I was recently informed that I have a kicking case of gastric ulcers. Fun. I've been lucky enough to consider myself a picture of health for most of my life. However, 2009 was full of unadulterated bullshit (and some adulterating bullshit, to be quite frank) and it seems that I am having some trouble digesting it. According to Dr. Percocet Pruritus, I need to mellow the fuck out, eat food instead of problems, and stop chugging grasshoppers (a numbing tummy soothing drug cocktail that tastes terrible but feels wonderful). So I have complied a list of ways in which I can unwind and rid myself of bullshit. Here we go, kids:
1. Anonymous sex. Mr. X. and I will both be wearing pig masks or no fucking dice.
2. Any time I feel like a stupid, shitty person, I will watch an episode of Jersey Shore and thank my brain cells and conscience for not abandoning me to such a profound degree.
3. I still have the mailbox of rat infestation fame. Maybe I should habitually beat the shit out of it with a baseball bat.
4. Play the Supertroopers "Meow" game with my ex each time I talk to him. "Come on, meow, whores charge, honey. I'm always broke."
5. Stop watching any and all news shows, reading newspapers, and listening to the radio. Any current events worth knowing about can be found in my friends' facebook status updates.
6. Become the pet of some right wing Christian group and milk them for all they're worth just to teach them a valuable lesson in tolerance.
7. Actually have the mother of all nervous breakdowns and enjoy 3 glorious days of protective confinement in a luxuriously padded room complete with a Haldol night cap. Seriously, I have put it off for far too long.
8. Employ the gate control theory of pain and adopt a Wesley Willis style greeting.
9. Lance boils. Seriously, it's one of my top 3 things to do of all time.
10. Run away to Cincinnati and get a degree in Mortuary Science just to remind myself that even the neverending bullshit ends.
I could take my friggin awful medicine, exercise, suck it up, grow the fuck up, and count my blessings. After all, a stomach is just one of the 78 organs in the human body. The hell with it. The hell with most of the shit I worry about and the ghosts I entertain and the dead horses I beat. And if you make my stomach hurt, the hell with you too.
I'm Sheza and I'm through sweating electrons, for today at least.