dad looks at me, picks me up and sits me on his knee... "You sure you want to know?"
"uh-huh..."
"Well honey..." *long pause* "A bird shit on a fence post and the sun hatched you."

You can imagine the horror I felt as a 5 year old knowing I was born by that of foul feces and the solar rays of the sun. It haunted me for years... And in second grade when my girl friends would snicker on the monkey bars I informed them of my plight.

"Oh yeah? Well a bird shit on the fence post and the sun hatched me."
"No way stoopid, your dad has a thing called a penis he sticks in your mothers vagina and instantly your mother had you in her stomach... then when you were done cooking she pushed you out."
"How did she push me out?"
"Her butt."

I would have preferred the bird story to my mother shitting me out after baking me until I was ready after being planted in her stomach by this awful thing called a penis. And how dare he hurt my mothers vagina like that. What's a vagina anyway?

I know, I know... you think Im making this up... but not so. I still have the note my Kindergarden teacher wrote to my mother about my potty talk on the playground, and how the bird story may not have been appropriate to tell a impressionable youngster such as myself.

My mother framed it, it's hanging in her office.

So there you go Huneeb... there's my tale, sad but true.

LOOKING & HANGING UP
I overcame a battle I've been dealing with the last couple of weeks. I'm damn proud of myself. My editor too is taking strides to heal as he was dealt with some nastiness which pre-empted my nastiness and well, it was down right ugly around these parts.

I would love to blog about the scenario, but it wouldn't be good unless we did it "He said, She said" style... SO I'm waiting for Shawn to come back to us.


For those of you that know the details I have to share this conversation. It will make you smile.
For those of you not aware of the situation, it may still be humorous... and will leave you guessing until we post the back-ground behind the content :)

"Em?"
"Shawn, sup?"
"This nurse JUST walked in and I totally remembered that one time that you got it on with that one girl out at the place back behind the bar, it was after closing and she was... She was..."
"Did I get it on with her out in the bar?"
"Yeah, she was this brunette..."
"Shit, I don't even remember that."
"It was you, I swear it!"
*long pause*
"Yeah, that was totally me I remember now. She was at my birthday party."
"You had a birthday recently?"
"uh-huh..."
"Happy Birthday. Ok, Im going now... bye."

Which almost caps this one I got about five minutes ago.. on my voicemail:

"Hey Emma it's Shawn. My mother tells me we're not dating, I thought for sure we were... Do we sleep together at least? Okay that's a bunch of BS, I know we don't sleep together... I thought for sure I could play possum about it. What about a sympathy vote, do I get that? Apparently I take these meds every so often and I get a stiffie, I'd like to utilize this function... (long pause and then a whisper into the reciever) make my mother go away... come visit me."

*click*

Happy Hump Day!

Monday, again?

He's just a squirrel trying to blow his nut.... from here to Nantucket.
I'm so tired it's silly.

Happy Monday!!

For those of you that need some witty writing and missed my meme over the weekend, feel free to scroll down.

I loved this meme. so i did it too for the weekend.

1. How tall are you barefoot? 5'3"

2. Favorite movies? The Ususal Suspects, American Wedding, Office Space... It was hard to pick three though.

3. Do you own a gun? We own three. My husband keeps them in his gun safe and doesnt tell anybody about it's location... or it's code... Outta sight, outta mind. WHAT!?!?! For christssake he's a marine... And once a marine, always a marine. He cleans them regularly and sings cadence... It's his happy place.

4. Who is your biggest enemy? Shall I start a list? Feel free to let me know if you need to be added.

5. Favorite Scent? Fresh cut grass. Camp fires. Gasoline. Dry-erase pens. Cookies baking. My husband after working in the yard all day.

6. Do you like hot dogs? heh. Not in that way... no. Lot's of mustard.

7. What's your favorite Christmas song? Anything by Alvin and the Chipmunks played in fast forward 20 times over....

8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning? White coffee with sugar.

9. Do you do push-ups? Uh-huh, and then I uhhh. Okay well normally I have to play horsie since my three year old catches me on the floor and jumps on me. "GO MOMMY!! GET-Y-UP!!!

10. Brothers or sisters? Nope. At least none I know about... but my dad was in 'nam so it's anybody's guess.

11. What's your most liked piece of jewelry? Pearl necklace my husband brought back from a small island in Italy. After I wiped that one off with his shirt, he gave me one I could wear in public.

12. What do you take for pain relief? Vicoprofen and 151.

13. What is your secret weapon to lure in the opposite sex? Blatent stupidity and the inept ability to keep my mouth shut after absorbing large amounts of alcohol.

14. Do you own a knife? I have a leatherman I use for fishing and a set of long slim-like daggers I use for the circus.

15. Do you have A.D.D.? What was the question?

16. Middle name? Jobe

17. Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment.
I wonder if they were laughing about my blogging events... wow ouch.
Maybe I should get dressed.
Did he email me back yet? So much for that response time. Maybe it is bag envy after all.

18. Name the last 3 things you have bought. My independance, gas, a rotary saw.

19. Name 3 drinks you regularly drink. Coke black. Coffee. Water

20. What time did you wake up today? 5:45am

21. Current worry? Shawn.

22. Current hate? I try not to hate but if I had to pick one it would be the person that has me worrying about Shawn.

23. Your favorite place to be? Fishing.

24. Least favorite place to be? Jail.

25. Where would you like to go? I'd like to join a cult of people that drink kool-aid after offering their souls to a false idol of upper conciousness. Well, most times anyway... Today I think I'd like to go to the nursery and buy plants. Maybe I'll drink kool-aid while I'm there.

26. Do you own slippers? No, but the husband does... I borrow his and then he yells at me.

27. What shirt are you wearing? Right now, honest to god, im not wearing a shirt. LOL!

28. Do you burn or tan? I tan.... Indian skin.

29. Least favorite color? Seafoam green and peach... together it makes for a lethal combination of eye-vomit.

30. Would you be a pirate? ARG! No, but I'd love to be a beer swilling wench!

31. Last time you had an alcoholic drink? Last night. I had three and that seemed to be enough to absolve #'s21,22, and 24.

32. What songs do you sing in the shower? Does an orgasm count? I hit different octaves!

33. What did you fear was going to get you at night as a child? I was more afraid during day-light hours.... Night was my safe haven.

34. What's in your pockets right now? A kleenex, lighter, and uhh... oh. That's right people.. I have no shirt but I'm wearing pants... figure THAT one out.

35. Last thing that made you laugh? This picture. Thanks T for your help yesterday.



36. Best bed sheets you had as a child? Star wars... with glowing stars.

37. Worst injury you've ever had? Meh. Broken collarbone... had to drive a stick shift to the hospital.. and yeah, was the right collarbone... GO ME!

38. What is your favorite pet? The kind that feeds and walks itself. THANKS MADAME!! LOL

39. How many TVs do you have in your house? Three going on four if my husband has his way.

40. Who is your loudest friend? I have so many... it's a train wreck blasting into a nitroglycerine factory everytime we congregate.

41. Who is your most silent friend? The dead hooker in Scumbag's trunk.... I agree with Madame X, this is a stupid ass question.

42. Does someone have a crush on you? I thought so, but now I'm thinking it might have been more of an intentionally evil ego stroke.

43. Do you wish on stars? Does anybody do that? Does it work? I think that's the one thing I haven't tried yet.

44. What is your favorite book? Hop on Pop

45. What is your favorite candy? Licorice

46. What song do/did you want played at your wedding? "You can't win" by the scarecrow in the movie/musical 'The Wiz'. If you can throw in the funky crows as ushers and have them jive a little around the pews that would be GREAT!

47. What song do you want played at your funeral? American Car - Mike Doughty. Which IS actually on my three song playlist, yeah. Great song. Not sure if anybody understands the lyrics are regarding a hurst or not... but it's a fucking great song to say good-bye to people to.

48. What were you doing at 12 a.m. last night? I was drunk and reciting Little Einstiens Rocket Song.

49. What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up? Fuck it's bright in here, who left the window shade open?

50. Do you have a favorite charity? My friends are my greatest charity because I know where my money goes and it rocks to see them smiling and happy. Though I do contribute to both the March of Dimes and Susan B Komen society as well.

Again, Typo's.. do I care? no.

Three pieces to this post, and a birth announcement.

You Tah
1. I remember what I was going to say about Utah now!
If I had gone into it last night I would have said something about what you shouldn't do while in Utah and stretched it out into some wordy nightmare. I
think I can break it down without all the smoke blowing :) Here is a short summary of them:

a) Don't tell the cashier at the airport gift shop that you support any state that can make fun of themselves while purchasing the Polygamy Porter Ale mug.

b) Don't wear your Jenna Club hat. At all. Especially when following closely behind an airport security officer as if to insinuate an 'escort'

c) Don't work on your porn review in the terminal while waiting for your connecting flight.

d) Glass walls. They suck. Don't sit against them.

e) Don't tell the locals they shouldn't have their children in the terminal 'smoke-boxes', they apparently think 9 wk olds don't mind carcinogens.

f) Don't say "God-damnit you suck ass" too loud while on the phone. In fact, don't say the lords name in vain at all.

g) Don't expect to find a bathroom stall to masturbate in. They don't flush their toilets.

Okay, the 'do's':

DO masturbate in a bathroom stall in Utah (if you can find a flushed toilet). Holy shit it's fun and the bathroom clears out quickly.
DO notice that there's 15 guys to every available woman there.
DO notice that there's no trees... anywhere in Salt Lake.
DO notice that the airport is about as big as a spit and just about as entertaining.
DO notice that the airport bar is empty but there's no room at the Burger King.

DO remember that it is entirely possible for your connection flight to be a twin-prop nightmare that flies at ONLY 3500 feet, and you may sit on for 2.2 hours next to a man with a stutter. Though, he was a nice man... Until he started making phone calls mid-flight.


Couldn't not write this
2. Not knowing what's up is like trying to kick through a cardboard box with duct taple:

Dear you.

Somedays I do good, somedays I do not so bad. I mean, I've pretty much identified and accepted the fact that things are the way they are. It helps to know that the friendship was the priority and nobody stepped away on bad terms.

But today I heard that song on Backdoor Sliders blog and I halted for a very long time. It was almost like everything came back for a second and I missed you all over again from the beginning.... So today I guess I was not so bad.

I really don't know why it stopped my blood cold like it did... Maybe it's because the memory of your rant about the music video made me laugh. It's still a great song though.

But it makes me wonder if it had been easier to deal with if we had left on bad terms? Although I know in my heart thats not so. I never had the opportunity to just say thanks to you for the lessons you taught me, the times you made me laugh and defended me. I think I'm a little bit stronger and even perhaps a little more of a person having known you, so I'm grateful.

I think I appreciate the opportunity for letting me know -you- the most. So with that being said I guess I just want you to know that more than anything I think about you.... and I pray for you. I wonder if you ever made it back to play on the big toy, or got around to reading your book again.

And I suppose a big part of me just hopes you are and would somehow shout out an hey and a ho... I don't think you'll ever really get this letter and well I don't expect to hear from you realistically, but I can hope.

Most of all I hold close to me the image that in all you are well and that you're holding the hands of a little soul that loves you just as much as you love.

With Warmest Regards.


And baby makes three
3. So I started this therapy a couple of months back. I can't go into too much detail about it but it's a scientific trial that deals with stem cell research (now do you understand why I can't say anything?) yep... politics. Anyway...

A couple months ago I lost a kidney donor to a tuberculosis history and got pretty down in the dumper. My specialist mentioned trying this non-FDA approved trial that was currently being offered to terminal patients needing organ transplants... and yeah, I qualified.

I figured what else did I have to lose? Right?
I'm already on a three-injection-a-day therapy for the Addison's *shrug* but that's stabilizing and with any luck it will push into submission status... It's just a matter of the waiting game.

This bi-weekly dose I take is a DNA multi-booster cocktail made to go in to the damaged organ and repair and/or rebuild the soft tissue of the impaired part. It's highly controversial and not very accepted round these parts but I figure if it keeps me alive I could give a rats ass about what anybody else thinks.

Ho, there's side effects though... Wanna hear a couple?

-- Weight gain. I currently weigh 120 and I wear a size 4 instead of the previous size 2 and a weight of 107.
-- Confusion and poor judgement. Like this is something new.
-- Anemia. I bleed like a stuck pig's jugular.
-- Change in libido. I still have yet to see that change.
-- Independant organ re-generation. Sounds like something right out of a science fiction novel, doesn't it? Sure thing! But no, it's true. I was warned when I signed the disclaimer that it's entirely possible I could grow a third kidney or some strange way-ward secondary mutated organ next to my left kidney.... COOL!!!

So for weeks Ive been monitored closely, having ultrasounds every week and blood tests bi-weekly. For the last month or so I've watched my poor little filters go from 10% L/ 65% R to 75%L/99% R.. and to that I say HOORAY.

This last weeks ultrasound detected something a little... umm well some kind of wonderful I think. And with that I leave you with the birth announcement... SO wish I had a picture of the ultrasound to go with it... dammit.

Welcome Em's new kidney!!
Birth date: May 27th (approx.)
Weight: .019 ounces
Length: 2.1 centimeters
APGAR score: 10 (fully functional)

It still has yet to be decided whether it's a boy or a girl. I figure only time will tell... If it gets to full growth and then get's all lazy on me... well you know what that means. :)

Have a good weekend everyone!
Im going to go try and get laid now.

Lame HNT

I had this most awesome post in my head but the minute I sat down it oozed out of my ear and into some deep musky black hole vortex of nothingness. And no fuckers I wasn't talking about my vagina... that's just sick.

If I were talking about my vagina I would have said "some overly co-operative stellar-pocket vortex of happiness."

I know it had something to do with Utah though.... Perhaps that's why I forgot it so quickly.

Anyway. I'm a little tired and not able to get any fresh pictures for HNT so I give you this instead. Happy Thursday every body!!!





If you want to learn more about HNT, click on the rolling box and talk to my big sweet HNT daddy, Osbasso!

Alright, so

Vegas. Vegas Rocked.

I will now try to give you the distilled version as the lengthy version needs to stay in Vegas. *ha*

Try and keep up people, and if there's HUGE chunks of data missing... use your imagination.


Right.

Thursday morning I as I checked in my e-ticket the monitor confirmed my flight and flashed this grossely red strobe message on the terminal. Then prompted me to speak with a Delta clerk, so I did that.
Apparently this message was a "connection warning" and I was not privy enough to remember the time zone change that would occur once I landed in Utah. GO ME!

That 1 hr 22 min lay-over just turned into a 22 minute lay-over.

"No worries though" the nice apparently single Delta rep. assured me "I've ran through Utah before."
So then I had to be tarty and repugnant "Did you make it by the skin of your teeth or what?"

Security sucked, I almost missed my flight out of errr, the local airport.. I was the second to last one to board. And through all this I had to ditch my boss so I wouldn't get fired.

uh, that's a story for another time tho.

I love observing the people I sit next to when I fly... The flight from home to Utah it was a sammich between a nice older gentleman who loves his mother and an obvious 19 year old mormon coming home to ma and pops... He slept the whole time. So definitely college.

Where were we? Utah... right.

Dunno much about Utah because I ran through it like a champ carrying two pieces of luggage at about 20 pounds each (shoes). I rocked Utah I think.
ONE THING that amazed me about Salt Lake City were the pretty men at the airport.. There were lots!!!

Of course I was moving fast. As I found out much later on my flight back.

From Salt Lake to Vegas I sat next to a southern lady from jesus I can't remember the name of the town, but she was Texas and her husband cowboyed and they were on their way to Vegas for the cousins wedding... I don't think she owned a toothbrush... But, I forgive her because she had a 23 year old, and a 14 year old. Now THAT's a spread.

I arrive in Vegas. Awesome.

Thursday Night - Ghost bar. Good times, pretty men... Lot's of catty women around. Good music, good vibe, great view. Ghost bar was awesome... Until the Australians invaded.

Now stop. I love Australians. Many of them have been good friends and I know that I have a large group of Aussie readers... I wish no ill will. Every country has it's Leisuresuit Larry after all, right?

BUT.
Dudes came on strong and before we knew it they were buying a whole bottle of vodka at $324 a pop and expecting us to share it with them. T and I kinda gave each other that panic look as it seemed we were sucked into a booth-like thing with the Aussies on the outside almost compressing us, like trapped rats.
Aussies have game this way you understand.

I had to do something or else we were destined to either get nasty bitchy on these gentleman or we could pussy-out and take advantage of their pleasantry... but these were nice guys, and well, I have a heart... So I opted the covert route.

I spotted a pretty guy. And 'excused' myself to the bathroom for release.

Pretty guy comes over and pretends like he knows T from back in high school... He quickly whisks us away to catch up on old times as the Australians search for the next two victims.

Thank you Kentucky pretty guy. You're a hero to some. And why don't you just admit you farted in the cab?

EARLY friday morning T gets a great and unexpected phone call. There were birds.
I wish I could get a phone call like that.


Friday Morning. Hang over.


<<-- Look Scumbag! Even big cement fountain mother fuckers can catch dem fish!!! What were you saying about Jack Shit? Oh yeah.. my bad.


****
Friday Afternoon we went to Sephora to sniff memories. We went to Starbucks and had tiramisu dammit. We bought souveniers for my kids.

THEN we shopped at the Deja Vu Adult Superstore which didn't turn out to be as big and kinky as I hoped, but they had some great stuff there that we don't keep in stock here locally.
T if you remember any of that stuff I got all excited about, would you please put it out there so I can drop the dime to my friendly local store owners? *big smile *

I bought a couple of tank tops.
T bought pasties.
You know, I really do love you T.

Then we went back to the room and got in the mode to go out for the evening.

We watched FAUST. Not for long, I had trouble with my concentration tactics.

While discussing with T the best way to 'test' a sex toy for "kicks" before you buy it, I displayed proper technique by touching my iegg to my nose.


TIP: When deciding which sex toy to purchase, most store owners will put batteries in it so you may see if the toy is right for you.
If you're shopping for a clitoral stimulant, the best way to know if it will 'do it for you' is to place it on the tip of your nose. The tip of your nose is the second most sensitive spot on a woman, and is simulates the same feeling as you would feel 'down there.'

So yeah. Ummm.

Friday night we opted out of the night club scene and decided to lay low a bit. We got food, we gambled. Fun times.... Then we decided to walk the strip a bit (which is where the wonderful audio blogs you people witnessed came from).

Then, we gambled more. T took a picture to demonstrate how THAT went...





For now, that's all that sums the gambling up... and I'm sleepy. There's more I'd like to write but dammit I just can't tackle that tonight so I'll reflect on it for tomorrow.

For now I'll leave you with my absolute favorite picture from the trip, and hope that you have a great hump day. All goes well I can tell you about Saturday and my trek back home (which should really be a post in itself).

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Veg-ass

Okay, soooo...

About a week ago, when I had scratched the surface of the darkest place known to my soul, I was speaking with T about how to pull my head out of my ass about things and get back to normalcy after the last month.

"You have a voucher you obviously can't use if your business trip was cancelled."

"Yeah, and I already took the time off of work too."

"So, meet me in Vegas?"

"Okay."

Yeah, I'm a tough sale, I know.

BUT what does one do when they have an airfare voucher and a need to wreak total havoc on society by means of taunting, ass shaking, and ultimately bringing any innocent victim they can find to fuck with to their knees?

Well. They go...

They... They...

They go to Vegas of course... DUH. Sin City my peeps. That's where I'm bound for.

Why? Because it's a 24 hour party... It's my special place. It's my PLAY GROUND.
To make it even more golden, my lovely friend Teresa Naomi will be driving East to join me for this fun filled weekend :)

Any body remembered what happened the LAST time T and I met in Vegas?
No, not THAT.

But the next best thing! I think I was screaming something about the ass sex hotline into the phone and she was trying to keep me from my drunk hand stand attempts on the bed.

Good times.

I had this coming to me people, and dammit I earned it. I've been through enough torture and open ends to twist my panties just tight enough that I could be socially dangerous in every way. And why not?

Unfortunately for me this trip was extremely last minute and spontaneous so we're planning on just chilling by the pool in the daytime, maybe doing some shopping, gambling...etc.

Once the sun goes down it's trouble time people. And I admit and promise there will most likely be an audioblog... So stay tuned for that.

Only problem is, since I HAD to fly Delta, I get the scenic route into Utah. My lay-over is short enough for me to attack a needy mormon in the airport bar and bounce onto my flight. I should be in beautiful Nevada by 11am.

*big long happy dance with lots of smiles and holy shits this is totally the light at the end of the tunnel for me*

I will party.
I will be naughty.
I will be sexy as hell.
She will be wearing that god damn black number and the pouty lip.
She will be sexy.
She will party.

We will be two sexy bitches with poor ass attitudes with no other agenda than to ruin your lives... Or make them. Which, if you're wearing a baseball cap when you approach me... your odds are good.

Make a note. Don't know why I like the baseball caps.... it's a weakness like kryptonite.

Shake it off Em.


Okay anyway, since it will be in the 100's there I haven't packed much. Heh.
I know, I know the casino's are air conditioned but who has time for that crap? If I want to rock the bikini top and shorts inside I can, so fuck off.... or buy me a drink.

Alright you sexy gents and bitches. I get on a plane at 6am which means my lucky ass gets to spend Wednesday and Wednesday night pedicuring and packing. So that means that you either get to wait until Thursday night for a drunk blog, or Shawn entertains you... Which without me being here to babysit is kinda scary :)

I'll see you in the casino.
I'll be the sexy bitch hammering the gasoline and coke.

Kinda still in the air over whether thery'll be an HNT or not. If so it may be an archive dive.... Either that or Shawn can sponsor HNT again!!!!

House Arrest

I wish EN would stop being busy so I could not have to feel obligated to bore all you bitches with my charming intellect... I find myself extremely boring no matter the situtation, I yawn when I touch myself.

Well when I USED TO touch myself!!!

BUT, you will have to deal with me posting more often here, so buck up! Because I am working to give the heavy some quiet reflective time. That and she's got some field work and research to do. HA! What, you thought I was being supportive and un-selfish?

*thinking* Nope sorry.


Being stuck at home sucks my left ball.
And since my balls seem to be the only functional properties between my legs right now I'm going to tell all you ladies to just go ahead and mouth one for fun.

Trying to pinpoint the thing that sucks the most about being stuck at home, but there's so many little things that are irritating. Like having to work without my regular co-worker induced atmosphere. Or getting good coffee at 9am, 11am, 2 pm, 4pm.... Instead I get folgers and a big cup of kiss my ass this tastes like shit.

I can't touch my dick for SIX MONTHS. Six long pathetic months... I can only take a piss with it, everything else is off limits. No women, no masturbation, no teasing, NOTHING.

I take a pill that gives me an erection every six hours. I forgot I took it today and walked downstairs to get some lunch. The kitchen window was open.... For the comfort factor I wasn't wearing any clothes except for this sterile sheath I could wear to keep germs from the patchwork they've made of my foreskin. UGH.

The lady across the way is terrified that I'm some exhibitionist pervert who eats bologna with a sock on his cock.
Also, I swore I asked that this whole "surgery" thing be kept a secret within the local area. Yet, every time I made a business call some body had to insinuate that they knew.

"Hey trent, just calling about that article for next week"

"Oh hey Shawn, yeah just having a little trouble getting it going... I'm sure you understand what that's like..."

or when I called Sheila to follow up on some Q and A's:

"So you had to back up and begin again? Will you have it to lay out in time?"

"Oh sure! I just had to cut some from the bottom and blend it into the top, no big edits... Just fixed the hole in the flow of the article."

And then the Pizza man had to throw his two fucking cents in:

"But can I get extra cheese on that then?"

"Sure we can do that, are you going to try the new half and half deal?"

Honestly people. If there was ever a time that I needed a shotgun to put me out of my misery. It would be right now.

GOOD NEWS THOUGH!

With a little bit of guess work and some vaseline I was able to find out where they got the extra skin from for my little trooper!

I'd show it to you for a quarter, granted your head isn't that big... or your ears.

Why is it when I originally saw this photo I wanted to play Heads-up 7 up?
Does anyone remember that game but me?
I used to look up the girls skirts while they're heads were down on their desks... Great game that was.

Random finale' of the last three days

Ever dropped a rose on the grave of a dear departed?

It's the most morbid and lonely feeling... ever. Basically, it sucked.
But with that, symbolically everything else that was wound up tighly in my soul unravelled from it's choke hold and fell into that grave as well.
I hope deep inside this was the last person I will have had to say good-bye to for some time. I'm tired of being sad, and it's time to begin a transition to a new chapter.

I went out the last two evenings.
Had to release some steam and get my head right.... I danced. Like a bizarre ritual, some how shaking my ass and grinding into hot bodies aided every wound I'd masked... So I cherished it and filled my soul with 'food' every bump... Every grind. People asked where I had been, told me they missed me, offered sympathies. I sat with Dr. K an hour or two.

Hence, the heeling process has begun. *ahem*

Echo... Echo.... Echo..... Echo.... Echo (it was empty here for a while, wasn't it)

***

"Drew dammit, is my dick still there or not?"
Please trust that I was curious about whether his manhood was still intact after what I had said to the administrative nurse at pre-op that morning. That and the fact that the doctor commented on Shawn feeling 'like a new woman in no time' was just enough for me to whip the sheets back right away... But I didn't. I wasn't certain that I wanted to be the one to break the news.

"Shawn, I'm not looking for you. Why don't you just wait and see for yourself?"

Though my curiousity was peaked I admit. My fingers were itching to just reach and pull... reach and pull...

"Please Starfucker, you're the only one I trust to tell me if it looks bad. Please?" Shawn clasped his fingers and pleaded like a 2 year old would for it's pacifier. I just looked at him like he was insane. "PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE!?!?!"

I sighed deeply, half-way enjoying his pleading and all the while remembering the therapy sessions we had weeks ago when he'd plead like that to feel my boot heel in his shoulder. My hands went up in defense at his badgering.

"Christ! Okay okay I'll look!!!! But it's gonna look bad anyway you asshole, you just got out of surgery... If it looks half-way decent I'd be surprised...."

So I lift the sheet from the side and peek my head into the sterile white crispness, thinking I'd only see gauze and wrapping, but no actual stitching or skin. And for a moment there I did see just that, and everything was good... However upon closer inspection... "See you dumb ass, it's just some gauze and cotton like stuff and I can't see-"

Stopping abruptly, I pause in my sentence because well, there it was. And I wasn't really certain I was seeing 'IT', but holy FUCK once my eyes focused I realized that yep... causing me to jump back a bit in my search for a good overall visual, and I gasped a little.

"Well? WELL? What is it? Is it there?" Shawn ran his hands through his coif "Why are you blushed? What the fuck? Great, I have a cunt don't I? Oh jesus..."

I laughed because this could potentially be the cruelest prank ever played in the whole HISTORY of our frienship. So I had to give it a good... long.... pause just to keep the suspense going.

I look under the sheet again in hopes to capture some sort of descript for you people that read this. But really I can only come up with two words to accumulate an over all picture for your mind.

Franken penis. Yep...

You ever had a finger splint?

"No hun, no... It's there and it's fine. It just needs to heal is all." I calmed him reassuringly as I sat trying not to look horrified.

"It better be, there's a hot nurse that works the 5pm shift here I need to know." He grinned, winced, and pushed his self-serve button.

"It's bigger isn't it Em? It feels like a monster..."

That was Wednesday.

I'm Emma and I'll be your babysitter for the day
Que funeral on Thursday, during the caravan back to the house for the potluck afterwards. I checked my voicemail messages

"Hey Emma, It's Kasey. I came to visit Shawn and see how he was feeling but he keeps wanting to show me his cock and I just don't know how many more times I can bear to look at it. I'm going to take off but if you have a chance, can you stop by and see him later?"

Comedy relief. I head to the hospital after kissing my kidlets good night.

Thursday was a better night for talking, and he sat patiently listening to me down load my thoughts.. Of course I had to look at his dick once or twice to appease him. But it looked better that day and the brace was removed for the time being.

I was there until 3am (per his request), and we sang "She's out of my life" (by Michael Jakson around 1am (louder than we should've) while I chugged my mini Stoli's and he gnawed on pizza. Our tradgedy and jokes therein were great for bothering Shawns room neighbor who was a total dick head, especially around midnight when he was trying to sleep. Whatever.

That was Thursday.

I took sleeping pills at 3am. Woke for work at 5am.

The hands down fuckin' funniest thing I ever witnessed in my whole life.
Was Friday evening when I was waining and barely operational. Truly this week has been a tremendous downward spiral for yours truly and I barrelled hard into the darkest place I'd ever been in my life. Just strange, even more dismal than when my health was poor. Dr. K chalked it up to emotional illness, and how we are inept to repair emotion and soul as we can the physical being.

I sit watching the local news with Shawn when the nurse walks in and makes mention of THE DOSE. I watch her plug the extra IV doohickey in, check his stats and temperature, and then turn to me and say "Our cafeteria is down stairs if you're hungry or thirsty."

"Oh no I'm fine." I thank her, she shoots a look at Shawn.

Shawn then replies to the nurse "Nah, its good. She can stay, she's seen it before."

OOoookay.
So we're watching the news, having conversation... When the sheets start to move around his groin section. I try not to notice this and reflect on local weather, but in my peripheral I can see the sheets begin to shift and rise.

Rising, Rising... Sunny and 70... Rising.
My head jerks to the bed.
And there it is... in all its glory... The tent.

I look hastily at Shawn who is laughing at my expression and wiping a tear of pain from his eye. "Yeah, should have told you what the dose is. It's some shit they give me to exercise the new skin since it needs to be able to reflex correctly... " He shrugs "So it doesn't tear..."

And there he lays with a big ass boner and I can no longer watch the news.

"Shawn I feel weird with you here and your boner... and..." I pause and try not to imagine the pain he must be feeling "You're not going to cum, are you?"

"Fuck I hope not." He laughs "It will go down in a minute or two..."

"How often do you do the dose?"

"Every couple of hours or so... Will you be sticking around for the 9pm showing? Bring in your Ipod, we'll do it to music."

I heard the tires screech to a halt in your head.
So at this point, I'm thinking to myself... That's right, they had to graff new skin onto his penis. I wonder where they got the skin from to replace the missing piece?

"Shawn, where did they get the skin from... Do you know?"

"Honestly, I have no clue... I've been kinda thinking on that actually. It's not my neck, my ass, my waist... I patted and felt around everywhere for any kind of extra bandaging but haven't found it."

"Have you asked any one? The doctor?"

"I'm afraid to" Shawn pushed his self-service morphine button again "And my whole fucking crotch is on fire all the way to my asshole."

mm. hmmm. I smiled widely and peered lovingly (yet sarcastically) at him and his tent.

Batted my eyelashes... and said:

"Say it taint so Shawn... say it taint so."

Status Quasi Quo HNT

There are so many things I did today that are going to get my ass kicked... Nothing like a little debautchery to get one in the mood for emotional healing :)

I have had some outrageous moments of emotion in the last 72 hours that make me a bit uncontrollable, but I think we all get that way when we lose somebody, especially when it's the 5th person you've said good-bye to in the last month or two... The fact that it's family makes it heart wrenching.

I've said thank you to everyone so many times lately it feels repetitive, but you know what? I totally mean it and your prayers and thoughts are working because it was a semi-decent kind of day today... Except for trying to be humorous which, in fact, came and went but was totally distasteful and dark none the less.

Which bring us to the surgery (HA):

6am: Admit him, fill out the insurance and consent forms.
Receptionist and triage nurse asks me if I'm his wife, to which I say 'no'. She scopes my wedding ring and continues to ask if I am a family member. I tell her "I'M HIS RIDE." Which insights and even stranger look from the triage area... So I find myself stuttering to explain that I'm somebody else's wife, I'm just his girl friend. Uhh girl thats a friend... JESUS.

Which only made it worse...
Things just got kinda weird from there. Shawn gloats about me being his girlfriend, I roll my eyes...

6:50am: They call his name and he's on his way back for pre-op. The nurse asks me to wait for his belongings since they can't hold his personal effects in the 'recovery areas'. I'm thinking pants, shirt, uhh socks.... Wallet... HEY WALLET!!!!

She comes out with pants and shirt, shoes, socks... and WALLET! I open it just for fun and see the luxurious contents before me:

a. bus pass
b. Drivers License with bad photo
c. Beat up photocopy of a social security card (with his middle name on it!!! LOL)
d. Two dollars

Then she hands me a little blue plastic bag. Me being the curious one that I am, opted to look inside... Huge mistake. Underwear and ice pack.
Nice, great... Me stuck with Shawns underwear all fucking day... My car should smell GREAT after sitting in the 70 degree weather with those in there all day long.

As the triage nurse walks away with Shawn looking like a scared child over his shoulder, I pulled the administrative nurse to the side and told her to remind the doc "to go easy on him, he's still nervous about the sex change even after all the hormone therapy and consultations."

She didn't laugh. I did.

7:15 - 9ish: I work, therefore I blogged and then decided that I was in a terrible mood to be social and shoved my head up my ass and into my work. Then I figured work was over-rated and tried to blog again. Then I realized that blogger was somebody's anal slave today and I should be working again. And then I cried. Again. Fuckin pathetic.

Anybody have any idea how hard it is to masturbate right now? No wonder I'm crying!!

930ish: Call from hospital, Shawn has made it safely through anesthesia and surgery has begun. It's procedure for them to call and let the spouse or family member know the patient is safe "And since you're neither, you're just his RIDE, we thought you might care."
uh-huh. Catty nurse bitches. I care.

930-3ish: Work, thought about Vegas. Work, thought about Vegas. Work, cried... thought about Teresa Naomi in a towel and black halter top. Masturbation sounded ok. Realized I had to pick up Shawn!!!

3:36pm: Call from hospital saying surgery was successful and Mr. Simpson was resting peacefully in recovery. I reply that I was on my way to pick him up and was advised that I may have to wait until the doctor clears him for release. I say OK, and was tempted to ask her if the genital manipulation will appear normal and non-swollen in a couple of weeks. But I didn't.

3:50pm: I show up at the Outpatient unit to see him, was advised that he had been moved to inpatient, Room 449a. Huh. Why I wonder... "They decided his condition necessitated he be admitted."

I'm thinking to myself, holy shit I hope they didn't really give him a vagina. I was kidding, and well.. FUCK... So I hurry to room 449a.

ROOM 449a:

Shawn is on Morphine.
He's a mess... And he's the king of his own la la land.
He owns a dog named Rusty that pisses on himself and he thinks that cheeseburgers should be thin, like ham sandwiches. He also believes he just gave birth to something that's now hanging off the side of his leg (which is the bag for the catheter), and that the hotel here has purple carpet.

He is drooling, he is unresponsive to common sense, he tells me that I look like Drew Barrymore, I ask him if the doctor has been in to see him.

"Mr. Green jeans?"

"No hun, the doctor.. Has he been here to see you? Has any one been here to see you yet and tell you what your status is?"

"Status, what the fuck does that have to do with it, we get great reception here I bet. Hey drew, do me a favor and yank on that tube it's bothering me."

I find myself scurrying to Yahoo IM and email in order to tell the powers that be, Shawn will not be in shape for this event a local town here is sponsoring that he promised he'd be good enough to cover... Cause he's an idiot.

"Drew, my stomach hurts I need yogurt for my yeast infection..."

My fingers work fast and furious to text in a message as I laugh hysterically at this comment and have no idea what the fuck to say back to him. "What the hell are you talking about dumb ass? You can't have yogurt right now!! Have ice chips.... ice chips."

I hear back from the big boss that a replacement will be issued for Shawns assignment and that he'll be over to pay a visit this evening. I relay the news to Shawn who decides to play devils advocate to the yogurt comment instead.

"I bet women like yogurt. Why don't they make cum flavored yogurt, the kind where the filling rests at the bottom and you have to stir it."

(sigh) okay I needed comedy relief, but this is borderline ridiculous.

"DREW yank on my tube already, it's creeping me out."

"Fuck Shawn jesus, haven't you ever been on morphine? I'm not yanking that tube, it's attached to your schlong. So no doctor."

"Mr. Greenjeans came in yes, said I would feel like a new woman tomorrow but I stay here tonight. No idea why he called me a woman unless I've lost my penis. Look under the covers drew and tell me if it's still there."

So what do you do?
.
.
.
K, so I'm curious... And well I wonder what the hell the doctor meant with the womanly comment and I'm paranoid about my sick joke this morning. Do I look?

Do I?

(stay tuned tomorrow for the exciting sequel!!! And find out if I looked, and if so what I saw...)

***

Shawn persisted I honor his penis for HNT. So since blogger is co-operating with me, I think I will... Here is what Shawn's dick head looked like before the accident (as requested).

I for fucks sake hope it's still there people. I for fucks sake really do.



If you want to learn more about HNT, click on the rolling box and talk to my big sweet HNT daddy, Osbasso!

Rainbows and Daisies?!?!?! Where?!?!

Alls fair in love and war, sorry if I pissed any one off yesterday. I guess this whole physical recovery process is weighing on me, and it's no excuse but hopefully in a week I'll be right as rain!

What with EN being in a psycho momentus phase in her life I suppose once the funeral is over on Thursday she'll be back to being the goddess she is, and I don't know about you but I can't wait for this whole dark phase to be over with either of us. We just have to wait it out is all, in the meantime I think we both agree that we appreciate you just reading this turmoil and leaving good comments and happy thoughts while we work to support each other with help from our families... boo hoo. Frankly, we're quite a pair what with her newly gained alcoholism and my pharmacuetical coma.

We did get a chance to bury the hatchet today, so it's all good. After reading Sassinaks comments (and corresponding comments therein), it was agreed on both our parts that we should hate the universe and not each other. Thanks Sassinak for that, it meant the world to our perspective.

Alright, what else... my leg seems to be a chick magnet, so I will prey to the Gods that my dick heals before my leg does.

"What did you do to your leg?"

"Oh my god you jumped OUT of a MOVING car?!?!"

"You poor thing, does it hurt much?"

I love the ditzy women that think I'm brave for ditching a fast moving vehicle. I have all of them fooled. I am actually an underachiever that feared marriage... I wonder what the reaction would be if I told them that instead? Nahhh.

I got two phone numbers, they know nothing about my genital incapacitation and we'll keep it that way. Everytime they peep my bulging crotch they think I'm hung like a quarter horse. I love it!!! I commend myself to believing that I can convince them I'm being sincere by 'holding out' until the second or third date while I get right with my phallicy.

They find it respectable.
I think it will allow me to let my dick heal and get laid PLUS a bonus halo for the ladies because they'll think Im not a slut because I pressured them on the first date.

Also I was fondled by a nurse when I went in for my pre-op appointment. At first I thought she was doing her routine check up, but she looked at me all funny and giggled. Do women thrive on injured men? Is this some sort of deep seeded Nurse Nancy complex? Is it sexy and just the most ultimate turn on to see us injured?

It may be just my imagination but I've gotten more attention since my accident than I have my whole life.


In other news I watched a guy kiss his dog today, and the dogs tongue got all in his mouth, then he kissed his girlfriend. Five minutes before that I watched the dog take a shit at a nearby bush and lick his ass after.

I appreciate dog lovers just as much as the next person, but I don't think his girl is realizing that she just kissed a dogs asshole.

Any thoughts on that?

Okay so hopefully EN will be out of the bottle and be back to this blog tomorrow so you all will be spared from my patheticness, I'm just trying to help out a friend here!!! Surgery tomorrow and I've gone 7 hours with nothing but sips of water!

Covering her desk

Hi All! It's me, limp dick.

I'll be covering the blog while EN's away for awhile correcting her head. In case you are not aware of why exactly the need for absence, her brother-in-law passed away late Sunday night. That was only the topping on the sundae for some of the other shit she'd been hitting head on.

This sucks because normally EN is the backbone of every one else. So her ripple effect influences us who feel helpless but want to support her back...

I told her it was essential for her to take time with her family and tie up some bereavement and loss process she's feeling at the moment. Sooooooo, yeah.
Let's not have an awkward moment and get all depressed though, I think it would serve her heart more happiness to hear us carry on then for a pause in the cause (anyone that knows her would know this for fact).

I just got off the phone with her nagging me for posting since she normally posts at night and "God damnit Shawn you fucking loser if you don't post something in the evening for tomorrow I'll leave here and kick your ass into a straight away."


Sucks when people get depressed since the person they are seems so distorted, and yet normal to themselves. Almost like they're surrounded in this "fog" until every so often there's a break and you see a glimmer of them; it's then you realize the person that used to exist.

Until you see that break again you miss them even though they're standing right there.

But then sometimes it's the complete opposite because they tell you they are okay, and they really sound it.. Until they start bawling for no apparent reason, other than wheat bread is on sale for .79 cents.

Either way, it sucks to be me and her and shit is just all depressing here.
So sorry you have to sit in on this but what the fuck? It's her blog and well now mine too and what better way to blog then to be for the moment!
Sugar and Spice would be so proud to hear me say that!

I know you're reading this Spice, hi.

Smoking pot when your dick is fucked up is cool.
I gotta stop talking to the good doctor H.
Anyway I'm creeped out and down myself and that bites my ass.

Now that all of that sappiness is over, and I feel gay, let's move on to the next subject, shall we?

My dick is not well, and I don't expect it to be any time soon.
I made the stupid mistake of going into work a couple of days last week, riding the bus in. Which means I couldn't pamper my fucking package with ice, I had to endure the two 45 minute rides with nothing but my iron will and a pack of chewing gum.

YOU TRY SITTING ON A BUS WITH A FUCKING BALLOON OF ICE BETWEEN YOUR LEGS. IT'S EMBARRASSING AND WEIRD FOLKS STARE AT YOU.

I'm worthless at my job because I drool on the fuckin keyboard.

Also because I can't formulate thought, so my editorials suck since I have no opinion. I can't feel passionate about anything when I'm chuggin Darvocet every 4 hours.

Now when I call in for my voicemail they've added a prompt to speak with my 'assistant'. My 'assistant' is Emma and well, what with her unexpected turn of events and utter turmoil that doesn't turn out to be the best business relationship structure (AS YOU CAN IMAGINE).

In email today, I received this from a long time company who advertises huge with our little 'monthly':

Shawn,

I spoke to your assistant today because we needed a two page full spread space for the August advertisement. She told me that if we needed a two page spread for a picture of a woman's ass and some bullshit about a fifty percent off sale then our models' ass was too big, and to cut the font to 8pt.

I take it in stride, but dude we just want a big ass on our ad. Does that make us sick?

Thanks bud, let us know about the space for sale.
Darren

Darren and I go way back. I'm not too worried about that. But if that's the case, I have a lot of reservations for when Dan the Sausage Man calls in, and that's a fact. I will be going into the office tomorrow WITH my ice pack on the bus because fuck that shit, I can't have Emma on the phone with Dan the Sausage man.

My surgery is on Wednesday, apparently they're going to cauterize the splice and do some sort of skin graph over the head of my penis... Can you feel the love and joy I exuberate when I say that? I'll just be happy to feel some relief and healing happening around here.

In the meantime I feel weird posting anything on this blog, and I am not much of a writer but I want to say thanks to all of you that either laughed at me, with me, or gave me great advice about my little dilemma, I will be sure to put you on the "Save Shawn's Snake" donation fund. No really there was some great remarks and direction... Believe me, next time I'm stabbing that bitch with her locker key or calling 911 from the rest stop.

(Any one else having issues getting pictures uploaded onto blogger? Or is it just my non-internet friendly ass....)

I will now also be accepting applications for any ladies that would like to nurse me back to health and be my guinea pig for the duration of my penile recovery. Any takers?

Leave a short blurb about yourself and what you could possibly do to separate yourself from the droves of other women that want me to make them feel special... After the beep...

*beep*

2 birds, one stone.

I sit here, blank stare and numb at my computer screen this morning. There don't seem to be enough tears left in my soul to cry.

But one always finds itself streaming down my cheek to pith my chin.

A spark dissolved to an ember, and remains barely heated until the last whiff of smoke lessens and disappears.

This really isn't how I thought it would end but in essence it's in goodwill, and it's understood. That doesn't mean I can't have the right to feel the way I do right now. I keep telling myself that good-bye is forever, but then, there's really no other way to say it, is there? I just wish I'd have had the opportunity to say at least a heartfelt good-bye if any was to be said at all.

Thanks in the most sincerest form, and godspeed good friend.

R.I.P Tom

*silence*

Death Cab For Cutie - Soul Meets Body


It's erie, haunting... and downright everything I feel reverberate within me at this very moment.

Fuckin' great song people, dig the lyrics as much as the catchy melody... it all entertwines and moves mountains.

Going on in the background

Interesting the things that go on in the background of our lives, behind the blog facade. This last week (exactly a week ago to the minute), my world has sucked in the background because I've had to extend myself to mankind a bit. Truly taxing. Partnering with Editor Shawn, we figured we'd share it with you in hopes to brighten your week now that it's at it's end, and hope to give you a little 'grass is greener perspective' to start your weekend.

The only way to truly describe this story correctly would be to do it in a "He said; She said" arena. Something new to the Meltdown but essential since my Editor has been on my ass to know what my rendition of 'Hell Night' would be like in contrast to his.

That and I guess this is a good time to shed light on another persons sorrow in hopes it brings you comedy and well, prevention.

NEVER DATE A PSYCHO, and if your girlfriends tell you the bitch is psychotic... It's because we smell our own... k?

That being said, not only do we now pass over into the boundaries of one persons personal idiotic but tragic story, but we hope a lesson will be learned from this story as well. So here goes:

SHAWNS RECOUNT

Thursday afternoon after work my girlfriend called and asked if I wanted to go out to dinner. I thought that wow, she'd never offered to buy dinner before, why not?
And I said yes of course.
Are you kidding? A woman buy me dinner? How the hell do you say no to that?

You don't! So she picked me up at work, drove me home to change into something 'really nice and appropriate', blah blah blah and we hit the road.

After an hour of driving south and no clue where we were going she had mentioned that she had a special restaurant she'd been dying to share with me so cool, why not? Only soon the drive had turned into two hours and we were getting close to hitting the state line, so I ask her:

"Where is this restaurant again? We've been driving for two hours now and I'm getting hungry."

She says "There's food in the back."
I think this is strange since apparently we were driving to dinner, and had been for TWO HOURS.

"Food in the back? How far are we driving?"
"To Nevada"
"Nevada? Holy fuck, Why?"
"To get married."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"
"No, why?"

She looked at me, I looked back at her and could tell that really she wasn't kidding at all. Fuck that I'm not getting married!!!

"You're not serious. You can't be"
"I am Shawn, you love me and I love you and we're meant to be together forever and you know this... You're just afraid to admit it because you will think I'd be in control in the relationship once you come clean about it."

I started to sweat because I don't know if any of you bloggers know this, but everyone thought my girlfriend was psycho but me apparently, and well this was my one glint of realization that perhaps they might be right after all.

"This is not about control" I said "This is about you forcing me to do something against my will, I don't love you... I think you're cool, but not certainly not wife material!!!"
"You like it when I force you, so we're getting married and that's just the way it is Shawn."

She locked the car doors and turned up the radio. I reached for the door lock on the sly and waited until she slowed down to merge onto the connecting freeway...

and I jumped out of the car.


EMMA's RECOUNT

It was 9-something or other, and I had just gotten ready to post an HNT and go to bed when my cell phone rang. I saw on my caller ID that it was a number I didn't recognize (in a distant area code), so I pick up immediately:

"Hello?"
"It's Shawn."
"Oh hey, what's up?"
"I need a ride home, can you pick me up?"
"Sure dude, you sound drunk... Jesus where the hell are you, Mexico? The area code is wayyy south."
"Oh, it's the painkillers prolly, I'm at the *insert small peanut town 100 miles south of current location* Hospital... In the ER, I can't afford a cab home."

I sat in silence for the moment, trying to let it all sink in. "You're at the hospital? In *small town*?!?! How in the flying fig did you get there and what the fuck... are you okay?"

"I'll tell you more when you get here."

If any of you remember correctly, last Thursday there was a weird HNT post from me with no picture... THIS IS THE REASON!!! I quickly (thought) I hit the 'Save as Draft' button threw on my clothes and hit the road... Southbound... for an hour and a half.

When I pulled up to the hospital there was dear old Shawn propped up outside with a HUGE balloon-like cast on his leg and his head was bandaged in gauze... He looked like a Q-tip. He hobbled sorely with crutches to the passenger side and strained to open the door, I hopped out to assist him. Fucker was in poor shape if any at all.

Conversation in the car ensued. I find out that he not only jumped out of the moving car for fear of marriage, but he jumped out of a moving car at 52 mph... hit a barrier, and launched into a rolling hurdle into the ditch below only to rest on a berm (unconcious most likely) until he awoke to call 911 on his cell.

"So what's the damage bud?" I was concerned for him, he looked shook.
"Fractured leg, cracked rib, bruised fucking ego..." He pulls out his hospital check out papers, "Head laceration, black eye... you know... the usual."

"Hey dude, why didn't your girlfriend call 911 after you ditched out of the car?"
"I don't think she stuck around actually, I didn't see her when I woke up."
"What?! Don't tell me you jumped and she didn't pull over or stop or anything!!!"
"Em, I think that's exactly what I'm telling you."

Judging by the expression on his face, I could see that he was a little more than bruised on just the outside... I felt for him. Dude hadn't had a girl in years and here he was all happy and getting laid and... She was psycho.

So I grabbed for justification... "Maybe she did pull over and couldn't find your body?"
And then I felt like shit, because any body that's supposed to care about you would look for you in the bushes IN the dark after you bailed out of a fast moving car!!!!

"I just want to go to sleep and forget the bitch." He whimpered. That was my cue to drop the subject and just drive... Just drive.

I got him safely home and looped back to my warm bed. I saw Shawn after that a couple of times to take him dinner or any creature comforts he may have needed...

But never noticed the bulge.... Until Saturday.

HERE'S WHERE THE STORY GETS NEAT.
Saturday night while playing cards I noticed an immense bulge in Shawns pants that clearly wasn't there before and frankly it looked un-natural. So I implied that he was working the penis pump, in turn he pulls out an ice pack gingerly and says "No, no penis pump... just a large slice in the head of my dick."

"Slice in the head of your dick? When the FUCK did this happen?"
"The other night when I bailed my cock piercing caught on the fly of my jeans and ripped clean out."

Alright so my pussy screamed and hid in my asshole when he said that, but I kept my cool "Jesus dude, what the fuck that's gotta hurt like hell... Is your dick going to survive or what?"

"No it's pretty fucked actually, since the piercing ripped out sideways and all.... I keep ice packs on it for the pain, but this topical shit they gave me at the ER isn't helping." Shawn then proceeds to pull down his pants and expose his dick to myself and the other 20 or so party-goers like it's a prize he won for growing the biggest pumpkin at the state fair.

It looks swollen, purple, and inflamed (and not in a good way either). "Honestly guys tell me if this looks right, come closer.
To which one of my friends chuckled "Okay Shawn, but don't fart."

So we did... and there it was... on the head of his penis where there used to be a nice clear concise piercing is now a giant laceration that has literally split the head of his dick wide open. Yes, flap and all... when everything was 'put' together it almost looked like his dick was, in fact, smiling.

Everyone agreed that it was not quite right.
I find out later on in the evening after many drinks that he hadn't heard from psycho girlfriend and didn't think he was going to... and as far as he cared she could be in Nevada marrying her hand.
I am repulsed that he hadn't heard, but expected as much since the chick had been trouble from the beginning.

SHAWNS RECOUNT

I couldn't piss. I couldn't touch my dick. I couldn't wear pants. There wasn't enough ice in the world to ease the pain. Forget my leg and rib... My poor dick.

Fuck that bitch. If she ruined my dick she's dead. That's pretty much all I could think the last week. My prescription pain killers started to mature in kind and strength - from Vicodin to Darvocet and no matter how I tried to pop a morning wood it was a lost cause.

Thank you Starfucker for the $300 back, the dinners you brought by, and the support for my dick. Whatever support you could offer that is, nice to know you aren't involved in the gags around the office.

I saw my doctor today and found out that I will have surgery on my penis. Reconstructive surgery like some sort of Rhinoplasty bullshit. The chances of me ever using my dick again for good reason is fucked up since I will have long term nerve damage.

Why did I want to share this story? Because I thought that maybe I could get across to the men that read this blog that if a woman wants to take you to dinner, wear your stunt padding. And watch your dick!!! Even if she doesn't touch it, she'll find a way to ruin it.

My surgery is next week. For now I will cradle the one thing I had left in my life that I was proud of always being there for me. My dick.

EMMAS RECOUNT

Shawn called me upset today. I wanted to kick myself for not insisting he go back and get stitches in that thing sooner. How do you console a guy that's lost his penis? Even worse, a guy that's struggling with an aching unusable penis?
Tragedy.

I kept joking that they could put a balloon and a pump in his package or that Viagra would be key... Reaching to help with comedy, and it works for a minute or two...But then its just back to the 'what if's', and the fact his mother is pissed at him for having a cock piercing in the first place.

Can you imagine being thirty, living with your mother, and having an unusable dick and a fractured leg? I think that's the definition of Hell, isn't it?

I will be there for him through surgery and after when he can't care for himself, just like I have been now.

Sometimes, we have shitty days or weeks, or hours... And we realize that we take things for granted and or don't understand fully the picture we've entangled ourselves in before it's too late. We tend to hamper on the petty things... and dwell on stuff we cannot even begin to change.

I had one of those days today, as many others have... And in fact it started exactly a week ago that Shawns world fell apart (and well mine since I'm picking up his slack at work AND doing all his weird 'favors'). Today I actually started to mope about the chain of events that made small things suck as much as big things.

SHAWNS LAST WORD

Could be worse people. Could be your dick. Psycho bitches must die.