Expiring Internally

Do my internal organs have an expiration date?

I’m pretty sure that at this point in my 37-year-old life I have consumed enough Sweet n Low, Splenda, Equal, Stevia, Cocaine, and LSD to preserve all of my organs and tissues much longer than is natural. I may even become a medical marvel. I’ll be studied, poked and prodded – like that one time with the aliens. Still trying to convince the Feds about that one. But just in case…on the off chance…I was having a discussion with a friend. I have a tendency to get a bit morbid – don’t act surprised, you assholes know this shit by now. Facts are facts, and there is a strong likelihood that I will not be pushing any more small humans through my vagina. There is an even stronger likelihood that any doctor with any good sense upon hearing that it would be my intent to do so, would strongly advise against it. Not because of any physical limitation, but because I’m – well…me. Can you even

imagine growing up under my supervision? Dear lord! We’d both be eating crayons for dinner and I would have that little human reciting Beastie Boys by age 2 while mean muggin fools on the Avenue for wearing socks with sandals. CPS in sobriety.

So this individual and I got to talking…no we didn’t, because no one talks to one another. We were texting, and they sent me a picture of a Dali painting. The melting clock. My immediate response was. “That is an actual representation of my uterus only the Crypt Keeper is missing. He

should be perched on top.”  I need someone to Photoshop Crypt Keeper up there for me, as a daily reminder. Goals. Carpe Diem…or some such shit. Maybe just more Splenda.