sick

There must be some mistake
I didn't mean to let them
Take away my soul
Am I too old, is it too late?

So what's this thing with artificially colored pets? Pink dogs, orange cats, whatever. Venice first brought it to my attention the other day, and I've seen it in a few other places since then. Perhaps I'm behind the times, and this is old hat?

At the risk of offending anyone with a blue hamster, I'm going to go out on a limb and say what a dumb fucking idea!

I have no reasons for this opinion. I'm sure it doesn't harm the animal or anything. I just think it's a silly thing to do.

Also, concerning yesterday's rant: I didn't mean to imply that anyone who became interested in Tolkien's work due to the movies is a sheep-like popularity whore. I think it's great people are interested for any reason. I just get frustrated sometimes.

Blessed are the geeks, for they shall inherit the earth. So it is written, so it shall be done.

Here's my new tagline (courtesty of Fry on Futurama):
Hey! I can get any girl I want, any time I want. I'm just too busy.

My sister had her wisdom teeth out yesterday. They were done in an hour, and she was up and about doing things afterward. Mine took three hours, and I was so drugged I didn't move for a long time!

Funny story, that. When they go to put you under anesthesiologists usually talk to you, so they know when you're out. You quit talking.

Well, when I had my teeth out they put the spike into my vein, and I could feel the juice begin to flow, they start talking and all. I just keep talking and talking. Pretty soon I see the surgeon get a weird look on his face, and glance at the anesthesiologist, who gave him a weird look back.

The surgeon gave a slight nod, and I felt more anasthetic pump into my vein, and I remember nothing more.

Then I started to wake up toward the end of the procedure, so they loaded me with more. I'm sure I had enough that day to drop a horse, or at least a large pony.

Of course, I was still using various substance at that time. Perhaps I had built up a tolerance?

Then they wanted me to walk to the recovery area. I could barely stand. I managed somehow, but they really should have pushed me in a wheelchair.

I was out of it for a good while. It was really a lot of fun, until the next day and the pain started. Then it was painkillers. I built a tolerance to Vicodin after the first one. They still ended pain, but I no longer got loopy.

Ah. Fun times, fun times.

More reading to do today. Is my agoraphobia returning? Only time will tell.

Have a pleasant day, darlings!