Now I lay me down to sleep

There's a new guy in the rounds, I'll have to think of a name for him. I went on a date with him a while ago and then this past Friday. I kind of like the variety I have going right now. Each of my lovers meets a part of me and fulfills that part.

I have no poop inside me anymore. At least that's what I'm hoping. I was tasked to have a 'light lunch' and then a liquid diet after through tomorrow when I stop ingesting anything but my own spit. I had to clarify with the nurse lady on the phone what a 'light lunch' meant - like could I have a salad or a bagel or a whole pizza? She said people usually pig out on like a big steak since they know they're going to be without food for a while. I went with a nice healthy salad. I hope it's passed already or the enema tomorrow [self-induced -- god that's gonna be weird] will be messy. Then, at 5/6pm I had to have 1/2 a bottle of something called magnesium citrate. When I called my parents to say good night prior to ingesting this they related that I'm on the same diet they were pre-colonoscopy. Except their mag-cit tasted like crap [not literally] and mine is now flavored with lemon. How nice of the manufacturers.

This was not my experience. In fact, about 1/2 hour later I calmly pooped a nice lil' log and that was it. Where's the rest? Where's the explosion? Where are my innards? I was all braced for some kind of fireworks or pain or moving the TV into the bathroom for the evening. Nope. Okay, something must be wrong with me. Or not. Then again, about a year ago James force fed me Epsom salts to drink to make me poop one weekend -- and it didn't work. Oh well. We shall see tomorrow morning I guess. Ugh.. enemas...

So, yesterday I had to plan for this crazy liquid diet. Yeah, I eat twigs and seeds at work and for meals, but I also chow down at dinner and on weekends. I love food. Really I do. I love healthy food and junk food. And the idea of not eating from 12pm-12am was tormenting me. I cruised Copp's food store - liquid and clear, clear and liquid, clear liquid. Great choices. I bought about 3 Gatorade fancy sports drinks all clear and flavored some berry thing. Unfortunately these clear Gatorades did not come with electrolytes which I was relying on keeping me going and not passing out ... People, I said I love my food - it gives me joy and energy. Yes, 12 hours of no food will wither me. Then, I bought about 4 Glaceau fruitwaters - electros, clear, and berry tasty. I also bought some apple juice which I thought I recalled they said would be fine. And, some veggie broth and miso soup just in case. [So what if I can get 50% of my RDA of sodium in 1 fucking miso - I needed food!!!]

Well, I'm off to bed momentarily and I can speak to the yummy of the fruitwaters and the retardedness of the Gatorade bottle shape. Although they are a bit like baby bottles which is kinda sexy.

I am definitely wasting away right now, withered at least 3 pounds I'm sure. And all I can think about is Lays potato chips, tuna salad, cereal, veggie burritos, green beans with butter, whole tomatoes, beer, rice milk, Le Petit Ecolier, nutella, ... aw, man, I gotta stop. I'm salivating.

Anyway. I'm sucking the last of some of the liquids [I'll probably burn the rest of the bottles after the surgery tomorrow - no more liquid diet ever!] before I'm cut off at 9am. Then, at 9, I'll crouch on my elbows and knees in the bathtub and try to put a fleet enema in my bummie. Thanks to SirMax I now know what they feel like and how I'll feel upon being filled, and the toilet is less than a step away. Poopsie poosie. Then, the 2nd fleet at 9:30 and so help me it'd only expel water at that point.

Cab comes. Head to the hospital. Wait, do whatever, get drugs, answer questions [or, rather, answer questions, get drugs], surgery for an hour, recovery with my gal Mary. She'll bring me home with a care package [hence why I asked her to join me in recovery - I get movies and treats!], hand me over to James who will put me to bed in the afternoon, feed me when I wake up hungry, give me pills every 3 hours, rub my head to make sure I'm alive, then push me over and snore next to me all night long until he has to run to work in the wee hours of Thurs. [Right, James? Just like that, huh? hahahaha]. And on Thursday, I am going to pig the fuck out on anything I want and watch all the bad movies I wanna [although "new boy for whom I will find a nickname" is bringing over some cool blues documentary on Robert Johnson and his crossroads -- all my talk of getting the lil' devil tail removed].

I kindly appreciate all your well wishes, darlings. Think of me during the day. Deep in your heart you should meditate at least for 2 minutes so that your commands and reminders make it to Hades. Remind that lil' red guy that he cannot take me yet for I have so much more of his work to do on this earth. And, maybe, if you're lucky and gross I'll send you [individually cuz I'm not into this on the w.w.w.] a pic of rosebud healing. And, in a few weeks, if you're more lucky and nice I'll send you a pic of a perfectly puckered and clean and dazzling bumstar. And, in a month or so, if you're super duper extra lucky and naughty I'll send you a pic of me feeding bumstar some nice, hard, long dildo. Or cock!

Kisses to you all my darlings.

Nigh nigh


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