Just sat down. They did two biopsies but do not expect them to be positive. Unless one does turn up positive, I don’t have to be back for three months. Yahoo!
That's what went to Cat the moment I came back.
That which did not go to Cat was the relatively-creative insulting of Texas drivers and they're not as bad as those jackrabbit left turns New England drivers will do but they have more than the stupidity necessary to be classified as low-rent.
Your fear kills other people. Get the fuck off the road.
Cowboy, you really don't have the balls to handle a tropical fish tank, do you.
Say there, cowboy, I've been driving for fifty years and the first three or four were spent racing on tracks. What do you want to talk about, hotshot street racer?
It only takes one asshole in a pickup truck to back up the entire highway. Thanks for being a stupid, selfish prick.
That cowboy couldn't buy a clue if he won the fucking lottery.
If you're really serious about renewable energy and we know you're not but if you were then you would put the truck speed limits back where they were, ten mph below cars, and restrict them from the faster lanes. There would be an enormous and inevitable fuel savings if every truck nationally slowed down by ten mph.
The city truckers are usually nothing but roadpigs who often drive just as selfishly as the pickup drivers. I assume that's how they get home after work. The long-haul truckers do it sometimes as well but maybe they figure, fuck it, these local yokels don't care so why should I.
It's not exclusively pick-up trucks causing the problems on the road but they go both ways from pussy driving to over-aggressive dipshits who jump across lanes with no notice and don't give the faintest idea they have any idea what they're doing.
The 55 mph speed limit changed things so people really didn't think it mattered which lane they chose and the result now is grannies in the fast lane who shouldn't even be on the road much less on an Interstate.
Through it all, I'm being my usual pedantic self as Yevette will express concerns but I keep reassuring her, stay cool, keep your speed with traffic, and everyone arrives alive. Most of all, don't forget the First Rule of Italian Driving. What's behinda you ista not important. - Raul Julia
That may seem trivial until some asshole in a gigantic F-350 climbs your ass tailgating you trying to prove he's got a dick bigger than pencil eraser but it never works. He can sit back there getting red in the face all he likes because, unless he's a completely moronic dumb ass, he knows if he hits me then the bill ends up his pushy ass.
What'sa behinda you ista not important.
Those cowardly tailgating guttersnipes can distract your attention so you don't keep your focus forward and that can easily result in getting hurt.
What the hell, here's another one: fear is the mindkiller. Only the Dune fanatics know that one but they (i.e. we) will chant it like a mantra.
That sort of ranting about drivers is just something for amusement on the way over because it's a long boring drive to VA and I thank Yevette each time for putting up with it. She probably kind of digs it in the same way since you won't find people like that anywhere else. No-one ever asks what anyone else did as the only question is whether you earned admission and some did but many didn't. The percentage of Americans who actually serve is probably five percent or less. Everyone else may judge you but that doesn't happen at VA.
Some wear the colors for their company or their ship but they're only doing it so their brothers, most likely in-combat, can find them as they shuffle about the hospital. They never, ever challenge anyone else for what did you do. They know what it cost anyone who even showed up for the Army and of course they paid much, much more but that's not a test for anyone.
I've never felt such brotherhood in my life although it was there to some extent in Fort Bliss but there's not a whole lot of camaraderie with a company of clerk/typists (larfs). There was kind of an amiable camaraderie a bit because all were slacker scofflaws and we knew we could ask each other to do something and it might even happen someday but no chance it would be this day. That's not going to forge a lifelong brotherhood but it was kind of cool at the time.
Bill Cyrus is a man I remember after all this time and we would hang out all the time because he liked photography as well. We would go off to shoot arty photographs and some of them even were. It really is a sad thing to lose track but that was the only nature of life I had ever known from Australia on up; when you move away from anywhere, you will lose all their friends. It was a long, long time before I got it things did not have to be that way.
Then there was Nixon and unknown why he wanted to be called that when Nixon was probably the most-hated man in the Universe.
(Ed: it was his name?)
Yep, that would be it.
He keyed the entire length of another car when it might have dinged him in a parking lot. I just thought, silently, holy shit, man, that's one of the most brutal things I ever saw. Despite my silent thought, he was pleased with himself which was so oddly unusual there was no way to process it.
Once you break the paint on any part of a car, the owner has to repaint it or the car will start rusting immediately. When last seen, he still had that quirky smile and exceptionally desirable girlfriend, I might add.
Note: there's no way anyone can bust him since it was forty years ago.
There was a bit of cutting today but not so much. The most unusual thing was a smell and I thought, well, that can't be me as I must smell still a little bit like a fresh mountain lake from the soap ... but ... then I realized, yep, it's me. I'm burning (laughs).
It was important to cauterize the area as they went through the procedure and the answer to that is, yep, make some smoke. It's almost stunning to hear the work in-progress as I have marveled at their expertise since the first time I went out there. I've seen many, many doctors of all genders, all races, and multiple countries and I have seen the same high expertise in all of them.
In fact, that settled a mystery for one of my doctors today when I told her you do not have to be a citizen to be drafted. Then it dawned on her how it comes she sees people from other countries.
I'm tellin' you. It's a most extraordinary place. When I hear of people trying to screw with it, smoke starts coming out of my ears. Every organization anywhere can always use improvement so, yes, provide the dollars and make that happen but, otherwise, just get the fuck out of the way and leave it alone. Yah and fund it like you have any real respect for what these people did, all genders, all races, all everything.
You may never really understand the diversity of humans until you have seen a draftee Army. Every kind of everybody.
Grover called himself the "Getover Man" and he was because he figured out a way to get allotment checks to the friends from suggestions made by friends he knew on-base. He found a way to do it without the Army accounting for it.
Auditors will never let something like that go anywhere for long and you don't screw with the dollars at Finance so he went down hard. That was the last we saw of Grover the Getover Man and he could have drawn some serious years of hard time for that but it's a bitch since all are trying to find the way through it and some don't quite get it right.
We're not going to get all tragic despite the sad fate since it's all part of the pageant. There's no way to change anyone else because we were largely cut off from everything else, particularly in Basic Training, and people blast off without always considering far enough what will come of it.
Maybe you like better a little different twist with Castro the Pool Shark and he was full-blood American Indian. I still don't get how it's even possible or at even right to draft an American Indian but he didn't talk about it because mostly his focus was pool. He didn't really shark anyone because everyone knew he was the best so he only looked for a good game to keep his chops up.
When last seen, he was at or near a laugh, just as he always was. Everyone liked the Pool Shark even though he really wasn't one but he liked the title.
Better, yes?
But, most of all, the return moment meant to immediately Lose the Underwear. I hate wearing that useless, overheating pretense of propriety but I thought perhaps a little decorum would be ok when the doctor was to be doing a full-body appraisal of the presence of more cancer.
By the luck of the draw, my first doctor was a woman and she just lucky enough to draw the inspection. She was highly-circumspect but she still needed to take li'l peeks inside me trew to go for the all over. Unknown if she noticed the trew maker label still stuck on them.
But, once again, I am free to embrace the world without resistance from some artificial crumb of respectability, free of the infernal encumbrance of Victorian propriety, free at last, free at last.
(Ed: stoned too, it seems)
Sublime it is, matey mate.
Always look for that reefer label ... and ... if you find it then throw it the fuck away and buy some wholesome illegal ganja. It's better for you, it's better for the independent growers, good red-blooded Americans, all.
That's what went to Cat the moment I came back.
That which did not go to Cat was the relatively-creative insulting of Texas drivers and they're not as bad as those jackrabbit left turns New England drivers will do but they have more than the stupidity necessary to be classified as low-rent.
Your fear kills other people. Get the fuck off the road.
Cowboy, you really don't have the balls to handle a tropical fish tank, do you.
Say there, cowboy, I've been driving for fifty years and the first three or four were spent racing on tracks. What do you want to talk about, hotshot street racer?
It only takes one asshole in a pickup truck to back up the entire highway. Thanks for being a stupid, selfish prick.
That cowboy couldn't buy a clue if he won the fucking lottery.
If you're really serious about renewable energy and we know you're not but if you were then you would put the truck speed limits back where they were, ten mph below cars, and restrict them from the faster lanes. There would be an enormous and inevitable fuel savings if every truck nationally slowed down by ten mph.
The city truckers are usually nothing but roadpigs who often drive just as selfishly as the pickup drivers. I assume that's how they get home after work. The long-haul truckers do it sometimes as well but maybe they figure, fuck it, these local yokels don't care so why should I.
It's not exclusively pick-up trucks causing the problems on the road but they go both ways from pussy driving to over-aggressive dipshits who jump across lanes with no notice and don't give the faintest idea they have any idea what they're doing.
The 55 mph speed limit changed things so people really didn't think it mattered which lane they chose and the result now is grannies in the fast lane who shouldn't even be on the road much less on an Interstate.
Through it all, I'm being my usual pedantic self as Yevette will express concerns but I keep reassuring her, stay cool, keep your speed with traffic, and everyone arrives alive. Most of all, don't forget the First Rule of Italian Driving. What's behinda you ista not important. - Raul Julia
That may seem trivial until some asshole in a gigantic F-350 climbs your ass tailgating you trying to prove he's got a dick bigger than pencil eraser but it never works. He can sit back there getting red in the face all he likes because, unless he's a completely moronic dumb ass, he knows if he hits me then the bill ends up his pushy ass.
What'sa behinda you ista not important.
Those cowardly tailgating guttersnipes can distract your attention so you don't keep your focus forward and that can easily result in getting hurt.
What the hell, here's another one: fear is the mindkiller. Only the Dune fanatics know that one but they (i.e. we) will chant it like a mantra.
That sort of ranting about drivers is just something for amusement on the way over because it's a long boring drive to VA and I thank Yevette each time for putting up with it. She probably kind of digs it in the same way since you won't find people like that anywhere else. No-one ever asks what anyone else did as the only question is whether you earned admission and some did but many didn't. The percentage of Americans who actually serve is probably five percent or less. Everyone else may judge you but that doesn't happen at VA.
Some wear the colors for their company or their ship but they're only doing it so their brothers, most likely in-combat, can find them as they shuffle about the hospital. They never, ever challenge anyone else for what did you do. They know what it cost anyone who even showed up for the Army and of course they paid much, much more but that's not a test for anyone.
I've never felt such brotherhood in my life although it was there to some extent in Fort Bliss but there's not a whole lot of camaraderie with a company of clerk/typists (larfs). There was kind of an amiable camaraderie a bit because all were slacker scofflaws and we knew we could ask each other to do something and it might even happen someday but no chance it would be this day. That's not going to forge a lifelong brotherhood but it was kind of cool at the time.
Bill Cyrus is a man I remember after all this time and we would hang out all the time because he liked photography as well. We would go off to shoot arty photographs and some of them even were. It really is a sad thing to lose track but that was the only nature of life I had ever known from Australia on up; when you move away from anywhere, you will lose all their friends. It was a long, long time before I got it things did not have to be that way.
Then there was Nixon and unknown why he wanted to be called that when Nixon was probably the most-hated man in the Universe.
(Ed: it was his name?)
Yep, that would be it.
He keyed the entire length of another car when it might have dinged him in a parking lot. I just thought, silently, holy shit, man, that's one of the most brutal things I ever saw. Despite my silent thought, he was pleased with himself which was so oddly unusual there was no way to process it.
Once you break the paint on any part of a car, the owner has to repaint it or the car will start rusting immediately. When last seen, he still had that quirky smile and exceptionally desirable girlfriend, I might add.
Note: there's no way anyone can bust him since it was forty years ago.
There was a bit of cutting today but not so much. The most unusual thing was a smell and I thought, well, that can't be me as I must smell still a little bit like a fresh mountain lake from the soap ... but ... then I realized, yep, it's me. I'm burning (laughs).
It was important to cauterize the area as they went through the procedure and the answer to that is, yep, make some smoke. It's almost stunning to hear the work in-progress as I have marveled at their expertise since the first time I went out there. I've seen many, many doctors of all genders, all races, and multiple countries and I have seen the same high expertise in all of them.
In fact, that settled a mystery for one of my doctors today when I told her you do not have to be a citizen to be drafted. Then it dawned on her how it comes she sees people from other countries.
I'm tellin' you. It's a most extraordinary place. When I hear of people trying to screw with it, smoke starts coming out of my ears. Every organization anywhere can always use improvement so, yes, provide the dollars and make that happen but, otherwise, just get the fuck out of the way and leave it alone. Yah and fund it like you have any real respect for what these people did, all genders, all races, all everything.
You may never really understand the diversity of humans until you have seen a draftee Army. Every kind of everybody.
Grover called himself the "Getover Man" and he was because he figured out a way to get allotment checks to the friends from suggestions made by friends he knew on-base. He found a way to do it without the Army accounting for it.
Auditors will never let something like that go anywhere for long and you don't screw with the dollars at Finance so he went down hard. That was the last we saw of Grover the Getover Man and he could have drawn some serious years of hard time for that but it's a bitch since all are trying to find the way through it and some don't quite get it right.
We're not going to get all tragic despite the sad fate since it's all part of the pageant. There's no way to change anyone else because we were largely cut off from everything else, particularly in Basic Training, and people blast off without always considering far enough what will come of it.
Maybe you like better a little different twist with Castro the Pool Shark and he was full-blood American Indian. I still don't get how it's even possible or at even right to draft an American Indian but he didn't talk about it because mostly his focus was pool. He didn't really shark anyone because everyone knew he was the best so he only looked for a good game to keep his chops up.
When last seen, he was at or near a laugh, just as he always was. Everyone liked the Pool Shark even though he really wasn't one but he liked the title.
Better, yes?
But, most of all, the return moment meant to immediately Lose the Underwear. I hate wearing that useless, overheating pretense of propriety but I thought perhaps a little decorum would be ok when the doctor was to be doing a full-body appraisal of the presence of more cancer.
By the luck of the draw, my first doctor was a woman and she just lucky enough to draw the inspection. She was highly-circumspect but she still needed to take li'l peeks inside me trew to go for the all over. Unknown if she noticed the trew maker label still stuck on them.
But, once again, I am free to embrace the world without resistance from some artificial crumb of respectability, free of the infernal encumbrance of Victorian propriety, free at last, free at last.
(Ed: stoned too, it seems)
Sublime it is, matey mate.
Always look for that reefer label ... and ... if you find it then throw it the fuck away and buy some wholesome illegal ganja. It's better for you, it's better for the independent growers, good red-blooded Americans, all.
4 comments:
You hatred of tailgaters is rather amusing as I hated riding with you as you would become that maniac sitting 2 feet of the bumper of the car on front of you. Even when I said you were driving crazy it went in one ear out the other. No matter the protests of your passengers you would continue until you made your road rage point
So you are right it isnt limited to pick up truck drivers as I dont believe you ever drove one
No need to argue as I know I drove like an asshole even when I don't remember the details. I'm sure you know where I learned it and some grow out of it and others don't. No idea why that happens. Unknown if you remember when I was shocked about a charge of running a traffic light because I don't fookin' run lights but, sure as hell, they had a picture and I was busted. It was only by a hair but it still counted.
You learned it from an inability to control your anger.
Tinkerbell was the only one in te family that didnt inherit that trait
Some good things came down and some things I really didn't need. Crazy package in the ol' coot.
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