Don't Say a Prayer for Me Now

Actually don't ever say a prayer for me. But please do send good thoughts my way. In Scottsdale... having major dental surgery under general anesthesia in three hours. If you don't hear from me by Friday, you can start to wonder if it all went belly up.

Right after surgery... first post-op selfie...



Go in peace with the lord.
So my prayer worked, hahaha.
Sweet baby buttplug Jesus has reached out his glowing hand of wonder and joy to work a MIRACLE for your sorry heathen ass. He works in mysterious ways when it comes to dental surgery, you know. Clearly he has a plan for you to be risen to meet him in his kingdom.

Praise be to buttplug Jesus!


Ken Ham
Amen, MOW. The Lord above looks down on non-pretty teeth. I mean, what else can he do? He's ABOVE.
Always glaring down his Holier-Than-Thou snout!
I reckon the three of us would have been stake sisters in a past life!!
Fire fellows!
I still have a twitchiness about me from a past life!
Any time I see that visual cliche of the villagers running around that last corner before the torches-and-pitchforks gauntlet they run at the camera, even though I know it's not real, I still jump like I mean to get up and SPLIT!
When I was growing up, in my little one horse hometown, any time I had something to say about religion, or more specifically, began blatantly questioning ANY god's authority, everybody took a few steps aside! Those ignorant f***s actually expected me to get a bolt of lightning hurled at my arse!
He's thrown a plague or two at me.
But I'm not worthy of a lightning bolt!
Aaah, good fun! Good fun!!
Oh, and can I just say, buttplug.
Yeah, I'd like to say that again, Buttplug.
Yep, it's good every single time!!
I laugh when I read or say that word!!!
Oh thank you Sister Scumbag!!!

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