What is springtime without the traditional Sewage Back-up in the Pink Shower?
Spring is in the air here in sunny Austin, TX, and that means it’s time for my bimonthly surgery!
How time flies. In October of 2005, a few days after I got my cancer diagnosis but before I’d started any treatments, I listened in disbelief to a woman on the radio carelessly alluding to the seven surgeries she’d undergone as part of her cancer “cure.” I was all like, seven surgeries, are you fucking kidding me, I’ll sleep with Garrison Keillor before I’ll let any jagoff surgeon slice me open seven fucking times. Etc.
Oh, we’re cute when we’re young. Back then seven surgeries sure seemed like a lot of surgeries. That was eight surgeries ago.
Anyway, tomorrow I’ll be popping off for a jolly reunion with my pals down at St. Slice’n’ Dice Memorial General for the removal of my creepy chest catheter implant dealio (we professional cancer patients call’em ‘ports’). If you want to see what one of these fucking things looks like, or if you want to read a hilarious tale of port implantation hijinx, check out Spinning Liz. Her port could play my port’s butt double in a horror movie.
Anyway, I’ll be back in a couple of days. Until then, I invite you to discuss weighty issues amongst yourselves. Anything you want, as long as it’s blow jobs.
Or you might want to discuss Ms Jared’s report from the recent human sex trafficking conference in San Francisco. My favorite part is where some john asks, apparently in all seriousness, “What can johns do to help these women?”
Ay yi yi.