Yesterday, I woke up at 8 a.m. and drank a cup of instant coffee. Then I read the news on my smartphone while taking a nasty shit. A Chinese man borrowed a crossbow from one of his friends. He used the weapon to go hunting. His quarry? Stray dogs. He managed to bag three mutts before the police arrived. It turns out that killing canines with an arrow is against the law on the mainland. He spent a couple of days in jail for his crime. However, like many people in China, the perpetrator loves the taste of dog meat. He plans to eat man’s best friend until the day he dies.
Later that morning, we caught a taxi to my wife’s clinic. She had to meet her doctor yet again in order to check her bloodwork. Grave’s Disease is one of those illnesses which requires a lot of trips to the hospital for periodic checkups. The Dragon Lady no longer has a thyroid, so she’ll be on medication for the rest of her life.
It turns out that her levels are fine. The medicine is really doing the trick. However, her physician believes that she needs more vitamin D. We are scheduled to return at the end of January.
I stepped outside. The weather felt great. Things are pretty chilly here in Beijing. I like the cold. My fat keeps me nice and insulated. Plus my balls seldom itch when the temperature is frigid.
Rice-Boy Larry said, “I want to buy Pop Tarts. Let’s go to the foreign mart.”
I said, “That actually sounds like a good plan. I wouldn’t mind purchasing some cans of chili.”
Well, the store only had chili with beans. And I prefer my chili without beans. So I bought a big Cadbury’s bar instead. It came with nuts and raisins blended into the chocolate. I devoured the snack in less than five minutes.
Then we walked to a grocery store called Carrefour. I found a whole roasted rabbit resting in the deli. I decided to buy the golden-brown beast. It cost me fifteen dollars. But it should keep me fed for the next three to four days. Rabbit is very delicious. It tastes much better than chicken.
I turned to the Dragon Lady. “That clinic has a psychiatrist who speaks English.”
“Why not give him a try. I’ve seen his picture. He’s actually quite handsome. Maybe you can make a boyfriend.”
“You da fucken idiot.”
“Do you like being a slave to your moods?”
“Shut da fuck up.”
“He probably has medicine that will help. Why suffer if you don’t have to?”
I truly believe that my wife is afflicted with a severe mental illness called borderline personality disorder. This disease primarily affects women. These crazy bitches are tormented by episodes of deep depression and psychotic rage. Luckily, modern science is the stuff of miracles. I have no doubt that a good psychiatrist would set her ship in the right direction. But the loony twat won’t listen to me.
At 2 p.m., we stopped at a Brazilian barbecue restaurant. I ate a ton of succulent beef. I really made a pig of myself.
The heavyweight championship fight between Tyson Fury and Deontay Wilder was on the television. I thought that Fury won easily. His head movement and stinging jab reminded me of the late-great Mohammed Ali. Yet the judges declared the match a draw. Basically, the fix was in. Boxing is a crooked sport. That’s why nobody watches it anymore.
We got home at 4 p.m. I sat on my sofa and enjoyed the UFC. Lots of blood was spilled. I really had a good time.