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Cristobal

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So I was at Liberty State Park today and I heard a horn blowing.... the notes of "Love.... exciting and new...."  And not too long after, there was a cruise ship heading out....

 

 

 

*EDIT*

http://www.usatoday.com/story/cruiselog/2013/03/28/princess-ship-love-boat-horn/2028939/

 

Apparently Princess Cruises are doing this and I'm not crazy.

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This is all really embarrassing, but over the weekend I had a hemorrhoid. I'd never had one before, so I did all the stuff I am supposed to do; up my fiber intake, drink more water and all of that. It felt like it was working.

All day on Tuesday I felt gross. Not like sick, but I felt like no matter what I did I couldn't felt clean back there. I wiped myself and discovered blood back there. I looked it up on the Internet and realized that this was normal. I still felt gross because of this, though.

Showered and discovered that I was bleeding a lot more than I thought, but everything I read suggested it was normal. After getting clean I put on some shorts and laid down.

About 15 minutes later I felt two hot, wet jets of water come out of me. I went to the bathroom and it was a lot of blood. I immediately went to the emergency room.

At the emergency they tried a bunch of stuff, cleaning me and applying pressure to the area and all of that. Finally they realized that I needed surgery. So I went into surgery at around 10 PM.

Once they got in there they saw that I had three hemorrhoids that were all bleeding. They did some cutting and fixed them.

Yesterday I spent the day at the hospital hurting and waiting to go home. My bladder hasn't woken up yet after the surgery, so I have a catheter in me for the next week. It's a little frustrating. They say this happens from time to time.

The doctor said this is one of the more painful and immobilizing surgeries to have, and it'll be about three weeks until I get back to normal. So until then I will sit on the couch, pop Percocet, feel myself peeking into a tube constantly and listen to music.

My wife is taking very good care of me, but I essentially have no dignity right now.

This is what post-ass reconstructive surgery is like. Also I'm wearing a maxi pad.

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Today is my 31st birthday! I still get that childlike excitement for my birthday, even though I am rapidly approaching middle age. And instead of gifts, I get likes on Facebook.

 

I actually have plans for the first time in years that don't involve work or sitting on my ass.

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So...yeah. (may contain details that will put you off your appetite - don't read at the breakfast table)

 

C (cant really call her baby c any more, as she's 3 going on 33) had her hospital op yesterday. She's had a weeping ooze emanating from her right eye since birth - sort of like a thick ectoplasm conjunctivitis. After years of asking for it, we finally got a referral to the hospital to see what's up with it, the cause, and to see if we can get it sorted for her.

 

We get the eye test done - she's good as gold and has normal eyesight for a 3 year old...and charmed the pants off the young nurse who was there. Then we had the doctors appt shortly after which went...okay, I suppose. They did the full eye check, to ensure there's no permanent damage or pain to the eyeball itself. It's not blepharitis (a condition diagnosed by the GP, the same GP who gave us some cream to use, which had strict instructions not to use on the face...) It is a blocked tear duct. They confirmed it by putting in the yellow dye into each eye, not only to test the cornea, but also see how quickly the tear water drained the yellow film away. 20 minutes later her left eye was clear, her right eye was still yellow...and weeping. So the big doctor comes in - a doctor known as Mr Barnes, and not Dr Barnes - so you know he's hot shit.

 

Medium sized story short? 21st December 7am. Exploratory operation to A) clear the blockage and B) see if the tear duct is either malformed or not there. In certain child cases, tear ducts arent formed properly and then the cartilage/bone structure will seal the gap. Which to me sounds weird as she's quite clearly able to turn on the crocodile tears at a moments notice - say for example when daddy makes it down the stairs before her.

 

So, the docs gonna clean her eye out, and then either widen the gap, or make a new one. 

 

So I'm glad that we've finally got a resolution to this and she wont have to walk around with people chasing her with cotton wool balls to clear the gunk. But I'm also petrified that if they dont find something, they're going to have drill into my bubba's eye socket to make a fake tear duct. 

 

Oh, and the antibiotics and drops they've given since she was six months old? We found out their only purpose was to piss off the infection. Bunch of cunt doctors.

 

so yeah - how's your day gone?

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  • 2 weeks later...
  • 2 weeks later...

Today is my 31st birthday! I still get that childlike excitement for my birthday, even though I am rapidly approaching middle age. And instead of gifts, I get likes on Facebook.

 

I actually have plans for the first time in years that don't involve work or sitting on my ass.

 

Belated happy returns.

 

Good luck Red is Dead!

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Oscar Pistorius found guilty of murder, going back to jail for a minimum of 15 years. They got it right in the end.

 

This. Outta likes.

 

Jackie Earl Haley (verified account) started following me on twitter.

I didn't follow him until that happened.

Huh.

 

Well now we know who watches the Brian, at least.

 

LOL.

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Not sure how this will all play out, so we'll stick with neutral for the time being... A few months back, (about two weeks before her appointment to get spayed), little Newt went into heat for the first time and became a teen mom in early October. For such a tiny little cat she somehow had room for a litter of five (one being stillborn). We're pretty much catmaxed with eight, but we figured we could keep one and find homes for the other three. Despite the father being orange and Newt being black, the four kittens were all silver tabbies, three male, one female. One of our friends took the girl and all is well. Our next-door neighbors (older lesbian couple) first  said they'd take one, we suggested two so a solo kitten wouldn't be lonely during the day and then we heard nothing more from them for several weeks... Okay, they were probably backing out, no big deal, we figured we could find homes. Then surprise, surprise... On exactly the kittens eight-week birthday they show up with a cage and announce "We're here for our babies! You won't see much of them as they're going to be indoor cats." Cool... or so I thought until yesterday... 

 

For some reason the "indoor cats" were outside our window crying at around 9AM in single-digit temperatures. So we let them in and they made a beeline for the food dishes and porked out like they haven't eaten for several days. One of the ladies works, the other is home all the time so we figured maybe the kittens had sneaked out and Marrianne would be over in short order looking for them... We knew she was home as she doesn't go anywhere unless her partner is driving her somewhere. Figured she'd show up in a couple of hours and then Mrs OSJ could do her seminar on the proper care and feeding of little ones... Hours go by, no knock on the door. Then we see M. go out for a couple of smoke breaks. Does she call for the kittens? Oddly enough, no.

 

Evening rolls around and the room-mate is home, surely they'll come over now, M. was probably scared that Mrs OSJ was going to scold her (and she'd be right about that.) No knock on the door. The little guys start in howling for food, despite the huge amount they ate earlier. We start noticing some odd things... They've left the front gate wide open, they never do that. Our cats know how to circumvent the closed gate, so it works perfectly to keep the "indoor cats" inside the yard, should they happen to get out. Leaving the gate open is practically issuing an invite for the kittens to run off to the vacant lots across the street. You don't suppose.... Nah... They wouldn't, or would they?

 

Okay, four episodes of Into the Badlands and still no knock on the door... Family meeting. We figure that they left the gate open intentionally in hopes that the kittens would run off. Did I mention it's like eight fucking degrees outside? Fuck this, they ain't getting them back. We've been up to ten cats before, I guess we can do it again. They should at least have had the class to come and tell us that it wasn't working out instead of just throwing the little guys out to fend for themselves. Damn, I hate people sometimes. It's going to be rather odd around here as sooner or later they're going to have to speak to us... Did I say "odd"? No, I think positively Gothic is more accurate. It really looks like they've been starving them, their brother (who was actually the runt) is considerably larger, so they definitely have not been eating right...  So anyway, we welcome Waldo the Wonder Cat and Robur the Conqueror to the family. I'll try and get some pics later.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Started dating a new woman; we've been out 4 times in 3 weeks. Someone my age, which is a nice change after the ex (and other 20-somethings who pursued me less successfully in 2014). She has (diagnosed, treated) borderline personality disorder, which is causing me to re-evaluate my deal breakers as mental health goes.  My brother was engaged for two years to someone who almost certainly has the same issue, though she was anti-psychologist and would never have been diagnosed or treated. I'm torn between being happy I've found someone I click with again and "god dammit, just once I'd like to date someone at least as stable as me, since that isn't exactly a high bar."

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When I was a wee lad (18) just getting into weightlifting, I thought that a high intake of peanut butter would get me some sweet gains. This gave me a sweet amount of fiber instead, and I ended up farting 24/7. These farts were quite fibrous, you see, so during the day, an accumulation of peanut butter farts would build up in my boxers, leaving me depressed that I had to stop eating PB and couldn't get big.

A few days into this fart-madness, as I wiped my butt, a little bit of poop got on my finger. (What the fuck am I typing holy shit) and I tasted it. It tasted like jiffy fucking peanut butter. Fuck my life, and may my greatest Shame never come back to haunt me.

TL;DR thought PB would get me jacked, ate too much, farted out PB.... Still tasted like PB on the way out.
 

What made me think that was okay? I have no fucking clue, nor do I ever want to know.

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