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This rambling post and accompanying whinge is 762 words so I understand if you do not want to go through it all. I’ve underlined the important parts.


To answer Patrice’s question. I do not laugh on laughing gas. If left to my own devices, I get nice and high. My endodontist (sounds fancy but he basically does root canals for a living) was cheerful and nice and said “shit” a couple of times this morning. He sort of reminded me of a rambunctious and rednecked Jimmy Buffet. When he touched a nerve it hurt, so he gave me another shot. I wish he would have quit talking so I could float, and I’ll admit sometimes I just tuned him out and would grunt to make him think I was listening. I hate when dentists crack jokes, because a polite person feels the need to smile and when they have your mouth in oral stirrups, it’s very difficult and somewhat painful to go through the motions. They advised me to hit the ibuprofen for a few days, so I went and bought a stockpile at USA Drug. They said to call if I needed something stronger. I wanted to tell them that it would be fine for them to proceed with the dispensing of “something stronger” as I’m running low on narcotics (I ended up taking half a hydrocodone the other night so I have only have one half of heaven left). As a side note, he said I had a “weird” jaw, which was music to my hypochondriac ears. I wanted to ask him more about it and the possible horrific effects of having a weird jaw, but his large hands and instruments prevented me. Then, I forgot about it. I wonder if it would be inappropriate to call back? Was he kidding? Sometimes sarcasm is lost on me. Bryan sometimes has to enlighten me.


How to get sexy lips. Genetics are a factor, but one should just go with what they’ve got. Apply Blistex. Put on lipstick. Add a sheer lip gloss and ta-da! This is what they do on the commercials. You think that just lipstick will do it, but you can’t neglect the lip gloss for that ultra-sexy shine.


I am pretty sure the day will be better than Tuesday. At least I know other people are having worse days. I saw this truck slip on wet streets and sideswipe a red car. It appeared to be a minor incident so I politely merged into traffic and went on my way. Also, I will be getting my hair highlighted and I think it will be cheaper than I expected. My Entergy bill was $60 cheaper this month, too. My cell phone bill will be roughly the same because I have this ringtone fixation going on.


My aunt is wheezing again and she feels generally bad. She has pneumonia. She has emphysema. She was in ICU last week for breathing problems. Everyone was up in arms last night because they heard she had pneumonia. I was impatient. I’d like to say: “Look, assholes, she didn’t just get pneumonia—she’s had it for days and days. If you bothered to come visit, you’d be able to tell what’s what. Her condition isn’t necessarily any worse than it ever was. She’s fucking near death always.” So this is nothing new. Her white blood count is still flat. Her stomach has been upset for a few days so she has refused to eat, which makes her weaker. Last night, I coaxed her into eating part of her jello. It was a start. I made her promise me she’d take her breathing treatments (she doesn’t like them). My aunt J came down and it is beyond me why she didn’t force my aunt to eat something. I sat and held her hand for a couple hours last night and finally got sad about her situation. I resent my family so much. She knows nobody wants to come see her. The ones that do basically want something from her—money, pills. My mother comes to visit but she’s worn out, absolutely, completely worn out after she visits because she won’t stay at my house. She stays all night at the hospital. To make matters irritating, my mother said she saw my cousin and his wife in Wal-Mart and the wife said nothing to Mother. Mom thinks my cousin’s wife is jealous because my aunt talks about my being her rock to everyone and the wife thinks her husband should get credit. He does, bitch; my aunt considers him like a son.

SOB with me

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