I was walking home on the very respectable Market Street right past the very respectable corner of Sanchez when some slightly broken down homeless guy with a big dingy gray beard held up a prescription bottle full of mystery pills and shook them at me. I very politely declined because, you know, manners, and kept walking, but then I wondered "Did I just turn down drugs from Santy Claus?"
Drugs are on my mind more than usual these days. I remain off of the pain meds that were so dear to me for so many years. Not because of any high-minded opposition to opioids, but simply because once I stop taking them I found out they did nothing for my pain level.
Now that I've sucked it up and gone through withdrawal, It just seems like I'm better off without them. However, withdrawal brought with it an occasional spike of depression. When I mentioned it to my doctor, she dug around in Google for a while (bitch, I could have done that, a thought I did not mention to her. Well, maybe I mentioned it a little bit.)
She finished her conference with Dr Google and announced that what I needed was ketamine. I briefly wondered if she was inviting me to a rave, but then I settled down. Turns out ketamine is the new depression drug that all the best people are trying. It's not just for club kids who have too many opinions about house music any more.
I have a history of drugs that go back several amusing decades. I was not only slutty, but always up for a good time. One Mardi Gras, friends of a friend had something they called "mysterious white powder." I went back for seconds. How was I to know it was PCP? Maybe. Speculation later held that it might also have been pig tranquilizer. My point is, I am no stranger to chemically enhanced amusements. Still, I'm surprised when medical professionals suggest drugs I could probably get more cheaply and easily at the 16th Street BART station.
I am now supposedly scheduling my ketamine treatment through some online site which is probably not as sketchy as it sounds. Probably. We'll see.
Also since I'm not on pain meds (which didn't do anything) my back still hurts so this afternoon I went to yet another doctor and got a trigger point injection: lidocaine, some steroid, and something else. I don't know, I wasn't paying attention; I was busy thinking about how humpy the nurse shooting me up was. Anyway, it actually seems to be helping which is a good thing because the shot itself - ouchie. So merry fucking xmas, and all that.
Guys you wish you'd find under the tree:
The closest I get to drugs these days are ibuprofen and gin. Jx
ReplyDeletePS #6, #10 and #11 please!
I hadn't even realized I had included 11 pictures today. Think of them as my xmas presents to those of you on the naughty list.
ReplyDeleteYour new drag name can be Kita Mean!!!!!!
ReplyDeleteI don't think most of these guys will fit under my tree, so just slip Chase and his tities under my sheets. And yes, his cock is worthwhile. But the milk carton guzzler...let him do as he wishes...what with buttchops that fine and perky! Ill take a bit out of that crime.
They are quite the buttchops, aren't they? And I think I will stick with my latest drag name, Pepper Spray.
DeleteMADDIE THAT IS GENIUS
DeleteMy, all those Christmas cakes, not to mention the sausages.
ReplyDeleteMerry, Ho ... Ho Ho.
Holiday hoes. It's sort of a tradition here.
DeleteAt the very least, that first doctor could have suggested something for the back pain...maybe Dom Perignon. After all, the debauchery isn't much fun if your back hurts.
ReplyDeleteDON'T DRINK OUT OF THE FUCKING CARTON. Uncouth lout
ReplyDeleteIt all depends on what he's drinking, I can overlook his uncouth ways if it's fruit juice but if it's milk I'll have to pass, but because it's Christmas and I'm feeling extra whorish he can do me from behind.
I'm not keen on burger nips 10.
"burger nips" is my new favorite nickname for some trashy boy trollop.
DeleteGlad to see someone else out there who cops to his enjoyment of recreationals (and recreational scrip, dammit.) It's like the Harper Valley PTA out there, people our age trying to make like butter wouldn't melt. Butter would melt - hell, sheet steel would melt in the presence of Mr. Lout's gorgeous ass. You sir are a connoisseur. Salud. Salad. Whatever.
ReplyDeleteI think denial is an absolute waste of a misspent youth
DeleteIt's Christmas eve and I'm wishing you find
ReplyDeletethe most wonderful things up your chimney.
And a very merry right bakatcha.
DeleteIf you find yourself dressed as Santa with a muscular young man on your lap, will that be down to the drugs you've taken or just because of the time of year?
ReplyDeleteWhichever, happy holidyas, Peenee!
P.S. Does Zac Beech's nan know he's been parading around her very modest dining room in his birthday suit?
Please do not tell her.
Delete