Between my own secrets and those of other people I’ve sworn not to tell, I plan to avoid sodium pentathol at all costs. But I have a plan for you, Beck. As soon as you feel the laughing gas start to affect you, start babbling a bunch of “secrets”: Yogi Bear and Boo-Boo are gay! You had a hot affair with Rudolph Valentino! Don Knotts was the secret love child of Eleanor Roosevelt and Mick Jagger! Melania Trump is Clint Eastwood in drag!
Then if you do spill your own secret, they’ll assume you’re just spewing the same ridiculous stuff.
I can see that, but even I can recognize the inherent issues with the timeline problem, and I don’t even wear a watch!
But I would still like a subscription to your newsletter, I think.
Ok. Its my cat. She was a rescue kitty that I saved after mourning for two respectful months for my prior cat. She was a kitten and had been fixed and was such a hellion that the lopped off the top of one ear in case she got away. I picked her because she reminded me a lot of my prior kitty. Little did I know that This One would be ‘different’.
She was literally a chainsaw with fur… and if you tried to touch her, you would bleed. I was told she was psycho. I was told she was brain damaged. I was told she was inbred. I was told that she mated with Satan. She was Bad… one bad girl… and every time I was in the bathroom fishing around for more bandaids, oh did I hear the “I Told Ya So” choir.
You had to have her! You picked her out! You know she was bad to begin with. You could take her back.
Yeah, well no… I couldn’t. It was more than a pride thing; it was a “no one else will take her and they’ll kill her by lethal injection all because you quit on her” thing. I couldn’t take her back. I couldn’t dump her. That land-shark of a cat was mine and by got she’ll understand that she has a home here now if it kills her!
Well, it wasn’t a year later… nope, that’s a lie.
Well, it wasn’t five years later… nope, that’s a lie too.
well, it wasn’t eight years later either… because this year makes it ten. It was ten years later… ten years of biting my wife’s hair and toes in the middle of the night… ten years of taking running yeaps to land on my crotch at 3AM… 10 years of cuts and scars that may have helped bolster J&J stock.
But… after 10 years… she chases toy mice. She plays with us with claws retracted (she really still loves to box though. She has one Hell of a left, you’ll really feel it!). She finally talks to us, sometimes loudly.
And after 10 years, on cold winter nights at bed time she’ll cry by my bed and ask me to pick her up and hug and pet her. And after ten years, Wow does she have a motor!!!
She’s a Really kitty now, and she’s my secret. So don’t go telling those people who come to visit who hide first aid kits in their purses. Shhh…!
Is this one of those things where you leave a bowl of milk and saltines on the back porch, and the translated newsletter is there in the morning? :dubious:
I had a big medical event in 2017. I went to the ER and the last thing I remember is walking into the ER, next memory was waking up in the ICU three days later. However, I was conscious and from what I heard, angry and combative when they were putting the breathing tube down my throat. I worry about what I may have said or done at that time. I generally come across as a pretty chill guy but I have a lot of darkness and anger that I keep a lid on. I truly hope I didn’t say or do anything that I would be ashamed of now.
I think medical professionals are used to it and probably don’t recall much of the stuff people blurt out. They probably disregard most of it (that is, the stuff that actually makes some sense). I knew somebody who kept yelling at people that he wanted to watch the Food Network, when he’d never watched it and had no interest in cooking.
As a loyal follower of Cecil I can’t call it a Big Secret because he and William Poundstone were competitors once upon a time*, but it can be my Large Secret: Some eighteen years ago I.had a cyber affair with a Doper. My marriage was in its normal state of on the rocks. Her husband was overseas. We first met at a Chidope, got to texting, then sexting, with her using her webcam. Try doing that on dial-up! She broke it off before her husband got discharged; she stopped posting here and we haven’t spoken since.
