Hot:
*Facial Fuzzzzz. I can buy beers without the younger cash machine worker asking me for ID. "Here's my ID bitch, facial fuzzz!"
Not:
*Facial Fuzzzzz. I have dole rash.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Hospital drugs, the terrible two and the vaseline conjunctivitis
I've just got out of Hospital. I had my tonsils removed. I said to my boss 'I hope they take out my tonsils'. He said 'They'll pull out your tonsils and your balls will come out with them- they're connected.'
The Hospital I went to was small and old. I don't have private health insurance no more. In the waiting room, I leant on a table. The table had dried blood on it.
My operation went pretty well. I remember lying on the operating table waiting for the anethetist to shoot me high. like always he said ' a sharp scratch' and you feel a little pinch. But this time it was a little different, about five seconds after my shot of sleepmaker I felt the strongest pain in my left arm. It felt like my veins had been hit with electrified piss. It burnt bad, I said 'my arms really hurting' he said 'that's quite normal' and the dugite venom hit my heart and the oxygen took my mind.
I woke up in a parking lot of hospital beds with Vaseline all over my eyes.
It was in hospital, four days ago, that I became a drug addict. My throat hurt like I had a herring bone bridge where my tonsils used to be. The nurse or someone gave me a shot in my thigh. I was still feeling the anesthetic and it didn't really seem to make much difference. But hours later that night after having lame duck- no street cred-panadeine, I was hanging out for some good shit.
The bed next to me was taken by a fat troll from Rivervale. I listened as he got prepped for surge ( I have a phd). When asked if he had any problems he said ' yeah, I stop breathing.' He also said he had sleep apnea (spellink?). The nurse said that he was actually too overweight with the operation and was surprised that the doctor hadn't suggested he shed a few kilos of butter before he carved him up.
Anyway, this guy grunted, farted, sighed, mumbled, mouth farted, snored, and generally pissed me off all night. I kind of hoped he did stop breathing during his operation. (only for a short time, only for a short time.) He lied there all night in these little green undies with his bush escaping from all sides. I might seek compensation.
Anyway (x2) , i got my first real hit of peth. Man, as soon as the Samoan nurse shot that morpheate (spellink?) into my glutes I was ok. I sunk right down into that bed and let waves of darkness take my head. I was Hunter S., I was Hendrix and Cobain.
In the morning I wanted another but apparently the doctor only allocated me two hits. The fat man next to me got four, and he only had surgery on his foot, he had local anesthetic and he got four!
If I had private health insurance I could of got some to take home(probably not), Jim McGinty hates the working man. Shame Carps, shame.
I'm going to break into a hospital.
The Hospital I went to was small and old. I don't have private health insurance no more. In the waiting room, I leant on a table. The table had dried blood on it.
My operation went pretty well. I remember lying on the operating table waiting for the anethetist to shoot me high. like always he said ' a sharp scratch' and you feel a little pinch. But this time it was a little different, about five seconds after my shot of sleepmaker I felt the strongest pain in my left arm. It felt like my veins had been hit with electrified piss. It burnt bad, I said 'my arms really hurting' he said 'that's quite normal' and the dugite venom hit my heart and the oxygen took my mind.
I woke up in a parking lot of hospital beds with Vaseline all over my eyes.
It was in hospital, four days ago, that I became a drug addict. My throat hurt like I had a herring bone bridge where my tonsils used to be. The nurse or someone gave me a shot in my thigh. I was still feeling the anesthetic and it didn't really seem to make much difference. But hours later that night after having lame duck- no street cred-panadeine, I was hanging out for some good shit.
The bed next to me was taken by a fat troll from Rivervale. I listened as he got prepped for surge ( I have a phd). When asked if he had any problems he said ' yeah, I stop breathing.' He also said he had sleep apnea (spellink?). The nurse said that he was actually too overweight with the operation and was surprised that the doctor hadn't suggested he shed a few kilos of butter before he carved him up.
Anyway, this guy grunted, farted, sighed, mumbled, mouth farted, snored, and generally pissed me off all night. I kind of hoped he did stop breathing during his operation. (only for a short time, only for a short time.) He lied there all night in these little green undies with his bush escaping from all sides. I might seek compensation.
Anyway (x2) , i got my first real hit of peth. Man, as soon as the Samoan nurse shot that morpheate (spellink?) into my glutes I was ok. I sunk right down into that bed and let waves of darkness take my head. I was Hunter S., I was Hendrix and Cobain.
In the morning I wanted another but apparently the doctor only allocated me two hits. The fat man next to me got four, and he only had surgery on his foot, he had local anesthetic and he got four!
If I had private health insurance I could of got some to take home(probably not), Jim McGinty hates the working man. Shame Carps, shame.
I'm going to break into a hospital.
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