Sunday, June 10, 2018

I don’t want to write about poo.

Hello, people. It’s 12 noon and I’m writing to you from the comfort of my chaise lounge in the family room. I wanted to begin by telling you I was constipated for the last two weeks, however that’s not true any more as of 6:30 this morning and I’m feeling fine. So fuck it and let’s move on. (I don’t want to write about poo.)

Here are some important world news tidbits for your possible interest.

JUSTIFY SNAGS THE TRIPLE CROWN. In case you’ve been under a rock for the last couple of days, Justify won the Belmont Stakes on Saturday and snagged racing’s Triple Crown. If you want more news than that you can read the Washington Post.

Justify won the Triple Crown. Woo-hoo!

DONALD TRUMP LAUNCHES A WAR WITH CANADA. After Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau’s introductory handshake crushed Donald Trump at the G7 on Friday, the Manhattan orangutan blasted Trudeau as “weak and dishonest” and then tweeted a string of insults. As a result, Canada will “move forward with retaliatory measures” on July 1 in response to Trump’s decision to impose tariffs on steel and aluminum imports from Canada, the European Union and Mexico. Holy mother of shit. ARE WE AT WAR WITH CANADA? Do the Canadians have NUCLEAR WEAPONS?!

Lunch at the G7 in Canada. America’s National Moron has difficulty playing with others.

YES, DENNIS RODMAN IS ON HIS WAY TO SINGAPORE. Apparently the former contestant from “Celebrity Apprentice” will help his pal Donald Trump negotiate the delicate intricacies of nuclear disarmament with North Korean dictator Kim Jong Un. Oy ... good luck with that. Rodman makes my skin crawl!

North Korean dictator Kim Jong Un and American horse’s ass Dennis Rodman. Taken June 2017.

It’s 1:50 Sunday afternoon and I have to start thinking about FOOD … because I know you’ll agree that food is an excellent thing to think about. In a nutshell, I’m starving, and I’d be willing to settle for anything we have in cans ... even CHEF BOYARDEE CANNED SPAGHETTI WITH TEENY MEATBALLS! I’ll have to wake Sam — he’s been asleep on the sofa for the last couple of hours — and ask him to prowl the pantry for me because I can’t do it myself any more. In case you didn’t already know, I’m a housebound old coot who’s almost bedbound as well. I haven’t walked farther than the study for six years, and now I can’t even do that any more. It could be the Morphine that saps my energy, but without it I couldn’t move at all. Crazy crap, right?

Completely edible and not bad when you’re starving on a Sunday afternoon.

So here’s what’s happening this week at Howdygram headquarters … starting with a string of scheduled visits from the nice people at Accord Hospice! I’ll see Roskeisha, my CNA, on Monday, Wednesday and Friday around noon for bathing and hygiene, and Martha, my hospice R.N. on Tuesday and Thursday to dress and rebandage the nasty ulcer on the bottom of my left foot.

On Friday — just for fun! — I’ve also got my monthly appointment with Antonia, a nurse practitioner from Baylor HouseCalls. I don’t know if she’s fully aware that I’m under the care of a hospice now or that I’m taking Morphine to control my chronic pain … but I’ll have a chance to tell her everything on Friday.

My MacBook’s almost out of steam so I’d better wind up this post and publish it already. Thank you for reading this and do whatever the hell you want about the Alamo. Shalom!

No comments: