God Coughed and Called It Billy


Okay. It's gotten to the point to where I either need to shit or get off the pot, and well, I've decided to shit. I'll shit at least once a week. Even if its just a little shit, or kinda runny and sad. It might be a big meaty shit with bits of corn too, you never know.

In case you haven't figured it out by now I'm talking about my blog, and how often I update it.

Speaking of corn; I miss corn. Now that I'm doing the low carb thing, I can't have yummy things like corn and lolipops anymore (and you know me and lolipops-I'm like some deranged club kid with those things) I can't even tell if I've lost weight, seeing as I don't have a scale anywhere in the house. My pants are a little loser, so I guess that's something. I grasping at burning hay here people.

I imagine that somewhere in the world there's a man named Billy wandering the streets. He's kinda smelly, and has a scraggly face with a smile that has forty some odd years of sitting on the porch on Sundays sipping mint juleps discussing "the negro problem" behind it. You know, just damn creepy. Anyway, I'm guessing that a man like that would feel kinda like god's cough.


I've decided that barring some crazy miracle, I'm probably going to move back up to Arcata In late July or August. It can't be any worse than here, that's for sure.

that's all for now. Stay tunes, same sanatorium channel, same sanatorium time. Well, don't worry about that so much cause I control all the TV's in the place anyway and it's not like you can change the channel cause you're wearing a straightjacket. ha