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Out of context: Reply #1640
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- peteski0
At a small birthday celebration the other day, after the singing, candles and cake cutting, a murmur started around the room - "I don't want cake someone spit on". It somehow became reality. Pieces were refused. Disregaurding the universal truth the no one SPITS when they blow candles out. Is this where we're headed? Fear that birthday cake will kill you? Fear and antagonism, locked and loaded. Welcome to LA - Happy friggin Birthday.
I've been ill. Got a cold I couldn't shake. On top of the shoulder surgery recovery, every time I coughed it felt like my collar bone was breaking. I'm going to get outside today, walk to the barber's. Get a medium. $8 plus tip.
Got an email from a friend with Hep C. Everyone I know has it, except me. Stupid junkies. She had a liver transplant and while in the hospital after, she had a stroke and came as close to being dead as you can get. Every time I see her, she's always bitching about her life (you'd never know about the stroke, she made a complete recovery). I always think, you were almost dead, why all the bitching? It reminds me about being on life-support myself (everyone I know has been on life-support, at least once. Stupid junkies.) and I think - why all the bitching?
Life isnt like in the movies. OJ would've confessed in tears, years ago. And I would be doing daily jumping jacks of joy just to be alive. I could, except my shoulder would fall off.
I had left over butter creme birthday cake for breakfast. It was good.