internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe...FER THE MOST PART...however there have been instances in the past that i was forced to take off my sash and take out the trash if you tried cross'n-my-heart-bra attitude by gett'n on my A double snakes force'n the lil green monster live'n in the bowels of my belly to rear it's pretty ugly lil head and put a boot in yer ass!
if you can't catch my drift...get a ticket to the catch up train here with pt. 1
so last we left off...i was not too damn happy with this whole process of the nurse navigate'n thru my nostrils...mine'n fer covid gold of which i'm happy to report she never struck it rich...now all that was left was fer me to pick up the meds i needed to clean out my excremental curly slide at my neighborhood Walgreen's and with all the horror stories i've heard about this process from this point forward...lemme tell ya kittens…this was no Divine intervention in the slightest though there is a story here!
as i placed my order with the pharmacist...i was politely told to just have
a lil meander around the store fer about 15 minutes in order to get my order together so like Helen Keller at a brothel...i aimlessly ignored everyone and bumped into everything and i gotta tell you though i rarely frequent a Walgreen's anymore just cuz they ain't the same ever since they rid their stores of all those (bunny ears) back rooms (bunny ears) the old schoolers used to rave about
glance'n down the endless make-up aisle...i got a double take from the
stalk'n stockman...WAIT...is "stock person" the correct terminology i should be use'n in this cancel culture era these days? eh fuck it...this is my damn story...don't like it? call yer senator
BUTT anyways...
as i rummaged thru the prophylactics and all the latest absorbent styles from the Paris fashion of incontinence undergarments collection
cuz i was told i needed to invest in some from a friend who'd already gone thru the process 4 times before...i noticed the stock'n stalker give'n me the wonky eye halfway down the aisle so i stopped fer a mere moment to scan fer any signs of sociably acceptable life and it turns out apparently he was the mayor of desperadoville cuz it was as if my nether region was the millennium falcon and his eyes were some sorta love starved tractor beam from his death stare cuz this millennial couldn't keep his eyes off my falcon
after the proverbial pick-up lineage that is usually reserved fer those
beyond hideously dreadful 3-minute date sessions yer forced to engage in after the age of 40 if yer still single and way too burnt out to mingle...thing is...though he was pleasantly painful to pretend we would eventually get a house in the hamptons and adopt mongolian whistle children...i fake checked my cell imply'n my prescription was up since his time to impress me was up like 2.5 minutes ago
once i had picked up and paid fer my prescription...i decided to gorge on
my last meal fer the next 24 hours...which consisted of a side salad with no sides...a couple of celery strips...a half cherry flavored tic tac....and a small can of coconut regret...by 6 pm that even'n i had commenced with the colostomitic ritual which included 4 miniature unchocolated laxatives followed up an hour later by some crystallized concoction mixed in lukewarm water that tasted pretty much like the glisten'n sweat off an old man's scrotum of which i was to have 8 8 oz glasses continually every 10 minutes
i can't even begin to tell you how every glass after the last tasted more
and more like Ernest Borgnine's fermented scrotum...nevertheless i made it to glass #8 though i swore the grim reaper had marinated his fuck'n balls in my last cup nonetheless i had survived thankfully without turn'n it into some sorta blockbustered Linda Blair production (though i will freely admit...i wanted to do it 7 outta the 8 glasses i hadda consume)
my mentor rang me roughly 10 minutes after my last glass to see how i
was doin and taunted me as to what i was in for in the next hour or so however i informed said taunterer outside of feel'n a bit like a bloated water buffalo in a beaded balenciaga ball gown two sizes too small and maybe like i had just pulled into the gas station she warned me not to brush it off as an unleaded episode...and as soon as my mentor hung up and i'm talk'n like nanoseconds here kittens...
JESUS FUCK'N CHRIST ON A CRUSTY GRAHAM CRACKER CRUST
it was as if Moses was try'n part my sphincter walls...
and opened the gastronomical gates of hell cuz it was finally time to donate the sacrificial meatloaf to the porcelain god though this was more like a fecal flood...
it would flow uncontrollably off and on unfortunately fer the next 2 hours til i was finally able to count the shitty sheep around midnite only to be woken suddenly at 3am to rinse and repeat the entire process til the 5 o'clock hour where i hadda finish off the entire 8oz's of 8 glasses of old man scrotum once again...each worse than the next til it would be my exploratory debut of my anal slide that i begged fer Scorsese to direct...
unfortunately he was unavailable due to covid restrictions i was told
i had asked my driver to arrive promptly at 9:15 that morn'n as i DID NOT
wanna arrive late fer my red carpet debut and like clock work he showed up on time...though i thought i had ordered a limo...he instead showed up in his pinto blow-about...i whined "driver...why couldn't you bring a bigger car?" he said "don't bitch...i could'a brought the trans-am ma'am...now kindly buckle-up and shut yer trap you barren old hag!"
we arrived 10 minutes early...unbeknownst to me unfortunately...it was at
the wrong fuck'n location as i was informed by the nurse on duty...instead of bein 10 minutes early i was now in fact 30 minutes late....AAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH!
from the covid test to the old man scrotal medication to the meatloaf
mayhem i had endured fer roughly the past 10 plus hours...there was
absofuckinglutely no way in H-E-double hockey stix that i was about to go thru this insanely destructive ego blow'n process again...so my driver general lee'd his A double snakes to the correct location in a matter of minutes (so glad he wore his concrete slippers this particular morn'n)
as i then hadda plead with nurse ratchet inside to just let me complete the process...fortunately she could feel the desperation in my unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe eyes and made me strip down to my bday suit as she scrolled thru a bunch of yes/no questions
once in my drab gaultier gown with my fresh nubile backside exposed to
the world she ordered me on the table and to flip on my left side even though i had explained to her i generally photograph much better on my right...however...this was of no importance to her...all she wanted was my hand to insert the sleepy time meds since i had refused to participate in the view'n of my entrails after i was rudely told there would be no open bar at my lil soiree and of course it would take multiple jabs til she got the right vein...
even though i may have come off a bit vain in the moment...after i got one look at dr. dreamcakes as he started to explain the process...i was drift'n off into dreamland fer the next 20 minutes i was told
once i had awoken...it was all like a fuzzy dream...except i was not over
any sorta damn delusional rainbow in a pitiful pinafore dress and you and you and you were most definitely not there...however thankfully i no longer felt like a bloated water buffalo...
and finally felt able enough to fit in those lemon meringue chino's i planned on purchase'n the second i got home from the makers of DAMN TIGHT JEANS
minutes later after i was fully aware of my cognitive senses...Dr. McHotty
came inside...me and my cleaned out colon's recovery room to inform us that we got an A+ from the procedure and that neither of us hadda come see him fer another 10 years (but i said "doctor...i can't wait that long...i've had blue balls before...it ain't pretty") slightly grinn'n at my request know'n i was come'n off some pretty nifty meds he called my driver and as we took that long leisurely stroll down the corridor to the front doors and bidd'n auf wiedersehe to one another...
i was relieved to have the entire disenchant'n process behind my behind at last and am completely grateful fer all the staff involved in my lil production up to and include'n my studiously patient driver who hadda put up with all my belligerence
have'n said that...when its yer time fer this most invasive embarass'n
procedure...may i offer you this simple yet effective advice...#1 make sure to invest in some heavy duty poopourri spray...apple spice is nice (just say'n)
and #2 make sure yer systems are C-O-M-P-L-E-T-E-L-Y cleaned of #2 or you will have to repeat it all over again!
i only ask of the professional medical field this one very simple question...
if we can send humans into outer space...without turn'n em into fish food (hey cancel culture...SUCK IT! it was funny fer a 14 year old at the time who didn't care about anything except how many neon rubber bracelets they could cover their arms with and how totally politically cool the "THE WAR SONG" video by Culture Club was)
consider Ishtar an utterly complete cinematic eye sore from the movie industry...
and culinary experts make'n us once believe that drown'n velvetta squares...pimento stuffed green olives with celery chunks doin back strokes in a lime jell-o mold all while bein' guarded by tomato wedges sunbath'n on a lettuce leaf as a viable holiday dessert...then why...OH WHY...
can't you create that old man scrotum shit you force us to drink...outta everyone's fav-o-rit flavored pop rocks? ummmm...perhaps this will be completed before my next visit in 10 yrs...PERHAPS?
now GET OFF MY DRESS!
