Oh dear. I was having a moment with my digestive system earlier today. I had gone for my daily coffee-and-a-bun at Peet’s Cafe and when I got home, everything between my collarbone and my upper thighs decided to stage a revolt.
All the organs involved laughed at my feeble attempt with Alka-Seltzer to calm things down and seemed determined to immigrate. I took to my bed not exactly praying but simply moaning “oh baby instant Jesus” over and over again. Sometimes to break up the monotony, I would whimper something that sounded a lot like “Mommy.”Things would calm down all too briefly just long enough for me to form the misguided thought of “well thank God that’s….” only to interrupt myself with the more timely breaking news of “oops.”
I tried to distract myself by going grocery shopping online for delivery. Just more proof that pretty much every decision I have ever made has hinged on the logic of “What the hell?” Everything I considered buying made my guts sort of lurch, so I thought I would at least be restrained from the impulse buying that adds to my grocery bills so disastrously.
Eventually I fell asleep or passed out (is there really a difference?) and woke up just to wait for the delivery. I briefly and foolishly considered tacos for dinner, but a revival of my lurching squeamishness changed my mind. Cottage cheese, tea, and toast, that’s for me.
In less queasy news, the Chaturbate Sunday Night Movie Society took on Godzilla vs Kong and I’m not sure who won. The movie (it is not a “film”) is a loosely strung together series of plot holes randomly broken up by some 3D IMAX fight scenes/fodder in which it’s impossible to tell what’s supposed to be going on.
At one point I texted “I keep losing track of what the evil corporate scientist is doing,” but it turned out not to matter. About two thirds of the way through, after Kong and Godzilla have dedicated themselves to bashing each other’s brains out, suddenly a robot Godzilla pops up. Wut? Where did that come from? Again, it didn’t matter.
The only reason for the robot was to turn the whole thing into one of those mismatched cop/buddy movies, like 48 Hours, Lethal Weapon, or Rush Hour. Evil robot pops up and now the sworn enemies have each other’s back and, I don’t know, homoeroticism blooms or something.
Since I didn’t have to worry about following the plot, I could muse on how what are essentially B movies have turned into gigantic, gibberish blockbusters which cost dump trucks full of money. I’m not wholly opposed to them, I’m a huge fan of Godzillas and zombies, but I would prefer them to be good Godzillas and zombies. Recently the Society watched Mayhem which is a cheerful romp in bloody gore starring Stephen Yuen. It probably cost less than the coffee budget for one of the CGI teams of Godzilla versus Kong and I liked it better.
Even I, who can get sunburned from the light off my laptop, am longing for some beach time.
Saki has taken to wandering into my bedroom and yowling at me for no real reason. He just wants to raise hell.
Speaking of pussy
An old favorite here at mrpeenee Inc. A pretty face, red hair, and big muscles. Yes, please.
From our extensive collection of big lunks.
There is nothing like a fat cock to fill up your hand.
I really hope that Chinese tattoo translates as “For Rent.”