Blah, Blah Fishpaste*

Yes, I'm still awake and very merry at 4 fucking 57 am in the morning. Yes, that was redundant. No, I shall not be needlessly or at all redundant during my essay exams on Saturday. See previous post please for clarification. I could not be fucked to link to the previous post. My Gawd, people! Why must you do that? The linking of the post that is just RIGHT THERE beneath your nose? I suppose those people love their bloggy readers more than I love you. Much, much more.

I JUST NOW realized that the word "segue" is pronounced segway. Or, to be more precise, that I was saying segue but in my mind it was spelled segway. Is it more embarrassing to fuck up the spelling or pronunciation of a word? I suppose the context is king in this one, huh? I shall go on with my prescribed paragraph without further ado.

Ah, shit I forgot a part. Which involved the word that sounds like segway but is really not one of those nifty machines but a segue. In which case I meant to say that children are known for their utter lack of segues. From one subject to the next without those bastards of writing we call transitional sentences. Chicken, like other, normal children lacks the ability or the patience (ability) to construct conversations in such a way that there are segues. Shit literally flies out of his mouth in such a way that sometimes (usually) I have no possible way to discern what the fuck he is saying. I do know how to say and spell "discern" by the way.

Did you know that this post had a specific purpose, a message to convey? Why, sure you did. I meant to say that I went to a new Chiropractor today. I was unsatisfied with the old one because my lower back/hip thing is NO BETTER than it was in April. Also I kind of hate the man for various reasons that shall be discussed another day.

The NEW, improved and very shiny Chiropractor examined me, took two x-rays, studied and marked the x-rays and gathered me close for an explanation. You see, the reason for ALL THE FUCKING HIP PAIN SINCE APRIL and the minor pain prior to was due to one small thing that I overlooked in these past 33 years. Are you ready for it? You sure? Okay!

My bloody fucking shitassed left leg is 10mm longer than my right leg. Hence, the problems with the pain and misery and fuckall. Bloody Hell.

Yes, I am going to call my specialist on Monday to ask if they have completely reviewed my recent x-rays and whether they happen to notice a little congenital defect of my fucking leg. This all can be fixed with a 10mm insert that will be placed into my shoe after much casting of the foot and so on....

A happy, happy joy, joy note for Anna The Stupid Twat: I shall have to say goodbye to my beloved Gladiator Shoes. So LOL to you.

*The title is stolen completely from Tertia because who could resist it? Really, it is quite lovely.

FMS Indeed

I'm tired so here's my bulleted list for the day:

• I went to the specialist today and it seems that I have FMS.
• Although it sucks, he seemed hopeful that with a combination of this drug and that drug and this supplement and that blah blah that I would be able to get to a much healthier place.
• I actually have hope that I can get a better quality of life. Yay for hope!
  
• I got TWO shots in the ass cheeks for the hip pain. Yay for painkillers!
• I got THREE more prescriptions.
• Some really old lady in the waiting room commented on my lovely shoes. My Gladiator shoes. Suck IT Anna. Old people like my shoes.
  

Below lies the contents of my pill drawer:


These are DAILY pills, plus I have two supplements now that aren't pictured. Also? The big-assed bottle with the yummy arrow pointing to it? Vicodin. HA! Bitches! Even cooler is a new pain pill that I've never tried before which promises to kill pain without the accompanying constipation that vicodin brings. I love to shit, so the no-shit of the vicodin kills some of the happiness.

Okay, more another day. I'm fucking tired. Remind me to tell you all about the stupid fucking semi truck that took out part of a bridge and made my journey to Riverside two hours instead of 45 minutes. All while it hurts like a son of a bitch to sit down. Thanks, Mr. Truck Driver. Really. Thanks.

Half Nekkid Pay Back

Some of you are aware that I have a relationship with Anna of Annaland. When I say relationship I mean that we met online through our blogs, exchanged obscenities and went our individual merry ways. One day I posted a picture of my favorite sandals:
and Anna mocked my shoes with a sneer and a smug look of self-righteousness. She called them "Gladiator Shoes" and thusly have they been known ever since. So much so, in fact that on a recent trip to The County of The Orange I brought my Gladiator Shoes. I wasn't WEARING them that day, I just brought them to show Anna. To make her crazy. In case you think this mean-spirited and just plain fucked up, take a look at what she posted on her blog not too long ago:

This picture was accompanied by this post because she is paranoid AND a crazy, blonde, afro wearing bitch. Back to the story. I am slightly drunk (during the story, not right now), I drag Anna out of her wreck of a house (she says she's remodeling but I think she just went on a drunken festival of hormonal rage and tore shit up) and I grab my precious sandals out of the car. She is so offended by their obvious beauty and grace that she almost vomits right on the sidewalk. It is at that moment (or one just like it) when Teddy Bear finds out that my Gladiator Shoes were named by Anna. He had no idea. He just thought I was odd, I suppose, naming my shoes and all.

This is my long-winded way of saying "IN YOUR FACE ANNA! YOU CANNOT LOOK AWAY FROM THE SHOES!" Happy Half-Nekkid Thursday, people.