Of Bondo And Bailing Wire

In a couple of hours I’m going to the hospital to check in for radiologically-guided steroid injections into my knee ..and no, not the testicle-shrinking kind of steroids, the other less popular kind. Blogga, please! I would never take anything that would make me less ballsy.
I’m getting shot up in the hopes that my knee will hold out for some walking safari action while I’m in Botswana. She's gotta have it.
Watching wildlife from an open Land Rover is pretty thrilling but there’s nothing like exploring on foot for super-charging the thrill factor. But of course I’ve got a guide who’s got my back. Actuallly, he’s got my back and a .458 Lott that could drop a charging rhino because, well, a charging rhino is an actual possibility and precisely why we're packing heat. I might be kinda crazy I’m not Crazy enough to wander amongst REAL wildlife all falalala in some fairy fucking bubble as if the bush is just a big ol’ petting zoo.
Annnnnnyways, I’ve been getting so many body parts patched up for this trip I feel like I’m all bondo and bailing wire. I have some zazou!-y new adventure clothes though and that’s what really matters. As Fabulous Gay Friend recently reminded me, looking cute is always more important than feeling good.
It’s The Rule, I think it’s like rule #3.