Which Do You Wanna Hear First?
2004-11-11, 11:26 a.m.

I bring the Good News of the Lord! OK, not from The Lord per se, but if the Lord = Love and I = Love then doesn't I = The Lord? Maybe not. I never learned that "If all A's are B's and all B's are C's then all C's must be A's" thing in Logics class--not that I actually took a Logics class, but still. Anyway, isn't it fun that the Nazarene-lovers always say that The Word is "Good News"? Explain to me again how learning to judge others and generally being an uptight dictator of other people's lives is Good News to me? But I digress. Also digressing, in the way that I once loved Thusly, I am now a huge fan of per se, that is to say, not at all, but it won't stop me from using it until you beat me into submission. So there you have it.

So, I understand that the last entry might have been a little explicit for some (2 outta 3 [readers] ain't bad?), so I will give very little details on The Procedure. Instead, I give you some Good News, and some not.

Good News: In the span of 24 hours, thanks to two Dulculax and 3oz of Fleet PhosphoSoda, I lost 8.5 pounds. I shit you not. Or wait, I shit you? Neveryoumind, I did indeed lose that, which was nice to see, being that it meant I only weighed 32 pounds more than I should instead of 40. Bad News: I gained 4.5 back and at the rate I'm shoving food back in my face, it will only be a matter of time before I'm 42 pounds above my fighting weight. Ah well.

Good News: I actually don't remember anything of The Procedure, thanks to the Demerol and some other shimmy they gave that is an "amnesiac" which causes you to forgot what's happened. How kind. Bad News: They don't sell this amnesiac over the counter, thusly foiling my plans to buy in bulk for holiday with The In-Laws.

Good News: It has occurred to me that back in the day, as a high school English teacher, when I was a little less angry and a lot more articulate, I used to "swear" significantly less than I do today. I mean, I've never heard my mother curse once, so I grew up in an environment where "I gave him H-E-double toothpicks" was as racy as it got. But then I started working in television sales and the only words to adequately describe my buyers were along the lines of "idiot assface stupid motherfucking trolltards." It got so bad on my team that one of the less profane assistants instituted a "Swear Jar" by which you had to drop in a nickel everytime shitfuckdamn sprang forth from your lips. The first day, I threw a twenty dollar bill in the jar and said, "That fucker should hold me over for the next few goddamn weeks" and went about business as normal. But now, you'd think with no one to talk to most days, being unemployed, all non-void, walkin round like I'm pretty boy Floyd, that'd I'd be more careful about which words I choose. But no, it seems that The Profanity follows fiercer and freer than ever it did before. It's actually become a wee bit of a problem, I understand. So, I am going to work on it. Side note: One of my favorite things is when people use obscenities and someone else, usually a motherly type, could be Uptight Person, yells "Language!" I love that so much. Yes, of course, Language!, that what's these humans use to communicate, Mother. I think if everytime I swore, someone yelled, "Language!" that might really help me to stop with The Profanity. Nahhh. Actually, it wouldn't help AT ALL because I. So. Love. to hear that. Reminds me of when my grandfather, who was one of the kindest, gentlest souls, used to say, "There were colored people at the store" and I'd say, "What color, Grandpa?" No logical connection to that remembrance (see also: missed Logics class). So back to my foulness, I'll see what I can do. No promises, but I'm thinking maybe I should get it at least under control before I get preggers, so that I don't go all, "Hey motherfucker, stop shitting your goddamn diapers." Maybe. Bad News: I ain't fucking starting today. Cuz sometimes FUCK feels so good. And I mean that in all possible ways.

Bad News: In addition to the twennyfold other things I am going to try to "start to do," I am going to try to start writing more. I mean, I look to you people's writings approximately seventeen times per day. I'm not exaggerating. If you don't believe me, check your site meters. Ok, Ok, 22 times per day, but it's because 1)I truly appreciate what you write and 11)as already mentioned, I don't talk to many people most days (oh go on, say Awwwwwww!, it'll make you feel better. Go on, I'll wait.) So when you don't update--and you know EXACTLY who you are--I think, What About Me? Do you care nothing for my well-being? Should I have egg-salad for lunch today? Why must you be so selfish with your own life and won't share yours with me? And more of the same. No, really, reading through my past entries (which I must do frightening frequently, because Hello, You're Not Updating!), I realize that I have spent scarce time talking about my Daily Pleasures, one of the most prominent and powerful is The Sade. I have said so very little about the Sublime Character that is my pooch, that when I look back in ten years (or five minutes, as the case may be), I'll wonder, "Where is the Governor of Lovin'her?" and why have I not said more about Her Greatness? So you have more doggy entries to look forward to. And an excess of daffy details that make up my slummy little life. So you got that going for you. At least, I'm gonna try. Good News: This sorry entry is now at an end.

I always like to end with The Good News.