By no means do I advocate the use of drugs. But right now, I’m completely off my chops on painkillers from a back injury.
I’ve had 2 x Endone and an assortment of other drugs that would make me popular on some seedy street corners. My kids suddenly make me giggle in between my moans that would make a porn star proud.
I literally just stared at an ant for five minutes and felt sorry for it.
I waited in bed until I was full to the eyeballs with my own pee as I was too scared to get out of bed due to the pain. I peed in the shower like a racehorse and then giggled for five minutes.
Off my chops.
Eating toast and thinking it’s hilarious that black shit (Vegemite) with a slab of butter on toast makes me feel proud to be Australian. Then I remember I have Aboriginal heritage and get cranky when I can’t remember if I’ve ever felt the need to go on a Walkabout. I would now but my back hurts and I wouldn’t get too far.
I also have Scottish heritage which is why I’m as pale as a freaking block of vanilla ice cream. Maybe I could find some bagpipes and give that a red hot go too.
My eyes are getting really heavy and I need to go back to bed. First I have this ridiculous desire to put all the dirty dishes in the sink but I think I’m trying to write cheques my body can’t be arsed to cash.
I nearly passed out on the toilet yesterday… not for dramatic effect but just sitting down puts pressure on my back. I’m also incredibly pleased that painkillers block you up because how the hell can you poo in this condition??
I can’t remember what it was.
I love my husband and the kids, but now it’s also with a wild drug induced passion. I would forgive pretty much anything now because he’s been so fucking amazing letting me use him as a crane when I weigh the same as a small baby elephant. Then I think, fark, hang on a minute. You’re a fireman. You have to lift people like me anyway and you get paid for it.
And I’ll pay him in favours the big spunk of burning love… eventually.
Moral of my stoned story? Do Pilates and get your core sorted. Get yourself some amazing friends that you can cry to and some amazeballs family you can rely on.
The idea of getting a cortisone injection this afternoon scares the shizen out of me but it’s my own stupid fault for not listening to the warning signals – AGAIN!
For the love of God and all things Adam Levine, DON’T put any sympathy messages in the comment section . I don’t want your sympathy…I just wanted to tell you why I haven’t written for a while. If any of you write “poor you blah blah” messages it’ll make me feel like one of those fuck-knuckles that write passive aggressive sympathy seeking things like “oooh, im in so much pain” or “oooh, off to the hospital again” without any fucking explanation. They just want people to go all gooey and worry about them.
Can you maybe just write a joke, a funny gif or just use some naughty swear words in the comments to give me a chuckle? That would really rock. The dumber the better.
Right now I’m having a chuckle at the fan in our bedroom for going so slow.
What the actual fuck?
Shannon’s Kitchen you’re the funniest girl I fan girl over, don’t suppose you can give me a decent penis joke?