New Year's horror: virgin paupers turn to gourds as balls drop -- details at 11
01.03.2003

On December 27th, 2002, I walked to the mall to buy cat food. Today, on January 3rd, 2003, I arrive home with no cat food, a PICC line, 6 weeks of IV antibiotics, and a prescription to have a nurse come to my home daily, examine the brand spanking new abandoned-mine-like chasm in my lower lumbar region, clean it out, and stuff it full of material labelled, disturbingly enough, "vaginal packing".

Yet there was no warning label on the Iams bag of kibble. I should sue.


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Last 5 entries:
01.14.2007:Finally, a support group we can all get behind
01.09.2007:The City That Ever Reeks
01.08.2007:Waiter, there's a uterus in my soup
01.03.2007:Long Lost Mummy of Nefertiti Found in Smoog's Apartment
12.30.2006:New Year's resolutions we can actually keep



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