today is a day for whining and feeling eight-years-old. i go into
surgery tomorrow.
i am scared. i might
die (not likely, but still, there's that
minute possibility). i'm gunna get what i want
today.
i'm gunna leave
work early
today. i'm gunna have
ice cream for dinner and
cheesecake for
dessert (even though these things will certainly make my
gallbladder feel intensely worse, i don't want my last meal to be a
fruit smoothie). i'm gunna insist on a
massage while i monopolize the
television set watching "
survivor" and smoking bowl after bowl from my happy homemade
tequila-bottle-
bong. you better believe i'm gunna get some
nookie. i'm gunna curl up with the man i love and
drool all over his chest (and he's gunna
love it). i'm gunna
dream the best
dreams ever, of
love and
happiness and
hedonism.
to my
lover: i dedicate to you the
Song of Songs