Run Over W/A Truck

Greetings Me Droogs N Droogettes!
Alive but exhausted, emotionally/physically
So yeah, had a possible ‘minor heart incident’ yesterday.  Got took to the VA via whambulance.  I GTFO of there ASAP as there was a shortage of personnel, beds and some -seriously- ill vets who needed the bed.  Once I’d been CAT’d and told that no, I wasn’t having a fucking stroke (tho it sure as fuck at the time felt like it) and I had them script me a shitton of meds, I jetted back to the Casa.  (Side note: This COVID bullshit has got to stop soon… lots of MedFolk MIA because of Slo’s mandate and the VA being retards… not enough people to help the folks who need it)

Meh.  Not my first rodeo but a rather impressive BP of 198 over 130 got me the ‘entry ticket’ when the paras were working me up at the house.  Which even before we called them in a certain amount of ‘cleanup’ was necessitated as the possibility of  Ye Minions of Leviathan occasionally accompany the hardworking paras, and I didn’t want to (in the middle of a potential heart attack) to explain to Deputy Fife that no, those are not live grenades, and no the rocket launcher is inert, and yes that flammenwerfer is legal.


Nitroglycerine cannot be underrated however.

My my, how it makes that pain go ‘way oh! lo so quickly!

T’ain’t my first tango with the ticker issue.  First time was a full blown heart attack at 25 that I thought was a really bad hangover, but the subsequent years have shown the scarring on the heart and the damage to be a genuine H/A.  I had another ‘minor’ arrhythmia back about 16? years ago? at work… it’s stress that does me in… Only -so much- I can handle.  I internalize… well I was taught to expend the energy and usually I do so… but lately I haven’t been able to… between work, which was stressing me even BEFORE the bullshit (as I was always bitching about just how fucked up the operation was/is,) and then Dumbunny, who I’m seriously getting a ‘shallow grave’ vibe aboot these days.

“Sapper, get the shovel…”

Example:  I’m not, by any means, a clean freak.  I’m cluttered, but organized clutter.  Dis fukkin beeyatcha?  Nasty.  Has to be told to clean up after herself AND the Bebe.  I’m clean in that my kitchen floor is clean.. like usually spotless.  Counters too.  Now?  Ain’t been this dirty in the 20 years I’ve lived here.  I run a clean kitchen and tight A.O. and I can’t do it meselves, and she’s oblivious.  I mean I do all the mopping, to the point I actually got a fucking restaurant style BIG yellow mop bukkit and mop and squeezer.  If you’re going to do a job, do it right Aye? 

But under normal circumstances, I mop once a week, twice if I have a spill.  I -know- having a 1 year old makes it harder, but even then… she does disgusting things… uncivilized things that I have to constantly be on her about… took a drink out of the orange juice (from the container!) and dribbled it… landed on the floor and she didn’t even notice OR more than likely, didn’t fucking care.  O.J… on my floor.  I called her out but for the past few days I haven’t which led to yesterdays meltdown.  Walks around barefoot through the spil’t juice and tracked it over the kitchen!

Fucking floor is, as I said nasty by my standards, and I’ve -lived- in Iraq, which you don’t get much more nasty that that fuckin’ place.  I swear to Gawd, I’m over it all.  Going to go to the zoo.  Check into the Monkey house.

I told Wifey 5 days, and I’m selling everything, paying my ‘owes’ and headed out to I don’t-know-fucking-where  Without her OR her pig-daughter.

MGTOW might be a thing who’s time has come.
IF I live that long
More Later I Remain The Intrepid Reporter
Big Country 

By BigCountryExpat

Fuck you if you can't take a joke. No one gets out alive so eat me.


  1. Evidently being a nasty piece of fuck is a key part of that bunch. My own daughter fell in with that crowd, married into it and it’s something they seem to pride themselves on, if they have any pride.

    In my early fifties and already had two heart attacks myself, the nitroglycerin is great stuff. It does take the pain away quickly as you said, which led to me carrying it around and recently left it in my pocket during the wash. No more nitro and due to the daughter deciding to cut us out of her life and keep our grandson from us, among other things I don’t believe it’s going to be refilled. It’s like we’re shoveling shit against the tide and the tide is now up around my ears. The wife still has her looks, and she should have no trouble finding someone, surprised she’s still with me at all. We take that til death part seriously.

    Hate to hear about your troubles BC, your post the other day about your knees, cane and everything resonated with me even more than usual. Got those same problems also. It gets old gimping around waiting for the festivities. Best of luck to you.

  2. Damn man, that stress-o-meter sounds pegged.
    Gotta make a list and sharpie that fucker from the top line.

    Get well. Last time my BP was pegged like that is when I first went in to a white coat with a blood glucose of about 600 or so with a Walgreens thingy. Friggin’ FLA sugar ants were lovin’ my toilet bowl. Apparently running that way for 10 years or so from the looks of my retinas and until my feet went numb. Give me another order of fries no more. “Better living through chemistry” now. All is good.

  3. Hang in there BigCountryBrother.
    Seems sometimes it best to Let them go, and look out for number One (Look in the Mirror, BCE #1)
    Cash out and move to the Mountains and Live Free of the Metro Struggles. Best thing I ever did.

  4. You need a stress free job. I’ve gone to work for one of the Big Box places. Pays well, offers all the benefits; is it f**ked up? Oh yeah. But I don’t care. I do my 8 and go home. No fuss,no afterthoughts, nothing. My next work day, I show up and say where do you want me? Asking for membership cards, running go-backs to their respective shelves, yakking with yahoos at membership over returns or their expired card, getting cards, scanning at the door-I do my 8 and leave. I collect my $1100 every 2 weeks-after taxes. We are hiring. It’s an opportunity to just mellow out and keep food on the table.
    The stepchild needs to learn some manners or find residence elsewhere. If she cannot afford to move out, then you & the wifey should have no trouble getting custody of said baby. It isn’t worth losing your life. My cocker spaniel is better behaved than that.

  5. BC, I have a bad ticker also. My Cardiologist explained how stress affects your Heart. His parting advice was, it is it worth getting sick & dying over? I said no way. Then his reply was JUST SAY FUCK IT, Then move on & don’t look back. Best Medical Advice , I ever received.

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