If everything goes well, by this time tomorrow I will be duct taped down to the cash-extraction chair having my wrists slashed. As this is an outpatient procedure and performed under a local, I will no doubt have to be heavily sedated- while my hands are shredded with scars, the idea of having them deliberately sliced open skeeves me out. So I’ll be given a shot, no doubt, to keep me well in dreamyland.

I’ve produced a small powerpoint presentation for my captors surgical team that explains the meaning of phrases like “shaved goat” and “lubricated midget”, as well as a hold harmless form should I actually begin blabbing about the weekend with the Archbishop of Canterbury and the 372 rock cornish game hens. Don’t want to damage the poor man’s reputation.

I intend to eat very little, and what I do eat is chosen for it’s self-wiping properties. I’m also following each meal with a large wad of Charmin so it cleans on it’s way out. While the Ogwife certainly seems to love me, I’m not sure she loves me enough to wipe my ass for three days while my hands heal.

I also intend to cajole Vman into masturbating for me while I’m disabled. Adding the extra four/day to his already high workload will probably be tough, but he’s a trooper and I have faith in his abilities. I may need someone to independantly verify he’s working to my standards, though, as I don’t think he has a webcam.