So Long and Thanks to the Bloody Gash

My three inch stomach vagina is finally closing up. It's no longer bleeding like most gashes do. Sure, it's still pumping out pus and it bleeds a bit, but that's to be expected. It only hurts every once in a while and that's mostly the muscle underneath trying to heal. Apparently, my appendix burst so badly that they had to make a bigger incision than normal to make sure they got all of its pieces. Plus, they had to clean out quite a bit of infection. It's almost a badge of honor that I was stupid and waited way too long to go to the hospital because it meant I had one of the worst cases of ruptured appendix they have ever seen. In fact, my doctor told me I was pretty brave to deal with the pain for three straight days. I corrected him and told him I was stupid. There's a huge difference between bravery and stupidity. Bravery means that you know how bad something is but you deal with it anyhow. Stupidity means you have no idea what's going on and you just happen to deal with it.

That's the reason that the movie Say Anything is so great. The main character Lloyd Dobler is an eternal optimist. That would mean nothing if he was unaware of just how shitty things are around him, but he's not unaware. He socially conscience. He knows how bad things are, but he chooses to be happy and to look on the bright side of thing. If you're unaware of how horrible things are, but you're still happy then it just makes you stupid.

Did that make any sense?

You know what I hate about pooping? I hate wiping. Man, it sucks. Not only does it sometimes take longer than the actual act of pooping, but for me it's torture. My ass is hemerhhoid city lately. Especially since yesterday when I pooped out a turd that might have been as wide as a cue ball. It feel like I was getting ass raped from the inside. Today was the same thing. Not fun. It's even less fun when you wipe and you notice a puddle of blood on the toilet paper. It's all the bad parts of ass rape without all the fun of some dude slamming it in my ass. Atleast if some guy was ass raping me I could feel comforted in the knowledge that at least one person on this planet found me attractive enough to violate my brown eye. (I have a weird way of looking at things, don't I?) The thing that sucks is that I have to dook like you would not believe, but I have decided to hold it in until it decides to shrink in size. I think it's the only rational thing to do. Either that or I might have to get an ass sphincter transplant.

Notice that I specified the type of sphincter. Many people don't seem to realize that you have many sphincters in your body. Your iris is a sphincter, if you can believe that. A sphincter is any circular muscle that constricts or loosens as is needed. Weird, huh?

Well, some of you may be happy or distrubed to know that my normal sex drive has returned. I'm back to touching myself about once a day. For awhile I didn't even want to look at nipples. Talk about scary. Now if I could just find a lovely lady who will let me disappoint her with my sexual skills. Ladies, if you are interested, please contact me. Please. I'm begging you. I am literally on my knees typing this. God, I'm lonely.

I've been doing a lot of crossword puzzles and whatnot. I'm actually quite addicted to them. While I was in the hospital it was all I could really do. I watched a lot of horrible tv, tried to sleep and I did puzzles. Since then I've been constantly doing them because I really have nothing else to do. I really haven't been able to be too mobile, plus, there's no one in the area that wants to hang out with me, so I just stay home. These puzzles have kept sane the past few weeks. Well, they've kept me as sane as I can possibly be.

These past few weeks have shown me that I need to get the hell out of this town. I have no friends around here and most of the time when people that I do know come home, they don't get ahold of me. They usually have more important things/people to take care of. That's understandable, but that doesn't mean that I don't think it totally sucks. If I lived anywhere else I'm sure that I'd at least have something to do once a week or so and I'd have people to hang out with more than once every few months like I do now. I don't know. Maybe I'm thinking this way in reaction to the inaction I've been forced to endure the past two weeks.

I just finished listening to "Rocky Raccoon" by the Beatles. It's on the White Album. I highly recommend that you buy it. If you don't own it you are an asshole. Anyhow, part of the song talks about the Gideon's bible. It got me thinking. Why is there a bible in hotel rooms? If you're the type of person that feels the need to read the bible while you're on vacation it's assumed that you probably read the bible everyday. Then it's also assumed that you would probably bring your own damn bible with you since you're a freak. That's not a knock on Christians or anything. I'm just saying that if you read the bible every day then you're a freak. I love Catcher In the Rye, but I don't read parts of that book everyday. Why? Because I've read it enough times to know everything that happens in it. Most people who read the bible everyday know every friggin' line of it, so why read it over and over again? When I reread a book it's because it's been so long since I read it that I want to relive it, but the bible is goddamn depressing. Plus, it's really not that great of a book storywise. It would be like reading an encyclopedia over and over again. Once you learn what's in the book, do you really need to reread it? Let me know what you think Amerikkka. (Notice how I spelled it with "kkk"? That's because I'm punk rawk bitch!)

Back to the Beatles. A few weeks ago I talked about how Paul McCartney gets a bum rap because everyone thinks that John Lennon was music's answer to Jesus Christ. Just now I thought of another reason why everyone's love affair with John Lennon is due to ignorance on their part. Nevermind the fact that Lennon wanted to leave the Beatles some time after Sgt Pepper's came out. He really lost all interest in the band, but he stayed because McCartney pushed him and gave him a reason to stick around. That's reason enough to bow at McCartney's feet, but what really irks me about the world's love of Lennon just kind of popped into my head. Now don't get me wrong, I love John Lennon and I think that he was one of the world's all-time greatest songwriters. I don't begrudge him and of the praise that he's received for that. He deserves it. I have a problem with the deification of him. He was one of the leaders of the "free love" movement, so everyone loves him for that, no questions asked. Well, here's my beef with that. John Lennon was married before he met Yoko Ono. In fact, he left his wife to be with Yoko. That's fine. I don't blame him for where his heart roamed. That's something you really can't control. I do blame him for more or less ignoring his son from that relationship. After he shacked up with Yoko, he more or less forgot about his son Julian. After his death, you know what Julian got from him in way of an inheritance? Nothing. Lennon left him nothing. It's understandable that he left everything to his wife, but shouldn't his first born son have gotten something? Apparently not. In fact, he fought to get something. He wasn't even after money. He wanted personal effects. Things to remind him of his father, but Yoko wouldn't let him have anything. For that reason alone, this deification of John Lennon needs to stop. He was a great songwriter, but kind of a hypocrite when it comes to free love. I mean, if you can't love your own child then what kind of person does that make you? Hell, I love every ejaculation I've ever had. I think about them all the time and they were just cum in some tissues. Just imagine how much I'll care about an actual child. Luckily, I'll never know because I'm never going to have a kid because I'm never going to have sex without protection because I'm never going to find a girl who will actually let me stick my doo-doo into her hoo-ha.

Lucky me.