Post-Surgery Blues (Or, Tila Tequila Needs To Commit Suicide)

Hey, y'all remember that time I went on about that hernia I needed to have...um, de-herniaed? Yeah, that's probably not an actual word, but that's beside the point. Point is, I finally went into to have that fixed up.

The good news: I no longer have weird looking rips and swelling in my abdominal muscles.

The bad news: My torso is a lovely shade of pink, I'm covered in bandages (one of them currently rather bloody), my throat is still pretty sore from having an airtube shoved down it, and I feel vaguely like I just got hit by a truck.

Thankfully, to even this out I was given enough medication to effectively knock me out for a nice long while, including various painkillers, anti-bloaters and these weird little green ones that I'm told to take only when I "really need them".

Needless to say, I'm a bit wary of those little fuckers.

Since I need to take a week off until I get better, I'm spending it at the parental units' houses, catching up on the Cannonball Read. Thankfully, I brought enough books with me to tide me over, not to mention that I'm now spending a pretty substantial amount of time telling Tila Tequila to fuck off on Twitter.

Seriously, I really don't think you people understand how much I absolutely goddamn hate Tila Tequila. I'm not saying the world would be a substantially better place if Tila Tequila would just fucking kill herself already, but...Actually, yes, that is exactly what I'm saying. Tila Tequila needs to commit suicide for the good of the entire world.

Anyway, time to return to my routine of self-medication and reading. God bless Socialized Healthcare!