Gut Rumbles

July 12, 2003

quiet time

Chris went home about 5:00 and I fed cheese pizza to Quinton and Jack tonight. They were wired and cranked, but I cut off the Mountain Dew before supper and they both finally decaffenated and fell out a few minutes ago.

The BC will be here at 0700 to pick Quinton up for the annual trip to Elijah Clark State Park, on that big, beautiful lake just outside Augusta. It's a traditional family thing that we did every July for nine years, but it's HER family, so I don't go anymore. That was the last place I played golf, on July 3, 2001. I haven't touched a golf club since then.

This month will mark a lot of anniversaries that I don't want to celebrate. Two years ago, this was a rough month for me. The shit storm descended, but I made it through.

Now, two years later, I am bruised and sore, and I just took my last pain pill. The swelling in my scrotum has gone down enough that I can feel my pump now, although I damn sure have no desire to use it. Looks like I grew a third nut out of this deal. Roscoe remains deformed and I believe that he is angry with me. He's been holding his breath until he turned blue while he puffed up like a bullfrog for three days now. I'll make this insult up to him. I promise.

(Any lusty lady willing to help Roscoe out of his slump is free to email me at The address is on the left side of this page and I believe that you can just point and click there. Yeah, I am trolling, but it never hurts to ask.)

Where was I?

Oh, yeah. Here in the Crackerbox, out of pain meds and still a norse god. Very Thor.

Quinton is looking forward to going to Clark Hill, but he would stay here if he had the chance. He told me so this evening. That broke my fucking heart because he doesn't have that choice and neither do I. He'll be gone at 0700 in the morning. That's the way that the world goes 'round.

dingbat Jane says that I excuse murder (yeah, and winged monkeys fly out of my ass, too) and her loyal minions call me an asshole. Just another day in the life of a blogger, but I DO wish that some of those people would AT LEAST READ THE FUCKING POST before going ballistic. I suppose that is too much to ask.

Quinton tried to tell me a joke today. He asked, "Daddy, why couldn't the glass tell a lie?"

"Because you could see right through him," I replied, without even thinking.

"AW, MAN! You HEARD it before!" He stomped away disappointed. So was I. I DIDN'T hear that joke before, but I possess a jokester's mind. I come up with punch lines and that one was obvious. I wish now that I had kept my goddam mouth shut and let him tell the joke. I am going to watch out for that mistake next time.

This evening, I told the boys to take a bath, and they were going to do it, but the pizza arrived about the same time. They ate, but they didn't bathe. I forgot all about that assignment. So did they. Oh, well. Quinton will be a dirty boy when the BC picks him up in the morning. You don't think I'm going to wake them up for hygene NOW, do you?

I saw Y.A. Tittle on television today and I RECOGNIZED HIM! That should give you something to think about.


You may have forgotten about the bath, but they most certainly did not, IMO.

Posted by: Ricky on July 12, 2003 11:24 PM

Unless you have an allergy to either one, your best bet now is going to be either ibuprofen or naprosyn. The major benefit of either is being anti-inflamatory, so it will help with the tissue-deflation as well as pain relief. Da Goddess can help you calculate a maximum benefit dosage level that your system can tolerate.

Posted by: MommaBear on July 13, 2003 07:34 AM

Precisely what I told you to do about MY post. Had enough of "I know you are but what am I" yet?

Posted by: Jane on July 13, 2003 09:05 AM

Beer-and-benadryl is my favorite pain-relief combo.

Posted by: sulizano on July 13, 2003 10:38 AM

Thanks for pointing me over to Jane's little corner of the blogosphere. That was refreshing. Nothing like a dropping a little logic into the void to make me feel like a new woman.

And for your "trolling" about for Inaugural Ploinkees: Sorry, baby. I'd love to apply, but the hubby won't let me take the car that far....

Posted by: mamamontezz on July 13, 2003 03:53 PM

You've got a better memory for faces (and the ability to still recognize someone after thirty years of not seeing them) than I. I played golf with Y.A. Tittle two years ago in Sedona, where he apparently lives now. Great guy, big around the thorax, and limps like a sumbitch. Hits the crap out of the ball.

Posted by: Patrick on July 13, 2003 04:13 PM

Call the doc for more pain meds. Better than any anti-inflammatories at this point. Don't want to risk any bleeding at the moment.

Posted by: Da Goddess on July 13, 2003 11:35 PM
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