Dirtbags

I'm resurrecting an old blog here because I just about pissed myself reading some of these. Enjoy!

My best friend called today to tell me about the creditors who have been hounding her about her ex-fiance. To rewind a little bit, about a year ago she came home to find her fiance in bed with his drug connection. The long and short is that she chased Crackhead Barbie out of the house with a bread knife. Fast forward to this morning when, for the millionth time in the last month, a credit card company is calling her to collect on her ex's debts. She calmly informs the nice man at the credit card company that the dirtbag hasn't been heard from for almost a year and that the best way to find out where he was would be to dangle a crack pipe at the end of a string because he'll be able to sniff it out from miles away.

Then the poor girl has to go into the hospital for a some sort of heart procedure and she's explaining to me that she woke up in the middle of the procedure and it felt like a bug crawling through her veins and up to her heart. She woke up once more during the procedure and says she now knows how it feels to have a heart attack. Then she had to pee partway through the 4 hour recovery- but can she get up to pee? NO. Because she could, drumroll please, bleed to death! Poor girl got threatened with catheter number 2 because she suddenly developed a shy bladder. "Do you see the bag of saline hanging up there? It's gonna have to come out. You put it in my arm and it's gonna have to come out my peepee!" And the doctor tells her not to get too excited after this procedure. HA!