Apr 07 2009
∞
Scared Straight, sort of.
- Friend: How is everything going for him?
- Me: Painkillers and constipation.
- Friend: Ah, yes. I remember all of that [from when my husband's parents died].
- Me: You know, all of the obvious reasons are keeping me from abusing his drugs. He's got more than he knows what to do with. But what's most keeping me from getting recreational is knowing that if I have too much fun, I'll need an enema.
- Friend: Stick to the wine, hon.
- Me: I'll take a hangover in exchange for a night of pleasure over having to flush impacted, rock-hard shit out of my ass any day. Fuck D.A.R.E., right? They should just make every 5th grader be the end-of-life care-giver for a death-bed geriatric for a week.
