Heroin-Eze

I can't count the number of times I've found myself in a pharmacy looking for various ointments, pills, juices, vitamins, elixirs and potions to treat my husband when he's detoxing. Ibuprofen and Aspercream for his legs, laxatives and antacids for his stomach, vitamins to try to combat that awful grey-color of his skin, Tucks for his hemorrhoids, oils and Ayurvedic remedies, flush-your-system detox kits, teas and heating pads and ice packs and all kinds of things.

I was wandering around in a store again this past weekend, and I wondered if I'm the only one wandering around filling a basket with various remedies, and I realized that I'm probably not. I'm surprised that the pharmaceutical company hasn't recognized the potential market for a single pill to treat all the symptoms of detox.

Come on, evil pharmaceutical robber barons! Help the many junkies' wives out! It's exhausting to roam the aisles of the drug stores picking out these individual treatments for the individual symptoms. You made Midol! Why not Heroin-Eze?

Anxiety.

Rational.

Rational. That's a funny word. Is it irrational that I think all heroin addicts should have to shit in public? That they shouldn't be allowed to wear clothes with pockets? Is it wrong that I'd prefer to dress my husband in a large, zipperless onesie?

I'm still struggling with this boundary business, but much of your feedback has been really helpful. And, finally, it's meeting night tonight, so I can go blah blah blah at all the folks at my meeting, and we can all bandy back and forth about just how hard it is to know what's yours, what's his or hers, what belongs to god or everyone or no one, and we can experience that glorious group miracle that occurs every time.

And Now, A Word From My Sponsor.

She sent me this joke this morning. Hah!

Women are like apples on trees. The best ones are at the top of the tree. Most men don't want to reach for the good ones because they are afraid of falling and getting hurt. Instead, they sometimes take the apples from the ground that aren't as good, but they are easy. The apples at the top think something is wrong with them,when in reality, they're amazing. They just have to wait for the right man to come along, the one who is brave enough to climb all the way to the top of the tree.

Now men...men are like a fine wine. They begin as grapes, and it's up to women to stomp the shit out of them until they turn into something acceptable to have dinner with.

Fun With Google.

I love playing with my Analytics. Analytics stalking has allowed me to delete my personal Myspace account. I only use the one attached to this site and the one I use for work now, which cuts down on my morning email routine significantly. But looking at who is looking at me on Google Analytics can make me a little paranoid, a little delusional, and a little wee bit crazy.

But the very best part of playing with Google and Sitemeter is not just feeling very important...it's the search strings. Here's the latest gems:

"I Hate My Husband" and "Hate Husband" are still very popular, and they still lead you to me rather frequently...so frequently, in fact, that I had to Google it myself. I am only on the third page of the search, so folks must REALLY HATE their husbands to ride the Google train all the way to page 3. They also tend to linger on the site, with an average of 12 minutes.

"Google my love" has brought me 4 hits. I do love Google. I do. I also find the phrase to be rather poetic and inspiring: Google, my love, the blood inside my veins (Except for that first foot, that's an iambic line. I think I'm suddenly composing a sonnet...help me, Question! You like Google poems!).

I also thought that the two phrases, "heroin ruined" and "If you asked me why I love him," were very nice.

"Steve Wilcos" has brought me 3 hits since this weekend's post, but those three hits have stayed for an average of 17 minutes. Crazies like to read my crazy, apparently.

I'm glad that the "addiction to sleep" query person found me and spent 3 minutes here. I think that whoever it is in this querier's life that is "addicted to sleep" is probably nodding off from all the black tar heroin he's shooting up.

Then, there's the sex addicts. Here's the list:

"I'm a man and look for a fuck wife."
"octopus woman fantasy"
"large tits"
"wife addicted for lovers cum" (Stayed for 11 minutes!)

And then the junkies looking for a good lie or a good connect or a good time. And also their wives looking for The Answer. Sorry for the buzzkill, guys!

"heroin addict smell"
"fun heroin website"
"heroin addict hide addiction"
"heroin Pennsylvania"
"heroin in my purse"
"heroin fantasy"
"heroin sex?"
"how to talk to a recovering heroin addict"
"i'm not a junky"
"secret places to shoot heroin"
"the pain of a heroin addict's girlfriend"

Now wasn't that fun?

Hehe.

I just swiped this Demotivational Poster from Jungle Jane's site. It's very cute. Isn't it, Anonymous?

Two things.

I found this stumbling.


Meagan sent me this. Hah. It's like how I pick my lovers.

Lil Nasty.

Please go read my friend Long Vowels. She is posting about one of her students, who sent her the best email, ever.

It explains why I had to stop teaching to herd heroin addicts instead.

Lil Nasty.

Wow, Nice Picture Of Your Mom.

Hey, your mom is pretty hot. Where does she get her nails done?

P.S.

Let's play a game! What would be the most difficult thing to do with those nails?

I'll start us off:

1. Masturbate
2. Wipe your ass
3. Pick your nose
   

Updated Google Search Terms

There is another fabulous one:

"natural pet shit eliminator"

I suppose I should start adding the links to my pet shit affiliate website to every post!

The following should be read in the voice of the guy who does that "The following is a paid political advertisement" disclaimer:

Got a whole lot of shit in your life? Want to be shit free? The Junky's Wife sure does! Let the Junky's Wife help you de-shit your world! Click here to purchase all natural shit-eliminator to spruce up your life on contact!

Why are there knives everywhere?

So the last time my husband was acting up with the silverware, he got us in a whole world of trouble. I keep finding knives, everywhere. There is one on the back of the toilet, and one by the bed, and one on the mantle, and one under the stairs.

Because I'm crazy, I am now Googling "knives drugs" and "knives drug paraphernalia" and asking him, frantically jokingly, "How are you using the knives to get high? Do you have enemies I don' t know about?"

So if any of you know of any interesting ways my husband could be using our cutlery to get high, please let me know.

***

P.S.

There's no stains on the knives. I'm pretty sure he'd hide them if he were really using them for drugs, and we do have tin foil, and I've seen him construct a lovely pipe from tin foil once before to smoke pot.

Blah.

I think he is just very, very strange.

***

P.P.S.

Tonight, while out at dinner with him and one of my real-time BFFs, he said that he hid knives everywhere because of our peeping tom. Alone, he told me that he thought our house was haunted. I guess he's going to chop up the ghost with our steak knives.

How many times do I have to tell him, "Don't come between a Southern woman and her flatware!"

Heroin or no heroin, peeping tom or no peeping tom, brain-crazed zombie or no brain-crazed zombie, let's leave my lovely spoons and knives out of it! I can live with a madman, but not if it interferes with my cultural rite of collecting flatware!

This is what a whale's penis looks like.

Here's what we discovered at work today.

It's spectacular, isn't it?

I love the way the whale is lying on its back. It's even got its silly whale head thrown back in that blowjob position. I wish I had a picture of the look on its face.

And what's up with the wetsuit guy. No gloves? I'd have to put on gloves to handle that thing.

Weed.

A Funny

From the anonymous blogger from a few weeks ago:

We are more.

Nancy Grace.

glumbert.com

It just doesn't stop being funny to me. It's 5:33 a.m. I want my husband. I'm playing internet because I CAN'T SLEEP.

Would you love me more?

Why We Can't Have Anything Nice.

The Inbred, Retarded Tiger.

This is Kenny, an inbred, retarded tiger. I think he's beautiful. I wonder if he's mean or nice? It seems like a retarded tiger would be either very mean or very nice. He looks like he'd be kind like a dog, like he might lick you or nuzzle you or want you to scratch his tummy. I like the gentle look in his eyes and the way I bet his fur is very soft.

Which Female Literary Character Are You?

Which Classic Female Literary Character Are you?

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