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musesandlyrics | 6.6. Oscar Levant quote
Mar. 9th, 2010 09:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
drivemystick6.6. "I envy people who drink -- at least they know what to blame everything on."
Oscar Levant
Sponge baths by hot nurses don't friggen count if you're a dude and the hot nurse is a dude too. Time off work doesn't count either if you actually like your job. Or liked your job. There is the fact you have complete control of the remote control, but that only counts if there is something decent on the fucking TV. Quitting smoking, sure, counts because it's good for the lungs, but doesn't count if you actually like the nicotine hit. Eating better does not count on hospital food, especially when you're craving a taco. Still being alive... well, okay. I'll give you that. That counts, because the latter would completely defeat the fucking purpose of 'always looking on the bright side of life'. See? I'm trying. I'm trying to see the bright sides, but when your ass is hung up in traction to the point you can't even see your own dick, and you forget your own name some days because the pain is so bad... well, to be honest? You can fucking stick your bright side of life.
Look, I know what I do is dangerous, alright? Telling me it's dangerous is like telling Dr Phil he's bald or Oprah that she's fat. I can think of a few other metaphors like Catholic Popes and bears shitting in woods, but you get my point. It's dangerous, yes, and some debris on the road had me about two steps from road kill. Does that mean I love it any less? No. But it is my prerogative to bitch about it. The accident wasn't my fault. It was someone else's fault, and while I really want to ram an IV pole up their ass, truth it, it is actually a string of other people's fault, and that's an awful lot of ramming right there. I can't even get a boner, so there is going to be no ramming of any sort. Just saying.
But back to the bitching. Two broken legs, a broken hip, broken ribs, a cracked skull, a broken shoulder, fractured elbow, a cracked butt bone, and broken toe (shut up, a broken toe fucking hurts), I'm allowed to be in a bad mood. I'm allowed to bitch, moan, and fucking cuss if I feel like it. I'm allowed to tell a nurse she is a dipshit if she leaves my ass hanging out of the gown after a sponge bath. Right now, I don't want to look on the bright side of life. Monty Fucking Python can take a running leap into a tank full of angry sharks with fricken laser beams (ha, I was not going to end this without at least one Austin Powers reference). Bottom line is I'm about as useful as a naked garden gnome right now. I can't move, I have a tube up my dick, I'm single, I can't smoke, I can't hold a taco to fucking eat it, I don't even want to fart in case it makes my ass hurt, I miss my dog, I miss sex, I don't know if my cock is even capable of a boner, I really friggen want a blow job, my big toe hurts, I have an ugly nurse with hair the colour of the hospital's "Special Hot Pot" including the orange bits, I can't get drunk, and a classic Cadillac was totalled... I swear, dude, that hurt more than breaking my ass. A Cadillac mincemeat in the side of a building. Fuck a minute's silence, it deserves a freaking decade.
So, always look on the bright side of life? Seriously? How about this?
Go get fucked with a hot poker and stick a dead pigeon up your ass, because I. don't. want. to.
And you can't make me.
Word Count | 625
Oscar Levant
Sponge baths by hot nurses don't friggen count if you're a dude and the hot nurse is a dude too. Time off work doesn't count either if you actually like your job. Or liked your job. There is the fact you have complete control of the remote control, but that only counts if there is something decent on the fucking TV. Quitting smoking, sure, counts because it's good for the lungs, but doesn't count if you actually like the nicotine hit. Eating better does not count on hospital food, especially when you're craving a taco. Still being alive... well, okay. I'll give you that. That counts, because the latter would completely defeat the fucking purpose of 'always looking on the bright side of life'. See? I'm trying. I'm trying to see the bright sides, but when your ass is hung up in traction to the point you can't even see your own dick, and you forget your own name some days because the pain is so bad... well, to be honest? You can fucking stick your bright side of life.
Look, I know what I do is dangerous, alright? Telling me it's dangerous is like telling Dr Phil he's bald or Oprah that she's fat. I can think of a few other metaphors like Catholic Popes and bears shitting in woods, but you get my point. It's dangerous, yes, and some debris on the road had me about two steps from road kill. Does that mean I love it any less? No. But it is my prerogative to bitch about it. The accident wasn't my fault. It was someone else's fault, and while I really want to ram an IV pole up their ass, truth it, it is actually a string of other people's fault, and that's an awful lot of ramming right there. I can't even get a boner, so there is going to be no ramming of any sort. Just saying.
But back to the bitching. Two broken legs, a broken hip, broken ribs, a cracked skull, a broken shoulder, fractured elbow, a cracked butt bone, and broken toe (shut up, a broken toe fucking hurts), I'm allowed to be in a bad mood. I'm allowed to bitch, moan, and fucking cuss if I feel like it. I'm allowed to tell a nurse she is a dipshit if she leaves my ass hanging out of the gown after a sponge bath. Right now, I don't want to look on the bright side of life. Monty Fucking Python can take a running leap into a tank full of angry sharks with fricken laser beams (ha, I was not going to end this without at least one Austin Powers reference). Bottom line is I'm about as useful as a naked garden gnome right now. I can't move, I have a tube up my dick, I'm single, I can't smoke, I can't hold a taco to fucking eat it, I don't even want to fart in case it makes my ass hurt, I miss my dog, I miss sex, I don't know if my cock is even capable of a boner, I really friggen want a blow job, my big toe hurts, I have an ugly nurse with hair the colour of the hospital's "Special Hot Pot" including the orange bits, I can't get drunk, and a classic Cadillac was totalled... I swear, dude, that hurt more than breaking my ass. A Cadillac mincemeat in the side of a building. Fuck a minute's silence, it deserves a freaking decade.
So, always look on the bright side of life? Seriously? How about this?
Go get fucked with a hot poker and stick a dead pigeon up your ass, because I. don't. want. to.
And you can't make me.
Word Count | 625
