What exactly is the downside to convalescent living again? Where do I start? You can literally fall asleep anytime you want, even while in mid-sentence if it feels right. There’s the never worrying about shitting yourself because, get this, you are supposed to shit yourself. You can yell at the Flintstones, yell at your herpes, yell at your eyebrows and then yell at the nurse because someone keeps fucking yelling. I don’t even have to think about chewing anymore- food comes in liquid form, it’s like being a baby bird in a warm nest- I asked them to take the rest of my teeth out and guess what...they did. Natch.
Don’t even get me started on the all-day pajama wearing. For the last 3 months, I’ve been Sponge Bob Squarepants bottoms and Spiderman tops and not a one has said a goddam thing about it. Last yesterday, I lost my socks and then I realized I was looking at the wrong feet?! Go figure.
Then there’s the experimental drug ingestion. You literally can have all you want all the time. I spent all of Mayvembery in a haze so thick, I thought I was Ryan Seacrest auditioning for the role of Jimmy Smitts in NYPD Blue. I only made it out because the can of Spam Jen force fed me on her last visit must have been contaminated with the right mix or mercury and piganus.
Can you keep a secret? Good. Sexual orientation is a thing of the past. Once you get over the initial stage fright I guarantee you won’t believe how many cocks you can suck at once and not even break a sweat. Vagina isn’t even the same animal anymore either. Not that I ever really understood all those moving parts, but now it’s more like a sideways roast-beef sandwich hold the cheddar or maybe not. Good thing I’m here ‘til I’m dead cuz you couldn’t pay me to leave. I’d never make it on the outside again anyway.
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