Alcoholzheimers.
What the – why is my mouth blue?! I gaped at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, yesterday morning. Has it been SO long since I’ve gotten ass that the signifying hue of sexual frustration has spread from my testicles to my tongue?
No, no. Turns out I have not been biologically branded with a cerulean letter – ‘D’ for desperate. Apparently I went to sleep (read: passed out) with a blue raspberry Tootsie Pop in my mouth. No telling where I picked that up, but I found it demi-devoured and stuck to my comforter.
I can hardly begin to filter through the problems illuminated by this situation. The first being that I am most relieved it didn’t get wrapped up in my prized mane, not, you know, that I didn’t choke to death.
Somewhere in Wisconsin, my mom has been hit with a sudden and inexplicable wave of exhaustion.
Oh my gawd, I was worried for you for a second when I couldn’t live with the thought of you choking. Then, after reading your thoughts it reminded me of the first time I found out I got the Big C:
Oncologist: (In a very monotone voice) You have cancer – Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.
Arturo: (With a look of disgust) Okay, doc, I’m prepared for that, but does that mean I have to lose my hair?