No news yet from the doctor. Kevin's been left waiting for that phone to ring, and in the meantime he is worrying, and as he worries he lets us know what other thoughts are going through his head. And what are those thoughts. Well, he's a troon, so number one tenant sitting rent free inside his head, counting her billions, is JK Rowling. He doesn't say anything particularly, but as the old saying goes, "Never mind the quality, feel the width."
Number two thought is Star Wars. Because even in the light of the Bud Light and Target woes, and with the background of Disney's already massive debt problems, comes the news that Star Wars has cast a troon in their next film. I bet they don't put him in a gold bikini.
Then rant three is on that girliest of girly topics, the daily shave. A fellow troon recommends a sort of facial light sabre. That'll leave some interesting scars.
Another secret that he's not quite letting out just yet, but it won't be long.
In typical troon fashion, a simple discussion of hand washing doesn't take long to turn gross.
Heard from that doctor yet? It doesn't sound like it. He's back to squirting vinegar up his wound. Surely a proper doctor would have prescribed something more expensive. Preferably with a slight addictive tendency. And no sirree, this in no way contradicts his stories about taking the big orange one with room to spare. I wonder how that little tube compares, size wise, with his pinky. History is starting to repeat itself a lot quicker than we expected.
