An Icepick in My Left Temple Should Do It

I’ve had this nagging headache since Friday and it’s about to make me insane. Ibuprofen are like M&M’s to me right now. Thank God that at least touches the headache, but it’s in my left temple and hurts like a bastard. Yes, a bastard hurts very much, if you must know.

Lord help me, because I have a suspicion that it’s dentally-related and that would suck big time. Yeah, no dental insurance. I’m really insecure about my teeth. They’re all kinds of fucked up because I haven’t taken care of them like I should. Cracks, stains…just blecch. If you asked me what one thing I could change about myself it’d be my smile. I hate it. I’d love to get implants but that’s just not in the financial cards.

Any dentists reading this that want to be gloriously philanthopic, I’ll take you up on that and plug the hell out of you on my blog. I’m not above that in the least.

Another big thanks to Lisa for being my special guest yesterday on SecondHand Radio. As usual, you can visit the page and listen to the show there, download it to listen to on your computer, even search for SecondHand Radio in iTunes and download it there.

We talked about a lot of things…music, shaving our heads, the power of Bloggity Goodness, and even what the hell happens to our blogs after we’re dead. That last one is a topic I was discussing with Britt this morning, while we were making out on her patio and drinking coffee.

Just what DOES happen to my blog when I die? Yeah, Lisa’s situation got the topic started, but it’s something I’ve given a lot of thought to in the last couple of months. In the modern era, I think we need to consider our online life when we’re considering and making out our wills. Hell, I haven’t done up a will since I was still married. Not good.

My mom wouldn’t have a freaking clue what to do with my laptop should I die. I’m seriously thinking I need to write down all of my passwords and include them in my will. I’ve already taken the first step of giving Hilary admin access to my blog. I plan on writing a really rocking post (perhaps more than one) to be released after my death. Maybe post “from beyond the grave” a couple of times a year, I don’t know.

Lisa has tentatively decided (on last night’s show, in fact) to give me Power of Blog for Clusterfook. I was surprised she asked me, but I’m honored to do that for her. The Power of Blog is a name she came up with…just a blogging power of attorney, really. I think it’s apropos. I pray I never have to implement the power.

God forbid I wind up in the hospital in a coma (because I think that’s what it would take) and can’t get to a computer to say what’s going on. My mom doesn’t know any of my friend’s phone numbers. I should probably remedy that situation, too. At least she can look them up on my cell phone, I suppose. But now Hilary can post on my blog in the event of my convalescence (or worse). Once she KNOWS I’m laid up, anyway.

Weird, isn’t it? Thinking about this shit? Is it morbid? I don’t know. Maybe. But as I said to Lisa last night, life is terminal. I don’t care HOW fucking healthy you are…you ARE going to die. Just a question of when.

Lisa’s got me thinking about my affairs and wrapping them up for contingency’s sake. God help anyone that has to clean up the disaster that is my bedroom. In fact, I apologize in advance to anyone that finds my sex toys. I never use them, I swear. *cough*

So I had a wonderful weekend at Britt’s house, just chilling with her and Becky and the kids. And Britt’s pretty boy husband, too. He’s one of those annoying pretty boys that doesn’t KNOW he’s a pretty boy. I hate that. If you’re going to be a pretty boy, at least have the common decency to be a DICK.

Britt kept apologizing for (1) being sick, (2) having a messy house (which she didn’t), and (3) not DOING anything while Becky and I were there. But I think she and I have very different ideas about what is fun. Like I said last week in a post, it’s all about relationships with me. The older I get, the more I keep chanting that mantra. I don’t care about STUFF (except my computer. And my Wii. And my Tivo.), I care about PEOPLE. Hanging out just shooting the shit and relaxing is COOL.

When I first became a Christian in the 90’s, I had this really longwinded convoluted definition for life. The older I get, though, the simpler my philosophy becomes.

Life is sex. Oh, wait…sorry, no. Sometimes that shit just pops in there.

Anyway, the point of life is love. Period.

It’s relationships. I don’t care who you are, whether you believe in God or you don’t, whether you’re rich or poor, the point of life is relationships. You’re not going to be laying on your death bed thinking, “I wish I had more money.” You’re going to be there, hoping that you were a good person, wanting to have the people you care about surrounding you…visiting, calling, reading you the latest blog drama at your bedside. Whatever.

You bitches better ALL visit me when I’m on MY death bed, I can tell you that right now. I want phone calls, but I really want you to come and see me. If I’m going to entertain you every day (and even from beyond the grave) the least you can fucking do is come see me. I’m just sayin’.

Here are a few pictures from some of MY relationships this past weekend.

Britt making the fabulous Brittinis (vodka and Crystal Light). I’m not saying I had a lot of them, but I’m not saying I didn’t. In fact, I’m particularly emphasizing the fact that I’m NOT saying that.

This is Britt’s Sex Face.

There’s Mini-Britt, Becky, and Devin at the pool. There are other shots on Britt’s Flickr page, of course.

This is how we spent the bulk of our night(s), sitting out on the patio, making out and shooting the shit. That’s Britt and Pretty Boy. Jared, I think his name is. Whatever.

That’s Mini-Britt again. She’s sitting there saying, “Look how fucking cute I am, Kawoo! I’m ADORABLE! You can’t kill me just because I wake you up every morning at 6am because you know I’m going to get all cute and pose with Minnie Mouse ears on the table! I’m cute thousands of times a DAY!” Wench is right.

And there’s the kids in their new fort Sunday morning, the one that Aunt Becky made for them.

I love kids. I do. Wasn’t always the case. But even when I couldn’t STAND children, they always have loved me. I don’t know why. I’m like a kid magnet.

I wish I were a CHICK magnet.