They Took My Eye

So what were you doing on the 24th of November? I can say with 95% certainty it was not what I was doing. As most of Americans settled down to pre-game the joy occasion of Thanksgiving, I was in the middle of having a cornea transplant. 

 I was his turkey bitch.

I have needed this surgery since July. On that Monday, the 22nd I received a call from my doctor's office saying they might of found a donor that would qualify for my needs. 

Qualifications for Jenny's New Cornea 

• Be from the dead.           
• Be good tissue harvested (I heard the surgeon use this exact term.) from the dead person.
• Be able to stand teh awesomeness that is Jenny's eye. 
• Whip her eye into shape with the love and support of sutures. 
• Be at least 25 years or younger. 

So with all of these qualifications the surgery center where this fiesta would occur, booked me for an 11:15 appointment that Wednesday morning. I was so excited for this all to be over with my vagina took over my mental stability and I cried to Mr. Sleepy for what seemed hours. The next day however would be the emotional roller coaster that would make even the sanest of people pull their hair out. 

There is nothing wrong with a little eye candy. 

Don't judge me monkey.

 So the next day I receive a call saying that the surgery would no longer happen because apparently there was a seventy year old woman who was more in need of a cornea transplant than I was. Really, eye bank? A woman who will probably die tomorrow because she farted and it scared her into a heart attacked needed this surgery more than an unproductive twenty-one year old member of society? Asshats. I now see where your priorities lay. 

So disappointed, I ran to my room in a rush and flopped on the bed only to be called back five minutes and told that there was a mistake on the doctor's office part and there was two corneas available and the surgery was back on. By this time I was excited all over again. I ran around the room like my dog does every time someone comes near the door. Only this time I didn't growl at people I didn't know. Blow jobs were given out like prom night dumpster babies and free candy from old men in windowless vans. 

Oh hai. Why don't you take a seat?

By this time I was too excited for anything to get me down. But yet like a woman who stops jerkin off a man right before he blows his load into her eye they had called once again. Apparently, the surgery center, in some unfounded reasoning did not want to do the surgery with out the blood work from the donor and unless they got the work they would no longer do the transplant. 

Hope slowly faded away. I was so upset by this point in time I decided to hell with it and cried like a small child. 

                                    

I looked like this but with more snot and clothing. 

Two hours later the surgery center called to tell me that the transplant was back on for good. The owner of the center had apparently stepped in on my behalf and had the blood work rushed so I would be able to have the transplant the following morning. I resorted to the picture above and called about ten minutes before those sneak bastards closed to confirm the surgery was still on. 

The surgery was the most weirdest experiences of my life. That morning there was a sense of scared shitlessness, Time seemed to slowly creepy by as it got time to leave. When I got there they gave me a handy arm bracelet, gave me a Valium and dropthat made my eyes numb to the point where I felt like I had put orajel on my eyes. After having a nice conversation with the anesthesiologist about how I was afraid of being awake through the surgery they settled my fears by telling me that they would give me a sedative that would knock me out. 

After the first two attempts of trying to stick an IV in my arm the anesthesiologist who apparently who worked his way through med school with nursing twice before finally bitch slapping my veins into not collapsing. 

This was my anesthesiologist. 

They monitored my heart rate and let the Valium to kick in while I laid down on a bed. I talked to a bunch of people because I never learned to keep my mouth shut in any type of situation and finally was moved to a wheel chair where I was told they would put me to sleep back in the operating room. 

Except the room I was in was playing Journey and had a more homey feel.

When they went to administer the medication to knock me into happy go lucky land my vein had decided to go kamikaze on everyone and block itself. They tried and tried and tried and tried. They tried four times to get an IV in me and the veins would have none of it. 

"We aren't going to try to stick you any more. We will get you another Valium and numb you up really well and it will be over before you know it."

After another dose of Valium and a few encouraging words the surgeon lifts my lid and with a q-tip numbs the corners and under my lid. 

"We are going to give you four shots today to numb your eye. One of them is going to be the numb your lid and the rest with deaden your eye. You won't be able to feel anything but the pressure from me touching your face. Now, take a deep breath and we will start the shots. Nice and slow, you will only feel pressure." 

Add one more to this nightmare fiesta.

By this time I was almost to the point of hyperventilation and the surgical nurse must of noticed because all she kept telling me was to breathe. I was supposed to breathe when they were coming at my eye with what looked like katanas? Fuck. That. Noise. After he was done with the third shot apparently they forgot to mention that the last and final shot would be wiggled under my eye like it wasn't fuckin there. 

It would of been much simpler if I was Mr. Burns.

The surgeon rubbed my eye to push the medication around the eye. Thirty seconds later I couldn't feel the right side of my face. Hell, even my top teeth were numb. I couldn't even close my eye lid with out the surgeon doing that for me. They laid me back and turned on what looked like an alien spaceship light and wiped the top part of my face with iodine. 

By the way, iodine in your eye when it is NOT numb burns like you have maced yourself. Believe I know what macing yourself feels like. It is no bueno. This point in time I was still on the verge of hyperventilating. I have never been so terrified in my life. 

They forced my lid open and all I saw was bright lights until the surgeon came at my eye with the scalpel.  

Yeah, I have no witty comment.

"Um, can someone hold my hand." I whimpered pathetically. The surgical nurse was nice enough to do so until the anesthesiologist came in and took over from there. 

Because he fuckin rocked enough to be Dead Pool. 

Twenty minutes later the other Valium kicked in and I wouldn't of cared if they decided to cut me open and use my insides as a warming oven for their dinner rolls the next night. The whole surgery from beginning to end took about an hour and a half. From seeing them actually lift my old cornea off my eye, seeing him cut the new one into shape and sewing the sutures into the cornea, I can say I have faced some seriously weird shit. 

After it was all over with, they put a small patch on my eye. 

My patch was more bad ass than this guy's. 

The nurse gave me a juice box and sent me on my way with a list of post op instructions.  That will be my next blog post. Don't be so hasty. I was so excited to be out of there I was more than willing to go to the store and face the holiday rush. It was around 4pm by the time we got to the store and it was packed. But I didn't give a flying fuck. I was high on Valium, sugar and I couldn't feel the top part of my head and right side of my face. 

The next day was Thanksgiving and they took the patch off for me and I walked around like a mother fuckin boss with my blood shot eye. I was proud of being able to see and having lived through that traumatic experience I treated myself to a morning of searching for a pharmacy that was open to fill my prescription for the one of many eye drops. After spending my morning running around I made this like a fuckin champ.

Like a boss.

My Thanksgiving Day turkey was amazing, for the first four days I ate it. Now I am so fuckin sick of it I secretly feed it to the dog who I'm sure by now is tired of it and is burying in the back yard. 

I hope you all had a nice holiday or nice last week and I look forward to the upcoming holiday. Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas. 

I love you all so much I drew a tree on my doodle pad on my phone.

Feel special. 

Merry Christmas!

I don't wanna

I don't want to write a blog post anytime soon so here is pictures of cats and random stuff I've taken to tide you over. Enjoy.

Speaking of cats, there is a mouse that has invaded the kitchen. It now belongs to them. Anyone have a spare kitchen I could use? I want some ramen noodles with eggs in them. That is kinda hard to microwave at the Sam's Club employee lounge.

idk wtf 

This is Dos Chicos. 

Christmas! Christmas! Christmas! ChrisLSAKFNDAS!

This is what is called "weather rape".

Because I'm cool like that.

\

Just you, me and my Keratoconus' jizz.

At the beginning of the year I finally broke down and went to an optometrist to see what in the name of Satan's asshole was wrong with my eye sight. 

This is what the world looks like with out my glasses. 

So after noticing, hey my right eye looks like someone hooker had a play date with Fred Astaire on my optic nerve and gave my eye some weird type of sexually transmitted disease, I went to the doctor. I  had to sit there alone.

Let me explain why I should never go to the doctor alone. Once, when I was first put on birth control I went to the vagina doctor by myself. I was forced to endure getting naked for the exam and the ten minutes of sitting there on the table awkwardly naked waiting for the doctor. I was not given the dignity of a paper robe. Oh no. I got a paper sheet to cover up with. Apparently, the FIFTY paper robes I saw under the cabinet when I was snooping around, looking for shit to take home with me as a souvenir was not meant for me.  

They did the whole Friday night ritual of legs up in the air, on your back and breathe deeply as we insert this foreign object into your lady bits. As they were getting done with my down stairs I got up to get dressed. The nurse who I had adequately named Big Sheba Bertha, gently pushed me back and told me to left my arms above my head. She began rummaging around my boobs as if they where a dead jellyfish on the shore that you kind of want to touch but then again you don't want to have your brother pee on your arm or finger if you get stung, but you poke it with deadly force to kill it just in case it is alive. 

She stopped on my left boob and repeatedly poked in one spot. She looked at the doctor and by some way of mind reading the doctor came over and felt that same spot where Sheba was trying to dig her way into my lung through my boob. They had found a lump. The doctor gave me a prescription for the birth control and told me to watch it and if it got any bigger to come back. 

I sat there as she left so I could cover my used body. A lump. Why would you tell me it was even there if it was nothing to worry about. As soon as I got back home I called my best friend. By the time I got back to the safety of my own home, I was absolutely hysterical. At some point in time he got tired of reassuring me that my boob was not going to fall off and they did not offer robotic boobs in replace of the ones I have if it was something serious. I calmed down after a few hours. Which is why I now use the buddy system for doctor visits.

So, I'm sitting at the doctors office and after the exam she tells me I have Keratoconus. Keratoconus is where the cornea of your eye just gives up. It decided to pussy out on life and deteriorate, leaving your eye practically defenseless against the cruel world. Honestly, if you are grossed out by eyes don't google this shit.

My cornea is a prick. 

I was told that in order to help stop the cornea from going MIA completely I needed to be fitted for special contacts. The hard contacts that I was being fitted for were supposed to be ninjas and totally kicked the corneas ass back in line. I had to go to a place that was in the neighboring city to get a corneal scan done.                             

                                                                      Here are my scans. 

Sorry for the page break. You still like me even

though I'm almost blind right? Right? 

Also, I have no fuckin clue what any of those mean. 

I just thought you should be as confused as I am. 

Not that the scans mattered anyway. Just about three weeks later my cornea hydropped. A corneal hydrop is where the cornea has bulged out so far that it splits and cracks to where fluid can get underneath and scar the cornea. It looks gross by the way. It kinda looks like someone jizzed in your eye and it's a permanent fixture on your eye. 

After my eye went into self destruct mode I was referred to a specialist who gave me a prescription for a Muro ointment that would help draw the fluid from my eye, He told me that I would have to have a corneal transplant but the ointment and Riboflavin drops would help ease the pressure in my eye.  

Pressure, pushing down on me. 

The Riboflavin drops I could handle. It was a pain in the ass to do. I had to go outside once a week for a hour and put these drops in my eye every five minutes that looked like concentrated pee. Every time I was done with these I was sweaty from sitting outside for an hour under the South West Texas sun and look like my eye had jaundice from the yellow pee. 

What I couldn't handle was the ointment. Which honestly, before the ointment I had Muro drops. These drops felt like I was macing myself four times a day. I would of preferred to mace myself than put this ointment in my eye. It was like consistency of neosporin. Now lady or men folk, I don't know if this has ever happened to you but I am not here to judge. Imagine if you haven't have this happen to you, someone cumming in your eye twice a day. Just someone running up, whipping their cock out as you hold your eye open and the BAM, man batter all in your eye.

This is what I think porn stars put up with. Everyday they work, jizz in their eyes. 

I can see the whites of your eyes clearly.
 You poor, poor woman. 

Twice a day, every day I was forced to do this. Which is why a small part of me is afraid of blow jobs today. I fear that some how it will all go terribly wrong and I will end up with jizz in my eye and have to relive the traumatic experience with that horrible, horrible ointment. So take care of your eyes, eat your carrots (even though they are gross) and take your vitamins so people don't whip their dicks out and cum in your eye. 

Pre-Gaming

Greetings Internet!

I am the Mr Sleepy that my luffs Jenny posted about. You may call me Joe. I am here to talk to you about the dangers of Pre-Gaming. For those of you not in the know, (much like I was before Jenny informed me of this Americanism, something that I as a Brit knew nothing about) Pre-Gaming is when you get drunk at home before you go out and get drunk. You can Pre-Game just about anything, of course. This is not to say that you get drunk before X event, but, in fact where you engage in an activity before said activity is due to start. I shall gve you some examples:

Sleep
Before I met Jenny, I only experienced this kind of Pre-Gaming in a very general way. People take naps in the afternoon after a large meal and the like, so they have the energy to get through the day to their bedtime. However, Jenny fell asleep on me earlier while we were talking. This was at about 7pm. Most people do not nap this late. Jenny does. Or did. Once. This once. Anyway, she pre-gamed sleep, and that is what inspired this post.

Sex
To pre-game sex is basically to have foreplay. Jenny is the only person... make that woman I have ever known that has ever objected to the pre-gaming of sex. This also inspired the blog post and made me laugh so hard I got a stitch.

Gigs
Pre-gaming a gig is basically listening to music really loud before the gig to get pumped for the gig you are about to see. This is pretty typical, but has been known to wear people out before said gig and then they are miserable. See: My Chemical Romance fans at gigs. Miserable fuckers.

Indian / Mexican Food
I don't understand this. It would be, like, eating a jar of pickled jalapeneos before going out to eat spicy Mexican food. Why the extra torture? Wait, I'm sure Jenny would approve of this, so never mind me.

Childbirth
Okay why would you do this.

Buying a Car
Pretty simple. Everyone does this one. I think. You pre-game vehicle purchase throughout your life by buying progressively more advanced and larger modes of transport leading up to your car. You start with, maybe, those funky shoes with the wheels in the heels. Then you need pukka roller skates. OMIGOSH A SCOOTER! Wow! A new bike! A skateboard! A go-kart! Then a moped, wow, moving up in the world. AND THEN YOU ARE AT YOUR CAR. But wait. You need bigger, and bigger thrills! You go stir crazy! You buy a truck! Then a bus! NO, BIGGER! A helicopter! A PLANE.

This is called a midlife crisis.

And that is why pre-gaming is dangerous. Don't do it. And don't fuck that shit, you'll catch something.

Peace, sleepygamer.

Srs Business.

This is srs business folks.

Because you all should listen to Mr. Sulu. So, quit your shit people.

On to more happy news. I would just like to say HAPPY LATE ANNIVERSARY STAR TREK. It was forty some odd years ago (and a couple of days) that we were a twinkle in each other's eyes. Well, you were a twinkle in my grandmother's eye considering that my mother wasn't born until 1966. But you kept pushing and persevering since 1961. Mr. Roddenberry the world of nerds, geeks, dorks and well pretty much the rest of the world salutes you.

Don't worry Mr. Roddenberry I totally put a paper bag over that shit for you. 

Now, the world knows you can give ten women orgasms at a time with all ten of your fingers but here are some thing the world doesn't know about you.

• Your full name was Eugene (strong name might I add) Wesley Roddenberry. 
• You were born in El Paso, Texas (Don't worry, it's still a shitty town.)
• You are full of awesome sauce. If you don't know this go away. 
• Honestly, he is bitchin. 
• Sadly, you are no longer with us. You are somewhere out in space, where no man has gone before.
• Seriously people, they sent his ashes into space. How fuckin cool is that?

Thank you for your contribution to the world of fiction and television. You are and always will be a giver of orgasms, the giver of life, Star Trek and will always Live long and Prosper. 

Happy Halloween.

Reasons why my night was more amazing than yours could ever be. 

1.  I hung out with Pyramid Head.

Do you remember him? I would certainly hope you know who he is. For just a refresher course this fantastic man, thing, person is Pyramid Head. He exists inside one of the world's most awesome and horrifying games a ten year old (or even a twenty-one year old) can ever play. Silent Hill 2 is the game I am rambling about. 

If you have not played it or ever been introduced, now is the time. He wields a weapon called The Great Knife and is a fuckin beast character in the game. In my opinion he is the best character in the Silent Hill games. For all of you who say, "Oh didn't they make a movie about that?", fuck off twat. This is no place for you. Well, unless you denounce the movie and proclaim this is a fantastic game. Then we can be friends. 

Now on to the point of the whole introduction. Last night I was so generously given tickets to a city sponsored haunted house. Through all of the delightful screams and scares they saved the best for last. 

They had recreated Silent Hill 2 inside this magnificent house of horrors. It had Pyramid Head complete with his nurses. If you haven't figured it out this far let me explain. I love this game. This is one of my favorite games of all time, ever. 

I come upon the blood soaked floors and saw a nurse that distinctly reminded me of something. The warmth of love I have every time I play this game slowly crept up my spine as I recognized what this was. 

I caught something reflective from the darkness of the red bulbs that dimly lit the room. My breath hitched for a moment. Then I saw it. The Great Knife slowly slid out from the shadows. He stepped out, staring at me. I wasn't able to move. His blood and grime soaked smock lead up to the magnificent triangular dome that hid his identity. 

This is the best costume I have ever laid eyes upon. I heard my sister scream as she see him. A friend tugged on my jacket to propel me onwards away from their worst nightmare, snatching me away from the best thing since bacon on chocolate doughnuts. 

Suddenly as we turned a corner, there he was again in all his horrifying glory. They screamed as I stood there inches in front of him in awe. I turned to look back and saw his minion nurses closing in and decide that this is what Halloween should be like for everyone.

2. Drinks called Liquid Cocaine.

After being scared and meeting the one character in the world who is more awesome that bacon on chocolate doughnuts, I was pushed into a truck and driven to an indiscriminate location. The neon lights of the bar flickered as I heard Michael Jackson's Thriller playing softly. 

You are welcome. 

I was ordered a delicious concoction called Liquid Cocaine. This drink is aptly named. It tastes of grape fruit juice with a mixture of crack. I would sniff this off a hooker's ass if it was at all possible. For a small price I was in happy bliss. 

3. I got more tickets to the haunted house.

I currently have five more wrist bands for the haunted house. I am going to get pictures of pyramid head no matter what.

So the only reason why your night could possibly be better than mine is because when I got home in the morning I had found out that my bitch aunt locked me out. I would of egged her house but I would of had to clean it up and listen to her bitch. So back to my passive aggressive tactics.  

Poooop.

Relationships are like potatoes. There are so many different options and ways to deal with and fix potatoes everyone has their own preference.
There are times when people tend to over load them and put too much expectations on their potato. Maybe you wanted a baked potato and all you received was a box of instant mashed potatoes that taste like they have been strained through a baby's diaper. It happens.

Sometimes people play hot potato and sometimes end up dropping the potato. Though sometimes if people don't pay attention, things get out of hand. It starts to grow limbs. scary knobs that look like they want to attack your face in the middle of the night with out warning and then you never want to go near that bag of potatoes because they smell like Satan's asshole. Your potato has gone bad.

This is what your relationship should look like.

You just have to learn that sometimes it's all about compromising with your potato. Don't expect au gratin potatoes if you don't put forth a little cheese and effort. Just saying a little bacon never hurt anyone. 

Ninja Tigers

Because I am lazy, I do not feel like rooting my droid incredible or downloading the sdk just for a screen shot. Thought I have to admit it is a pretty fuckin epic screen shot. And for some reason I want to spell 'shot' like 'schot'. If that slips in there I apologize. I haven't slept at all. Well I probably should just download it. For some reason Android has decided to make it fuck all hard to get a simple screen shot.

I mean honestly. It's not like I am trying to break into Fort Knox here. I just want to show people the awesome note I wrote to myself last night so I wouldn't forget about what awesome things I wanted to write about. So feel special blog. I am downloading this for you.

I lied. Too complicated for this early in the morning.

The note went as follows:

"Note to self: Blog tomorrow

Utilizing cows in India to help stop ninja tigers

How the duck does Dr. Zoidberg make those noises?

Duck you auto correct.

You are really an Apple."

So apparently I was supposed to write about ninja tigers, cows and how Dr. Zoidberg is awesome. But I have no idea why I wanted to write about this. I'm sure the ninja tiger thing would of been fantastically amazing. Maybe later today Mr. Sleepy will fill me in.

I require adult supervision: Part One

So, I have recently discovered that at the ripe age of twenty-one that I need an adult's accompaniment at all time. I require adult supervision for not only my safety, sanity and general well being but everything, organism and inanimate object in the nearest vicinity.

Example number one: The door knob

It was a dark and stormy night. Well, not really it was just after one in the afternoon and I was tired of my aunt asking me to close the window in my room so her cats couldn't escape. I wouldn't of really minded this but the woman makes me want to terrorize small children. So in my acts of passive aggressive defiance I opened the window more and went out on a quest to find a door knob.

I secured one by taking the knob off of the pantry door. Victory was mine. I would no longer have to suffer the blazing inferno temperatures that the small room I occupied seemed to accumulate during the night.

I set off by first inspecting the knob. I pulled out the middle piece which google search tells me is a dead latch.

I went about installing the door knob from hell. A couple of minutes later secure in the knowledge that I had outsmarted the door, my aunt and the entire damn world, I shut the door.

Suddenly, I knew I had done something wrong. The screws for the handle were installed on the other side of the door and the knob just kept turning and turning. Panic set in my mind. What if I never escaped? What if I had to crawl out the window? What if I couldn't get the window open wide enough to fit my black woman's ass through it?

Luckily for me, I remembered that I live in the modern age of mobile devices that somehow let me communicate with others with out them having to be there.. I called the house phone and luckily my grandmother was kind enough to unscrew my way to safety. I felt like a new person. I was free.

Now that I have reconquered the lock I still look at my door knob with apprehension. I have a gnawing feeling that it is just waiting for me to let my guard down. And suddenly BAM! It will lock me in my room and I will soon come to love the door in a weird Stockholm sort of way. IF THAT HAPPENS HOW WILL I EVER ENJOY THE DELICIOUS TASTE OF COOKIE DOUGH?

I'm watching you door knob. You are a shady character.

Now I'm gunna let you finish

Now Kayne I'm gunna let you finish but those children in Africa have got the best diamonds I've ever seen.

In case you haven't heard the man literally had his bottom teeth removed and put in gold and or platinum and diamonds. What is this? I don't even....

Technologic

Dear Technology,

I know we have not gotten along well in recent years but I would like to extend a small white flag. I understand that I have hurt you. Can't we just forget about all the headphones and gaming headsets that I've broken and all of the phones I've stepped on and washed? Let us put that in our past, set our differences aside and become friends. I would like to formally apologize to you now.

You see my dearest love, I have recently purchased an Iphone 4. While I do understand that you are quite skeptical of me, please allow me to explain my decision making process.

1. Jennifer see's a refurbished iphone 4.

2. Jennifer recently received a paycheck.

3. She calmly (as calmly as a woman who is hyped up on a nerdgasm can) and rationally (about as rational as an elephant who has met the rat king) decided to purchase the phone.

4. Sammich King reminds her about all the other technological failures (for instance I once washed the phone I had twice. I didn't think the jeans the phone was in were clean enough so the poor phone had to go through the wash cycle twice before I realized what had happened) and Mr. Sleepy had just suggested she buy a new pair of headphones (at least the 10th pair I've been through) with the money. But of course I never listen.

5. Irrational fear of loosing and or damaging the phone (washing, stepping or breaking it) has set in.

6. The excitement of getting this phone makes the first 5 go away.

So please technology maybe we can compromise and work this out. I promise not let you go any where near the washing machine.

• Edit: I have been informed by Mr. Sleepy that he is my dearest love. So apparently technology you are the second on the list. Though you never force me to go to sleep when I don't want to or make me get up off my ass and go eat sustenance when all I want to do is internet.

• Dos Edit: This blog post is pointless since the whole iphone thing fell through. But I did however, get a Droid Incredible. Expect blog posts with hilarious autocorrect mistakes.  11/01/2010

Internet my old friend

Hello internets, my old friend. It seems to me as if our short departure of two months has not dulled the love I have for you and the mindless prattle that never ends. You entertain me, you make me laugh until I cry and even sometimes you excite me. And by excite I mean all the times I googled photos of star clusters and fuss balls. Geek love is sexy.

But alas you have caught me in the tangled web you weave of the blag. Let me reintroduce myself since it has been a while since we have last conversed. As usual I am up past the time I should be, glued to the screen like a small child that is addicted to the crack of pixie sticks. I sit here listening to the snores of my boyfriend and think that maybe sometimes the best writing is done when you are half asleep and rambling into the never ending world of the series of tubes.

It's nice to be back. I've missed the youtube videos of cats and the hilarity of the general sarcasm that brings everyone together. I even miss the disgusting parts like the horse porn and even yes you religious zealots with your willingness to let other express their opinions.

So here I am trying to figure out a clever way to end this excessive ramble. I will leave you with the last thought before I join Mr. Sleepy boyfriend.

Long live the hypnotoad.