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If you want to be a damn pervert in yer own damn car nowadays, you have to send away for something that fits in yer cup holder. So ah dit and it just got here. This means I can take the jar with water in it outta there and attain a not-good-enough measure of dignity in my bourgeois go cart from the eighth dimension... and now I might see about getting the clock in there to fall back. It might be possible to just skip all the esoterica and get straight to WHAT BUTTON DO I PUSH FOR HOW LONG AND WITH HOW MUCH PRESSURE AND TORQUE TO SET THE CLOCK BACK AN HOUR? And will it activate the snooze feature? Or will the dancing girls come on to indicate my success?
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love, 99
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Cancer kill by best friend, my dad, at 47 years old. my 2 cents.
ReplyDeleteI've lost many loved ones to it too.
ReplyDeleteI keep it down. I smoke very few a day, but they seem to be mandatory to keeping things standing around me, to keeping ME standing, and I have opted for quality of life. I'm a "finely tuned high performance racing car with a loose steering wheel"... and the cigarettes keep the steering wheel from sending me flying clean off the track.
I try to take refuge in my grandmother having been a chain smoker for seventy-two of her ninety-two years... and then dying of ovarian cancer. I know it doesn't follow that I will be as lucky, but no shit, I've quit about ten times in response to the rabies of people close to me, and EVERY time they went out and bought me a pack of cigarettes and said, "Here! Smoke these, PLEASE." I quit for three months for my neck surgery with very little trouble. As though my brain knew it was the right thing to do to help it be a success. As soon as the crisis passed the GIVE ME NICOTINE thing landed on me like a boulder from a mile up. Very weird.