Coffee, coffee, coffee

I haven’t had a cuppa coffee in more than a year. I’d like a nice satanic flask of joe now. PLEASE. Not that decaf shit either.

Why did I go off the stuff? Eh—those monthly, then weekly seizures (gone now, tx), a billion and a half surgeries, rehab with barely a glimpse of recovery. You know, shit like that there. I was stressed and jittery enough without the caffeine. Now that the recovery is more or less in view (miles off but, nonetheless, in the viewfinder), I could do with a bit of that deep dark joy juice.

Haven’t had a glass ‘o’ the grape in a zillion years either. A thimble of Jamo here and there (mostly there) but that’s it for adult bevs. Until I’m off the blood thinner meds, that ain’t gonna change.

*sigh*
Speaking of thinned out vampire wine, my blood doc says I can only have my two busted back teeth fixed (dental surgery *WHEEEEE*) after I’m more mobile and off the Eliquis. I’m totally down with the gum/tooth cutting reprieve but not cool with my continuing hillbilly appearance. More than anything, I’m starting to resemble a backwoods 80 year old demonic witch. Just FYI, I don’t care much for my current fashion statement.
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Reading a collection of essays by writer/comedian Merrill Markoe now. I didn’t expect to relate to her and her life experiences all that much. I mean, she’s rich, famous and has had a successful creative career. Me? Not so much.

Still, there are similarities—we both had emotionally abusive mothers, suffered extreme social awkwardness, have general contrarian and overly impulsive tendencies and we both hate massages. Huh. It's like we're twins!

Did you know—Markoe’s been hooked up with the former frontman from Wall of Voodoo for more than 20 years? Yeah, her and Andy Prieboy are an established going concern.
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In other mental meanderings, I tried to watch a reality teevee show once. I think it was on some long plane trip to somewhere.  The book I had wasn’t thrilling me and none of the inflight movies grabbed me so I turned this crap on. The show was something about Kardashians. I’d heard the name before and thought why not, let's see what the hooplah is all about. I didn’t last ten minutes. It was dull and mystifying—who are these boring people and why should I care about any of them? Are they brill artists, writers, musicians, comics? Incredible scientists? Engaging educators? Regular folk with compelling backstories? What do they bring to the table???
As far as I could tell, not a whole bloody lot.   

This comes up because of Cousin Fucker Giuliani's latest cringe inducing bid to stay in the spotlight. He'd already become his own inadvertently hilarious (and not in a good, clever way), reality show with:

• the Four Seasons Lawn Care presser  
• melting hair dye performance
• and his caught-on-camera attempt to bonk a teen girl
  

Now though, like Palins mère et fille and 45 PR flack Spicer before him, he’s gone on an embarrassing reality show.

How long before K-lie McNinny, Mike Pompeo, Bill Barr and the rest of 45's clown car, show up on Dancing with the Stars or The Masked Singer—the last stop for fame obsessed GQPers.