Book of Jamez

55 y/o malcontent, something of a writer

Category: writing

  • Diabetes, Depression and Death

    Diabetes, Depression and Death

    This is likely a whiny post. This was your only warning.

    I’ve recently been diagnosed with type 2 diabetes. Many years ago I used to get tested pretty regularly to see if I had diabetes… see my biological father died from complications with diabetes when he was 48 (I just turned 48). His complications were that he wanted to drink more than he cared about managing his diabetes and ended up in a coma after a stroke…. and then we pulled the plug.

    A doctor a few years back, when I asked to be tested, said to me about diabetes “if you don’t want diabetes don’t get fat, it’s that simple”. So am I fat? I’m larger than I have been ever, so I guess that could be a yes, but I didn’t think I was that fat… and I know a lot of people that are fat that don’t have diabetes so the doctor was a tool I’m thinking. But I guess I’m fat… so we have depression, diabetes and diameter issues?

    From my handbook given to me by my doctor – “Type 2 Diabetes – This is the most common form of diabetes. In type 2 diabetes, your body makes some insulin, but not enough or the insulin your body makes does not work right. The amount of glucose in your blood goes up. Over time, high blood glucose damages the eyes, kidneys, nerves and heart.” and the “Complications of uncontrolled diabetes include” Blindness, Kidney disease, nerve damage, amputation, cardiovascular disease: Stroke, Heart attack, loss of circulation in arms and legs.

    That sounds pretty bad right? I don’t have a lot of fear about this – I’m thinking I’m not a fan of amputation or blindness … but with the depression going on and the goal being an end to everything, well does it really matter that I have another thing.

    People with type 2 diabetes may need diabetes pills. Many also need insulin. I take a pill with dinner, that’s it at the moment… there are no injections of insulin – although there were during my recent trip to the hospital, they can’t give the pill in the hospital as it might interfere with things so they give you shots of insulin, wasn’t so bad really.

    I frequently already have had hypoglycemia – as a result of this. Although it’s not unique to diabetics, it’s not a lot of fun for me – probably not for you either. But now I have some ideas of what to do about it and how to get relief. Hypoglycemia – think Julia Roberts at the salon in Steel Magnolias when Sally Fields made her drink orange juice… mine doesn’t make me a demon woman like Julia was but I feel really weird.

    I do eat a little more than I used to, but my diet is still pretty limited. I love pizza, burgers, steaks and fast food…. but I’ve started to branch out. I recently fell in love with rice… white rice… yes, I’m very vanilla. I love the texture, how it feels when it is cooked just right and you can feel a gentle firmness and just melt it away on your tongue… it’s odd I know. But I’ve also incorporated a lot of chicken into my diet – cheap and it tastes pretty damn good when I dry rub it in curry. I love my chicken so hot that I start to sweat when I eat it… well almost anything that hot is good.

    Exercise is not a thing that I like to do. I like to walk and I like to ride my bike, but that’s about it (No, I don’t want to ride my bike or walk with you – not a fan of people you know). Back in school I learned some boxing during a self defense class and I liked that so I’m thinking I could tolerate a boxing class or martial arts class. Going to the gym to exercise and just to exercise seems like a waste of time – there’s no purpose out side of being or getting healthy… well I hear (and don’t believe at all) that there are some people that get an endorphin high from exercising and that’s why they do it… damn junkies… but never happened to me, the high comes when it’s over and you think you’ll never have to do it again.

    My depression is currently not in cycle, my doctor and I think it cycles through and at the moment it’s not rearing it’s ugly head too much. When it does there are no solutions to anything and even the most ordinary task can seem overwhelming and pointless. I’m taking two drugs at present to combat this – Abilify and Escitalopram – and it really seems to work, unfortunately on occasion I get giddy… which my doctor says is a good thing and I shouldn’t mind, but I do. Not a fan of giddy.

    Even when the depression is off cycle that thoughts of dying are persistent. Those thoughts have more fuel now with the recent diagnosis – don’t drink, don’t smoke, what do you do… well not eat what I want anymore.

    I begin to wonder what’s the point – why be here if you continually can’t do the things you used to enjoy. Many people live for others – they love so deeply for someone that it gives their life meaning or something.

    I don’t think I really want that. One of the first thoughts I had after the realization that I was in love with Bill was – damn it, now I have to care about living… for him. Fortunately, love ends, at least mine did so that worry didn’t last.

    My friend Suzanne says that I bring joy to others and that’s worth living for. I’m too selfish to believe that and there is evidence to the contrary in famous people – Robin Williams, Anthony Bourdain…. they brought joy but I think they understood what I do this feeling of just wanting it to be over. It’s not a crisis it’s just a desire to die.

    I talk a lot about death being a human right and I think it is. It should be an individual choice for whomever wants to end it. There are enough people that want to live forever and ever and have those things that they want to “live for”, let them have what they want and let us have what we want… but don’t make it senseless, shameful and messy… use suicide to help others… organ donation, scientific study.

    When I’m deep in my depression and thoughts of dying are all encompassing I spend most of my time trying to plan a painless, clean death and I have a few ideas that are pretty good. I’ve had some ideas that were ruined upon further research by percentages or errors and or mistakes by otherwise well meaning suicidal folks.

    Imagine, and I do, a world where giving your life for others would be considered a nice thing… like Jesus – I give of myself so others can live. My organs, blood and body used to bring about enlightenment or life for someone who wants it. How many people are on lists to receive organs and will die because they aren’t there.. how many assisted life takings (we have to come up with a different name than suicide it has too many negative connotations and we want this to be a beautiful thing and it should be) could then be used to save the life of children, adults, loved ones that otherwise would die.

    I thought about selling my body/organs as a way to commit suicide. There is a black market (if I’m to believe TV Dramas) where organs go for big bucks…. I could sell my whole body for $80,000 – $100,000 and then they could take my life the next year… just give me a year to finish it all up and be done with it. Winner winner chicken dinner right?

    Diabetes, Depression, Death, and Diameter… added that last one here after writing thing appeared. Today, which is how AA told me to live, is just fine eating a little less, tasting a lot less and being more aware of what’s going on in my own body.

  • Wounded Me

    Wounded Me

    I haven’t written in a while – that’s the depression I think, why write when nothing matters is a common thought. Why anything when nothing matter? I deleted the bookofjamez site, you can still find those stories here but the site and host name aren’t being paid for anymore.

    My friend Deborah, (who makes amazing cookies that I have only had once in my life but I still remember, that’s how good they are folks – they left a lifelong impression on me… lifelong) wanted me to write something especially given recent goings on. She thinks I write well, and I’m never sure if I do or not. Self doubt is common I hear among writers and artists.

    Those of you that don’t know me or haven’t known me long, may find insight or be frightened by some of my writings, I’m ok with that. Really having more than one or two friends is hard. Some of it I am really proud of you can read my poem on growing up in a foster home called… foster home (yes, I’m that creative with my titles) or my passion for comics or politics and my disdain for religion. I have some short stories that went places but never finished and some short stories that are stand alone – and always ideas that float in my head space that want to get out – pestering me until they can be free.

    I recently opted to take a new job in the same industry I was working – reasons. That job is out in Mesa – about a 20 minute commute during rush hour (going against the rush) and I was thinking of moving closer, but really love where I live so I opted out. Instead I moved into an apartment in the same complex but one with a washer/dryer inside. That’s where our story begins…

    I think, though I don’t recall a specific incident, that while moving I was bitten by a non-radioactive (as far as we can tell from the lack of super powers) spider during the move or shortly after I was getting settled in.

    spider bite?
    Non-Radioactive Spider Bite

    Sunday: It started out rather small, like a mosquito bite or something but soon grew to to the image you see there. Hurt like a B and wanted to keep me up at night throbbing (not in the good way) and when I would walk on it or my pants/blanket/hand/air would touch it.

    By Wednesday I was in constant pain – I’d take two Advil, two Tylenol and two Aleve at the same time and still would hurt. I wrapped it up after slathering it in Aquaphor and it still hurt and didn’t appear to get better. I had a scheduled appointment with my regular doctor (a great guy I can’t say enough about, if you need a Primary Care Physician let me know) so I didn’t want to go twice – two $25 co-pays bah… I can man up and take it one more day.

    See I was to see the doctor because at my annual physical he ran the usual tests and one of them indicated I have diabetes. He had me redo the test and yeah, sure enough diabetes and this Thursday I was going to talk to him about what that meant and of course the painful leg.

    Thursday at my follow up I showed him my leg and said “Doc, I’m dying”. He of course said, “Yes, everyone is dying” Funny guy. Then he said “oh, something bit you” after looking at it closer. He prescribed an antibiotic and told me I could keep wrapping it and advised if it got worse – go to the ER. So I said ok. He also told me about a topical over the counter that I could put on the wounds. So I was good there.

    Then we talked about diabetes. He gave me a take home booklet on what I needed to know and talked to me about a lot of things I’m not going to be able to articulate here. He did advise an observation that I tend to pick at my skin a lot…. he said that was going to have to stop as a diabetic, wounds are serious business… well it’s one thing to say something and another to put into practice, or stop practicing… I’ve stopped drugs, cigarettes, women… what more do I have to give up? how fair is this?

    That evening I picked up my prescriptions from the pharmacy and started my antibiotic and wrapped up my wounds and then lay down on the couch – legs up against the wall high in the air as my leg was all kinds of swollen. Didn’t seem to help it at all and when I’d bring them back down and walk there was all kinds of pain. Not fun, not really WoW playable in that position either. The antibiotic was three times a day for 8 days or something…

    Friday – morning I started the day by testing my blood – no food, no coffee just bleed on this stick first. I think I went through 5 needles and 7 sticks before I finally figured out how to make it work and get enough blood on it. I also dressed the wound in a wrapped bandage and went off to work. Little pain but not the end of the world… until I tried to move or something, then ouchie.

    Works good though, I like work, they keep me busy and I do my best to be busy, sing and be funny if I can – not everyone gets me though and then I don’t seem funny I guess. The day went pretty quick and before you know it I was on my way home.

    I stopped at the grocery store for some diabetic friendly foods – steel cut oats (not a fan), green beans, oranges, apples, carrots, unsweetened apple sauce, couscous (maybe not diabetic friendly but I wanted to try it out), tomatoes and other non fun, flavorless items. See I had done a little reading online about food choices and diabetes – low carbs, low sugar, low salt/sodium… just saying “low taste” and you wouldn’t have to say all that other stuff. But I’m willing to try.

    Saturday – Leg in a lot of pain, kept me up half the night off and on and off and on… really getting on my nerves – had it raised up on two pillows but still swollen and painful. Still angry looking too.

    I was running errands, walking around – hoping the exercise and use of the leg would help (what do I know? not a thing). I came home with groceries and took a bite out of a whole wheat peanut butter and jelly sandwich and … broke a tooth. Broke a tooth… can you believe that. Like I don’t have enough going on right now we want to break a tooth on a PB&J? I thought my dentist was open on Saturday so headed over there, but no… not open on Saturday and I vowed to call them Monday to get this fixed. Doesn’t hurt, so there is that.

    My goal for Saturday, besides errands and WoW, was to watch Shaylee Gonzales play basketball for BYU – She’s an amazing player and you should really check her out. But I was so tired from not sleeping I did get a nap but it was during her time on the court.

    Saturday night was spent watching old TV shows I have with my legs in the air (not in that way you pervs) and hoping the swelling would go down and angriness would fade. But alas it didn’t happen.

    Sunday – Saturday night sleep was a no go, I was up all night. At 3:30 I gave up and just got up and did some stuff I had wanted to do and played some World of Warcraft. Saturday I had posted a photo of my wound (see above) and a lot of people suggested I go to the ER and call Teladoc so I did that.

    Teladoc is a health/telemedicine company that uses video conferencing and telephones to provide on demand services… that might save you a drive/visit to the urgent care or your doctor. The company I work for, LeBaron & Carroll Insurance, provides it free of charge as a benefit to its employees – thanks bosses, it was helpful this time and one other.

    I took some photos of the wound and uploaded them prior to scheduling my television so the doctor could see what was going on. The video conferencing is pretty cool and the doctor speaks with you about what’s going on and asks all the right questions… and he said “Jamez, you need to get to the ER, I’m a little worried about how this looks and that the antibiotic doesn’t seem to be working as well as it should.” Ugh…. am I right? I thanked him and then thought about it for a while. The Teledoc vid conferencing was at like 4:55 a.m.

    At 6:39 a.m. I texted my spiritual advisor, Flo, and his wife, Kas, and asked to have Flo call me when he was awake – I used speech recognition and the text to Kas said “have flow call me” 😉 . Then I took a shower, stripped my sheets, placed them in he washer and waited… oh, maybe I did the dishes too.

    Flo called at 7:10 and I asked him if he would drive me to the ER. See I was a little afraid… ok maybe a lot afraid and wanted someone with me… also, logically I thought they might do something to my leg which would prevent me from driving so I’d need transport. Flo said, without hesitation, “I’m on my way”

    Now in my brain I’m thinking that health care with video conferencing and diagnosing can certainly be like Drs. McCoy, Crusher or The Doctor on certain spaceships and just look me over run a tricorder over me and send me on my way… I literally thought this would just be a “give him a shot of penicillin” and he’ll be on his way… kind of situation, I was hoping it was for sure.

    The ER Doctor (his name pronounced “R OK” which was ‘ok’ took a specimen, they also did a local x-ray and ultrasound of the affected area and then all of my happy thoughts about the science of healthcare stopped when they said “oh, we’re going to have to admit you”.

    They hooked me up with an IV and started filling me with antibodies… We sat in the ER for a while looking across the way at ER Bay 42 which is where I wished I had been.

    Ruf3ICjURxa9YaerZhH4Fg

    I think an hour, maybe two, Flo sat with me in the ER before they moved me to a floor and my own room 547… not even a 42 visible to me…. I did ask if I could have that room instead but no.

    In my room I waited for a while and Flo sat for a while with me before heading out.

    They checked my blood sugar regularly, fed me insulin in shot form and wouldn’t let me eat anything I’d want to eat the whole visit. But it was good – we kept the glucose? low and everyone was happy about that while I was there.

    I was assigned a nurse and a nurse’s assistant? and then a doctor, but then a different doctor. Doctor King (not Martin Luther) came in to see me, tall white guy, handsome and all and of course straight came to see me and prodded on my wounds a bit and suggested a wound specialist he had work on his own knee come and see me. I said – I’m here and you’re the experts so he said he’d put in a call.

    Then he asked – “are you planning to do anything about your diabetes” and it probably wasn’t but it sounded accusatory… and I was like “I just was diagnosed on Thursday, Thursday.. what was I to have been doing since then?” and then he was all like “oh, I didn’t know” and now I feel like I’m writing like Michael Peña talks in Ant Man, like all over the place with little stories here and there and making lots of sense but taking the long way, you know? My cousin, she met this girl at the hair salon and they were eyeing up this macho brother from the Philippines… and you know

    The nurses at Honor Health Scottsdale Osborne were great – they took very good care of me. I did manage to set off my bed alarm three times in the two night period I was there, kept forgetting it was there. When it goes off they all come running and then you, well I, felt really bad about them running to me.

    Monday – The wound specialist guy came to see me, he was an older Doctor and he looked at my leg prodded, pushed sliced and squeezed – took some cultures and left…. no pain blockers were given during this procedure he was just “Oh, that’s what I want” and he took it… I felt so violated – ok, not really, it hurt like a son of a though…

    Sadly he didn’t get a large enough sample for his own tests so he sent the nurse (the nurse that I liked) back to do it and she had to come back a second time too… which was less painful but she was at least aware I wasn’t just a hunk of meat that is there for your culture taking you big meany!

    Dr King came back and said there would be no surgery based on what the mean ass old doctor decided…. so I wondered when I’d get to go home and was told “maybe tomorrow, I’ll come and see you as soon as I can tomorrow to see how things progressed”

    Now the mean doctor, who likely isn’t mean and just rubbed me the wrong way did manage to slice into the wounds so they were draining – he said he found at least three abscesses in there but I guess maybe slicing them open is all he needed to do. The leg did start to feel better afterward but never really stopped draining.

    Tuesday – They said I could go home around noon and Dr King came back to check on me. I did ask about the possibility of developing Spider-Man like powers, but he said it was highly unlikely. He was a good guy and gave me good directions for taking care of things when I got home as well as a new prescription and ointment for the wounds.

    IMG_0819
    so cute

    I received flowers from work, that looked really neat and my friends on Facebook and other places were very supportive and worried about me. Sorry folks, didn’t mean to worry you.

    My Ma called me to check on me cause I hadn’t called on day two yet, made my heart grow three sizes.

    My friend Flo spent an awful lot of time with me, and I really appreciate him being in my life and there for me when I needed him this weekend. He and I do get to talk about basketball when we hang out and other things so it was nice.

    Gerald and Katelyn came to see me during their lunch hour Monday and that was really nice to.

    I don’t often think of myself as worthy of this kind of attention and love, but when I get it I do appreciate it and it makes me very uncomfortable to be honest. I’ll see if I can work on it.

    That’s all I have in me for this today, I might write about more later and will see about wiring about the three D’s – Diabetes, Depression and Death – sounds ominous doesn’t it? wow

    Check out some of my other stories, send me pictures of your husbands shirtless… whatever you need to do.

    Jamez

  • Trying to Let Go

    Trying to Let Go

    Sometimes, more often that I’d like to admit, I can’t sleep. Insomnia is a big deal and it literally keeps me awake at night. I’ve tried a bunch of different things to combat this – stopped drinking caffeinated beverages, stayed up really late to make myself more tired, took a nap when I first got home… and more. None of that worked for me.

    I’d done some mindfulness meditation and sometimes that can help get me to a place where I just drift off, but that then leads me to get sleepy when I mediate as well. Might be worth it if it were a guaranteed solution to the problem.

    What I usually do, instead of counting sheep, is draw xes across my hear in my mind.. one line, then another, then another. The idea was formed from an old news article I read where a kid with a tumor would imagine a video game where he was destroying the tumor with spaceships and that killed it… likely he had radiation, chemo and the like but that wasn’t the headline so I didn’t really read the entire article.. that’s the American way you know. However, I thought visualization might be the key for me.

    If I spend each night, or most nights drawing a cross across my heart it may just give out during the night and I wouldn’t wake. That would be ideal to just pass in my sleep… I had considered drawing xes on a vision of my brain but I have this fear of being in a vegetative state and no one letting me die… like that one girl congress came back from vacation to save her life… which was such a ridiculous mess if you ask me… let people die, what’s wrong with you people.

    Anyway… I’m still here and still breathing and the heart is still beating….. so it doesn’t work, trust me I’ve been doing this for a while now.

    Last night instead of doing that I thought “maybe i just need to let go, if I just relax my body and mind and completely let it all go I’ll just fade away” that kept me up for a while, thinking on that and how it might be a solution. Didn’t work, obviously, here I am writing a blog post about wishing I were gone.

    Thing is, I don’t want to go violently or make a mess… I just want to go. I mean, if I were to get shot while just doing what I normally do or die in a car crash I didn’t cause… well I’m not going to struggle to hold on… but if I had my way it would be easier to just go.

    I ponder frequently about why we, as a society, don’t have a simpler way to do this. I guess most people don’t think like this… so why would they think a solution would be needed. But I reflect on the many suicides in the world each day and how they went… can’t we make it easier for them and survivors… just make it a new part of our culture… someone wants to die… who are we to say “No you can’t”. You want to live and I’m not saying “no you can’t” so how is it fair?

    not that life is fair I guess…

    I don’t actually think that all suicide is because someone is depressed or mad or running away… I think sometimes, me in particular, some people just are done… it’s a nihilist thing I guess… not caring, not wanting to have anything to do with anyone or anything… just wanting to be done.

    So tonight, like last night, I will just try to let go of reality and pass… I’m not hopeful, but strangely it’s something to look forward to.

  • Two Pills

    Two Pills

    The depression I have is mostly under control with medication. I was taking Celexa but it stopped working so now I’m taking Paxil which appears to be working again. Working means no dark cloud around world, not everything seems hopeless and I can justify not ending it all.

    I talk about depression and how I first came to take medication in a story on my blog called “Lost” and you can read about it there.

    I have seen a psychologist or two and talked to my regular doctor about these things. The regular doc diagnosed me as no only having severe depression but now I have severe anxiety also – I don’t really want to be around anyone, or talk to anyone or leave home… it’s fun to try to live this way. The regular doc suggested I see a psychiatrist so that’s scheduled. Not to worry, we all know I’m crazy so there wont be any difference in how we treat me or you…. or those other people you can’t see.

    Last night I dreamed I was meeting with the psychiatrist – she was a short pudgy woman with wiry black hair. As I entered her office she was sitting with her back to a corner on the floor, she motioned me forward.

    I sat down on a pillow across from her and we talked about life, my new job and death and dying. I advised her, as I have others, if they would just be two pills to end it all I would take them at that moment and be done with it. She offered me her hand palm up holding two pills – one red one blue. I smiled, and asked her if she was fucking with me… she assured me no. I grabbed the pills shoved them in my mouth and swallowed.

    It was actually one of my more peaceful suicide dreams.

    Today, if there were an over the counter option to end it all, with forms or online options to donate body parts to science or people that oddly want to live, I’d be gone already.

  • Purpose

    I wasn’t always a good worker. I was young and stupid once upon a time.

    One of my first jobs, at Arby’s I was insulted that they didn’t recognize how important I was in my own head. At my break they told me to hurry back as we were getting a rush. I was so offended they didn’t know how hard I had worked already that I never went back.

    Factory work was the next step for me – assembly plants, plastic injection molding, silk-screen printing and furniture (fabricated wood mostly and working with glazes for sweet finishes). That was more to my liking – everyone seemed to be a drinker (like me) and I was introduced to some other fun things not to be mentioned.

    I just showed up to collect the paycheck and see friends and then I’d head to the bar or home and complain, to who ever would listen, how awful my job was. Many a job was lost because I called in sick a lot, fell asleep on the job or just didn’t care.

    I somehow found myself working in an office overnights at a half-way house. The secretary would ask me if I could do tasks for her and I said sure… having no idea how to actually do what she wanted. I taught myself how to use Microsoft Windows back in 1994.. amazing as that was. I found that I was actually not to bad at figuring out how to use computers for that type of thing.  (more…)

  • The Voir Dire

    I was chosen for Jury Duty for Maricopa County and today was the day to show up. Like Washington, DC – Maricopa County has a one day, one trial jury process meaning you can serve one trial or one day waiting to get picked and you’ve fulfilled your obligation to the government. Mostly you sit around all day watching videos of why jury duty is important (it seems to me these types of commercials might be better served in the general public, not where people have already shown up for the service). (more…)

  • Dream Time

    I infiltrated the new place and was observing what was going on, there was a rally and it was all propaganda but the people were into it – somehow they discovered I wasn’t a real member and grabbed me – I acted as if there was some mistake but they were having none of it.

    I know I was injected with something in my neck and then blackness.

    I awoke and remembered what had happened but was foggy. I got up to walk around there was an overhead announcement I heard garbled, but I followed the other people to a large room.

    Standing in a back corner trying not to attract attention and my mind felt wobbly. I was noticed anyway, someone pointed a finger at me and tapped his foot as if waiting for me to do something. Another announcement came over the loudspeaker – this time I could understand – he has five minutes to prove the experiment a success – otherwise he’ll be destroyed.

    I was shocked – what did I have to do, what experiment?

    A lovely woman grabbed me by the arm and ushered me out of the auditorium. She threw me up against a wall and said – here cut it – handing me an apple. I looked around for a knife but didn’t find one. She grabbed the apple back and said – maybe you could use a paper clip… and a paper clip extended out of her finger and she began to cut the apple into slices.

    She produced another apple and said – your turn. I looked at my finger and something like a light saber grew out of it and I sliced the apple – in different shapes than she did, but she smiled.

    She grabbed me by the arm, pulled me into yet another room with booths, like from a diner. She sat in one pulling me in besides her – act normal, she said.

    What the hell is normal I wondered.

    Then I saw him, skin tight blue uniform with a red cap flowing behind him. He came and sat across from us – don’t worry Jor-El, he said – we’re all the same – you me and Lara.

    The loud speaker blared again that they had found the ship – Superman and Lara exchanged looks and said – let’s go. We headed out into a large outdoor arena and looked up into the sky.

    A huge ship was slowly coming down over the stadium – guns and rockets were shooting at it and it slowly broke apart. The voice of Lawrence Fishburne spoke and was somehow heard above all the noise – if ya’ll would have listed to me we wouldn’t have crashed here, damn idiots.

    Then the alarm woke me up.

  • Who Loves You?

    Yesterday a more religious “friend” sent me a Facebook message image of “Jesus Loves You”. This “friend” knows that I’m not a fan of the religious – what I call nonsense and I’m not sure why she did that.

    I’m not very tolerant of that kind of thing. I’m just not – I don’t come knocking on your door, holding science books praising quantum physics and asking for money for test tubes… Nor would I send private messages spouting why you’re invisible friend is a threat to humanity as a whole… I’d blog about it sure, but not private message or text.. It’s like walking up to a urinal next to a guy and asking him if he’s had lunch.. it’s just fucking weird, don’t do that.

    I responded to my “friend” that I was unfriending her.  (more…)

  • A Cut Above

    I like my hair kept short, like bald short… the receding hairline has helped me to come to this conclusion, but honestly even when I was a kid and didn’t have such a thing showing this much, I wasn’t a fan of hair on my head.

    If there were a way to prevent my hair from growing I would so totally take that pill. Even if side-effect would mean there was a slight chance my penis could fall off… I’d risk it. Increased insomnia? I’m still in…. Makes your breath smell like horse manure? Yep, I could do it… Make me attracted to girls… ok, not that eeewwww. I have standards. (more…)

  • Lessons

    There are some things I figured I wouldn’t have to teach people. Common sense things that you figure everyone would know. Or conscience things – you know so and so will pick up after themselves as they don’t want to be thought of badly.

    This is apparently incorrect thinking.

    (more…)