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colonoscopy day


Dottles
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Did some of the prep work yesterday and starting it again this morning.  What can I say?  So far no poo.  I had half the solution last night and so far no poo. That leaves 3 hours to down the rest of the solution today and clear out the pipes.  Where's the poo??

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Holy crap!  I may have spoken too early. The clearing of the pipes has begun. But I'm decent enough not to give you a play by play.

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This is colonoscopy #3 for me.  I suspect there will be more -- many more -- down the road.

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40 minutes ago, Dottles said:

Did some of the prep work yesterday and starting it again this morning.  What can I say?  So far no poo.  I had half the solution last night and so far no poo. That leaves 3 hours to down the rest of the solution today and clear out the pipes.  Where's the poo??

There was a fair amount for me.  After the second dose worked its way through, I felt like the TP was made of broken glass.

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Guy's been at the bar for a while. Someone bought shots. He's ordered food. Then he tried a girl drink. No one is saying anything smart. Jagermeister has been discussed.

Now it's his fifth trip to the bathroom. He feels like he's been swallowing surgical sponges.

He's standing at the urinal appreciating his headache and the rolling sea his CNS believes itself to be floating on. He ponders the nature of perception, each thought clear but insignificant. He'll never take reality for granted again. He misses wholeness. Solidity.

As that implacable wave of regret crests, he sees a wee little man wearing green who appears to have snuck up from nowhere. They look at each other, blinking.

"Well hello, lad," the little man says with a lilt. "There's no denying you caught me." He takes out a notepad.

"Your name and age, please?"

"Todd Johnson. I'm Twenty-nine. Why do you ask?"

He makes a note and says, "Just a formality, lad, just a formality. Now then. Fair is fair. It's the way of the leprechaun. You've caught me and you get to have my pot of gold."

"What? Really?"

"Aye. All I'll be needing is to bugger you in the stall there."

"Bugger?"

He relights his clay pipe. "Aye. Like a cockeyed sheep. Please sign here and here and accompany me into this stall, please."

So a big belt buckle and a little belt buckle hit the tile. There are sounds like two men moving a recliner out of an apartment until finally the stall door opens. The wee man leaves first, looking satisfied, his pipe still lit.

The drunk guy has lost his buzz, shaky in brand new ways. The wee man is walking out the door.

"Hey, wait! What about your pot of gold?"

The little man drops the accent. "Look, Todd. You're twenty-nine years old. Aren't you a little old to believe in leprechauns?"

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2 minutes ago, jsharr said:

Guy's been at the bar for a while. Someone bought shots. He's ordered food. Then he tried a girl drink. No one is saying anything smart. Jagermeister has been discussed.

Now it's his fifth trip to the bathroom. He feels like he's been swallowing surgical sponges.

He's standing at the urinal appreciating his headache and the rolling sea his CNS believes itself to be floating on. He ponders the nature of perception, each thought clear but insignificant. He'll never take reality for granted again. He misses wholeness. Solidity.

As that implacable wave of regret crests, he sees a wee little man wearing green who appears to have snuck up from nowhere. They look at each other, blinking.

"Well hello, lad," the little man says with a lilt. "There's no denying you caught me." He takes out a notepad.

"Your name and age, please?"

"Todd Johnson. I'm Twenty-nine. Why do you ask?"

He makes a note and says, "Just a formality, lad, just a formality. Now then. Fair is fair. It's the way of the leprechaun. You've caught me and you get to have my pot of gold."

"What? Really?"

"Aye. All I'll be needing is to bugger you in the stall there."

"Bugger?"

He relights his clay pipe. "Aye. Like a cockeyed sheep. Please sign here and here and accompany me into this stall, please."

So a big belt buckle and a little belt buckle hit the tile. There are sounds like two men moving a recliner out of an apartment until finally the stall door opens. The wee man leaves first, looking satisfied, his pipe still lit.

The drunk guy has lost his buzz, shaky in brand new ways. The wee man is walking out the door.

"Hey, wait! What about your pot of gold?"

The little man drops the accent. "Look, Todd. You're twenty-nine years old. Aren't you a little old to believe in leprechauns?"

Ah - the origin story of the @jsharr / @Kzoo relationship! Kzoo is a wee guy, eh?

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57 minutes ago, maddmaxx said:

There should be poo.  Lots of it.

A lot of liquids to be sure.

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46 minutes ago, jsharr said:

Are ye sure about that now laddie?  

We agree Kzoo is wee.  And the "Todd" is just there to protect the innocent.  Still, it is a lovely and surprisingly long lived love story between two consenting adults. 

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9 hours ago, Razors Edge said:

Out of curiosity, how long do we have before @Dottles is full of shit again????  I'm guessing it is surprisingly fast for some folks, and he may surprise us???

Surprisingly I did not run out and eat something immediately.  I did have a granita though.  But that doesn't really answer your question as I suspect this was figurative and not literal -- in which case this question does not deserve to be answered as I recognize rhetoric when I read it.

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