Trying to pick up the pieces

It’s an Eminem kinda day.  I just want to cuss and find all the good words for lady parts and just shout them out an open window.

A relapse to me seems like the end of the world sometimes.  You just have to fight whether you want to or not.  Most of the time you aren’t going to win.

I could never describe what a relapse was like before.  How it happens.  Why it happens.

Then Eminem did this skit, and it described it perfectly:


The outpouring of love and support from all of you was amazing and I couldn’t possibly find the time to answer every single one. but I thank you one and all.  Friends I didn’t know even followed me, people I have never heard from before. and even some real life friends.  For that, I thank you once again for your love an support.

Today didn’t really go as I would have liked.  I had visions of kicking doors in and ,making demands and none of that shit happened.  I suppose Librium is decent stuff but in my case it apparent’ly isn’t worth a fuck.  Of course, nobody listens to me about my tolerance for Benzo’s, so it doesn’t matter anyway.

I told the doc the other day that I wrote a complete and coherent blog post on 15MG of Valium.

She laughed at me because she thought I was kidding.

I wasn’t and most of you read the damn post.

What actually happened was that I made it to the director’s office only to find that she was out . . . .

for a few days.

So I left my info with her secretary/assistant whatever she is and went on my way.

I went back to the Patient Care Annex to see if I could get a walk in appointment to have someone look at my back. Which they did, by sending me back to the main hospital to get x-rayed.

X-rays done, I head out to look for the lab and I get a phone call . . . . from HR.

So apparently they are REEEEEEEALY pissed that I went to the director to bitch about them.  We went back and forth on the phone, in circles.  Getting nowhere.  With her telling me that they decide who gets hired and me asking her who over there is qualified to decide who is qualified.  And me, YES ME, who can cuss with the best of them had maintained himself the whole time actually used the word “DAMN”.

‘”Sir, can we please do this without cussing?”


So after approximately 30 minutes of beating the living fuck out of a dead horse, she finally agreed to “look into this and see what is going on” and that she would call me back later.

If that happens just by going to the Directors office, I can’t wait to see what happens when Congress gets there.

I scheduled an appointment for some labs in the morning and I’ll also go in and see my doc to see what is us up with my back.

For tonight, I’m back in my hotel room, taking my Tylenol and just trying to figure out what to do next.

I offered my life for my country, why can’t I get the same level of dedication?


From a man who suffered the same afflictions I do, and who loved his veterans the same way I do.  May you rest in peace, Robin.


If life wasn’t this funny, I’d be bored off my ass


So here’s the big news for this week . . . I’m moving.  Like, tomorrow.  Yeah, so, I hope you enjoyed the photos from my front yard last week because that won’t be my front yard tomorrow.  Not too far.  About 10 miles from where I am now and in a shittier neighborhood, but better circumstances by a long shot.

You are about to find out why.  As a sort of a disclaimer, some of the things I will mention in here are of a very serious nature, and I do of course take them very seriously.  Please read ahead with the comedic attitude with which I have intended it and the way I have chosen to look at it.  Because, seriously, if I took it the way I should I’d probably leap in front of a train.

I’m kind of a chicken shit, so it would probably be a parked train, but it’s the thought that counts.  Right? Read the rest . . .