Hospital

Yesterday thirty past midnight my grandfather had to go to the hospital because he couldn't breathe right for the littlest things. He's doing fine now, just some water build up around his lungs and heart. They drained what he thinks is ten pounds of it from him and he's a big man. I told him at least he's losing weight. I'll be off for at least half of the week (right now I'm using a friend's computer) until he gets home. I have college, work and chores to do, so any free time is granted to him. He's the last person I want to die.

On better news my mother bought my autistic brother an outfit for Halloween. He's several inches taller than me, still growing, and still is the sweetest child I've ever known, probably will always be that way. For the holiday (I don't think it should be considered such, but I have no say. I am not their mama even though she's usually gone when everything starts flying.) he is going to be a doctor. He tried it on last night and he looked really authentic, but the best part is that he has a wisdom many people lack and I doubt he knows it. My dad laughed at the outfit and said, "Doctor, doctor, I need help." Of course my brother fell into roll as if he really was a doctor, again not thinking it was a joke; he is very trusting. He came over to help and asked what was wrong. Dad said, "It hurts when I move my arm this way."

Bro's response: "Then don't do that." He gives some good advice.

I have a varied range of humor between clean, dirty and morbid. Clean has always been my favorite because I can share it with anyone and it's the best kind. There's nothing going wrong and you can find it anywhere. Dirty has always had more of a shock affect on me and it's very difficult for me to repeat it, sex or just disgusting jokes. There was one from Turnip magazine that I had to practice saying without blushing and it was only about bodily eruptions. Morbid, well, I'm a cynic and sarcastic (yet for some reason I think there's at least some good in everyone or that daycare I went to when I was young would have a mysterious fire) so morbid humor was right up my ally.

Anyway, Jerry got me thinking about that poll he suggested. Well, I can answer that right here. Yes, I asked a friend and she's absolutely sure about it. She said more to add emphasis to her reasoning, but she's even sicker than me about dirty jokes. I thought about how I would have reacted when I was bisexual and I can tell you that I don't like anything down there, male or female, even now. Either it looks like hairy, formless lips or a hairy, cancerous growth. The idea is just putrid to me, that's why the only porno I could ever watch is a commercial about jeans where their shirts are off. My response to them is "Why can't they be smooth like Barbie and Ken?" Instead of nasty (I have a sterical view of this) sex, we could cut our arm off, put it in some water and grow another human like a starfish.

Just so you understand how I see sex as nasty, dwell on this. First off, it's a penis. The other stuff that comes out is pee. How in the world are they able to control that? And oral sex: EW! Use some alcohol to clean it first. Same goes for women. Do you know the anatomical (not sure if that's the word to use) term for the natural lubricant is mucosa. That's mucus, people. Vagina snot! Now you're just as disgusted as I am. Good day.