Victor’s home (yay!) and he leaves again tonight (mother.fucker.) but it was nice because when he got home from his work retreat he was all “I’m exhausted. Can you rub my temples?” and I was like “Um…no. I have piratitis, remember?” and he was all “Like…fear of pirates?” and I was like “No. It’s a severe kidney infection and I feel like crap. You should be rubbing my temples” and he was all “Well, my kidneys hurt too. I had a lot to drink. Plus my throat hurts from all that karaoke” and I was all “If this gets worse they’re going to put me in the hospital” and he was like “Oh, and my company rented out an amusement park for my team and my back hurts from riding the roller coaster too much” and I was all “On the way to the emergency clinic someone ran over a cat right in front of me” and he was all “Did you see these pictures of me hula-hooping? I didn’t even know I could hula hoop” and then I was all “I found a scorpion in the toilet. Now I’m afraid to pee but I can’t stop peeing because I HAVE A LIFE-THREATENING KIDNEY INFECTION” and he was like “I understand. When I was in the airplane I bit my lip. Hurt like hell. But then I got bumped up to first class so I had ice cream to sooth it. They were out of chocolate though. It was pretty devastating”. Then I just stopped talking because I’m too weak with piratitis to find the guns.
PS. Turns out it’s not “piratitis” but “pyelonephritis”, but “pyelonephritis” sounds like a fear of pylons, which sounds fucking ridiculous. So I’m sticking with piratitis.
PPS. Victor did rub my temples so I guess that makes us not even close to being even.
And now, my weekly wrap-up of shit-I-did-when-I-wasn’t-here, although it’s kind of crazy long since I didn’t do it last week because my dog died. Also, this is the most depressing post ever. I apologize.
I'm using this graphic because I don't have one of me on my deathbed.
This week on my sex column (which is satirical and vaguely safe for work if your boss isn’t a douche-canoe):