The Girl Who Cried Cancer
Last night I had to go to the hospital, because I was experiencing more than normal stomach pains, and bleeding out of orifices that no one wants to hear about. Believe it or not, I wasn’t jumping at the chance to go to the emergency room, or fake a serious condition. The person that I was with told me that if I didn’t go, their penis would remain inside of their $40 Uniqlo pants. I’m sure you can see the issue here.
Anyway, because of my history of being less-than-honest when it comes to my health, I assume someone out there thinks I’m lying. Whether the lying be for sympathy or drugs, I’m not really sure, but I know that the naysayers are out there (and I’m positive they’ll surface in the comments section).
This time, though, my ailments were f’real, and as (I’m sure most will say) I deservingly dragged my body through the ER doors, the thought that crossed my mind was, “Shit, the triage nurse is going to remember me from the news, and know that I’m just trying to walk out of here with stacks of cash and refuse to help me” and “God, all they’re going to give me is Ibuprofen.”
Fortunately for me, I was wrong in my assumption, and quickly transformed into a Mighty Morphine Power Ranger; which basically means I became an even more emotional sack of flesh than I already am.
To save face, because that is what I try to do here, I never actually lied about cancer to get money. There is no other way to explain it, besides that I enjoyed playing with people’s emotions. Which, if you think about it, is even more fucked up than doing it just for some scrilla. So, understandably, throughout the duration of this week’s hospital trip, I kept asking the people who accompanied me there if they believed me, and that I was sorry if they didn’t. How did I let it get to this point? I never thought that I’d be in a position where I could understand why someone would think I was a pathological liar and complete sociopath (see: because I am?). I don’t like it, and I’m trying to better myself.
Anyway, after the doctor came in and told me about my elevated lipase, Bearded Boy believed, and then we went into the bathroom and fucked. It was glorious in my opiate-state, and I didn’t even nod-off once! Oh, and you kind commenters will be happy to know that I am on a liquid diet for the next few days, so the fat should just fall right off.
Editor-in-Chief:
It's hards escaping from the past. But believe it or not, this world is a big enough place where you can leave it behind. Of course, they choice of which path to take remains. I'm a believe if you try and do the right thing, it will be a simple path to pursue. And it ain't all that bad when you have a little support.
Sometimes, a traumatic experience can place you at a crossroads which will make the direction to take an easy choice. Keep up the good work.
P.S. You recent video appearances were quite amusing.
Jason
Now your playing the cancer card? Was this all to get some narcotics? Kari, how fucked up you are! I guess we just should add hypochondriac junkie to the lying sociopath tag -now we all have your number.
this is not news… just narcissistic bull shit. get over yourself.
SNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOZE.
and…
ick.
A liquid diet of what? PBR and cum?
Man, you people are assholes. Give the girl a break.
Oh Kari.
Here's the deal. You are at your best when you are not navel gazing or writing about your very personal experiences – fucking aside, that is. Your perspective is unique and you do have a lot to offer. I'd like to see you stick to social reporting and random perspectives vs. going into the whole 'everyone thinks I'm a con' and 'this happened to me' schtick. It's just a little tired, love.
My favorite recent posts of yours are chock full of great links (Barcade, yes!) sardonic insights and amusing tags. I think this is a winning formula for you IMHO.
"To save face, because that is what I try to do here, I never actually lied about cancer to get money. There is no other way to explain it, besides that I enjoyed playing with people’s emotions."
The feelings of other people are of no concern to psychopaths. Psychopaths view people as little more than objects to be used for their own gratification. The weak and the vulnerable—whom they mock, rather than pity—are favorite targets.
Because of their inability to appreciate the feelings of others, some psychopaths are capable of behavior that normal people find not only horrific but baffling.
Their callousness typically emerges in still devastating, ways: parasitically bleeding other people of their possessions, savings and dignity; aggressively doing and taking what they want; shamefully neglecting the physical and emotional welfare of their families; engaging in an unending series of casual, impersonal and trivial sexual relationships; and so forth.
So, you still bleeding out your butt?
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