zenexistence

See that denizen chilling to the upper left of the common bile [vile!] duct?
That's a gallbladder.
Which, for some reason, reminds me of a ssssnake:



Say it with me.
Ready?
GALLBLADDER.
Nice!
By the way, you have a little drool on yourt lip.
Right there. No. There. No. Right THERE. Ah, there you go, yes you got it. Boy, that was kind of a serious challenge to find a minute bit of externally-bound excess saliva now wasn't it? Maybe you should just go back to bed, my slow-witted friend.
Anyhoo, mooooving on ... GALLBLADDER!
I've been chilling with my gallbladder for more decades than I care to admit to on a public forum. We've always been pretty tight but Roseburg (for the sake of conversation we shall call my gallbladder Roseburg the Mighty, because, well, that's what he prefers to be called) has decided that he longer wishes to fulfill his contractual obligation of our host relationship in that he's failing to release bile in a timely manner. This, as we all know, helps assist in emulsifying and digest fatty [and derishus!] foods.
I don't know what lead to Roseburg's change of heart [non-cardiac-related!] but my doctor suspects it may be from a particularly heinous crash I suffered playing polo back in November. As Roseburg and I are no longer on speaking terms I cannot clarify as to whether or not I may have injured this fellow in said manner.
The skinny [hi tapeworm Terrence!] of it is that I'm forcefully evicting Roseburg.
Mm-hmm, surgery.
Gallbladderis evictus.
We be turnin' this mutha out.



Changing gears here.
The Renaissance Faire is just one week away. This means eight weeks straight without a single day off as I tend bar both Saturday and Sunday every weekend Fair's open. This is good for finances but bad for sanity. Note that my complaining is not loud and long on this because it's a self-imposed workload, no one is making me do this but myself.
And possibly Roseburg.
We're serving a multitude of beers both foreign and swill, err, domestic, honey mead and a fair [no punny intended] amount of different wines. Alas, we will not be serving this wine:



I will provide you with a weekly dosage of renn fair peeectures, rest assured. The people watching at these events is beyond compare. I'd also be failing to fulfill my contractual obligation [hi Roseburg, you fucker!] if I didn't admit I was a catalyst for a fair [PUNINTENDED!] amount of these peoples shenanigans as I'm the one that makes them tipsy with drink.
What's that?
Will I make YOU tipsy with drink?
You bet your buttered bread I will.
Bring it.







So, on the political front, how about all this rioting and demonstration for free political ideology?
I have to share my favorite protest picture as it never fails to make me laugh. I know I shouldn't because it's somewhat cruel but I'm weak and occasionally lack a moral compass.
Please take this in the spirit that it is intended; funny.



Wait, you want more of Sexually Blunt Panda?
I am here but to amuse:





Oh, you find sexually inappropriate verbiage amusing?
I am here but to amuse:



Oh, you want me to continue on with inappropriate? Cheerio, dear lady, I will do just that -- drunken baby!



I can continue on this sordid inappropriate path for a long time, really ...



Enough of that. I'll take a second to resume a more sedate, and much more cute, pictorial collage;







I wonder if I can get the above doctor to remove Roseburg. I would want considerably more than a red lolli after surgery, though.

In case you've been living under a rock [and who am I to judge because I completely and utterly believe some rocks could be quite comfortable given the proper accoutrements] you may have missed that my dear Miss Lyxzen has a new set up which you know you want to go give some love to. Here. Go. Now. A New Morning, Changing Weather

Alright, I'm going to go eat something bad for me and drink something bad for me before I'm no longer allowed due to dietary restrictions all put in place because of a faulty organs inability to act in a professional manner.

I <3 ewes,
Scotty