There's been a suspicious rumor lurking about that Killer and Liz may be the same person. I can tell you that this is speculation only. We are both very real. We both like travel and garlic. We both want to do more traveling and more beer drinking than we are currently doing. One of us is nice to old people and animals and is probably going to Heaven.
This theory has prompted me to think about what it would be like to chronicle a day in Killer's shoes; a day totally from his vantage point. I fully expect him to assume the role of Liz in an upcoming post. I'd love to know how he THINKS I spend my time and what he thinks are my priorities.
Doing this was harder than you think. I can assure you, this won't be pretty.
Liz writes, like she was Killer:
I'm writing from work, which finally got Internet access about 3 months ago. Unfortunately I have to blog from my laptop in patients' rooms. This proves to be difficult because most of the plugs are used for I.V.'s and life support equipment. Those machines have a 30-minute battery storage, so if I make this post quick, Mr. Garland should be OK. If not, he's been in a coma for over 8 months. Maybe it's time for a push from the nest.
Being a nurse on the floor where many non-responsive patients reside can get boring. I've already inserted a catheter just to see if it will make my life more convenient. So far, it hasn't. I think it will come in handy later tonight though when I ask Nurse Jill is she wants to touch "my sack" and then point to the bag. She has to do it. It's part of the nursing code of ethics.
My best friend, Clib, is an artist. I'm always around paint and brushes and sketch pads when I'm at his house. Since we're about to be in the same town again, Mrs. Clib is going to go crazy when I start using Clib's art supplies. I've already used my body as a canvas (see Ass Flowers in BEST OF). Now I'm planning to create a series of "Balls dipped in paint". I'm taking "Paint Ball" in a whole new direction. Those will be my handcrafted Christmas gifts this year. Since I have 3 testicles, I may turn all of the prints into smiley faces. Something with a button nose. After all, it's the holiday. I need to be thinking of the children.
Because of my new found dedication to fitness I have been avoiding fast food. Yesterday I broke down and went to Wendy's for dinner. I was walking in when I heard, "Would you like fries with that shake?" I turned around and saw a group of college girls approaching me. I knew I was looking good, but I didn't know I was looking that good. Immediately I hatched a plan. Since it involved a 5-way, I'll spare the details. Immediately my plan was foiled as I realized it was the drive-thru speaker. What are the chances that that would actually happen to someone?
My co-blogger Liz will be leaving next weekend for Italy. I know where she hides the spare key. I'm thinking about collecting all the stray cats I can round up and putting them in her house. At the rate that cats multiply, her home will be overrun by the time she gets back. I'll leave an anonymous tip with the freaks at PETA. This might make her angry, and I may have to pay with one of my nads, but I think it would be worth it.
I think my penis just farted. There is some sort of gas bubble sitting inside my catheter bag. Finally! My dream of finding new ways to expel gas is complete. My quest for world domination is only one task away. All I need is some Shea butter, a mechanical pencil, and Bob Barker.
It's been 46 minutes. I'd better plug the heart monitor back in before Nurse 2 figures out what's going on.
Oh! I almost forgot! Mooseknuckle!