Freddogg Off The Chain

You know your life took a wrong turn somewhere when you are riding the DART Bus to Dialysis.
Gold’s Gym where I am one of two sixty year old straight members who still do resistance training-“I will not act gay!”- is right next to the dialysis satellite center which is across the street from a cellulite center where fat is removed with a Sears 6 H.P. wet/dry shop vac.
But all seriousness aside a final destination of eternal bliss can never compensate the earthlings who suffer ignominious degradation and pain and you just know there are whiny Americans in heaven who will not be happy until the balance sheet of suffering is equalized.
I always looked at the world like “where you are is where you deserve to be” like earth is a game board of Fisher Price people and some get to be little old bent over people whose kidneys don’t work while other get to be millionaire assholes like Randy Moss.
I will always be happy where I’m at as long as no fat nurse looks at me and utters the scariest word in the English language. ‘Catheter” as if fishing plastic tubing into anyone urethra is ever a good idea.
Druggie gang bangers in South Central L.A. emergency rooms with pierced penises who refuse to give up urine for toxicity screening have been seen running naked into enemy territory at the first mention of the word catheter.
Have you ever talked to a person of the opposite sex who is pushing an I.V gurney with a tube from above coming down into the arm and another coming out between the legs? As my grandmother said when she went to visit my grandfather. “What the fuck is that? Nobody needs to see that. Jesus get my old ass out of here now.”

Peace.