down in the cgi-bin
I'm now down in the cgi-bin. It's like being in the K Hole.
My computer ignorance continues to depress and embitter me. It was only today that I realized my e-mail program saves all attachments in a folder until you delete them. That's where I chanced upon these gang-bang pictures. I have no idea who sent them to me, I don't recall ever receiving them, and I'm half-scared to try and trace them to their source. A hotel of buck-naked, buck-white, buck-smelly humanfolk grinding sausage against tuna. I wish that these photos showed these people actual size so I could crush them on my computer screen with my thumb.
Who would have sent these to me? And what's worse to ponder--was this a come-on of sorts, an e-mailed orgy invite? Did they think I'd be aroused by two bedfuls of squirming worms? Makes me wanna unbuckle my capillary-crushingly tight jeans and slither on in bed there with them.
These pictures aren't a bad backdrop for me to talk about my colon. I go through more binge/purge cycles than Liza Minnelli. One day I'm a buff-but-chub 210 lbs., next I'm about 150 and looking like something standing in line at Buchenwald. Next day, I'm chub again. Since my father died of colon cancer and I don't want to, I'm currently on a colon-blasting routine, pounding down pysllium-laden protein shakes daily and leaving a jungle swamp's worth of reticulate pythons for the toilet bowl to deal with. But at this point, I've blown through all the Anacondas that are gonna come out. Now it's down to a solid black wedge of fecal cheese that refuses to leave. I can feel it when I press down on my stomach.
Just thought I'd share that with you.
