Counting My Fucking Blessings…..

(11AM EST – promoted by Nightprowlkitty)

and wishing you a Happy Fucking New Year…..

Well, I could be doing that, but I’d really rather surf porn or something. Or maybe break out Mr. Vape and watch all 5 seasons of “Weeds” that my boys got me for Xmas in some giggle-fest marathon.

But really, I should be thinking of the good things, like “His cancer is going into remission,” and telling you all how grateful I am for this past year. I should be waxing my usual sentimental self about how next year is an opportunity, full of hopey shit and wonder.

2010 has been nothing but fuckedinthethroatalicious for almost all of us. Not us in the WWL sense, but for humans on the planet. Wars are still raging, torture is still legal, what is left of our privacy is a voyeuristic wet dream and I cannot think of one piece of legislation that passed that was a victory in any sense except for the rat-bastard rabid weasels called the Elite Class devouring our flesh.

After two days of unfuckingbelievably hard physical labor and a year of stress and unidentified ailments, my body feels like it has been run wholesale through one of those chipper shredder things and been put back together by Picasso. My face is melting in to bags and baggage, flab hangs off my body in not just the regular places, but new and strange places of its own volition, despite the fact I almost eat nothing now, because every time I eat I hurt, my back feels like a sumo wrestler is tap dancing on it, and my feet feel like they have zircon encrusted swords embedded in them. Pointy side up!

But, hey, at least my body is in better shape than my psyche, which despite my “I can handle anything, I’m fiiiiiiine,” bullshit facade of bravado, still wants to go fetal in agony from the hardships, pain, rejections, and losses I have endured this year. I am so sick of being tough. I want someone to take care of me. I want a Mommy, not my Mommy though, she mostly sucked. Nah, thats not what I really want, either. I think I really just am in more need of a good lay than anyone on the Planet. I swear I’d go find some strange if the idea of me naked wouldn’t make even the most desperate fucker on the planet run screaming, clawing their own eyes out, with their pecker so turtled it would have to be surgically extracted.

As I open the “present” of 2011, all I can think is the words of a friend, “Is there heroin in there?”

Things aren’t going to get much better financially, as the twisted system of cash-for-torture called AFLAC ends with his treatments done, and who knows if/when he can return to work, if ever?

And now, the safety net is going to be run by the Tea Party. I can hardly fucking wait!

2011.

Really. Really fucking really! I can hardly fucking wait.

Seriously. Does it come with heroin?