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One of the many (MANY) exciting side effects of the many (MANY) medical catastrophes I’ve endured in my life is gout.

(Laugh all you want, you assholes, but it’s not funny.OK, maybe a little. Whatever.)

Yes. I have an arthritic condition that 85 year-old men have, and it pretty much fucking sucks. I was pretty sure (and so was my last blood test) that my uric acid levels were consistently low enough that it was gone thanks to weight loss and the lack of high blood pressure and diabetes since the weight loss, which were all the things that caused it to begin with.

But I was awakened in the night by an agonizing pain only to realize it is NOT gone, and that I’m going to suffer like a motherfucker for the rest of the day (and maybe tomorrow, too - AWESOME).

It’s good to be me.
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Last night I went to Kay’s house to play with the new puppy they got, and we got into a “debate” about the Ellen situation (ask Scott - he’ll tell you that Kay and I fight about EVERYTHING. It’s the glue that holds us together). Kay thinks I’m stupid, and that anyone else would have done the same thing with the dog, and that shelter only went after her because she’s a celebrity. I spent about an hour trying to explain that I don’t disagree with her intentions. I disagree with the fact that she didn’t bother to read the agreement she signed (or her girlfriend, or whoever signed it) that said that the shelter owns the dog in perpetuity, and that the adoptor is merely a caregiver. If the adoptor can’t take care of the dog, it’s her job to return it. (This is not an uncommon stipulation, either.)

I do think that these animal rescue people are INSANELY, RIDICULOUSLY, SOMETIMES STUPIDLY PICKY when it comes to giving people animals. But you know, it’s their right. If you don’t like it, go someplace else (in fact, go the pound and save an animal from death, people). I was told by cat adoption nazis at Petsmart that I would never get a cat from them because I admitted I gave away a cat I couldn’t take care of (in my defense, she was feral when I got her, and I took care of her and loved her for two years, and had to get rid of her because she was out of control and making my life - as well as Ike’s - a misery). Did I like the fact that they judged me instantly as an animal abuser because of that one instance? Of course not. But they put their time and energy into caring for those animals, so they can decide who to give them to.

I don’t like Wal-Mart’s business practices, so I don’t shop there. See how easy it is?

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So remember the Jesus cup that my favorite buttwipe sent me?

I’ve been using it at work, and no one knows what to make of it. Everyone wants to ask, but no one does. They just look at it, and then look at me, and walk away.

It’s fun.