Enjoy the Small Things

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People on dialysis can have what experts call “fuzzy thinking.”  I had this before dialysis so it doesn’t bother me.

I’ve learned to enjoy the small things in life.  Small bites of pizza, small shots of booze, and small breasts.  You never know what life is going to throw at you.  I think my girlfriend would like to throw bricks.  Fortunately my head can break brick and there would only be a small wound.  My aches and pains are rapidly trying to turn me into a old man. Thank goodness I retain the mind of a sixteen-year-old. That I hope never changes.

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How to Quit

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I’ve worked over forty-nine jobs in the Frederick County area.  That’s given me a wide range of work experiences, especially how to quit and how to get fired.  I now command salaries of up to nine dollars an hour.

At my last job, my boss, Jena, a rather attractive woman asked me to please get to work. I winked at her and said, “Jena, there is nothing wrong with getting a little behind.”
That was my last day there.

I have sales experience in jewelry, real estate, fire alarms, frozen steaks, furniture, and marijuana. None of these jobs was lucrative, but selling marijuana helped me to get laid once.

One of my qualities is that I take jobs that require mindless labor and no responsibility, and focus on getting to know my co-workers.  On the clock, I’m a real people person.

My main requirement now is that I work with women. My motto has always been: Work hard, play hard, but don’t play hard to get.  I’ve always appreciated promiscuous female co-workers–without them, I wouldn’t have had nearly as much sex on the job.

I’m currently seeking employment as a Mystery Shopper inside dialysis clinics.  Keeping a close eye on nurses comes naturally to me.

When I look back at my past, I can see that my future has to be better. It can’t be any worse.  It is always darkest just before the light.

A New Year

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This year I am going to act my age. I am going to be kind and generous, all the time. I am only going to eat lean meats, fruits,and vegetables. I am going to be proud of who I am, and forget what my family thinks of me. I’m going to break a sweat more often. I am going to stop looking at women as sex objects. I’m going to take all my meds, legal and illegal. I’m going to do all these things. This Year.

Achieving Butt Crack

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May I rest my finger on your butt crack? At ten years old I asked her ,because I had been smacked very hard before. I negotiated this move and It paid off. My hand never ventured inside of her jeans. This uncharted territory would have to wait until I was twelve and drunk. The reaction I got from  this simple laying of finger was to have a rocket ready to spit up. Amazing. Few things have affected my life more than this.

Eat More Fruit

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Excruciating pain in my buttocks for three days.  The large Jamaican nurse says she is going to mix a pint of molasses and a pint of warm milk.  Insert a plastic tube into my tush and fill it with this mixture.  Life is really getting tough.  Why did that little tube feel so big?  Why did she leave the room?  I had been in serious pain for eight hours, so she could’ve said she was going to stick a vacuum cleaner in my butt and I would have agreed.  Shortly after she left, I was ready to explode all over that hospital bed.  I hit the call button 25 times then screamed, “Nurse, help!”

It took all the strength in my butt cheeks to hold back the explosion.  She popped back in the room.  Took a long time to put gloves on.  Pulled the tube out.  I ran down the hallway half-naked and barefoot.  It was one of the top five bowel movements of my life time. The noise alone was scary.  The pain was finally gone.  I thanked my nurse as if she had saved my life.  I am going to now eat more fruits and vegetables.

Stick Me

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Tired black men and senior citizens in wheelchairs all looking very drained.   These are my Dialysis clinic buddies.

“Mr. Lebherz, I’m going to stick you today.”  The technician is ready to go. She pushes two needles into my arm.  They are the size of small nails with tubes attached.  The cleaning process has started.  I sit for the next four hours.  Four hours of reading, television, and looking around the room at my buddies who look like they are ready to pass out or kick the bucket.

Take care of your kidneys.

How’s the writing going?

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My niece/web editor asks me almost everyday, how’s the writing going, got anything good to post?

But, I haven’t felt like writing lately–I sit and stare at my pens and tablets, and then I go see what my new roommate is up to.

From going vegetarian, I’ve lost so much weight that my scale doesn’t know what to say.  When I step on, it used to tell me “One at a time, please,” but now it asks, “Stephen?  Is that you?”  I never thought I would miss its fat jokes.

What do you do to keep writing when you don’t feel like you have anything good to say?  How do you get back into writing when you’ve gotten out of your routine?