they're gonna hunt me? for sport?

Can't really think of anything funny or clever to say about this; I had surgery for my hernia today, and it went well, I suppose. I survived, and now I have a surprisingly large incision which has been covered in superglue. It's going to form a bad-ass scar.

My surgeon prescribed vicodin and ibuprofen. I'm not entirely sure that either of those is helping me at all.

I was told before I went under the knife that the vicodin they were giving me was basically diazepam, which made me think of Metal Gear Solid, and I was happy. Visions of long, drawn-out boss fights with Sniper Wolf danced through my head. Unfortunately, it turns out that the nurse lied to me, and vicodin is not in fact diazepam.

Incidentally, I had my prescriptions filled at Target, because of their totally sweet ClearRx bottles. If you haven't heard of them, you should check out the story about why they're awesome.

Anyway. I'm alive, and that's something.