Category Archives: Mental Health

May 24, 2016 · 0:00

I Found My Donor!

Well, it’s been a while since I discussed the topic that is near and dear to my, ummm, heart.

Poop transplants! — The ultimate solution to my Crohn’s disease woes.

OK, it’s nearer to my hiney, but you can’t claim you weren’t expecting that.

Earlier today I was discussing my future poop transplant with my boss. (It’s true, I have no pride what so ever.) She’s very interested in the idea. She wants me healthy, of course, but really, I think she wants to see what happens from a scientific perspective. And, frankly, I can’t blame her. I want to know what’ll happen from a scientific point of view, too. And from the perspective of a toilet paper consumer.

You may recall that I’ve mentioned that you have to be very choosy when choosing a poop donor. If the donor is fat, or depressed, or psychotic, well, the recipient can become fat, or depressed or psychotic. I haven’t researched what happens if you choose someone immature, though. Perhaps I should.

Anyway, the issue was on my mind tonight when I began reading the news. And I found my donor!

He is young and healthy, albeit a little younger than I was thinking of; he’s living in Florida with his mother. In fact, it was his mom who brought him to my attention. Well, and to the attention of people with a deep seated interest in poop.

One day Katy Vasquez discovered that the Lord moves in mysterious ways. And goes into mysterious places. Because, You see, one day when she was changing his diaper, she saw this sign that things were going to get better.:

This picture was taken by my donor’s mom, Katy Vasques, and posted to Facebook and the Huffington Post (where I saw it).

It’s Holy Shit! What more could I ask for from a donor?

HALLA-POO-YAH!

68 Comments

Filed under 'Merica, ; Don't Make Me Feel Perky Tonigh, Advice from an Expert Patient, All The News You Need, Bat-shit crazy, Beating that Dead Horse, Being an asshole, Childhood Traumas, Chronic Disease, Conspicuous consumption, Crazy family members, Crohn's Disease, Disgustology, Dreams, Family, Gross, Health, Health and Medicine, Hey Doc?, Huh?, Humor, I Can't Get No, keys to success, laughter, Mental Health, Oh shit, Out Damn Spot!, Poop, Poop transplants, Science, Seriously funny, Seriously weird, Shit, Shit happens, Taking Care of Each Other, Useful thing to do with poop, Why the hell do I tell you these stories?, Wild Beasts, WTF?

Tagged as Assholes, Bat-shit crazy, Bless me father for I have ..., Crap, Diapers, Don't cross me, Family, Health, Humor

March 9, 2016 · 0:00

The NRA is Concerned

The National Rifle Association is concerned about your safety and well being.

It’s true — really! I just read all about it! Forget all that other stuff that I’ve said about the NRA since you’ve known me. My bad.

In recent years, they’ve become terribly concerned about injuries from gun shots. Or, let me hit this target here closer to the bulls-eye: they are concerned about injuries from shooting guns.

Injuries to the shooter. They still don’t give a shit about the jerk who got in the way of the bullet.

But they’re really worried about the eardrums of the guys and gals pulling the trigger. Because:

Heck! Those things are LOUD! (Google Image)

So the NRA wants to enact legislation to allow silencers to be used on guns. They were outlawed in the 1930s because of mob violence. The NRA calls them”suppressors.”

Know why they want them? To protect the ears of “gun enthusiasts.” Because we wouldn’t want the gun enthusiasts’ ears to ring now, would we. How would they listen to Rush Limbaugh?

I’m sure the NRA is also working on products and legislation to suppress the screams of victims of gun violence, too. Because we wouldn’t want the ears of them 2nd Amendment types ringing from that, now, would we?

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Filed under 'Merica, 2016, 2nd Amendment, ; Don't Make Me Feel Perky Tonigh, Adult Traumas, All The News You Need, All We Are Saying Is Give Peace A Chance, Bat-shit crazy, Beating that Dead Horse, Being an asshole, Cancer on Society, Criminal Activity, Disgustology, Do GOP Voters Actually THINK?, Don't Make Me Puke, Elections, Elections Matter, Gross, Gun control, How the Hell Did We GET HERE?, Huh?, Humor, Hypocrisy, I Can't Get No, Mental Health, Oh shit, Peace, Penile Hypospadias, Political Corruption, Politician Pussies, Politics, Shit, Stupidity, Suicide, Suicide Attempts, Surrogate penises, Taking Care of Each Other, Vote, Voting, Washington, WTF?

Tagged as Assholes, Crazy people, Humor, Stupidity

February 28, 2016 · 0:00

Oscar and Me. And Oscar.

As a young woman, I dreamed of being an actress. So today/tonight, it is only fitting that I tell you this story.

You know how they say that life is what happens when you’re making other plans. It’s true. I’m living proof.

I had everything it takes to be a fine, award winning actress. I was talented, pretty, had good comedic timing, and a voice that could be heard in the cheap seats.

What I didn’t have was guts. Good guts. My GI tract erupted in high school leaving my future in the hands of jobs that offered health insurance instead of fame and glory. Damn.

Oh, and I lacked the guts to go for it anyway. Once I made a wrong exit and my acting career died in a broom closet, that is.

But even after leaving my dream in tatters with the mops and brooms, I continued to pipe-dream. That’s different than the real thing, and you don’t have to remember lines, or stage directions or what to do with props. It’s actually much easier. You get to keep your privacy, too, which is nice.

Most of my friends are aware of this fantasy of mine, and of my need to, from time to time, stand on a table (instead of a stage) and tell a story. It often involves alcoholic beverages. The table standing, not necessarily the story.

Right now I’m going to tell you about the night I received my Oscars. [Feel free to stop here if you’ve heard this one.]

It was an incredibly special night for me. An honor really. Well, actually, two honors. Two Oscars. Two Awards. But I only got to make one speech.

It was 1983, and some really fun people worked in my office that summer, one of whom, Jon, was from the area. Carol, Mike, Jon and I all went to Jon’s house one night. You see, 1983 was still in the Bronze Age, and Jon’s parents were on the cutting age of technology, because they had a VCR. And Risky Business had just come out on video.

In the middle of the movie, we took a beer/bathroom break. And guess what I spotted, casually stuck on the bookshelf in the TV room of Rob’s house.

Oscar

And Oscar

It turned out that Jon’s father was a filmmaker. Documentary films. My pals presented me with two Oscars for Documentary Filmmaking. Sadly, not one of us had a camera. Probably just as well, because not many stars accept wearing blue jeans.

Receiving Oscar, and his twin, Oscar, was a special honor to me, since I had neither made, nor been in any documentary films, nor even fetched donuts and coffee for the real filmmakers. Regardless, I got to hold Oscar and Oscar, and I got to make a speech accepting my Academy Awards. So I am in an unusual club of people who have never actually acted or contributed in any way, shape or form to a movie, who has been presented an Academy Award.

Yes, I’m that good.

[Yeah, it’s a repeat. But one can never have too many Academy Award stories. Amirite?]