I know, I know! And I prefer "bull-headed" so...there!
Dude, I am totally going to kick your ass if you get cancer. I will fly into Kansas City expressly for that purpose.
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risque (and frisque), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
I know, I know! And I prefer "bull-headed" so...there!
Dude, I am totally going to kick your ass if you get cancer. I will fly into Kansas City expressly for that purpose.
JZ, I'm also printing and putting it on my computer to read. I might pretend that Emeline said it, if you don't mind.
JZ, for the record, I've quit.
I marked your post, JZ. I will read it again later and appreciate it even more than I do now, which is saying a lot.
JZ, for the record, I've quit.
Gold star! Emily too, yes?
And also, while my friends and family and general loved ones are allowed to say, "I love you. I don't want you to get cancer, etc please quit." it drives me bugfuck for strangers to do it.
Watching my mother quit convinced me Tobacco is Serious Badness and it is probably the one bad habit not even part of me is drawn to. Which is saying something, I think.ETA: wrod, Aimee. Nagged by strangers is of the suck. And, sometimes I have to tell people that care to step off, too. Yes, even if they're right.
Emily too, yes?
Yeah, but not at the same time or for the same reasons.
I thought there was only one person allowed to talk to me about it at all, but I guess now there are two.
ION, while we were in the doctor's office, the doctor asked if any of us were vomiting or nauseated or had diarrhea. I said no, a little puzzled because it was right there on the chart why we were there, and then she said some vicious bug is going around, almost at epidemic proportions, and she had two patients right then waiting for a bed at the hospital but there were no beds to be had because of it.
If Emeline could talk, she would say it. Because she's a greedy, selfish little thing. We want the people we love, the ones who are our suns and true norths and the steady arms of our crazy looping compasses, to live forever, and we want them to love us more than they love their smokes and their booze and their chicken-fried steaks.
I've already given Hec permission to get medieval on my ass if my doctor ever gives me any kind of ultimatum and I blow it off. I mean, I love my curly fries and my runny Brie as much as the next shit-eating American, but I love the way I fit into Hec's arms and the peace there -- just there, with my chin resting snugly in the little hollow above his clavicle and my lips on his neck and breathing in the faint sweet scent of his hair -- much, much more. If my doctor told me I could buy myself six extra weeks of enjoying that sweet homely peace in relatively decent health by eating twigs and acorns, I'd do it.